Greetings from Martha's Vineyard itself! I'm so happy to be finally writing this for you while currently on vacation on my most favorite place on earth, and of course, the primary setting for this fic! There's a lot that happens in this chapter, as it is slightly longer than the previous ones. I hope you enjoy it, and without further ado I bring you, from Martha's Vineyard, Chapter Four!


"You have a motorcycle?" Reya stands agape at the sight of a Harley-Davidson parked alongside Regina's car. The young girl hadn't noticed it before until she rounded the vehicle, and the sight shocks her to no end. But then again, such another detail of her cursed mother's persona shouldn't at all come as a surprise to her anymore.

Regina smirks, wiggling a brow. "I do. Now get in. I'm already late as it is."

Reya sighs, moving to slip into the backseat. And with that they are off, heading down a dirt road, which leads them away from the privacy of the trees.

The Chilmark Flea Market is located on Tabor Road to be exact, consisting of rows and rows of white tents lined up one after another in a small open field across an old schoolhouse. The scale of the market is not large. But, it is well attended. This is just one of the many places in which Regina can make some excellent money off the artwork she sells.

It's a quaint little place. It's peaceful as visitors flit about the tents. Buyers mingle and converse with one another as well as with the artists, discussing methods and oohing and aahing over the artwork on display. One can find all sorts of handmade masterpieces in a place like this. From handmade clothes to jewelry to pottery to paintings, this flea market is versatile and useful for anyone who's looking for something either decorative or practical.

The site isn't teeming with people just yet as Regina and Reya arrive. Her reserved spot is set nearest to the perimeter of the field, allowing Regina an easy access out once the day is finished. The older brunette maneuvers her car so that it is parked not in the small parking lot beside the field, but directly on the grass, behind her open tent. With the back open and facing in towards the tent, her car can be cleverly turned into part of her display as she balances her paintings just on the end of the open trunk, allowing Regina to have more space.

The older brunette gets right to work immediately, working hard to set up large wire mesh panels on which to hook and display her canvas paintings. Attached to the metal rods of the tent itself, the mesh stretches across the entirety of the right and left sides and reach from the very top of the tent to the floor. This allows Regina all the space she needs to show off her large canvases such as the one depicting the mother and child. Three tables, (two set up at the front entrance of her tent and one at the very back in front of the trunk) bare smaller stands in order to display smaller sized masterpieces. When she is done, the small space itself seems to have transformed into a masterpiece, a mini art gallery of sorts. Both Regina and Reya soon stand surrounded by swirls of vivid color; all of her pieces of artwork hung and spaced to perfection on the mesh, in a way that is appealing to the eye.

"I didn't know you had this many paintings," Reya says in awe as she shakes her head. Deep down, the young brunette cannot help but find herself feeling proud of her mother, despite the fact that the older brunette isn't who she truly is. But then again, such paintings obviously are shown to have come from deep within as a manifestation of the woman's true persona. If only Regina could simply recognize it.

"I do," Regina muses pensively as she looks around the small space of her tent. After a few moments of silent scrutiny, she nods her head upon deciding that the displays are to her satisfaction.

"Are more people going to come?" Reya asks, following Regina as she moves to sit in a folding chair at the back of the tent, behind the display table.

Regina nods, looking out towards the entrance of the tent. "It's only the start," she replies, "It'll pick up come late morning, afternoon, or so."

"So we just sit here and wait?"

Regina nods again, sitting back in her chair. "Yup," she replies, "That's the boring part."

"Do you bring anything to pass the time?"

"I bring my sketchpad, right here," Regina answers, reaching down into a bag lying by her feet to pull out a large artist's sketchpad and a box of watercolors. "Sometimes, I like to experiment or draw out possible ideas. I use watercolor to just get a feel for the colors before I convert it to paint and canvas. It's not the same, but it's close enough."

