AUTHOR'S NOTE: Uuugh, okay.I dunno how I feel about this? But I've been wanting to start an Outlaw Queen series for AGES & then I watched A Royal Affair a month or two (or maybe three, I don't remember) ago and I thought it'd be a really good idea for Robin&Regina, ya know? And then I struggled for a bit on how to start writing it - like do I insert R&R into THAT storyline? Or do I come up with my own stuff? Do I make it completely AU? WHAT?! And then I finally decided to just do a little bit of everything: I kept it in the OUAT world and had Regina married to Leopold, but I made Robin the groundskeeper (seems natural somehow?) because I thought it'd be weird to have Regina married to the mentally ill king and have Robin be a physician. I'll eventually throw some others into the fic - others from OUAT, like from Robin's group and familiar characters from the show). I've already mentioned Henry and Daniel, and inferred that Henry is Daniel's son (creys). And six years has passed since Daniel's died, so Regina would be in her early 20s? Around 24/25? Anyway, moving on.
CLIOOOOOOOOO. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT BECAUSE I FEEL MEH. I HATE STARTERS OF ANY KIND THEY'RE SO HARD TO START AND THIS IS SO SHORT I'M SO SORRY.
SUGGESTIONS & COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME.
"People grow when they are loved well. If you want to help others heal, love them without an agenda."
- Mike McHargue
"It looks like it might snow." Regina glanced over her shoulder at Leopold, receiving no response from him. Not surprised, she sighed and returned her gaze to the gardens - to her apple tree below. Her poor apple tree. She'd much rather be down there, outside and wrapped up in a fur-trimmed coat and gloves, lounging underneath her apple tree than crammed up inside this stuffy castle with such a dull man who paid her no heed whatsoever. Furthermore, who was just as bored with her as she felt at the moment. "I'm going for a walk," Regina announced, making up her mind.
She retired from the room without another word or glance at Leopold. "As you wish," he replied, waving his hand at her and then shuffling through a stack of papers in his hand.
Regina gathered a pair of gloves and a fur-trimmed coat in her chambers, donning them and then quickly making for the gardens. Outside, the trees rustled to life with the approaching winter winds and she could almost smell the snow that was to come soon. Sitting on a bench under her apple tree, she identified with the snow. Not with its symbolism of purity or innocence. No, she felt connected to snow because of its frigidness; how it covered the Earth in an icy layer and hid everything from view. Much like she did on a daily basis. It was what she was good at, putting up those walls and never letting anyone see past them. Only socializing with a handful of people and then spending the remaining hours of each day with Henry or here under the apple tree, the sun warming her skin.
Hiding from all but one person. The one person who never judged her. Who always loved her unconditionally. He was all that she truly had left to care about after Daniel died. Six years, and whenever her memories of him started to fade, she'd look through her Book of Spells for an incantation so she could relive a particular moment. But what she did have left of Daniel, that one person they secretly shared – she cherished him. And oh, what happiness he brought her.
Taking a deep breath, Regina tipped her head back and looked up at what once held the reddest and most delicious apples. Where the apples had once hung and the leaves had crowded for attention, now the branches were bare and looked like nature's version of veins. She consoled herself with the fact that, in another few months, she'd have her tree and her apples back. In the meantime, she had this spot to withdraw from those around her whenever she wanted. Both she and Henry.
This spot was hers and hers alone – it was one of the few deals she had made with Leopold. No one could touch it or do any harm to the apple tree. She told him she'd tend it herself, if need be. However, it did not come to that. The castle, of course, had its own groundskeeper and he took care of Regina's apple tree for her. With pleasure, she heard him say when Leopold had assigned the apple tree to the groundskeeper, saying it was a special assignment. He hadn't been cruel about it, nor had he been kind about it, either. As with everything that involved Regina, he had discussed it in an indifferent manner. Nonetheless, Regina had been pleased – and hearing a touch of interest and warmth in the ground keeper's voice gave Regina hope that he would take genuine care of her tree. And he had.
"Your majesty." Regina's body flinched at the sound of an intruder and she opened her eyes, turning her head to see who it was who dared to interrupt one of her few moments of serenity nowadays. Her eyes fell upon a tall figure with an unshaven jawline, tanned skin from working outdoors. It was him, the one who had shown her apple tree such dedication. How long had he been standing there, watching her? She was unnerved by his presence and the fact that he was intruding upon her personal space. Yet despite that, she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment of his presence and gestured for him to continue speaking, sensing there was more he wanted to say. "Your tree will bloom again," he continued, assuring her and giving voice to her thoughts. She pressed her lips together firmly, tilting her head to the side and studying him more closely this time.
When she said nothing, he dipped his head and turned to leave – finally letting her have what she wanted – but as he was leaving she finally spoke. "Thank you." He stopped and turned around, the corner of his mouth curving up into a smile. "For your words of reassurance and for taking care of my tree."
"It was my pleasure."
Regina closed her eyes and smiled so softly, as if someone had tickled her face with a feather. She rarely believed the compliments people paid her these days - the truths they claimed to express. They were always just to flaunt and impress her. But there was something sincere about the groundskeeper. Even if she didn't know him, she believed he was telling the truth. She had heard the genuineness in his voice the first time, and she heard it again.
"This tree is one of the few pleasures I have left in this world," she informed him, standing up to leave. She turned and gazed at the lifeless tree, lifting her gaze up toward the sky at the pale blue, almost white winter sky. Without a second thought about her other companion, Regina walked away. She'd had enough of the cold, enough of daydreaming, of people infringing upon her territory. She would find Henry and spend an hour or two with him, perhaps read to him or just watch him play.
Remaining rooted where he was, Robin's gaze followed the Queen. His eyes had been locked on her from the moment he saw her sitting under her apple tree until her departure, as unfortunately abrupt as it had been. He'd always thought women to be mysterious creatures, but the Queen was more than just enigmatic. Her love and devotion to the apple tree was, perhaps, one of the many little quirks of hers that drew him to her. Most nobility didn't give a damn about fruit or shrubbery. And many of them did not bother to spend more than five or ten minutes outdoors for fear of getting a sunburn. But the Queen? Robin had many times observed her by her apple tree, or here in the gardens with a little boy – and for hours on end. Nature was where she seemed to be happiest – and he could certainly relate to that.
She was a paradox – on occasions she fit here seamlessly, and then on other occasions it seemed as if she didn't belong here at all. It caused him to wonder why she had married the King, especially on the rare occasion when he caught that look on her face – like today. Such a look of pain. He recognized it: he'd worn it before himself.
After casting one last glance at the apple tree, Robin turned on his heel and left the gardens just as the blue in the sky mutated to white, and snow began to fall lightly. Robin glanced up at the sky. He'd never been particularly fond of winter – they were harsh, it bites and lashes at you, and you were made acutely aware of all the suffering and struggling of your neighbors. At least, when you were part of the lower classes you were. But maybe this winter would be different.
