Robin wakes in the kitchen to dawn light drifting in through the windows and the gentle clatter of meal prep. It's a soft morning and he takes a moment to smile down at Regina and Roland. Roland is already awake and entertaining himself quietly beside the fireplace.
The soft morning is shattered when Little John and Friar Tuck run into the kitchen. They are both panting as they hurriedly slow their steps and cast desperate eyes at Robin. Robin is out of his seat in a second. He jogs to meet them by the door and sends a worried gaze over his shoulder at the sleeping woman and the boy beside her.
"What's happened?" he asks with steadying hands reaching for John, who seems the most affected. John's face is bright red in anger and he throws a heated gaze to Tuck.
"It's Tom," Tuck answers for them. He cringes. "His mind is addled by drink, he's a good man, it's the drink that does I-"
Robin cuts him off, "Where?"
Roland tugs on the leg of Robin's trousers and Robin picks him up without a thought and with hardly even a glance. "I asked where, Tuck!"
The Friar cringes again. John pulls on Robin's arm and they've taken two steps before Robin remembers Regina. He half turns, eyes on her, on the even fall and rise of her chest and the hair spread around her face, black like night, looking as soft as silk, eyelashes dark against her smooth cheek.
"I've got her," Granny says from the rocking chair. Robin nods and leaves.
It's nearly a five minutes walk through the castle before they come upon Tom. Tom with a sword in hand. He's smacking the pommel against a door while screaming obscenities and threats. He's got vomit on his shirt, and in his hair, and it's only when Roland shies away with a whimper that Robin remembers he's even there, he'd been so blinded by urgency and growing anger. Robin passes Roland to Friar Tuck, and they back away together.
Robin waits for the pair to round the bend, and then he surges forward.
"You whore!" Tom is screaming, "You nasty whore, I'll kill you, I'll fu-"
Robin grabs his shoulder, turns him and slams a fist into his gut. The sword clatters out of Tom's hand as he falls to his knees.
Tom looks up at him with a snarl. "Robin?" he groans. Tom smells like piss.
The door behind Robin creaks open, half a face looking out. It's the frightened face of a young woman with tear tracks running down her cheeks.
Tom sees the open door and stumbles to his feet. Rage twists his features as he pushes Robin out of the way and puts all his weight against the door. It bursts open and a shrill scream comes from the girl. Tom steps after her as she scuttles back. Robin and John grab him, drag him back into the hall and he's raging and screaming and finally John clocks him straight in the face.
"What do you think you're doing," John growls. Tom has a cupped hand under his chin, he's trying and failing to catch the blood leaking from his nose.
Tom stumbles to the right and gestures at the door that has been slammed closed; the girls sobbing can be heard through it. "Nasty bitch, teasing me all night," he stumbles to the left, "smiling, giggling like, and-" then it's a drunken ramble and Robin turns his head away in disgust.
Robin grabs the lapels of Tom's jacket, shakes him, and then throws him away. "Clean yourself up," he orders. He stoops and picks up Tom's sword. "Leave the girl alone," he growls.
"Can't order me!" Tom yells.
Robin smacks the flat of the blade against Tom's leg and the man crumples. Robin shoots a hand forward and grabs a handful of Tom's hair. Robin's nose crinkles at the smell. "If you weren't Tuck's brother, you'd be a beaten and bloody mess on the floor," Robin snarls. Tom tries to shrink back. "Leave the girl alone or I'll change my mind." He throws Tom away by the grip on his hair.
Tom heaves himself up as he's grumbling unheard threats. He looks back glaring, but leaves the hall in a drunken shamble.
John and Robin share a glance. With a shake of his head and a sigh Robin passes John the blade. He goes to search for wherever Friar Tuck has taken Roland.
"You have to do something about him," Robin says.
"It's the drink," Tom starts and stops when Robin raises a hand.
"He could have killed that girl," Robin reminds him. "He still could."
Embarrassment colors Tuck's cheeks, and his head dips in shame. "He wouldn't do that," he says with a shake of his head, and perhaps he wouldn't have killed her, but there are other things he would have done, and bile rises in Robin's throat at the thought.
Robin lets out a deep breath and studies the other man with a frown. "I'll not have him around my boy," he says finally, and means it. This violence has gone unchecked for too long.
"I understand," Tuck says. He nods and looks up to the sky as if praying to his god for strength.
"Tuck," Roland says as he skips between them. He's is holding a frog in his hands, smile wide and Tuck looks down at him and smiles, but it is sad.
"Roland," Friar Tuck says much later. They've been spending the morning having a bit of a walk around the grounds. They're in a meadow of sorts now. The Friar is drifting his hand to graze over the long grass.
"Yeah?" Roland responds and looks up.