As it is only around nine thirty in the morning, it takes some time for buyers to infiltrate the tents. However, Regina receives her first customer to her booth after only the first fifteen, twenty minutes, or so. Reya remains quiet as does her mother; both silently watching an older blonde haired woman dressed in slacks and a tank top peruse around the tent. Regina puts on her polite and welcoming smile, the one saved specifically for customers, and promptly answers all of the questions presented to her about a certain piece of artwork. This one being a beautiful depiction of a sunset over a stone jetty and the sea on a twelve by sixteen canvas.

"What do you use?" the woman inquires curiously as she raises a hand to lightly run her fingers over the edge of the canvas's wooden frame.

Regina stands from her seat, wandering closer to the woman of interest. "A mixture of oil and acrylic paint, as well as acrylic texture medium for the texture that you can see on the waves, for instance..." she explains.

Reya stands at a distance, watching with great intrigue at this interaction. She finds herself pleasantly surprised at the fact that though Regina may be slightly rough and uncultured in her ways, it doesn't at all reflect in her intelligence. Regina most certainly knows her craft well. This gives Reya even more so of a foundation for hope, as she easily parallels her cursed mother's intelligence in her art to that of her intelligence in magic, way before the drama concerning the curse had started. Being the powerful queen she was, Regina knew how to work her magic, skillfully manipulating the power into the most complicated of forms to get the task done. In the same way this version of her does so with paint, exploiting its rich color and bending it to her will to create something beautiful. This is but another way in which Reya is relieved to see that the spell hasn't caused her mother to lose all sense of herself.

"I really like the color," the blonde woman is musing. "Did you paint this just from memory or did you have to go somewhere?"

Regina shakes her head. "Actually, this painting was sketched and then watercolored when I was down on Menemsha beach at sunset. The sky was so gorgeous that night, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity. I recreated the image and transferred it onto canvas when I got back home. This is actually one of the few paintings I actually plan. Most I really just come up with on the spot."

The woman nods, her messy updo of blond hair bobbing up and down. "Impressive," she marvels, stepping back to admire the picture. "I suppose this picture would look just lovely hanging up in my living room. How much?"

"Two hundred fifty," Regina replies, stepping back to grab her cellphone. She waits patiently as the older blonde ducks her head. She fishes inside her pocketbook for her wallet before finding and handing her a credit card. Regina nods, swiping the card through the small square credit card reader inserted into her phone. And through the app, she makes the transaction.

"It's all yours," the brunette announces, placing her phone aside and handing the credit card back to its delighted owner. She moves to go grab some bubble wrap and a large paper bag; taking down the painting from the mesh and wrapping it tightly in the bubble wrap and slipping it into the bag. "Have a good day," Regina bids, handing the bag to the woman. And with another smile, her blonde customer takes her leave.

Regina turns and heads back towards her chair, picking up her drawing pad and watercolors once more. Taking a pencil she has kept stowed behind her ear, she scribbles away, allowing her mind to wander. The market business is never anything interesting. After having been a part of it as far back as she can remember, Regina has gotten quite used to the way in which buyers browse through the art hung before them. It's the same questions answered over and over again, and the same procedure done to ensure the flow of money. It gets boring after a while, and in a way the brunette feels somewhat trapped in these five hours of sitting in dense, hot weather. This must be her least favorite thing about being an artist. While for others, one would assume that they'd enjoy the constant flow of people one after another, the new faces they meet, and the conversations in which they engage. Yet, for Regina, such trivial conversations and superficial questions can be stifling to the point that she wants nothing more than to distance herself from it all. And so she does, plastering on a seemingly welcoming smile and answering only the questions asked of her.

Needless to say, this certain artist is most certainly not a people person despite the outward demeanor that was presented to Reya back at the house. There are blatant, yet (to the untrained eye) subtle, contrasts in her mother's cursed personality: the most paramount one being that said personality most certainly doesn't align with behavior. For what seems to be a woman who is unashamed, carefree, and reckless on the outside is actually a withdrawn, diffident, and sensitive on the inside.

