DISCLAIMER: Once isn't mine.
I wrote this as a gift for a friend, so I thought I'd post it on here and see if anyone else liked it. This takes place sometime during the one-year gap. I need some SnowQueen fluff in my life!
Regina isn't really sure how she got here.
Snow White's fingers are gently combing through her hair, and even if Regina wanted to pull away, her body refuses to move from this source of comfort. It feels absurdly good to have this woman she hated for so long stroke her hair, and in another life Regina might have felt disgusted with herself. Now all she knows is that she doesn't want Snow to stop.
"I used to love playing with your hair," Snow says, her voice soft in the moonlight spilling through Regina's window. It is still and silent inside the castle that once belonged to King George, the kind of silence that only comes in the dead of night when everyone is sound asleep and the moon shines silver-bright in the sky. The kind of silence that is so deep and all-encompassing that Regina almost choked when she woke up, fingers still outstretched as an afterimage of her son burned behind her eyelids. But she doesn't think about that now. Instead she closes her eyes, focuses on Snow's voice and her touch and the way she doesn't seem to mind when Regina snuggles just a little bit nearer.
"I remember," the dark woman replies after a moment, searching for memories that aren't infused with soul-wrenching agony. "You always told me that you wanted to look like me when you were older." She pretends otherwise, even after all these years, but somewhere deep down in her heart (black as it may be), Regina has never hated Snow White.
"I did," Snow sighs, crooking her fingers slightly so that her nails gently rub against her stepmother's scalp. It feels even better than before. "You were so beautiful, and I loved you so very much."
There is no retribution lacing Snow's voice, no bite or sting in her words, but still Regina swallows a hot lump of guilt and curses herself. She sits up, feeling suddenly stifled, and walks over to the windows, fingers curling against the windowpane as though she can break it and let her emotions flow away. "I was a fool," Regina finally chokes, manicured nails slicing into the soft skin of her palm. "You were right about me all those years ago. I was beyond saving."
Snow White sucks in a breath behind her, and Regina leans her forehead against the cool glass and absently wonders when she started feeling so very, very old. How old is she, anyways? Fifty-something? Closer to sixty, actually; the curse was in effect for nearly thirty years….
Regina allows her musings to distract her and so she misses the whisper of cloth as Snow White stands up; misses the pad of her feet on the floor until she is close enough to wrap her arms around Regina and hug her tight. Regina jumps at the unexpected contact and twists around halfway, magic reflexively sparking at her fingertips, but Snow just holds on and slowly Regina relaxes. Snow's head leans against her back and the queen almost laughs at how opposite things are from what they once were. She has never forgotten the little girl who once ran to her in the night for comfort and protection; never forgotten how, even though she hated herself in the morning, it felt so right as that little girl trusted her to chase the monsters away. Never suspecting that the true monster was so much nearer.
"No."
Snow's voice is aching and hollow as it cuts through the air like a knife, and for some reason it hurts. Regina casts about for some sort of context to the younger woman's words but comes up short. "No?" she finally repeats, more than a bit puzzled.
"No. You were never beyond saving. When I said that….I was angry and hurt. I never meant it, and the second I said it I wished I could take it back. But I couldn't." The ex-bandit pulls back, allowing Regina to turn around and face her. "I never forgave myself."
For a split second Regina is transported to a forest with Snow White aiming an arrow at her face. "I was wrong! There's no good left in you—none!" Oh, how it had hurt—and also confirmed Regina's worst fear, that she was nothing but a heartless monster. I was always the Queen. It was you who added Evil to my name. But no. She had done it to herself. In the end, she has always caused her own misery.
Regina lets out a pained breath. "And I believed you. I believed that I was what you said I was and I just didn't even care anymore. By the time you tried to save me, I was gone."
"I told you I hoped that the woman who saved my life would come back. I think I've seen her again, once or twice," Snow offers after an eternity. Regina laughs mirthlessly.
"Is that who you want me to be, Snow White? The young woman on the horse?"
"I want you to be happy. That's all."
Regina wants to scream; wants to tell Snow White that there can be no happiness for her without Henry, that she was a fool to put her heart back because happy cannot coexist with the sharp, throbbing ache in her chest. But instead she turns away, her instincts screaming for her to run because Snow is far, far too close. She has barely taken half a step when her stepdaughter's fingers lock around her wrist, and even though it would be easy to force her to let go, Regina doesn't have the strength to summon magic. To be honest, she isn't sure if she has the strength for anything anymore. They stand there for a moment before Snow asks softly, voice almost too quiet to be audible even in the silence of the night: "Regina, may I braid your hair?"
And for some stupid, inane reason, she says yes.
In a fit of nostalgia, Regina asks for a plait down her back.
Snow's eyes widen slightly at the request, but she says nothing, instead separating out sections of Regina's hair and beginning to intertwine them. The younger woman's fingers are strong but gentle, and after a moment Regina finds herself relaxing, loosening muscles that she didn't even know were taut. Neither of them speaks for a span of time, and then Regina says, voice scratchy from what she chooses to believe is lack of sleep, "Twice now you've lost your daughter because of me. You should hate me."
Snow's fingers falter, but her reply, when it comes, is steady: "You were ready to give up your life to save us, and you let go of what you loved most. After all this time, after everything we've been through, do you really think I could ever hate you?"
It has always come down to this, Regina muses. After almost half a century, after killing and torturing and doing unspeakable things all in the name of revenge, after doing whatever it took to crush her enemy, Snow White is still here. That has to mean something, and although Regina is smart enough to realize what, she's also not ready for a family. Not so soon after losing her son. So she takes a deep breath, swallows the sudden bitterness on her tongue and whispers, "I'm sorry."
"So am I," Snow whispers back, voice thick with tears, and before Regina quite knows what she's doing she wraps Snow in her arms and holds tight, so tight that it's a wonder the smaller woman isn't crushed. Snow freezes for a split second, clearly surprised, but then she lets out a faint whimper and buries her face into Regina's neck, hands gripping the back of the older woman's nightdress. Regina just closes her eyes and lets the tears cascade down her face, and even though it still feels as though she will never, ever be happy, the raging pain in her chest diminishes to the point where she can breathe. In this moment, it feels like a blessing.
And maybe it is.
The next morning, when David goes looking for his wife, he can't believe what he finds.
Snow lies curled up against Regina, hair falling across her face as she breathes in a deep, even rhythm. Regina has her stepdaughter wrapped in a tight hug, posture protective even in slumber as her head bends down so that her chin just touches Snow's hair. Her own hair lies in a plait down her back, and David is more than a little surprised to realize that he's never seen Regina with her hair tied back. It makes her look twenty years younger, and when he squints he can, for the briefest of heartbeats, see the girl who Snow has missed so very much. For a moment the young monarch stands, simply watching his wife and his mother-in-law sleep, and a small smile crosses his face. Quietly, keeping his movements slow so as not to wake them, David turns and leaves the room, pulling the doors shut behind him. He can let them sleep a while longer.