"Pixie dust doesn't lie," the fairy promises her.
The words are so pretty, so alluring. Regina wants to believe. (The girl she used to be would have believed, but she doesn't even know if that girl exists anymore. That girl has disappeared a little more each and every time she fulfilled her unwelcome and unwanted motherly and wifely duties over the past two years.)
"Come on. This is your chance at love and happiness. A fresh start, no baggage. You can let go of all the anger that weighs you down. Go get him."
"Okay," she says in a voice so uncertain she hardly recognizes it as her own. "Okay, I can do this. I can be happy." She tries to make herself believe her own words. This wide-eyed, earnest fairy is clearly convinced, but hoping now will only hurt her more later if Tinkerbell is wrong and she has to return to her lonely gilded cage.
"I know you can. Go." With a final touch of her shoulder, the fairy disappears into the darkness of the squalid alleyway.
She takes a moment to smooth her dress and wipe her sweat-dampened hands against the heavy fabric as she watches the man. His head turns as he addresses one of his companions and she suddenly recognizes his profile, silhouetted against the flickering flames that light the dingy pub. (It's hard not to, when his face is plastered on wanted posters in the more reputable areas of the kingdom and Leopold has offered a ridiculous sum for his capture, all because he stole one of the dainty white horses precious Snow is so fond of—no one paid him much attention until then, though apparently he and his little band of thieves had been stealing for years beforehand.)
Maybe, in some small way, that's what gives her the final push she needs to pull open the creaky door and step inside. (If she really is about to leave her old life behind, this is one last way for her to spite the king.) She lets her dark hair fall across her face as she weaves across the bustling room to the bar, sidestepping rowdy customers and scantily-clad serving girls. She has never in her twenty years of life been anywhere quite so seedy (and she's more than a little unnerved by how she's crowded on every side by strangers), but she's here now and she can't help the little glimmer of hope that suddenly blossoms to life somewhere deep inside her.
She runs her fingers through her hair as she reaches the bar and slips quietly into the open place beside the man with the lion tattoo (according to the wanted posters, his name is Robin Hood, but the posters never managed to capture ). He doesn't look like the grimy criminals she occasionally caught glimpses of when Leopold decided to show grace and pardon those with lesser offenses or make examples of those responsible for more wrongdoing, but his face is certainly the one on the posters.
He catches her looking and his blue eyes meet her dark ones. Her breath catches in her throat and suddenly all her bravado and hope vanish, replaced by a crushing fear. She turns and runs, keeps running even when he calls out. She doesn't stop for a solid twenty minutes and when she does, it's only because she's run into in a dead end alleyway. (At some point during her panicked escape, she must have taken a wrong turn.) It's the farthest and fastest she's run in a long time and it would feel good if her corset wasn't preventing her from catching her breath.
She hears the scuff of boots against the ground and spins around to find him standing only a few paces away, standing between her and the only way out of the alley and watching her as warily as she is watching him (she's cornered and she can feel the almost feral panic building, instinctive now, thanks to a lifetime of fearing first her mother and then her husband, but she has learned how to hide her emotions).
"You recognized me," he says.
"Yes," she agrees, lifting her chin with queenly dignity despite knowing that the skirts of her pale dress are probably splattered with mud (it rained earlier) and she can feel a hole in the sole of one of her thin, unsuitable slippers.
"You aren't one of the regulars… and commoners don't wear such fine things." She can hear the questions behind his quiet words.
"No," she replies. Her hands clench nervously in her skirts. "No, I'm not, but I won't turn you in."
"And why is that?" His gaze is piercing and she has never felt more like an open book. At least she can be grateful that he hasn't recognized her yet. "Running away?"
"No—yes—I might be. I hope I am." (How do these things go? She wishes she had thought to ask Tink, because she'll sound like a madwoman if she just blurts out that they're soulmates and please, would he take her with him so she doesn't have to go back to being queen tomorrow.) "I want to make a deal."
