Robin was exceptionally grumpy and made no attempt to hide the fact from her.

"I do not think this is a good idea," he said for the thirtieth time since their meeting with the Merry Men, who had all gone off in quite an excited uproar to make provisions for their trip. Regina herself was busy collecting various potentially helpful-looking objects from around her tent to dump into a makeshift knapsack. She might find some use for a wooden fork when breaking into her own castle, right? At best, a handy weapon; at worst, just in case she needed to brush her hair? She shrugged and added it to her growing pile. It wasn't like she'd done anything like this before.

The thought thrilled her beyond belief.

She remembered vividly the last conversation she would have had with Rumplestiltskin in this…sideways reality, or whatever you wanted to call it. She'd skipped one of their magic lessons; he'd interrupted her dinner and skipped straight to feeding all the grim, black fears that had infiltrated her heart like a slow-acting poison. His ominous words, uttered like a curse, spoken with that impishly cruel look on his face—the darkness likes how you taste, dearie; it doesn't mind the bitter—and now that it's started the meal, it's going to finish it—when all she wanted was freedom. And then, later that same day, Tinker Bell had helped her find it, when she stepped foot inside that tavern.

Robin Hood was her freedom.

"It could be fun," she offered now as bent down to examine some short but hefty branches and a piece of twine, wondering if she could fashion them into a set of nunchuks. She felt young and silly in a way she hadn't for years, giddy with the same anticipation that struck her whenever she snuck away to the stables under her mother's hawkeyed scrutiny.

It made her feel alive again.

When Robin didn't respond right away, she threw him a coy backward glance over her shoulder. He was scowling.

"I fail to see how one could classify the risk of losing you in the very place you sought to escape as 'fun' for anyone," he tallied back.

"You won't lose me," and, feeling emboldened all of a sudden, she abandoned her packing project to slink over to him. His arms were folded over his chest in displeasure but gave way with little resistance at her gentle tugging, and she enveloped herself in his embrace.

"Little John's right. I know the castle like the back of my hand," she said, pressing her chin into his chest as she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He released a deep sigh through his nose and tightened his hold at her waist, but he still looked not the least bit mollified.

"Well I know all too well the risks that come with the job like the back of mine, my queen," and his sardonic use of the term seemed to have become his thing whenever he was cross with her, and she smiled, because they had a thing now.

"Don't tell me you've never been tempted to steal from the King before."

"I've never wanted for anything that belonged to the King, until I met you," Robin said, and the sentiment was so beautiful despite the fact that he expressed it so angrily, she had to hide her smile into his shirt knowing it would only infuriate him further to see it; "and now that you're here I'm not bloody likely to go waltzing into his own home and essentially hand his wife back to him on a silver platter."

"I'm not some exotic dish to be feasted on at a banquet," she said tartly, and if he hadn't been so incensed she knew he would've jumped on that opportunity to make some naughty retort about how she was exactly that.

As it was, her persistent nonchalance about the whole thing seemed to only upset him more. "It's far too dangerous," he continued heatedly. "If we get caught there will be hell to pay."

"Then we won't get caught." She pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his mouth, and he was just vexed enough to not return it right away, but her tongue slid out to taste his lower lip and he gave in for a brief moment, pulling her close. She felt her heels rise weightlessly off the ground and fought the ridiculous urge to kick her foot back behind her like a smitten Disney princess.

"Now," she whispered huskily, tracing his jawline with the tip of her nose and planting an open-mouthed kiss into the hollow of his neck, "what were you saying?"

She felt a grumble resonate through his chest and laughed. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"Vixen," he growled, and without warning he'd scooped her up from behind the knees and lifted her body clean into the air. Her mind reasoned to itself that of course he wouldn't drop her, but her arms flew around to encircle his neck anyway, and he turned to smile into her cheek, depositing a quick kiss there before he pulled back and raised a playfully suggestive eyebrow at her.

"If we're to go on this reckless, foolhardy mission, then I plan to waste not another moment of our time together arguing with you."

It was not more than a day's ride to the castle. Their journey commenced just before dawn with a lengthy gathering, held upon Robin's insistence, in which Regina mapped out in intricate detail the secret entrances and underground passageways that would be of greatest use to them. (She left out the part about how they were much more accessible now that they weren't sealed by blood magic and other such deterrents she had put in place as the Evil Queen.) They saddled up and rode out just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, without much issue, apart from Regina's hesitation when Robin had approached her with a beautiful white horse at the reins.