It's about quarter past twelve when the sound of a motorcycle jolts a rather bored Reya awake from her doze against the back tire of Regina's car. With a groan, the young brunette rubs her eyes, pushing herself to stand and head from her shaded spot to go and investigate. Squeezing between the trunk and display table, Reya steps away from the tent and heads towards where she hears voices talking loudly over a roaring engine. Blinking into the bright afternoon sunlight, her still weary eyes focus upon a bright-eyed Regina standing by the rope that marks the perimeter. The motorcycle, whose deafening noise overwhelms Reya's ears, is set on the other side of the line, the figure of a hefty looking man perched atop the seat. Immediately, the young girl frowns, continuing to stride closer to get a better look at the man.

He's the epitome of a biker's stereotype. Ripped jeans, a black leather vest over a band t-shirt, sleeve tattoos covering both his arms, a little bit of scruff, and dark eyes that could easily say "mess with me and you'll be sorry".

This man, Reya deduces, must be Steve, the tattoo artist and Regina's fake lover. And her point is only proven when the man kills the engine, hops off the bike, steps over the rope, grabs Regina, and kisses her messily.

The young girl's lip curls in disgust as the older brunette simply giggles like a lovesick teenager.

"I thought you'd forgotten me today," Regina flirts, wiggling her brows at the man who beams down at her.

"Baby, there's not a day that goes by," Steve replies with a low chuckle. "I got you some lunch," he says, reaching over to open the bag that hangs off the seat of his motorcycle."

Regina's eyes light up. "Ooh!" she exclaims, "Burger? Fries?"

"Your favorite," the man says, handing her a brown paper bag.

Regina immediately snatches it from his hands and peers inside. "My hero," she states theatrically, and Reya has to do everything she can not to have her insides spill onto the ground before her.

"Umm…" the young girl mutters, not even making any attempts whatsoever to mask the visible signs of contempt.

Only then does Regina realize that she's being watched and turns in Steve's arms to look at the young brunette who stands stiffly in front of them. "Reya!" she greets as if that whole exchange hadn't happened. After all, they had PDA'd quite grotesquely. "This is Steve. You know, the guy I was talking to you about?" Regina continues to introduce the man, placing a hand on his chest.

Reya huffs. "Yeah, I know," she murmurs.

Steve raises his brow, looking appraisingly up and down the young girl. "Who are you?" he demands.

Reya doesn't miss the slight curl in his lip as he speaks. It annoys her how her mother simply doesn't even notice. "I'm Regina's—"

"Niece," Regina cuts in quickly, "She's my niece who's visiting for the summer." She stares pointedly at the young brunette who looks as if she's about to protest.

Reya crosses her arms, staring daggers between the two of them.

"Quite the little temper she's got doesn't she, for a little girl?" Steve remarks with a laugh. It only makes the young girl scowl even harder.

"I'm not a little girl," Reya responds peevishly, but to no consideration of the adults before her.

"But babe, you know I don't like you having company," Steve continues to talk, in a sickly sweet voice. He reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Regina's ear.

Regina shakes her head, looking up at him into his dark eyes. "Don't worry, she only stayed last night. I found her a place to stay, so you can have me all to yourself." She wiggles her brows seductively.

"And where is that?" Steve presses.

"A friend's house," Regina murmurs, "You needn't worry about her."

"Okay, baby," Steve replies with a nod before looking past her towards her tent. "But, you do need to worry about the customer who's just walked in."

"Shit," the brunette whispers. She moves from her so-called lover's arms with the bag of food and rushes towards the back entrance of her tent to tend to her waiting customer, leaving Steve with a rather miffed Reya in her wake.

"So, where ya from?" the man asks, attempting to strike up some kind of conversation to pass the time.

"Rhode Island," Reya replies, refusing to look at him.

"Regina never told me she had a niece."

"Oh?"

"She says she doesn't have any family or friends, well except—"

"You?" Reya finishes, looking towards the man with a piercing gaze.

"Well, yeah. Your aunt's got no one. I'm just glad I could take her in. I feel bad, seeing her all alone, you know?"

The young girl snorts. "You deserve a medal," she scoffs sarcastically.

