[nOtp: I never should have made you marry the king]
In the OUAT fandom, many theories have been discussed regarding Regina and how she did not have any children of her own. One of the popular theories is King Leopold's involvement. This is what I think happened. Slightly AU and/or OOC; depends on how you look at it. Thank you for reading, enjoy and please review. :) p/s: Major thanks to iiwasalwaysthequeen for her continous support.
~parrilla-adkins~
The height of the Sun's shadow receded slowly as an indication of time. It counted up the hours that passed by as she sat limply by the side of her bed, no longer having the strength to climb up and nestle between the sheets. She knew that any rest she wished to claim would be short-lived for the sheets would be flung off her as she ran to the washbasin once again. Said washbasin was now strategically positioned within arm's reach allowing her to trace patterns on the water's surface. It somewhat calmed her.
Alone in her chambers she hadn't a care for her appearance. The tiny hairs on her hairline which lay matted on her forehead from the chilly cold sweat were ignored. She couldn't care less anymore as the frequency of these occurrences plagued her daily. However this morning there was an added exception. A dull ache had begun to bother her lower back but she quickly shrugs it off, reasoning to herself that it was normal. Even so, a faint idea had formed in her head as to the cause of her ailment and it frightened her. She feared the possibility of it being true.
A small creak in the large doors brought in the much needed light into her chambers. Although daylight had long since coloured the atmosphere the heavily drawn curtains darkened the room considerably. A raven haired head peeked through the doors even though no invitation was made to welcome her into the sanctity of her room. Pushing the washbasin underneath her bed, she stood up on shaky and numb legs bracing both her arms on the solidity of her bed. Before the girl could come any closer the Queen swept back her hair in an attempt to look presentable despite the overwhelming nausea that lingered at the pit of her stomach.
Her pale complexion and parched lips immediately caught the attention of the young girl. Not one to keep a hold on her tongue, she brashly exclaims, "Regina you look awful!" Nearing her stepmother to study her features in finer detail, the child stops in her tracks as she grimaced at a ghastly smell. "What's that smell?" the child openly asks, insensitive to the Queen's discomfort.
It took all of Regina's patience to not scoff at her stepdaughter. To the open court and to the entire kingdom such innocence only made them coddle the princess further, praising her supposedly inquiring mind and all the while admiring her beauty; for that was all she was worth anyway. A prized flower that grew more beautiful with each passing day whilst she was trapped in a gilded cage. Swallowing the bile that raised to her throat the Queen does her best to dismiss Snow's naivety and dons a smile that was as sincere as the conniving Imp's.
"It's nothing dear. I must've spilled something earlier. From breakfast, most likely." There was that smile again. Tight and stretched into the oddest of curves. Firmly holding onto the princess' padded shoulder she quickly steered the child away aiming for the door. Regina yearned nothing more for Snow to make a quick exit for with every step she took her feet ached out of numbness. The cold stony floor stuck pins and needles in the soles of her feet weakening her pain threshold.
"Oh. We must call on the maids to clean it up then. Johanna!" her sing-song voice escalating to a decibel higher than Regina had thought possible could come from a child.
"Must you shout dear? It's very un-ladylike you know," sounding every bit the mother she didn't want to be. But unlike the Queen's mother, her voice wasn't strong and dictatorial instead it was weak and submissive. The ache that had been barely there moments ago intensified rendering her almost speechless.
However Snow who was eager to please, stopped in her tracks and bowed in a slight curtsey, "I'm sorry stepmother."
Words had formed in her mind but stilled on the tip of her tongue refusing to depart into the musky air. Her breath shortened, becoming ragged and uneven. The hold she had on Snow's shoulder slipping when the child moved suddenly for that uncared for show of courtesy. Bending over, she clutched at her nightdress. Its white now stained with crimson. An excruciating pain coursed through her body that had her feeling as though her insides were squeezed by the coils of a serpent, drawing out every ounce of her strength and almost blinding her. But she took a leap of faith in her untrustworthy stepdaughter; asking but of one favour from her as she named the source of all her pain, "the King."
It's the falling of a final curtain that the princess sees too clearly in the image of her stepmother as she stands frozen to the spot. Snapping out of her shock she hurriedly pulls her stepmother into her lap but the hand she held soon fell limp and her cries became louder, drawing the attention of others to come to her aid. "Regina!"
Head hung low out of contrition, the fair Princess sat with Johanna listening in however she could outside of the Queen's doors. Tear tracks were still evident on Snow's youthful skin. Her complexion paler somewhat from the anxiety and guilt that she had might have been the cause behind her stepmother's pain. Turning to Johanna's welcoming bosom, she whispers her fears and apologies. Apologies she knew wouldn't be taken willingly and wholeheartedly by the Queen.