"Oh," she said, holding out a tentative hand that the horse snuffed at eagerly in search for sugar cubes. "It's just…it's been a while."

Robin gave her a funny look. "You rode Shadowfax not three days ago."

"Right. Of course," said Regina, and was she imagining things or did Shadowfax look skeptical? The mare tapped a hoof and exhaled loudly through her nose, as though sighing in exasperation. But Regina stood there looking unsure until finally Robin gathered her up at the waist, coaxing one heeled foot into the stirrup and the other to swing her body around into the saddle. Shadowfax bobbed her head encouragingly. Robin hoisted himself up soon after, tucking Regina snugly in between his thighs and against his chest, and if he noticed the sudden hitch in her breath he had the decency not to comment on it. But she could feel the smile he pressed into her hair, and she wondered if he hadn't somehow planned it this way all along, just to reassure himself that she was there with him for as long as he had control over it.

"Maybe while we're at it," he spoke lowly, stubble tickling her ear, "we can find you some more appropriate runaway attire to change into," and she laughed, thinking about the utter impracticality of her entire wardrobe awaiting her back in her bedchambers. In truth, there were some things she wouldn't mind grabbing from there, since running away hadn't exactly been the first thing on her mind when she'd last left it.

Little John brought his horse up to a trot alongside Shadowfax and spent the better part of the late morning and early afternoon regaling them with stories from his childhood; from the sound of it, even then he'd been no more diminutive than his name implied, and no less gentle-hearted than he was now. Regina marveled at the ease with which her smile reached both ears, and she felt a pleasant flush heat up her neck every time the vibration of Robin's chuckle reminded her how their bodies fit together like a two-piece puzzle.

He was guiding Shadowfax one-handed, with the other wrapped around Regina's waist. Spurred on by the warm security of his hard lean body at her back, she took the reins from him, which he gladly exchanged for an extra squeeze to her hip. Shadowfax, sensing the change of hands, took off suddenly from the group in a delighted gallop, putting more and more distance behind them by the second. Robin released a startled hand to rein her in, but Regina held fast, beaming, and nothing had ever come as naturally to her as this and she'd almost forgotten how it felt to fly.

They arrived by nightfall, securing the horses at the edge of the forest just outside the palace gardens. Little John had been right about the guards, or they were simply lazier than she remembered; there wasn't a single one in sight. With their luck, Regina thought, Leopold and Snow wouldn't even be home, as they were prone to being gone on one of their father-daughter trips for weeks at a time.

Still, the sight of Robin Hood and his Merry Men tiptoeing across the moonlit gardens was one Regina wouldn't soon forget.

Following her guidance, they snuck through a grate and into a system of tunnels leading beneath the kitchens with relative ease. The smell of spoiled food, bodily waste and other rubbish soaking the stone path was fairly unpleasant; but nothing went terribly awry, apart from Little John letting out a startled little yelp at a shadow lurking in the corner, which turned out to be a cat, looking very unimpressed by the large hairy man making a mad dash to get away from it.

"Can't stand those creatures," he muttered by way of apology when Robin gave him an amused look.

They eventually found themselves at the source of the stench, or rather, directly beneath it; a medieval trash chute of sorts, with a thin, precarious-looking ladder dangling down the side from a vast darkness above.

"Right then," spoke up one of the men—a boy, really. He was in his late teens and had the drowsy face of a angel, with downcast eyes and the droopy eyebrows to match. But he had a devil's wit about him and, Regina suspected, the charm of one too, when it came to the ladies. From her understanding, he'd joined Robin's Merry Men not more than a fortnight before she had. "That is bloody disgusting. Can't think of a better place to put a ladder, really."

Robin clapped a hand on his shoulder, causing the boy to stumble forward. "Stay strong, Will. I suspect it was put in as a precautionary measure, should the passage ever need to be manually unclogged," and he began to lead his men up without so much as a grimace. Will Scarlet looked horrified but slowly followed suit.

The ladder brought them straight into the inner bailey of the castle, within the privy chambers of the servants' quarters. Regina was the last to emerge, and Robin took her hand.

