They met as children, she was seven-years-old and he was eight—she sold flowers on the streets to the passersby and he polished shoes for a change. They bonded over their neglectful parents and the things they didn't have, and dreams of everything they could have in the future.
She wanted it all; nice dresses, a closet full of footwear in all colors and shapes, a box of jewelry and a mansion to call home, and he wanted nothing more than a world with her in it.
Her dreams changed as she grew older, his stayed the same. She fell in love with him, and he proposed on her eighteenth birthday with a simple, stoneless, steel ring. It wasn't what she dreamt of, but as plain as it was, it was everything she never knew she wanted. A life with him, even if they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and a few coins to get them through a rough week, was all she wanted.
Her mother disapproved and his father wasn't one bit happy, both of them were alike; greedy and full of high hopes with fantasies of marrying away their children to people from the upper-class, people they could easily get their hands on their money whenever they pleased. So they eloped.
No blessings were required, no approvals, no wedding took place, nothing but their friends as their witnesses and a pair of cheap rings and written vows exchanged. Still, it was perfect.
But it wasn't all without a hitch. It was hard, they struggled at the beginning for months on end and often went to bed on an empty stomach. With determination, though, and each other, they pulled themselves up on their feet.
They've been married for five years since, and as happy as they were with how their lives turned out to be, with the ups and downs, they weren't completely content.
They wanted a child.
They tried for a child.
But a child they couldn't have.
Whether it was her body that refused to cooperate or the issue laid with her husband, they didn't know. They didn't want to know. Didn't want to risk hurting one another in the far future by putting the blame on the other over this hurdle in the heat of the moment.
They didn't give up, though, they didn't let that bring them down and stop them from chasing after one more dream and make it come true, so they looked into adopting. Neither of them cared if the child wouldn't be biologically theirs, its skin color and age were the least of their worries, too—they'd love it regardless. If only it was as easy as walking into the nearest orphanage as a pair and coming out as a family of three.
The directors tuned them away the minute they stepped inside, scoffing at their yearning and desperation, and humiliating them with degrading names. Every single place they visited resulted in the same treatment.
All because they were performers.
Robin and Regina's home was a circus, the place most people frowned upon. They were told they couldn't adopt because of it, they were unfit to be parents, there was no way they could make enough money to feed another mouth and give a child the proper learning inside a tent, and no child should grow up amongst clowns and animals, and freaks of all natures anyways.
But a tent was their home, the people in it were their family. Money would be an issue, but there was love, and sacrifice—they'd go days without food to feed their child if it came to that, sew the holes in their worn out clothes so their child could wear something new, and save every cent so they could get ahold to provide the best eduction they could for them.
It wasn't enough to convince anyone, though.
Eleven orphanages, eleven turndowns. Eleven times of picking themselves up and soothing each other after crying tears of disappointment and frustration. Eleven times of building their hopes up only to be knocked down with harsh words.
Eventually, they laid their wishes to rest and left it in the hands of fate.
If it was written in their stars, if it was meant to be, it would be.
"Where are you taking me?" Regina laughed, her hands clutching tightly onto Robin's as he beamed, excitedly dragging her through the sunflower field. She was doing her best to keep up with him, trying not to trip over her own feet or any hidden objects along the way.
Their sixth anniversary was a week away but he insisted on spoiling her everyday until then, be it with little gifts or late night massages after long, tiring days, or surprises similar to this one. He wanted to take her into the city and dine with her at one of its finest restaurants, but she refused. Not only did they not have the money for it, they weren't dressed appropriately for something so luxurious—she was still in the skimpy attire she picked out for her trapeze rehearsal and he still had his bright, red jacket on and his top hat in hand. People won't be so kind to them, they'd look at them with belittling stares.
Another thing she'd rather not worry over during what was meant to be a happy celebration. She worried enough every other day.
"You'll see, we're almost there," Robin promised, his enthusiasm remaining as high as the minute he pulled her away from their friends.
They ran past the field and up the small hill, stopping only when the reached the very top, breathless but both grinning widely.