He waits a little too long to respond and she sees the exact moment he realizes who she is. "I doubt I'd have anything the queen would want."
"Don't be so sure." She draws in a shuddering breath that she's almost certain he can hear. "In exchange for my silence, I want to accompany you when you leave."
"Why—"
"And I want you to steal my horse," she interrupted.
This, for some reason, brings a smile to his face. "A horse," he repeats skeptically, his mouth quirking upwards in a dry smile. "I imagine you know what happened last time I stole a horse from your husband. What do you think he'll do to me if I kidnap his wife and steal another horse? If you want to run away, why not just take your horse and go?"
"You think I haven't tried?" Her voice cracks pathetically, but she's suddenly too desperate to care. He has to let her go with him—she doesn't even care about soulmates right now; she just wants her freedom. (It's so close that she can almost taste it and if she has to go back now, she thinks maybe she really will jump from her balcony.) "It didn't work then and it wouldn't work now. They'll be looking for a woman alone in a city or village somewhere, and there will be searches and massive rewards offered. I need to disappear, don't you understand?" She crosses her arms defensively and blinks back tears. "And I will turn you in if you say no," she adds, but even as she says the words she knows they're hollow. (She's been in a cage long enough to know she would never wish the same fate on another.)
"If i say yes, I get to ask you two questions," he states firmly. It isn't a request; this is the only offer she is going to get.
She nods once and lets out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
"Then let's go back to the pub."
"Why?"
"Because my men are there. We were planning to stay the night, but plans change. It won't be safe to be in the city after they realize you're missing."
She pauses. "Oh." And she pauses again. "My maid usually wakes me around seven," she offers quietly as they begin the walk back to the pub.
"We'll be long gone by then," he responds. They walk side-by-side in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. "Why me? I know you knew who I was, but why me? And how did you even know where to find me?"
So this is the first question. It's entirely expected, but she still isn't sure how to answer. "I… I actually didn't know who you were beforehand. I just—I met a fairy, and she offered to help me. She used pixie dust to lead me to the pub. To you." When he doesn't say anything, she adds, "I'm not lying."
"Fine, okay." Based on his tone and what little she can see of his face in the dim lighting, he's doubtful, but who wouldn't be? "Why are you so desperate to escape? You're the queen of an entire kingdom and most in these parts consider King Leopold to be the best ruler this kingdom has had in many years."
Her jaw clenches and she looks away, letting her hair shield her face from his piercing gaze. "The king is… not the man the kingdom sees," she whispers in a tone that says that this particular conversation is over.
His expression is still contrite when she dares to look at him again as they approach the pub. "Why do you want that horse?"
She attempts a smile. "I believe I already answered two questions." Her words are composed again, but he chuckles and offers a genuine smile at her words.
"Wait here. I'll send my men to wait for us outside the city and we'll steal your damn horse and join them," he tells her. His fingers unexpectedly brush over her shoulder and she flinches away. It was meant as a gentle, friendly touch, but she has learned to fear contact. (She will unlearn this fear, she decides as his smile is replaced by an apologetic frown and he turns towards the pub.)
"Robin, wait," she calls after him, just before he can pull the door open. "I—thank you." The words are unfamiliar on her tongue, but they're as sincere as the smile and nod he gives her in return.
Maybe the fairy was right, after all.
Author's Note: This is just a little AU thing I wrote very quickly today, so it probably isn't very good. I cut it off here because the rest of it is just a mess. I might post that part as a second chapter later.
I honestly think (and hope) that we're going to find out at some point soon that Regina did choose Robin that night at the pub (hence the pages Robin found in his satchel), only for the author to rewrite things. We've had hints (for example, Regina actually saying "free will be damned" during 4A) and what other explanation is there for those extra pages? And yes, I am very anti-Leopold. Sorry, not sorry. Dude deserves every bit of hate he gets.