Friar Tuck leaps towards him with his hands raised in tickling position. It's a game they've played since Roland was very young. Roland's eyes widen immediately and he runs to his father. "Papa! Papa!"
Roland is running as fast as his little legs can go, giggling madly as he runs away from Friar Tuck's wiggling fingers.
Robin smiles and sweeps the boy smoothly up and places him on his shoulders. Roland's hands fist in Robin's hair, hard enough to hurt and Robin loosens one hand from around his son's ankle to ease his fingers. "Easy now," he laughs, "and what is this?" he asks, looking at Tuck.
"I'm an ogre," he says, calmly, and then glances up at Roland. "And I'm gonna get him!" he cries, and lunges even as Robin leaps out of his reach.
"No, Papa, don't let him get me!" Roland's hands are once more in Robin's hair, pulling at it.
"What kind of steed would allow their rider to face such danger?" Robin proclaims as he tickles at Roland's feet and begins to bound away. "You are a mighty knight, do not be afraid," Robin reminds Roland with a wry grin. The notion that his son, the son of a thief, an honorable one, but a thief nonetheless, would strive so hard for knighthood is a funny one. Robin reaches out and tears a dead branch off a young tree and starts running as he reaches over his head and hands the stick to Roland. Robin neighs, long and loud and Roland almost falls off his shoulders he's giggling so hard.
Robin let's Tuck get closer, then spurts forward in a burst of speed, he does it twice. Roland's laughing cries of, "Go horsie, Go! Faster!" are a desperate plea as he kicks his heels into his father's chest.
"Regina!" the boy calls and begins to bounce on Robin's shoulders.
Robin turns his eyes up and almost immediately trips on a clump of dirt. He stumbles but steadies fast. Regina is standing above them on a veranda with both arms raised. A smile stretches across her face and as her long hair plays madly in the wind. She's standing straight, a spark to her eyes, she looks healthy in a way she hasn't since he's known her. He feared for her life only yesterday, as she lay in his arms soaking wet and crumpled, unnaturally pale and listless. The sight of her looking so healthy has a smile on his face and the thought that she used magic to achieve this crosses his mind, and he's grateful.
Robin smirks and runs towards the veranda. "Ser Roland," he cries. "We need-"
"Horsies don't talk!" Roland cuts him off.
"A Queen's token," Robin continues and bounces the boy on his shoulders. Robin looks up at Regina, his eyes lingering on the dark fabric of her dress swishing about her legs in the wind. "For luck, my boy, ask the Queen for a token."
"Regina, could I borrow a token please?" Roland begs, and Robin bounces him again.
Regina laughs, a tinkling, light sound, a beautiful sound, more girlish than Robin would have thought. "Roland, I'm sorry, I have no token, but-"
Robin's smile falters as she leans over the railing. She's talking to the boy and cupping his face in her hands. The way she's leaning has her breasts almost spilling out of the low cut of her dress. Robin gulps and studies the supple flesh, soft and smooth. Robin makes an effort to close his mouth as his gaze travels up to her stretched neck as she places the most gentle of kisses on Roland's forehead.
She's beautiful, he thinks. For the briefest of moments, standing there in sunshine, he imagines her back arched and neck straining as she screams his name. He imagines her spread out under him, panting and writhing, with his hands in her long dark hair. He imagines how the heat of her would feel wrapped all around him, wet and tight and she'd be moaning and the thought is so sexual and so instant that he has to shake his head and slam his eyes shut to block sight of her.
"-kiss all your knights, Regina?" he hears Roland say.
She laughs again, that girlish sound and Robin keeps his eyes shut, taking a deep breath as he wills himself to calm down. He thought he was past the age where such inappropriate thoughts come on unbidden.
"No, dear, you're the only one," she answers.
Friar Tuck is growling just a little way away and when Robin feels Roland turning on his shoulders he happily accepts the distraction. Robin opens his eyes as he spins around, and Roland points his stick in front of them. "I got a kiss from the Queen," he bellows, "and you're nothing but a mean smelly ogre, and she'd never kiss you!"
Robin neighs and whisks the boy forward. His heart is still beating madly and he can't get the picture completely out of his brain, the picture of her undone, even as Roland gets a little too involved in the game and hits Friar Tuck right along the top of his head. Friar Tuck lands on the ground at the blow, but doesn't look too hurt; he's pondering loudly why life is so unfair to ogre kind.
Roland is squirming so much that Robin reaches up and slides him down. Robin watches as Roland scampers over to Regina and she smiles at him. "Did you see?" Roland says with his chest puffed out like he's a real champion.
Her arms cross and her smile gets strained but she nods. "Yes, dear," she says, "you defeated that mighty foe admirably."
Somehow the boy looks even more proud after her praise. He turns away to jump and swipe at some grass with his stick while making swishing sword sounds under his breath.