"Little John knows the way from here," she said in stage whisper, and the man nodded solemnly; he'd spent the second half of their journey rendering a map based on Regina's instructions, more for the other men's benefit than his own because he'd already committed them to memory. "I'm going to my room to grab some things."

"Not alone, you're not," said Robin, readjusting his quiver. But she had figured as much and was already dragging him by the hand down the corridor. "We'll meet you back in the forest by the strike of twelve," he said to Little John in vehement undertones, "and under no circumstances are you to delay your departure any further than that." They slipped beyond a balustrade and disappeared up the stairs.

"Wait, but, hold on, they're going the wrong way," Will said. "The servants' quarters are right here." He turned round to find that the other men had already gone. "Oh bloody hell," he muttered, and took off after them.

"So this is where you live." Robin Hood was leaning against the elaborate stone base of the archway that framed the entrance to her bedchambers, arms crossed as he examined their surroundings with a curious eye. They hadn't heard a peep or encountered a single soul on their way up, confirming her suspicions that Leopold and Snow were indeed out of town.

"Lived," she corrected with a smile, rifling through her wardrobe for a more sensible pair of shoes. She was beginning to think the chances of finding anything that didn't have at least a three-inch heel rather unlikely.

"And this…" a few steps forward brought him to the corner of her bed, "is where you slept."

Regina looked against her better judgment. He was playing with the fringe on one of her pillows. She hadn't slept in that bed in ages—nor could she recall the last time she'd owned something in such a nauseating shade of pretty princess pink—but the familiarity of him standing there, like it was the most natural place in the world for him to be, was infinitely alluring to her. She could practically feel the pillows molding to her body as she grabbed hold of him by the cloak and brought him close, and he'd been divested of all those bothersome layers of clothing and they were wrapped between her sheets—

She hurriedly turned away to hide the desire coloring her cheeks. "I found something to change into, at least," she said, and was mortified to hear her voice not quite working properly. Clearing her throat, she held the dress up for him to see—a flattering enough bodice with gauzy billowing sleeves, not unlike what she'd worn into the tavern, but this one lacked the heavy sheen of opulence and the delicate crystal beading; it was made of a lightweight almost jersey-knit material, soft but not silken, that flowed with every subtle change in the air around it.

"Don't look," she said sternly, and stepped behind a four-paneled room divider to change.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." She could make out his silhouette through the thin ivory canvas, could practically hear that stupid beautiful smirk of his, and she put her arm through the wrong sleeve twice in her hurry to avoid giving him a striptease with her shadow.

When she stepped back out, Robin had found her crown, gold and sapphires, the same one she wore in the wanted posters. He gave her a small smile, almost shy, and stepped forward to rest it in her hair.

"What are you doing," she laughed, and then blinked in shock when his body folded into a deep bow, an arm sweeping grandly out in front of him to take her hand. "Will your majesty do this poor, common thief the honor of giving him this dance?"

"You're being absolutely ridiculous," said Regina, rolling her eyes, and he twirled her up into the air in response. She had to clamp her mouth shut to contain the embarrassing sound of delight that threatened to escape as he set her gently back on her feet. He pulled her close at the waist with one hand, his other grasping hers to his shoulder. She felt him humming against her ear, and then he was singing to her softly, in a smooth low tenor, a folk ballad she didn't recognize and at the same time felt like she'd been hearing her whole life. She put a hand to his chest, enjoying the way each note thrummed straight through to her fingertips, and she realized with a start she'd never heard him sing before, didn't even know he could.

Her eyelids drifted closed, her forehead nestling under his chin. This Robin Hood was so…different from hers—so impulsive, so carefree, without having ever experienced the sobering insights of parenthood or the true knowledge of loss. She wondered how it really would've turned out in the end had she met him in the tavern that night, without the knowledge of what would follow when she didn't. The darkness hadn't completely overtaken her then, though Rumple's words had proven accurate enough later on; would Robin truly have been able to save her from it? Or was this all just a fantasy she was willingly losing herself to further and further, because it was easier to regret having not done something, than to accept the blame for everything else she had done after?

And could this Robin ever forgive her if he knew the truth? There was another difference—her Robin had cared for every bit of her, and had known every bit of her, all the way down to her dark past and its bitter aftertaste. But then there was the rub, wasn't it, because he was no longer hers, and it wasn't enough that his wife was back, but that she, Regina, was the reason why he'd lost her in the first place. Even if Marian hadn't been executed at her hand—and now she would never know the truth that no longer even mattered, thanks to Emma Swan's meddling—the woman had still ended up separated from her family because of the threat Regina had made to her life.

