Big chapter, guys! Things are a-happenin'! Enjoy =)
Regina is burning.
She hadn't been expecting Robin to be so bold in his letters, to describe everything with such passion, but the moment she'd begun to read the words, to let them etch the memory together for her, she'd wanted more. Wanted him.
But Robin, it seems, is frustratingly determined to remain a gentleman, and just when things had started heating up in his regaling, he'd stopped. He'd stumbled over something resembling an apology for his candor, and sent the letter along without finishing the tale.
Regina cannot bring herself to respond in kind, cannot put into words her own descriptions of what had happened that night in Camelot, but she does know that she needs to read the rest. So instead of telling him how good he'd felt, of telling him that he is right, she really had loved the thrill of possibly getting caught. How those soft little suckling kisses he'd peppered over her clavicle had made her tremble with need for him, how she'd loved the sounds he'd made when he felt how wet she was... instead of all of that, she ends up scribbling a hurried Don't stop in a tiny piece of paper and sending it back to him.
His response doesn't disappoint.
He talks of kissing her, of how aroused he was, talks of his fingers inside her and of making her come, and the memory replays itself in her head with his narrative. She remembers every single detail, made all the more erotic now that she has his words to depict the images in her mind.
She rereads that letter more times than she'd care to admit, allows herself to become entranced by the memory of his touch, the ghost of his lips on hers, and after a few minutes she starts rubbing her thighs together where she sits at the dining table, seeking some of the delicious friction that Robin himself can't give her right now.
And then there's a moment, when she's thinking of all their past debauchery, that Regina feels shy, feels that part of her that is still innocent and nervous come forth and startle at the words on the page. She's far from innocent, of course, but sex —fun, loving, emotionally healthy sex— isn't something she has a lot of experience in (Leopold wasn't much of a husband in that sense, thankfully, and her age-long tryst with Graham had its own twisted circumstances that she'd rather not revisit). Yet here she is, holding written proof of how much Robin has changed her in that regard, how much he has done to show her she can make love —and be made love to— in the best of ways.
She remembers her first time with him, that night in the vault. Remembers how hesitant she'd been at first, despite her desire flaring hotly inside her. It'd been hurried foreplay at best, desperate as they were for each other, but when Robin had finally entered her, filled her and rocked his body against hers, it had been slow. His gasps had been warm against her cheek, his lips plump and smeared in her lipstick. Sweat had clung to his skin, his hands gentle, but wonderful as they explored her body...
She's reading Robin's letter yet again when she hears Henry's keys turning the lock on the door.
Regina is up in two seconds, shoving the letter aside and letting it fall to the chair she's just vacated, her footsteps hurried and breathing labored as she hoists one of the grocery bags from his hands and places it on the table.
"You okay?" her son asks, unloading a couple of ripe tomatoes from the bag he's still holding.
"Yeah. Fine. Why?"
"You look kinda flushed," he comments with a shrug, then turns his attention back to the bag.
Her cheeks heat at that, which she imagines just makes her look redder, but she's turning her head before her son can notice, focusing a little too much on unpacking the broccoli and mushrooms inside the bag she'd been holding.
"Oh, hey, is that from Robin?" Henry asks as he bends to retrieve the letter from the chair.
Regina has never moved faster in her life.
She snatches the page swiftly away from him, crumpling the paper in the process, and gives him a shy smile as she tells him "I don't think you should read that."
Henry frowns, looks at her with confusion and curiosity in his eyes, and then something clicks, and the furrowing of his brow deepens as he groans.
"Gross," he grumbles, then walks away.
Regina avoids looking her son in the eye for the rest of the day.
The next week brings with it higher temperatures as the height of the season draws ever closer, and Regina finds herself missing the cool, drafty summer days of Storybrooke.
She can't go home, though, not yet. Not until she has Robin back.
But that rescue mission doesn't seem to be going very well. All she's done in the last few days is hit one dead end after another, and her frustration continues to grow.
The Dragon is supportive and understanding of her pain, and while Regina appreciates his intentions, his calm words of comfort only make her want to strangle him.
It is Henry who offers a remedy to her anger, when he suggests they take a walk through Central Park one afternoon. Regina agrees immediately, thinking of nothing better to calm her exasperated nerves, than taking her son on a stroll around the vast green oasis in this concrete jungle.
She's come to enjoy the city after nearly a month here, but the tall buildings blocking her view everywhere she looks have her feeling suffocated, trapped, which doesn't help her weakly stifled need to torch everything in her path until she finds a solution to this mess.