"You always have this attitude?" Steve asks lowly, his eyes narrowing.

Reya shrugs. "You know what true love is?" she shoots back.

"Love," the man belittles. "It's such a relative term nowadays."

"What do you mean?" The young brunette frowns.

"It's been thrown around so many times, like you love this and you love that. It doesn't mean anything."

"So you don't believe in real, genuine love?"

"Is anything genuine nowadays? Everything is so fake, I think we're just used to fooling ourselves into thinking that something is special."

Reya sighs, deciding to remain silent on that comment as she catches Regina skipping towards the two of them once more.

"Four hundred and fifty bucks!" she gloats with a wide smile on her lips.

Steve turns, grinning at her. "You finally sold it?!"

"Yup!" Regina replies, beside herself with joy, "All four hundred and fifty bucks of it!"

"So proud of you, babe!" Steve laughs, shaking his head.

"Sold what?" Reya asks with a frown.

"My biggest masterpiece above all masterpieces," Regina answers proudly, "I've been trying to sell that one for ages. I'm so happy."

Reya smirks slightly, shaking her head. "What was it of?"

"It's just a simple picture of a small wooden treasure box. Boring, I know, but it was very detailed. The box was intricately carved with all kinds of patterns on the front of it. The color was just beautiful, if I do say so myself," Regina describes. "I do have to admit, I was quite attached to it for some reason."

Reya frowns slightly. "Do you remember when you painted it?" She watches as the older brunette pauses to think for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration.

"Actually, I don't," Regina says with a shrug, "That's so funny."

But, Reya remains silent. She glances behind, back towards the tent to see a figure in a hood standing just around the corner, clutching a large brown paper bag. The young girl's eyes narrow as she catches the man stare intently back at her before turning and disappearing into the mingling crowd.

"Well, anyway, I have two hours to go and then I have to drop Reya off at a friend's," Regina states upon changing the subject. She looks to Steve. "Will I be seeing you tonight?"

Steve smirks at her. "You bet, baby," he replies, cupping her chin with his hand, "I'll see you tonight."

Regina chuckles, lifting her chin to press a quick peck to his lips before the man is hopping onto his motorcycle, revving the engine, and taking off in a cloud of dust.

Two hours later and the activity around the market has slowed considerably. Reya finds herself having been put to work, taking down the paintings that are left and placing them gently, with bubble wrap, into their respectable trash bags from which they came. It takes both Reya and Regina about thirty minutes to completely break down their entire setup. Once the job is done, the two are on their way, clambering into a car chilled with blasted air conditioning and pulling from the field double-time.

In the backseat, Reya takes out her feather pendant from underneath her t-shirt, holding it in the palm of her hand. She closes her eyes for a few moments before opening them to see that a soft glow begins to form around the object just as it had done last time. So upon using the device, Reya takes to directing a wary Regina road by road. They drive into the very heart of Menemsha, making a slight left turn by the coast guard station and heading down the road until they come to a small, quaint little well-kept cabin overlooking a marshy area. Not far in the distance at all is the harbor and docks, which can easily be seen just beyond the marsh and easily accessed in just fifteen minutes by foot.

"This is him?" Regina asks, her brows knitting together as she pulls up into the driveway.

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

Regina shrugs. "I don't know," she replies, "I just thought it'd be…dirtier."

Reya laughs aloud. "No, silly," the young brunette chastises. She opens the car door and slides out. "Now come on," she urges.

"Wait, what?" Regina says, eyes widening, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just dropping you off."

"No you're not," Reya retorts, coming over to open the driver's door. She grabs her mother's hand and attempts to pull her from the seat.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Regina hisses, refusing to budge.

"You're coming with me," the young girl clarifies, "Now come on."

"I told you, nothing more nothing less!" Regina states lowly, "Now let go of me."

"Do you want me to yell and make a scene?"

Regina's eyes widen. "You wouldn't dare."