Behind those closed doors, the Queen too had her eyes shut as she struggled to keep her tears at bay. She too whispers apologies to no one particular, lolling her head side to side in denial from what laid before her. Fingers prodded her skin as they examined her one last time, their chatter dying down to whispers and their dancing eyes casted downwards instead. Another life had been taken from her. A chance of hope and love ripped away from her too soon. Some bowed silently out of courtesy and some apologized profusely at her loss; the kingdom's loss. Amidst it all, she can't help but wonder if the King's words of a week before had foreshadowed this tragedy. Had he played a part in the threads of her fate? If so, the crinkles of the benevolent King's palms were tainted with blood.
Anything and all for his dearest Snow White.
A week earlier…
The celebratory news spread like wildfire throughout the palace, reaching the King's ears before sundown. A humble steward had been ushered in and he had stood firm with a smile that shone with glee and joy as he presented the news. The young steward, new to his post, did not know the smile he plastered on would soon be wiped off his face with a harsh slap.
Tears stinging at his eyes and a redness forming on his cheek, the steward stammers on, "But my king, I do not understand. Are we not supposed to be delighted by this? The Queen is with child."
Hands clasped behind him, the sovereign stepped away from the young steward as a means of protecting his reputation although his temper flared at the mention of his wife's situation. "You listen to me boy and you listen to me well. I shall not repeat this. The Queen and I do not desire any children. There shall be no celebration and not a word to Snow. Do you understand? She is to be kept confined to her chambers and word of her pregnancy is to be kept within the palace walls." Satisfied of the fear he has instilled in the boy, the King dismisses him with one last order.
"The Queen is to receive me after she has dined."
Nightfall crept faster than she would like it to be. The meal that was sent to her hours ago was left untouched as her appetite clamped shut at the sight of it. The contents of her stomach would soon be emptied out come morning and she saw no point of eating. Instead she sat at the table, her head resting on her arm as delicate fingers played with the candlelight. Toying with the magic she had on her fingertips her thoughts travelled into the deep recesses of her mind. Irony struck her when concentrated on the candle in front of her. The candle, like her, was molded into shape and was given a spark that lit the darkest of rooms. The flickering of the candlelight, like her, danced and illuminated the surroundings; unaware of the forces that were breaking down its form. For with every second, the candle would melt away pieces of itself and it would do so as long as its wick burned.
Truth to be told, she knew of the forces that broke her down. Taking pieces from her soul and claiming their right over them, declining her pleas to reclaim what it is rightfully hers to give.
Daniel's life; her life and love, taken from her by her mother whose eyes were only for a throne and the power that it wielded.
Her innocence, taken from her by the king whose actions flitted between a gentle and violent manner.
Her youth, taken from her by the indiscreet princess whose intentions were pure but unmindful to what the bigger picture held. A carelessness that molded her to what she is now.
She's brought back into reality by the sounds of laughter rising up from the gardens below. Her strength that had somewhat returned enabled her to approach the balcony that overlooked the gardens. Her heart clenches instantly at the sight of father and daughter that sat together in humour. An exchange so harmless and as common as this was what she had yearned for as a child. To be attended to, to be heard, to be cared for, to be soothed when hurt, and if not all these things, to know wholeheartedly that she was loved.
A rare smile crept upon her features when focused on Snow. Snow was animatedly retelling the adventures of the day whilst her father looked on and listened attentively. He had so much love for Snow, which went without saying. He doted on her at every turn; from dawn to dusk. His love for Snow was too great and his undying love for his first wife was also too great that she questions whether there would be any room left for him to love this child. Her mind was riddled as to what was the King's reaction at the news.
Would he be happy?
She would soon find out.
To an onlooker the Queen never looked more beautiful, embracing her newfound maternal glow that pinked her cheeks and brightened her complexion. Her hair was finely brushed and swept to the side, cascading down her shoulder. She wore a deep blue gown that hugged her figure in all the right places. She was as plainly put by her own stepdaughter; fairest of in all the land. Alas, no one else saw this but her. Her husband, the King till this day has not publicly acknowledged the Queen's beauty. Some saw it fitting and were on the King's side as they have yet to pledge allegiance to this young Queen.
Entering past her doors, what the King saw instead was a vision of black and blue; like a bruise beginning to form. Both the King and Queen saw the imaginary bed of hot coals in the distance between them. Their eyes bore into one another. One pair of eyes that glittered with joy whereas the other set of eyes gloomed over with death. But they were aware of their surroundings and that they had an audience thus appearances were to be kept candid and jovial.
The soles of her feet seared with pain as she rose off her bed as he neared her. Holding her hands in his and a light peck on her cheek, he put on a show. She knew it to be and quickly closed her eyes before they could see her eyes roll in disdain.