The view was breathtaking; behind them was a grassland with these beautiful, yellow flowers that stood tall and swayed with every gentle breeze, and before them were rows of purple lavenders. They lived close by for years and never once did she suspect that behind this mound was just another side of paradise. There was a river not far from where Robin laid down their picnic blanket, too, calm and inviting, she almost gave into the little kid inside her and jumped right in. She refrained—the sun was setting, it was getting too dark for that. Instead, she sat by her husband's side, soaking up the comfort of his embrace and basking in the warmth of the last of the sunbeam.
"I can't believe you thought of this place on the spot," Regina hummed, resting her head on Robin's shoulder when he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "You came here often and you never told me about it?" She attempted to seem annoyed by the idea of him keeping this place a secret from her, a playful glare fixed over her features, but he saw right through it and chuckled.
"Only once," he admitted, tucking a curl behind her ear. He always seemed fascinated by her hair, playing with her strands whenever he had the opportunity to. "Tink and I were talking the other day and she mentioned this place. She swore it was straight out of a fairytale book so, of course, I had to see what all the fuss was about."
"She's not wrong."
"No, no she's not." He smiled broadly and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "But the company makes it even better."
"Does it now?"
"Indeed it does, my love."
"And is this all we're going to be doing this evening, enjoying each other's company?" Not that she'd mind that, not at all. Even without children of their own, they barely had alone time, with him planning the acts and directing everyone around and her trying to stay in shape and looking after the others. It was refreshing to be away from their responsibilities for once, as much as she loved the circus.
"Well, not quite." He shifted and pulled her on his lap, and she tittered at the change of position and relaxed into him, lacing their fingers together. "I thought it'll be a nice place for us to make love," he said bluntly, and she chuckled in spite of herself, rolling her eye at his honesty. "And then we eat our supper before our second round."
"Just how many rounds are you planning on getting tonight, mister?"
"Three will be nice." He bit his lip and wiggled his brows, a smug smile painting his face. "But I won't say no to another one."
His comment earned him a smack on the bicep and a wholehearted laugh.
She wouldn't say no to another one either.
"How about we eat first? I'm starving. I barely had the time to eat anything all day." On cue, her stomach rumbled. She was busy mothering everyone she forgot herself, a bad habit Robin often scolded her over. She could go an entire day with just half an apple and some water if it wasn't for him sitting her down and feeding her.
And speaking of food.
"I can't find the basket," Robin whispered, his eyes widening dramatically. He frantically looked around before smacking his forehead and hissing, "Crap!"
She dissolved into laughter at his reaction. "A dinner date without dinner? That's a first."
"Oh hush now."
They settled on one round before heading into town, too famished to carry on with their activities for longer.
It was late, shops were closed and the streets were mostly empty, save for the few people strolling around; some heading home from work, some going to work, and others walking into bars to drink the night away.
They, however, walked right into the twenty-four-hour diner and sat at booth in the far corner to avoid judgmental eyes. The owner, a sweet old lady that went by Granny, always welcomed them with open arms, though. Unlike the majority, she saw them as equal as everyone else.
"Locksley's," Granny greeted, tossing the kitchen cloth over her shoulder. "What can I get ya tonight, lovebirds?"
"Hi, Granny," Regina replied with a bashful smile. "I'll take the usual."
"Aren't you bored of getting burgers all the time?" Robin asked.
"I don't trust people that do get bored of having burgers," Regina retorted with a hint of a smirk. "Besides, these are not just any burgers, these are Granny's. They're extra special." She made sure her tone was a little higher for the old lady to hear, and it worked.
"I'm getting you a free slice of apple pie over that, girl," Granny answered from behind the counter.
Robin rolled his eyes and set his top hat on the spot beside him. "We're sharing that apple pie. I deserve it after making you come with my tongue tonight."
"Robin!" Regina squeaked out and looked around, hoping to God no one heard. Thankfully, the only other person aside from them and Granny was a woman on the other side of the diner with a sleeping baby, and she seemed oblivious, staring right out of the window with a scowl.
Robin laughed and teased her over her flushed face then settled for the meatloaf with a side of mashed potatoes and green beans.
They ate over small talks, discussed possible segments to add to their acts and if they should expand their circus family by adding a few more. Acrobatic horse riders would make a fantastic addition, it would be something new and exciting, the old and the young would enjoy it just as much. Well, she hoped so anyways. They seemed to be enjoying everything else so far, and even though they received hate and threats on daily basis, the crowd seemed to expand more and more everyday.