"Your Majesty," Robin says and takes a step towards her. "We wished to see you safely awake, but-"
She shakes her head with a hand raised to stop him. She has such graceful hands.
"No need," she says. "I wanted to thank you." She looks so surprised. "You carried me two miles, thank you."
Robin shakes his head with a small shrug. "Well," he starts, and knows whatever is next coming out of his mouth will make him look like an idiot, but he can't seem to stop himself, "it's not as if you're heavy." He cringes and laughs.
Her eyes narrow and she leans her head back, she hums, and he takes it as a question. "Because you aren't," he clarifies, "heavy I mean."
"So if I weighed a little more you'd have dropped me?" she asks with her eyebrows raised and he can see she's teasing. The idea of it makes him excited in a way he doesn't stop to decipher.
"Papa!" Roland gasps and whirls around with the stick pointed up as if he might hit Robin with it.
"No," Robin reassures him and hopes he doesn't need to take the boy's stick away. When he looks back to Regina he wants her desperately to know the truth of it. He steps closer to her. "I would carry you anywhere," he says in a quiet tone that he hopes Roland won't hear. Her breath catches in a moment so subtle Robin thinks he might have imagined it.
She turns away then and misses the way Robin's gaze drops down to her lips. She turns away to look down at Roland tugging on her skirt. The boy has his hands upraised with grabby palms and immediately she bends down and grabs him. She rises with him on her hip, planted there like he's always been there, and the boy looks content with his arms wrapped around her neck.
Fear and dread crawl up her face and she flinches back from Robin like she expects to be yelled at. The expression on her face deeply troubles him. She should never be afraid of him. "I'm sorry," she says and makes it obvious she means to put the boy back down. Roland is tightening his arms around her neck and throws a pleading look at Robin.
Robin reaches out and pushes her shoulder until she straightens. "You make quite the pair," he says, and it's the truest thing he's said all day. She looks healthy, but just yesterday he is fairly positive she'd nearly died in his arms. "Is he too heavy?"
She shakes her head as the wind comes and blows her hair all around. She's left it down and glorious, it's long enough that it when it whips about little stinging strands reach Robin. He wishes he could run his hands through it. In his day dreaming he nearly misses it. Her arm. Robin's eyes widen and he steps even closer. He reaches out to grasp her wrist and bare her arm to his scrutiny. The intensely awful wounds on her forearm have closed, terrible scars are left in their wake. The skin is raised, but the scars are stark white against her skin tone, like it has been years since they healed. Robin cannot hide his wonder as he runs fingertips up these new marks decorating her body. When she tenses and breathes out a stuttering breath Robin thinks perhaps he's caught her in a ticklish place. An apology is on his tongue as he looks up to meet her eyes.
His apology melts away and he's suddenly fuck-struck by the look in her eyes. Her entire face is flushed and her lips part softly as she looks up at him.
"Are you even listening?" Tuck says and breaks up the heady moment. The man has his arms crossed as he lays on his back in the dirt. "I am dying here!" he cries out. Robin knows he does put some creativity into his Ogre death speeches, but he can only laugh and wave Tuck off with a grin. His heart is pounding.
"So sorry, Tuck!" Robin says.
"Regina, will you eat with us?" Roland asks.
Regina's mouth opens with her eyes locked on the little boy on her hip. She seems speechless. There's trepidation in her eyes and a heavy dose of fear, but longing also as she looks at the child. Does Robin know her well enough to know her moods by just the look in her eye?
Robin has no memory of her ever eating with anyone, she is always alone, walls impenetrable, chin held high. Such a life must be so lonely.
"You're more than welcome," Robin tells her. He smiles at her, trying to cajole.
She tightens her hold on the boy. "I," she stutters and looks him up and down ."If I'm welcome," she finishes with an attempt to smile. It's a hopeful thing that nearly falters before it's grown.
Robin looks to Tuck, and the other man is studying him, and Regina, looking at them like some ancient tome unearthed for the first time, and Robin doesn't quite glare, but it's hard look, and it's unmovable and Tuck has been Robin's friend for long years, but Regina is…
Robin doesn't know what Regina is yet, but she is something, something important and Tuck seems understand this. He stands, claps dust from himself and smiles and Robin is relieved.
Roland is squirming in bed. He's been kicking at his blanket and grumbling for over an hour. Robin wonders what Regina would say to make the boy sleep. Her trick with the carrots still brings a smile to his face.
"My boy," Robin sighs and flops himself down across the bed with Roland's kicking legs trapped under his weight.
"Papa," Roland whines as he's pushing at Robin till he rolls over.
"Go to sleep." Robin rubs a hand across his face and wonders why he always finds himself the most tired exactly when Roland doesn't want to go to bed..