Acknowledging his audience he turns to face them with his hands still firmly clasped on hers continuing this act of his. "What surprising news! We shall hope and pray that both mother and child are safe and healthy," donning a faux smile. The audience cheered and applauded hesitantly as they were privy to the young steward's message.
Facing his wife, his voice drops an octave as he orders their audience to leave. She dared not to break away from his stare, meeting his eyes in hopes to gauge his next move. With a short hustle and bustle, they were soon left alone. Husband and wife. The King and Queen.
Breaking off the staring contest first, he shoves her hands away from his as though repulsed by the feel of her skin against his. Sitting on a nearby chair, he fills the empty silence with a question she did not expect.
"How could you let this happen?"
"My king?"
"Don't play dumb Regina. Your mother taught you well. Honor her death in that at least."
"Her death was unfortunate but I assure you dear husband I have been taught well. Well enough," tilting her chin upwards in attempt to not be slighted at the mention of her mother.
"Oh for this you speak? How laughable Regina," replying with a haughty laugh. "Your mother had promised you and you alone to this marriage. I took in your father out of pity. Like him, I understand the loss of a wife."
You understand nothing. "I'm grateful for that my king."
"If you're so grateful, is this how you thank me? Let me be clear to the stipulations of our marriage. Snow is my only daughter; my only child. Deserving of my bloodline. No one else. Have I made myself clear or would you have me write it down for you? Dear?"
Her questions were answered. He was not happy nor will he find the capacity to love another child. To add injury to insult, any child born of her might as well be a bastard. Unworthy was she to carry on his bloodline. Never enough. Swallowing past her tears, hoarsely she replies, "Yes, your majesty. I understand clearly."
"Good." Rising off the chair that he sat on, she notices that his hands fidgeted at his sides. Itchy for something that she was oblivious to.
"Come a little closer," his voice a sickly sweet. "You look different dear wife. What is it?" Eyes trailing her features, locking her hair around his finger, "I can't quite put my finger on it." Undoubtedly, her youth and innocence reflected in the waves of her hair. Thick and smooth. It brought painful memories to him of the ebony locks he would prefer to caress and like most things he compared Regina to Eva from head to toe. "I told you when I made you my wife; you are not to let your hair down in my presence." Taking a fistful of her hair, he steps around her, "You've greatly disappointed me today Regina," growling in her ear. Pulling her head and hair backwards which made her wince at the tug and of his fingernails that grazed against her scalp, he gives her one last warning; "Don't Let This Happen Again."
Regina wasn't sure if he was referring to her choice in hairstyle or the child she had conceived without his consent irrespectively she was definitely shaken and fearful of her fate. "Y-yes your majesty, my king."
Unclenching his fist he lets go with a force causing her to stumble forwards and to her luck she was able to catch herself on the chair in front of her. "Once you have collected yourself you may call on Snow. If Snow suspects anything, be assured that I would not hesitate to call on you," smirking indignantly. She didn't dare to turn her back to look at him but she knew he had slipped on his mask once more; the mask he wore for the entire kingdom to see.
Hearing the doors shut close a shaky breath leaves her heavy chest. Bracing herself against the edges of her bed she took wobbly steps towards her vanity table. Her reflection was a far cry from only moments ago. Her eyes were rimmed red, her cheeks ghostly pale and her hair dishevelled from its former pristine state. No longer able to look at herself she leans her head against the table as silent sobs wracked her body. Absently a hand hovers over her still-flat stomach, pressing into it slightly as she tried to grasp the reality of the life that grew within her. Murmuring her apologies to the life that couldn't be accepted, her tears fell unabated and a loud sob escaped her petite body filling the emptiness of her chambers.
Our actions, although often clandestine, will have lasting effect on all persons, be it the intended or not. Selfish the purpose may be but its ramifications could carry on for generations. However this was far too deep an insight for the bitter King whose anger clouded his judgment. One that lead him to seek the desperate of measures with little to no hesitation.
In the act of promise a miller's daughter had presented him a gift, a form of insurance. Hidden behind a trapdoor and covered in a red velvet cloth was a box that carried a value which knew no price due to its rarity and scarce quantity. Albeit so, the witch promised it shall only serve him and to his purpose.
Her demeanor enthralled him, this witch. She, the Queen's mother, unawares at the time of her daughter's child-bearing abilities had provided this vial to him. Regrettably so, their acquaintance was short-lived and she was not able to witness her efforts come into fruition. Nevertheless, here he stood with this gift, embellished with stones and delicately carved similar to that of a jewelry box. Such a beauty to encase such evil. A true embodiment of its previous owner, he thought to himself.
For a fleeting moment, the king's conscience rose to the surface that had him reconsider and to not go forth in this path where no absolution can be sought. But his conscience was no match for his truest desire. He would give Regina a week at most to bask in what she thought was freedom; freedom to love.
Anything and all for his dearest Snow White.