A/N: This little snippet features two little girls who popped into my head one night and decided they quite liked it there. Also I was planning a description for an Outlaw Queen child and couldn't decide on which one to use, so I thought, "Why not use both?" This is what happened.

"Mama, Mama!" The sound of her daughter's fear-laden voice snatched Regina from her doze on the couch. She was mounting the stairs before her eyes were fully open, calling, "I'm coming!" as reassuringly as possible.

Hana met her on the landing, blue eyes wide and terrified. "It's Bekah," she whimpered tearfully at Regina's—slightly breathless—inquiry as to what was wrong, pointing to the bedroom she shared with her twin. "She's on fire."

"What?" Regina exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her daughter and drawing her down the hall. Hana clutched at her mother's hand, squeezing her fingers with all her four year old might.

Rebekah Mills-Hood sat on the floor of her room, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her face as thickly as the sky blue smoke that billowed from her finger tips. Catching sight of her mother and sister at the door, she sobbed, "Mama, help me!" and Regina's heart broke.

"It's alright, baby, it's alright," Regina soothed, kneeling before her fair-haired daughter. She didn't move to touch her, wouldn't until she was sure the magic surrounding her was passive. "Hana, go and find Rollie for me, okay? Tell him Mama says to call Papa."

Hana looked pensively at her sister. Rebekah bit her lip and blinked as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "Bekah…." Hana whimpered, and made to step into the room.

"Hana, go find your brother." Regina's voice rang with command, and both her daughters flinched. That was Mama's "I am the Queen and you will listen to me," voice that she used on the people in town, when they were being idiotic, or on Auntie Snow and Uncle David, when they were being really idiotic. Or on Papa, but only sometimes.

But she had never used it on any of the children before. Ever.

Hana whined in her throat as she turned around, and Regina closed her eyes momentarily as her footsteps fled down the hall. Her girls were inseparable at the best of times, but in moments of high emotion—like one of them appearing to be on fire—it was nearly impossible. She would sit down with Hana later; at the moment her thoughts were consumed with the fair haired little girl in front of her.

Her Rebekah. The spitting image of her father, and her little princess. Her bottomless blue eyes stared into Regina's, searching for the reassurance and love she so desperately needed from her mother. Her lips quivered uncontrollably, barely letting in enough air for her to breathe. Her little hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of her pants; Regina could see her fingers quivering with the force of her grip.

"Bekah," she murmured carefully, still not reaching to touch her. "Can you tell me what happened, honey?"

"I'm on fire, Mama," her daughter sobbed, and Regina felt tears of her own spring to her eyes. "My hands are on fire."

"Do they burn, sweetheart? Do they hurt?"

"No, but they're smoking. Look!" Bekah turned her hands, palm up, towards her mother, and the pale blue smoke swirled into the empty space between them. "Mama, what's happening to me?" she wailed.

She had magic. Rebekah, her child, her first born daughter, had magic. Regina's head swam with the realization. They had known it was a possibility, the children having gifts similar to Regina's, when she first discovered her pregnancy. Had spoken to Gold and to Whale about the magical and medical repercussions, and even to Granny, who had experience raising a child with abilities that would need to be monitored. But never, never in a million years, had she thought that the girls' powers—if either of them had any at all—would manifest so soon.

And yet here she was sitting across from her daughter, trying not to cringe as the smoke curled almost inquisitively toward her. "I see, honey.

"Rebekah, you know how Mama has magic?" Rebekah nodded, sniffing loudly. Nothing seemed to move and she coughed. "And Mama's magic sometimes makes a purple cloud?" She swirled her hand, stirring a bank of plum cumulus clouds into existence. Rebekah nodded again. "Well, it looks like you can do the same thing, dear."

Rebekah looked down at her hands. The smoke turned slowly into fluffy clouds closely resembling her mother's example. She gasped, surprise sweeping away the fear of a moment before, and she brushed her hand through the blue cloud. "I can do magic?" she exclaimed.

Regina smiled brightly. "It appears so, sweetheart. But you have to be careful, okay?" She waited for the little girl to look at her and nod before continuing. "Our magic is connected to our feelings. We have to be extra careful not to lose our tempers, or something could happen." Regina let the coil of motherly fear tighten around her heart and the fluffy purple clouds turned into a miniature storm front, complete with thunder and lightning, before dissipating completely.

Rebekah's eyes widened and she nodded again. "Okay, Mama," she said.

"That's my girl," Regina said, scooping her daughter into her lap and kissing her where her neck met her shoulder. She still smelled like toddler and baby soap, but there was something else now, on the edge of it. A hint of magic.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and a breathless Robin burst through the door, crying, "I'm here, I'm here! What is it?"

Regina couldn't help but smile at the alarmed look on her husband's face. "It's alright now, Robin. The girls were frightened for a moment, but we've got it sorted out, right?" she looked down at Rebekah, who nodded emphatically.

"I have magic, Papa!" she exclaimed proudly.

The former outlaw looked incredulously between his wife and daughter and the clouds of colored smoke drifting around them. He blinked wordlessly, mouth hanging open in astonishment. "Magic," he murmured, slowly sinking to his knees on the carpet.

"Yes," Regina answered, feeling Bekah tense and cuddle closer. She tightened her hold on her gently, squeezing both her little hands in one of her own. Robin's feelings on magic were a type of no-man's land in the family. Nobody talked about it or mentioned it at all. Papa loved Mama, and Mama loved Papa, and that was that. Magical abilities and past criminal behavior didn't enter into it.

"We knew this was a possibility, Robin," Regina continued carefully, watching him as his eyes roved from one cloud bank to another.

"I know," he replied, nodding his head. "I just thought…."

Rebekah was starting to fidget, and her magic with her, so Regina helped her stand and quickly showed her how to "put her magic away" and sent her downstairs to Hana and Roland, waiting in the living room.

"What did you think, dear?" she asked, sitting next to Robin against the wall.

"Just…that it would take longer. They would be older. Does Hana have it?" he asked suddenly, meeting her eyes for the first time since entering the room.

"I don't know," Regina replied, shaking her head. "Possibly. Possibly not. But it's not like Rebekah has some sort of disease, you know. It's just magic." She flinched as soon as the words left her mouth. They both knew in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as "just magic".

Robin hung his head. "Four years old. She's just four years old, Regina."

She laid her hand on his arm, stroking comfortingly. "I know. That just means we can start her schooling soon; when they start kindergarten, even. It's alright, Robin," she insisted as he shifted to lay his head on her shoulder. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she whispered. "She isn't alone. I can teach her—the right way—how to control it. And there are others, too."

"I know. But it won't stop me from worrying," her husband replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

"Me either," Regina said, pressing a kiss to his temple as the laughter of their children echoed up the stairs and the last remnants of magic faded from the room.