"I'm not tired." The boy pouts, but his eyes are drooping. He's a stubborn child, which, during the daylight hours, thoroughly delights Robin, but at three hours past Roland's bedtime, not quite as much.
"I think you are actually," Robin softly and shuffles up the bed to hug Roland against his side. "Come on now. It's easy, close your eyes."
Roland sighs an exasperated sound, as if he's dealing with someone particularly obtuse. In response Robin jostles him softly, and they both bounce on the bed. "Are you doing it?" Robin asks with his whole face scrunched up to keep his eyes closed. "Won't work with your eyes open."
"Papa," the boy says with a different tone than the whining of before. His voice is hesitant.
"What is it?" Robin asks as he opens his eyes and looks down at the boy; Roland is playing with a loose thread on his nightshirt.
"What did Mama look like?"
Robin smiles and pulls the boy in tighter. It's been a couple months since Roland had last asked about his mother. Robin has the same answer as before. "Your Mama was beautiful, Roland. She had dark hair, just like you." Robin rubs the boys back softly and tucks his chin against the curls Marian gave him. He pokes Roland in the stomach until the child giggles. "And you have her eyes. She had a smile like sunshine, Roland, it brightened whole rooms."
Roland shuffles and tucks his head harder against Robin. Robin can tell something is weighing Roland down. "Roland, what is it?" he asks with a soft.
Roland takes a breath with one shoulder stays raised in a shrug. "Does Regina look like Mama?" he asks.
Robin blinks and his face falls.
He's speechless for a moment, before he stumbles through something that resembles coherency. "Why do you ask?"
Roland shrugs again and fidgets. "Regina has hair like mine, it's dark and it's curly. Regina has the prettiest smile, even the small ones." Roland looks up, his chin against Robin's chest and is looking introspective about it all. "Regina's beautiful, you said Mama was beautiful."
Thoughts are racing through Robin's head. "Yes, your Mama was beautiful," he responds. SHe had been, she was, so beautiful that Robin could spend hours looking at her face. Everything about her had been beautiful, her kind eyes, soft eyes, her gentle hands, her lips, upturned in a smile always, she was even beautiful when angry, nose curled up in a snarl, gesticulating wildly and usually throwing things at him.
She'd even looked beautiful as she lay dying.
"So does she?" Roland asks and tucks his head back down with a yawn.
"Yes, Roland, she does a bit." And she does. Regina has long, luscious dark hair, as Marian had. Roland used to squeeze long tendrils of it in his baby fist. Regina has large, dark, and expressive eyes, as Marian had. Robin used to joke that he could fall straight into Marian's the full lips that Robin had so loved in Marian, the same feature is there on Regina's lovely face.
But Marian had been a happy soul, easy in her friendship and her love, she'd escaped her hardships without bitterness and had laughed easily and long.
Regina, she is an entirely different sort of soul. Sad and angry, fighting tooth and nail for something better, the air around her feels tortured, her pain her companion even when she smiles.
The comparison sits heavily in Robin's gut, even as Roland drifts away to sleep, a boneless and heavy mass on Robin's chest.
Robin tries to tell himself that this is in no way untoward or lecherous, but can't convince himself.
He walks quietly down the hall to the Queen's chambers. His boots had been thrown on hastily and he is still in his loose and comfortable sleepwear. He doesn't knock as he slides through the door that he opens without a sound.
He just needs to see her, that's all.
He wants to see her, but to speak to her is something he's not ready for. Roland's voice is spinning through his mind, 'Does Regina look like Mama?'
Robin stops when he sees her bed empty. He looks around fervently with something tight gripping his chest until he exhales when he sees her curled against the balcony railing. Hurried steps carry him towards her. Has she fallen? Is she hurt? When he gets close enough though it appears she's only fallen asleep. Asleep with one arm dangling through the rails. Concern grows in him and marks his brow as he kneels beside her. He pushes the heavy weight of her hair over her shoulder.
"Regina?" he whispers.
Looking at her now he could answer Roland once and for all, Regina looks like Regina, and no one else.
Robin glances back to the bed and bites his lip as he decides to take the chance, he can't leave her on the floor, he can't. He gathers her up in his arms and stands. He waits a beat to see if she'll wake and when all she does is turn her head in towards his chest he breathes relief in. He steps carefully over to the bed and lays her down over the covers. When he pulls back her eyes are half open and look up at him with a sleep filled gaze. A soft smile grows on her lips and it transforms her whole face.
"Robin," she mumbles his name. Her hand wraps around his wrist on the bedspread.
"I'm sorry to intrude," Robin says softly.
Her eyes blink closed. Robin wonders if she'll even remember the encounter as her face relaxes again with a deep exhale and she's still and peaceful on the bed.
He leans over her and studies her face. His gaze lingers on her slightly parted lips before he kisses her forehead softly.