They had to be doing something right.
"Shut. Up," the woman on the opposite side hissed down at the wailing baby. "Do you not get tired of screaming like that? You're making my ears bleed."
"I didn't realize being a mother would be that hard," Regina murmured, swallowing the mouthful of pie before averting her eyes. She almost felt sorry for the woman, almost sympathized with her, and then she heard her talk again.
"If it wasn't for the money I'd be getting out of you, I would've tossed you to the side of the street long time ago. I just wish George would hurry and show up already."
Regina's eyes widened in surprise, and she leaned in and whispered, "Did…did you hear that? Please tell me you heard what she just said."
"Regina…"
"Don't 'Regina' me, you heard her," she accused with a huff.
"And what do you want me to do about it?" He asked.
Before she could answer him, the woman got up from her table and marched straight to the restroom, grumbling incoherent words under her breath, and leaving the crying baby inside the moses basket, unattended.
She knew exactly what she was going to do.
"Pay the bill," Regina demanded, getting up and hurrying over to the next booth, carefully picking up the infant.
"What are you doing?" Robin stared open-mouthed when she began walking toward the door. He glanced back in the direction of the kitchen where Granny was and down the restroom, then looked at her again. "Regina, you can't be serious. You're not really going to—"
"Yes I am," she harshly interrupted him, clutching the baby to her chest. "You heard her. She's planning on selling it like it's some piece of furniture on the market rather than a baby."
"You're kidnapping a child," he reasoned.
"It's not like she's going to miss it." She sighed, gazing down at the baby with a small smile at the sight of its big, teary, hazel eyes staring up at her in wonder. She looked at Robin and pleadingly repeated, "Pay the bill, and then meet me outside before it's too late. Please."
He wasn't pleased, but he could never say no to her. And she had a valid point—that woman, whether she was the baby's mother or not, she wasn't going to miss him. Judging by her cruel words, she was more than eager to get rid of him.
Nevertheless, they committed a crime; they stole a baby.
As worried as Robin was of the consequences, his troubles faded when Regina put the baby down in the center of their bed and laid beside him, crooning a lullaby he recognized all too well. A lullaby her father used to sing to her as a child. She told him she sang it every night to herself to memorize it after he passed away, never skipping a day in fear of forgetting it. So she sang, and he always listened to her in awe.
Regina was always a happy person, even when life complicated things and threw constant obstacles her way, she was all smiles, and her laughter never died down. But he'd never seen her quite as happy as she was caring for the baby. She was a natural.
And the baby seemed to agree. He was cooing at her as she sang to him, flailing his arms and kicking his chubby legs, giggling at the attention he was given. It was a sight impossible not to smile at.
Robin cleared his throat to make his presence known and the berceuses came to a halt at his disturbance. Regina looked up at him and her smile faltered.
"I know what you're going to say—"
"No you don't." He shook his head as he approached her, lowering himself on the bed next to the baby, who looked up at him when the mattress dipped and squealed out a giggle, giving him a wide, toothless smile. He returned it briefly, then sighed. "You have a heart of gold, I've known that from the moment we met, my love. But do you realize how much trouble we could get into for doing this?"
"I know," Regina whispered, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
He offered the baby his hand and smiled a tad wider when the little one grasped it, using both of his tiny hands to grip it and tug it toward his mouth. Robin moved it away and tapped the boy's nose with his finger, stifling a chuckle when it startled him.
It was wrong, they should take the baby back—perhaps not to the same woman, but maybe leave him outside of a church or on the doorstep of an orphanage. The longing in his wife's eyes stopped him from suggesting such thing, though.
"What's his name?"
"What?"
"His name," he repeated, very well aware of how taken aback Regina was without even glancing at her. Her silence said it all. "If we're keeping this little man, we might as well give him a name to go by, don't you think? I'm not sure calling him 'little man' or 'baby' will do. You know, he might get bullied in the future."
She didn't argue, didn't ask if he was being sincere or if he was playing games with her. He would never tease her so brutally, not when he knew just how much she wanted them to have a baby, and she knew. She lit up with a grin and excitedly answer, "Henry."
He nodded and hummed in approval, his own smile spreading widely across his face. "Well, Henry. Welcome to the circus."