Still, the idea of being in the park with Henry helps her find her balance, has her regaining her composure just as her patience starts to wear thin, and for the first time in days, Regina smiles.
She's about to agree to his request, when she sees that spark in his eye, the one that tells her there's an ulterior motive to all this.
"What is it?" she asks, and he shakes his head, denies he's hiding something, but Regina raised him, knows his mannerisms better than she lets on, and right now, she can tell he's lying.
"Henry," she shoots in a warning tone, and holds his gaze long enough to make him cave with a sigh.
"I can't ever get anything past you, can I?" he asks with a fond little smile. Regina shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Out with it, mister, why do you want to go to the park so badly?"
Her son hesitates again, but finally gives in, grabbing his backpack and pulling out that wretched black chalice from it.
"I asked the Dragon if we could use this to bring Robin back, but he said we can't, so there's no point in keeping it anymore," he tells her. "I want to bury it somewhere in the park. So that no one can ever find it."
Oh.
Oh.
"Henry, honey, wouldn't it be best if we just kept it in my vault with every other artif—"
"No," he interrupts, his voice firm, determined. "We need to keep this away from Storybrooke, and away from grandpa. Who knows what he could do if he got his hands on it. He won't try to take it while you're here, and the Dragon said this place will go back to having no magic when we leave, right? So if we hide it here, the Dark One won't be able to track it when we go home."
Regina hears herself sigh, her eyes drifting from Henry's face to the chalice in his hand.
He's right.
"You're right," she admits, nodding. "Okay, let's do it."
Henry smiles.
"Thanks, mom," he says, then deposits the thing back in his backpack, hoisting the straps over his shoulders and hooking his thumbs around them on each side as he looks at her, waiting.
It's not the leisurely activity she'd been expecting it to be, but Regina finds that having a new purpose, a pressing one, somehow works just the same. She's thankful for the respite, for having something different to focus on, something she can actually achieve.
Save for the softball fields, the park isn't exactly crowded. School isn't out until next week, and Regina assumes most people have probably opted to stay indoors and avoid the stuffy summer air just a little longer, before little league and other outdoor activities take over their time.
The sun is just starting to depart when they arrive, the dull yellow rays still just bright enough to light up the greenery. Regina strays down a hill with Henry just a little ways off Belvedere Castle.
It's more of a nature hike than the relaxing walk she would've preferred, but her son is nothing if not thorough when it comes to magical artifacts, and he's adamant about finding a spot no one would ever think to dig through.
They find it after they've walked a little bit further into a patch of wooded area, the distant sound of children laughing echoing in the empty space around them. They've had to remain inconspicuous, so aside from Regina's gardening mattock, hidden away in Henry's backpack, they haven't brought much in the way of digging instruments, meaning the execution of their plan will be a little sloppy, but still effective.
"I think here's a good spot, I can mark this tree with my pocket knife so that we know where to look if we ever need to," Henry says as he sets his backpack at her feet, places his palm against the giant oak beside which he's standing. Regina nods from where she's rummaging through the items he's brought, handing him the mattock and waiting for him to get to work.
The grass is green, strong, and a little damp from the humidity, and the summery smell of it surrounds them, joins with that of wet dirt as Henry digs and digs, until there's a hole on the earth just deep enough, just large enough, to shove that stupid chalice inside and never see it again.
Now all they have to do is throw it in there, pack some earth back on top, and it'll be done.
Easy.
Too easy.
She should've known the chalice would fight back.
It starts with a buzzing that cuts through the air when her son takes his backpack in hand. A strange hum that interrupts the otherwise quiet afternoon, drowning out every other sound as it gets louder and louder, until all they can hear is the whirring and sputtering.
"What the hell is that?" Regina wonders out loud, and then Henry is shaking, trembling as he throws the backpack back on the ground, the blackened cup tumbling out of it.
And then it turns out it's not Henry who's shaking. It's the chalice, clanking loudly as it skitters away from their reach, and suddenly there are vicious, strange tendrils of black smoke protruding from the depths of the artifact, scurrying over the floor, as if searching for something...
"Henry, run!" she yells, extending her palms and thrusting as much of her power as she can towards the source of the magic, but the bright white light merely bounces off the metallic edge of the chalice and hits her just below the stomach, throwing her against a nearby tree, her back slamming harshly against the trunk.
