When she was born, her mother held her up in front of a crowd.
"Her name is Regina," she said. "For someday, she will be Queen."
The first birthday that Regina remembered was her fourth. There was no party. In their new country estate, her mother paced the corridors, restless and angry. Regina was just a child, but she knew to stay away from her mother when she got like this. She was too young to understand, but she heard the whispers among the servants and remembered the fear in the grown-ups' eyes as the war had taken a turn for the worse. Her mother told her she would be a Queen someday, but how could that be, when her grandfather was no longer a King? So she left the house to get away from her mother's seething anger and her father's fearful grimaces, and ran among the trees and the fields, not even caring when she tripped and skinned her knee. Cora would scold her for it later, but for now, she almost felt free.
When she was thirteen years old, she spent her birthday taking tea with the daughters of other nobles. She barely remembered the time before her father's family had lost their kingdom, but her mother instructed her to act like a Princess and remember that she wasn't like the other girls. They were ladies of high birth, true, but someday, Regina would be Queen.
But later, when the other girls had gone and Cora had left them alone, her father took her out to the stables, where a beautiful chestnut horse waited for her.
"For me?" she gasped.
"For you," he said. "Every young lady should know how to ride."
She smiled and embraced him, peeking with wide eyes full of childish joy at the majestic horse behind them. This was what love felt like.
When she turned sixteen, she snuck away to the stables with Daniel and laughed with him while they brushed Rociante together. When they were finished, he offered her his hand like a gentleman, and they danced between the stalls as the horses watched. She blushed as their lips met in a kiss. It was a moment of innocent joy, and she felt something flutter in her chest.
She knew then that she didn't care about being Queen. All she wanted was her stable boy.
Her nineteenth birthday was the coldest in her life so far. She sat at the high table overlooking her husband's court, an unwanted crown upon her head and a makeshift ring from a saddlebag buried deep in her pocket. She clenched it tightly.
It didn't feel like her birthday. It just felt like another day trapped in a gilded prison and longing to break free. Why would any girl wish to be Queen?
Ten years later, another birthday came. Magic bubbled up under her fingers as she watched her stepdaughter dance with the man she was forced to call husband. Not long now. Soon, they would pay. Soon, she would destroy the little brat who ruined her life and take back the kingdom she had never desired. Her mother had wanted her to be Queen. Now, she truly would be.
No one wanted to celebrate the Evil Queen's birthday. She knew from their fearful faces and flinching motions that her people were here only because they knew what would happen if they ignored her invitation. The ball didn't matter much to her. They never had, and now, with the bandit Princess still on the run, she found herself more and more consumed with anger and vengeance.
Still, it wouldn't do to let the people forget to whom they owed their allegiance. If they wouldn't love her, then she would have to settle for their fearful submission. Happy memories of birthdays past were buried under layers of poison.
But after the party she dressed in a simple riding costume and mounted Rociante, casting a spell that made her look to anyone else like a commoner. In the saddle of her prized horse, with the wind whipping through her hair, she could almost forget. It could only last for a moment, a brief birthday gift to herself. But in that moment, she almost felt free.
Her first birthday in Storybrooke was a quiet one. Perhaps it couldn't even be said to be a birthday at all, since time stood still and no one grew any older. But she was aware of each passing day while the rest of the town floated in a haze. She drank a glass of apple cider by herself and remembered birthdays gone by.
It was many years before she celebrated another birthday.
"When is your birthday, Mom?" a five year old Henry asked.
Regina looked up from her paperwork, startled.
"February 1."
He tilted his head curiously.
"That's next week," he said. "Are you going to have a birthday party?"
She laughed and told him that grown-ups didn't have birthday parties. But when the time came, she let him convince her to bake a cake and put a single candle on top. She closed her eyes and blew it out, making a wish.
I want this to last forever.
It didn't.
Time started to move again, and her birthday came. Mary Margaret and David Nolan were having an affair, the obnoxious Emma Swan refused to leave town, and Henry wanted nothing to do with her. She didn't celebrate that year.
Another year passed, and her world was turned upside down again and again and again. She found herself back in the land she had once cursed, living side-by-side with the people who she had once called her enemies. Snow didn't let her forget that it was her birthday, as much as the former Queen would have liked to. She refused to let the Charmings throw a ball, knowing that no one would want to celebrate anyway. Most of them would no doubt have been happier if the Evil Queen had never been born. But she found herself sitting with Snow and David and – irritatingly enough – the outlaw they'd allowed into their castle, sharing a cake. It could never make up for the piece of her that was missing, but she was touched that they cared enough to try.
She wakes in the arms of her lover, their limbs tangled together between soft silk sheets. She blinks sleepily and nuzzles into his chest, and he runs his fingers through her hair. She catches a glimpse of the lion tattoo on his wrist.
"Happy birthday, Regina," he whispers to her, and if she could lay here forever, she would.
Later, they gather together – Robin, Henry, Emma, Snow, and David – the people who believe in her and love her in spite of everything. The Charmings bring a cake topped with dozens of candles, more than Regina cares to count, and Emma lights them with a wave of her hand.
She blows them out and makes a wish.
Let this be my happy ending.