Either way you looked at it, really, could the timing ever truly be right for them?

Yes. It is now, said a wicked voice in the back of her head. Just admit it. Love may be strength, but it's your weakness. You know this is wrong, and yet—

"I never want this to end," she whispered, to herself, and into Robin's chest. His lips traced her hairline.

"Regina? Is that you? Are you back?" The voice was muffled by the thick mahogany door on the other side of the archway, but she would recognize its sweet, cloying cadence anywhere.

It belonged to Snow White.

Regina had Robin backed up against her balcony rail in an instant. "You have to go!"

"I'm not leaving you here," he said, looking alarmed but stubborn.

The idiot! She wanted to smash her fists against his chest.

"Regina?" Snow's voice filtered through and echoed across the vast expanse of her room again, and Regina felt like screaming. They were running out of time.

"I'll be right there, dear!" Regina called, and then turned back to Robin, who still refused to budge. "Go!" she yelled in a frantic whisper. "If you get caught—if they find you here—" She left all the hypothetical horrors unsaid. She honestly didn't know what Leopold would do if he discovered them together, if he knew that she had personally led a band of thieves straight to his treasure vault. Really, no idea; there had been no precedent for it. But Snow…

Decades worth of progress rebuilding that relationship from emotional ruin had been literally erased the instant she'd woken up in Robin's tent. This Snow didn't have the benefit of drawing wisdom from the future, nor the emotional capacity, to fathom the extent of her involvement in destroying Regina's first chance at happiness. If she had a hand in her second—

"I will never be able to forgive myself," she said finally.

"And you think I will, if I abandon you now?"

"You're not abandoning me if I'm telling you to go." The words carried a certain irony that was, of course, lost on him.

He still looked unconvinced.

The castle clock tower began to chime. Twelve o'clock, and all is well.

"We'll see each other again," she promised desperately. "We will find each other."

Did that really come out of her mouth just now? Her Snow would be beaming like an idiot to hear it. But she doubted the current one would be nearly as appreciative.

It was all she could do not to shove him right over the edge. He was quite cat-like in many regards; she knew in her heart he would land on both feet. "Please, go, now." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't make me pull the queen card."

Still looking torn, he swung his body over to stand on the other side of the wrought-iron rail, anchoring his feet beneath the bottom rung, and grabbed her face into his hands. "Meet me back at the tavern," he said forcefully, and she tried to nod her consent but his grip was so tight. "If you're not there by dawn, I am coming back for you." He crushed his lips to hers in a desperate, bruising kiss.

There was a scuffling sound behind her.

"Go!" she said urgently, and he dropped down, his cloak billowing out and suspending midair as he landed firmly with two feet on the courtyard ground. She released a sharp sigh of relief.

He stole one last glance up at her, and then he was gone.

"Regina?"

She whipped around so suddenly a hand shot out to keep herself from tumbling over in a manner far less graceful than Robin had.

"Snow," Regina began, cautiously, and the air was punched right out of her lungs as Snow ran straight into her, trapping her in a small but fierce hug.

"I missed you," said Snow, plaintively, and Regina actually felt a funny twinge in her chest. "Where did you go? You were gone for so long."

Regina opened her mouth and then, not knowing what to say, closed it. Her arms came around to rest awkwardly on the girl's shoulders.

Snow, clutching at her dress, looked up, and her eyes were wet.

"Regina, who was that man kissing you?"

A/N: Hi friends! Maybe not a whole lot happening in this one; needed to set the stage for the next… :)! Hope you had fun reading though. Please please let me know how you're feeling, I'm so curious to hear what you think! I honestly can never tell reading my own stuff what works and what doesn't, and your comments really help me out a lot with that. To my lovely guest reviewers whom I can't direct-message, thank you so much, and I look forward to hearing from you guys with every chapter!

Anyone catch my Lord of the Rings reference? And what's a Disney fairy tale without a really awesome Disney horse that basically thinks it's a dog?

To dear locksleyss, this is my version of Sean Maguire serenading Lana in the Enchanted Forest, just for you :)