"Mom!" she hears her son yell, but doesn't see him, spots clouding her vision as she tries to make sense of her surroundings.
The dark, smoky tendrils are there again, reaching out towards her, and then Henry is in front of her, crouching down and raising a gentle hand to her face.
"Mom. Mom! Are you okay?!" he asks urgently, hovering and breathing shallowly against her. He's scared, she can feel it in the slight tremble of his hand, as it gingerly touches the small bump she can feel forming on her head.
"Henry, get out of here. Go!" she pleads, trying to summon her magic again as the thick smoke from the chalice gets ever closer.
"I am not leaving you!"
"Yes, you are, now go!" Regina barks back, then throws another blast of white light at the chalice.
Wrong move.
It's like her magic only makes it angrier, strengthens it, and now the thick smoke looks solid, has little blue sparks of lightning flying about as it moves faster and faster, and then it detours, looping around Henry's foot instead of hers, and dragging her son away from her.
"Henry, no!" she's dragging herself towards him and holding on to his hand as firmly as she can. But the pull of the magic is too strong, has Henry's fingers slipping from her grasp as she tries to keep him there.
And then he's gone.
The smoke wraps around her son, envelops him to the point where he is no longer visible. There's a growling of sorts, a strange rumbling coming from the magic as it exudes its power, but Regina can still hear her son's screams. Feels her heart shatter with every scared shout of Mom! Mom help me! Please! And no matter how many times she tries, or how strong her light magic is, it does nothing to stop it.
The chalice begins to hover above the ground as the smoke becomes thicker, sends more sparks flying, and Regina tries to grab it, to smash it with her foot, and only ends up back on the floor, feels a gash rip across her cheek when she hits a fallen tree branch.
"Henry!" she exclaims desperately.
"Mom! Make it stop!" he shouts back. He's in pain, terrible pain, and tears fall down Regina's face as she tries and tries and tries to stop it. She throws fireballs at the chalice, and for a moment it falters in its actions, has the smoke thinning just slightly, and she can see her son, can see a bright yellowy glow over his chest, and it hits her.
The chalice is breaking her protection spell over Henry's heart. And the closer it gets, the stronger it becomes.
"Mom, what's happening?! Where are you?! I can't-" he breaks off on a strangled whimper, "I can't breathe!" there's a labored gasp for air, and then another desperate cry of "Mom!"
She understands then, that light magic won't help. The thing feeds on it, and her son has the heart of the truest believer, easily the purest source of light magic in this entire land.
Henry is coughing now, and the yellow light that was her spell over his heart is losing its shine, becomes duller and duller by the second. She knows the chalice won't stop until it's consumed Henry's light, and all she can do is cry and yell for her son.
During the torturous seconds of watching his agony, she keeps thinking that she could fix this. If she still had dark magic, the purely dark magic she used to be able to conjure, maybe she could stop it, maybe she could battle against it long enough to give Henry a chance to escape.
But she is not that person anymore, and her fireballs are all she has left of her darkness, she'd made sure of that when she'd taken the queen's heart and crushed it, eliminated that part of herself. Hadn't she?
That stupid pirate's words come to her then.
"How's this for irony? You've done too much good!"
Gold's voice also speaks in her head. "You've gone soft," it says, and then she thinks of Cruella, of Ursula, Zelena, all telling her she no longer has what it takes to be a villain, to wield that much power.
And then Henry cuts through it all with an ear-piercing scream.
"Henry!" she yells, "Henry I'm trying! I'm trying but it's fighting! It feeds on light magic!"
"Use-" he chokes as the magic continues to squeeze the light out of him, "use dark!"
"I can't! I'm not capable of that anymore!"
"Yes you are! You're—" he breaks off on a whimper, clutching at his chest with his hand as he tries not to suffocate in the magic's grasp.
"You're the queen!" he wheezes, "Please, mom!"
She's desperate, panic settling in her chest as she watches the magic drown out her son's agonized shouting. And then the chalice floats ever higher above them, thriving on the magic it continues to draw from Henry. It almost feels like it's laughing at her.
Anger starts to bubble up inside her, flushing her very skin with the familiar burn of power, of the need to destroy and maim and kill. She'd thought it gone when she crushed the queen's heart, but she feels it now as she stares at the chalice, feels that rage, the raw impulse to cause pain and suffering.
The chalice is dark, and it is dangerous, but she is darker, she is lethal, and she. Will. Win.