Reya's smirk is wider. "I would," she challenges. She continues to stare mischievously at the older brunette until the woman is heaving a large relenting sigh, moving to undo her seatbelt and follow suit.

"You're a pain in my ass," Regina mutters, only to be answered with a triumphant giggle.

The two walk up the steps to the cabin, Reya holding tightly to Regina's hand. With her free one, she reaches out and presses the doorbell incessantly.

"Geez, kid," Regina says, "Give the man a break."

It's then that the door suddenly opens to reveal a man with kind but weary blue eyes. His dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead slightly, a bit of scruff lining his chin, jaw, and mustache area. Reya watches with her heart pounding as his brows pull together confusedly.

Then he speaks. "May I help you?" he asks, his voice low, soft, and with a gentle husky undertone.

Regina's eyebrows lift slightly as she hears his accent so prominent in his speech. She hadn't at all known he had one. Being this close to him, Regina is able to truly study him. His frame is thick and muscly, of similar build to that of Steve's. Yet, his features are far more gentle, far more soft and welcoming. There's this air about him that breathes a warmth that affects Regina in ways she can't quite describe. And as she looks into his eyes, she almost feels as if she has known him before. There's this slight familiarity about him that she can't place. She simply puts it down to being the many times she's seen him fishing at the docks.

"Robin Locksley, I'm Reya Feathers," Reya speaks boldly, extending her hand to the perplexed gentleman. "Nice to meet ya!"

The man's brows raise immediately as he eyes the girl's proffered hand hesitantly before extending his own to take hers in a firm handshake. His heart beats a bit more rapidly as he realizes that the young girl knows who he is, yet he has never seen her in his life. It sends an unpleasant chill down his spine. "Um, pleasure," he stutters. He tilts his head, eyes quietly surveying Reya's form.

The young brunette can tell that he is terribly confused. Nevertheless, she carries on. "This is Regina," she introduces, "She's my mom."

Regina blinks surprisedly. "Oh, I'm not—"

"Ah, Regina," Robin replies in sudden recognition, "Right. You're the painter."

"I…am—but well, I…" Regina stammers.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you," the man continues, deciding to overlook the woman's uncertain behavior with a polite nod.

"Nice to meet you too," Regina murmurs, just on the verge of giving up.

Robin smiles almost sympathetically, sensing the older brunette's frustration. Though he is oh so terribly confused, he is certain that the pair are on his doorstep for a reason. "Please," he invites, "Come inside and get comfortable. I'll get you some lemonade."

Reya watches eagerly as Robin opens the door. She marches past him into his home, pulling Regina all the way. The two seat themselves quietly in his kitchen, observing the plain interior of his home. It's nothing fancy, yet it gives off a cozy vibe. Like Regina's place, this abode has only one floor, but is much smaller in size.

The silence is awkward as the two watch Robin rush around his kitchen to find clean glasses and a bottle of lemonade from the refrigerator.

"So I'm guessing the reason why you're here has to do with something important," he finally speaks as he sets glasses of freshly poured, cold lemonade down in front of them. "I rarely get visitors."

Regina snorts lightly, to which Robin frowns, tilting his head at her curiously. The brunette shifts in her seat uncomfortably.

"Um, yes," Reya answers, "We're here because we have some very important news to tell you. Your whole future depends on it."

Robin raises a brow, looking toward the young girl. "Really?" he asks in disbelief, "And what is that, may I ask?"

Reya smiles lightly. "I'm your daughter," she replies.


Crazy stuff! Stay tuned for a full and more in depth writing of cursed Robin's life! Things are really starting to pick up now, and there will be many many pieces to fit together in this puzzle. Flashbacks will return as well as we get even deeper into this whole situation!

Just a side note, I will be using all real events and places (such as the Chilmark Flea Market) in this fic. So, disclaimer, I don't own any of them, as they are simply events and places I enjoy on the island (so when this entire fic is over, you all will know practically my entire annual vacation itinerary!)

Anyway, thanks for stopping by, I will be seeing you shortly with my next update! Stay tuned and don't forget to tell me what you think!