Regina summons her magic again, and this time it's purple, the familiar fumes of revenge and evil feeding her fire as she thrusts the strongest wave of power she can muster at the chalice.
This time, her efforts actually pay off.
The cup withers, tips over as it lets out a shrill, scratchy sound, one Regina can only compare to nails on a chalkboard.
She smiles smugly.
"Now," she instructs, her voice deep and menacing. "Get. Away. From my son."
The magic in the cup protests, tries to hold on to Henry, who is still choking and sputtering as he tries to wrestle away from his prison, and so Regina focuses all her strength on producing another wave of magic.
She ignores the pain caused in her ears by the sound still blasting from the cup. Draws from her every misfortune to build up on her anger, feeling the power, basking in it as the wave expands and expands. And then she releases it.
It happens fast. Faster than she has time to absorb, but her magic hits its target, turning a nearby tree into dust, setting another on fire with the force of it, and Regina ends up thrown into the air by the blast, hits the trunk of a willow a good four feet away.
Suddenly the chalice is folding into itself, shriveling up as its horrible scream becomes louder, and then, Regina feels relief flood her as the black mass around her son begins to dissipate, turning back into swirls and tendrils of magic that are sucked into the now deformed cup.
Henry's gasp breaks through the noise less than a minute later, and then there is no noise anymore. The magic is gone, the chalice left tumbling on the ground as her son runs in her direction and launches himself into her arms.
Regina is taken aback by the sudden gesture, shaken out of her warrior mode, but then he's there, her precious boy, all smiles and relief as he clutches her around the shoulders and breathes out a "Mom!" against her ear, grounding her in the moment, in him.
Her evil impulses are still there, still bristling under her skin, but they're somehow duller, less burdensome. She's... calm. In control. Devoid of the constant worry and dread that she's been carrying ever since she decided to be a hero.
It's not the blissful high she'd get from it when she was the queen, more like a relief after releasing all this pent-up tension inside her, but shame still slithers through her at the notion that using dark magic has made her feel good.
People have started appearing nearby, curious as to the source of the loud BOOM from earlier. She can hear them now, approaching and gasping at the sight. They don't believe in magic, she realizes, so they've probably heard the tree explode, and maybe her screams, Henry's, but not the shrill screech of the chalice, or the wild gusts of wind and the strange, distant growling from the magic as it had wrapped around Henry. To them, it's just a bizarre accident, with none of the far more evil events she's just witnessed.
"Mom, you saved me," Henry says as he pulls back to look at her. She's magically restored the other tree, the one she'd accidentally set on fire, and they're hidden enough behind the willow that no one will see them yet, so she takes a moment, looks at her son with a watery smile.
"With dark magic," she admits sadly.
"But you used it for good," he replies, a pride she's undeserving of shining bright in his eyes. "You did it for me. You really acted out of love this time."
She frowns at that.
"You mean you're not... you're not disappointed in me for using it?"
And to her complete and utter astonishment, Henry smiles.
"You're not light or dark, mom, you're both. And you're a hero for it. That thing would've killed me if you hadn't used those powers."
It would have killed him. The words are knives cutting into her soul. Hot tears sting her eyes, and Regina lets them fall freely, the fear of losing her son playing with her emotions now that the adrenaline of the moment seems to be dying down.
"I'm sorry I ever made you think you should repel your darkness," Henry says then. "It was stupid of me."
"No. This is not your fault," she says vehemently. "I wanted it out of me. I basically tore my own dark heart out and crushed it so I wouldn't have to deal with it. I should have known I can't get rid of it that easily."
"Good," he says, and at her wide-eyed look, he explains, "I don't want you to be Snow White, that's not you. This is you. Someone who loves me, who'll do anything to save me and everyone else if they're in danger."
"But Henry-" she tries, but he's still talking.
"I told you once, you're not a villain, you're my mom. That doesn't mean you have to be a saint, it just means you have to be yourself. The queen is part of that. Maybe not the best part, but it's helped you become who you are now, and I love who you are now, mom."
Something in the way he says it, the slight tremble around the words, maybe, or the boyish, somewhat high-pitched tone of his voice that isn't usually there, now that he's older. She doesn't know exactly what it is, but something there, makes everything click.
All this time she'd wanted to find her place in the world, had suppressed her every dark impulse and tried so hard to be a hero like the ones around her so she could fit in, so she could be accepted. She'd never realized she could be her own brand of hero, that she could embrace both sides of herself and do great things. Good things.
She accepts it then, welcomes her dark past and the lessons it taught her, holds on to the angry, desperate piece of her that once caused so much misery to others. She may not be too thrilled about that part of her life, but she wouldn't be here without it.
She's not that person anymore, but it's shaped her, turned her into who she is today, into the mother Henry loves, into the woman Robin sacrificed himself for, the woman who makes apple turnovers for Roland and has drinks with Emma, the woman who learned to see past her old grudges and made friends of her two biggest enemies.
She's become someone who can get things done, someone who can protect an entire town and save people, someone who can cook and laugh and love, and who can also fight fire with fire if it means saving someone's life. Regina realizes then, that it's because of her darkness that she's become someone she's... actually quite proud of.
Henry is right. She is not light, or dark. She is both.
And with the startling clarity provided by this new revelation, Regina decides she wouldn't have it any other way.
She smiles, and something inside her unlocks. Some strange puzzle piece of her soul that hadn't yet been discovered. She feels complete now. Feels whole. And the sensation is so foreign to her that she's overwhelmed by it, more tears leaking from her eyes before she has a chance to stop them. Henry just looks at her proudly, wipes them away with his thumb as he stands and helps pull her up, her back resting against the willow.
Regina takes a deep breath, and a wave of magic erupts from her without her meaning to. It sweeps their surroundings and extends beyond and beyond, like a curse has just been broken, and that's... strange. There's no curse on them. Is there?
"Henry, we need to go see the Dragon right now and tell him what happened," she decides.
"What do we do with the cup?" he asks, staring at the crumpled up mass of blackened iron on the floor, covered in splinters and leaves.
"I don't think it works anymore, but I'll hide it in my vault just in case, okay? Until I know how to get rid of it completely."
"What if it still works and grandpa steals it?"
"I'd never let that happen. I'm stronger now, I can handle it."
"Are you sure?" he asks, sounding a little nervous, and Regina jumps at the chance to be a mother, to offer her son as much comfort as she can.
"I'm sure. You have nothing to worry about," she promises, her hand cupping his cheek before she leans in to land a kiss on his forehead.
They emerge from their secluded spot to a group of onlookers arriving at the scene. Regina is limping, her knee sore and scratched, and she notices her ears are bleeding a bit, remembers the pain she'd felt in them earlier, from the sound of protest the chalice had made as she battled it.
Henry is a solid weight against her, though, has his arm wrapped around her waist and is helping her walk as best he can, only stops to address some of the people giving them concerned looks.
"We got startled by that weird exploding noise and fell down a hill during our walk, but we're okay," he reassures an older couple offering to help.
"Are you sure?" a middle-aged man asks as he takes his phone out, ready to call 911, Regina assumes.
"We're fine," she says in a clipped tone, exhaustion and pain invading her now that there's nothing else to worry about.
"We live right across the street, I'll just get her home so she can lie down," Henry tells the man, waving away his concern, then keeps walking her out of the park.
The Dragon is at their door in less than ten minutes after they call him, and Henry shows him in while Regina finishes making herself presentable. Her thin gray shirt is covered in dirt. And she notices upon removing it that there's a small rip on the back, right where she'd hit the willow. She'd been wearing this very same shirt when Robin first told her he was in love with her, back when 'Marian' was frozen and he couldn't wake her, and the sight of it, wrinkled and dirty and damaged, affects her more than it should.
Standing in her underwear in front of the mirror, Regina checks her face and body for injuries. Her ears no longer hurt, but the blood is still there, so she cleans that first. Then the cut on her cheek, healing it with magic, much as she's done with the few scrapes on Henry's arm and knees.
Her hair is a mess, twigs and blades of grass stuck in her disarrayed tresses. What she really wants is a long shower, just a few moments of relaxation under the warm spray before she has to figure out what to do next, but the Dragon is here, and they have business to attend to. That shower will have to wait.
By the time she joins them in the living room, wearing loose-fitting pants and a blue shirt, Henry has made them all tea, and from what she hears of their conversation before she makes her presence known, the man has already been filled in about the events that transpired earlier.
"Ah, Regina," he says when she clears her throat and wobbles a bit around the kitchen, taking the seat opposite him when Henry insist that she please stay still before she passes out.
"So, I hear you've found your balance," the Dragon says with a smile.
"Something like that," she replies as she fiddles with the handle on the cup Henry's just placed before her.
"How do you feel?" he asks, and she gives him an answer she gave Robin months ago, meaning it even more this time.
"Stronger than ever."
