Rolling onto her side, Regina smiles faintly as she watches Robin sleep beside her—looking so comfortable as he snores lightly—and she wishes she had the ability to just cast away her thoughts and worries and succumb to sleep. As she watches him sleep, she can't help but envy him—regardless of circumstance, he's almost always been able to block away the world and allow himself to rest. She, on the other hand, could easily lie awake for hours, tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling, replaying something in her head again and again and again as it ate away at her, and when sleep did come, it was usually short and restless.

For more than an hour now, she's gone over the entire day over and over. She's thought about the times when she looked at her hand or was cognizant of the feeling of her ring on her finger. She remembers that it felt cold while they were outside and how it'd grazed her cheek as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear while the wagonette made its way back to the Lodge. After that, she doesn't remember acknowledging her ring—but still, in vain, she tries to remember it.

When the clock strikes, she grimaces as she listens to the low hum of its ring coming from down the hall. It's well-past midnight. She knows she should sleep, but no matter what she just can't and every time she presses her eyes closed, trying to will and rationalize herself to sleep, her thoughts inevitably circle back to the missing ring. Begrudgingly, her eyes snap open, and she throws the blanket away from herself, getting out of bed to find her robe.

It makes no sense to be up, to go downstairs and search in places she'd already searched—and yet, if she managed to find it, she'd be able to put her mind at ease and finally get some sleep. Even if she didn't, she'd at least know where it wasn't and maybe narrowing it down would give her just a tiny bit of peace of mind.

She knew that last bit was a lie—after all, she and Robin had already searched the likely places the ring could be inside of the house—but nonetheless, she's soon on her hands and knees, combing her fingers over the carpet that covers the stairs, awkwardly balancing a candle to aide her search.

"Regina, what on Earth are you doing?" She looks up sharply, nearly dropping the candle, to find her father standing at the library's entry way, a mug in one hand and a plate in the other, looking at her like she's absolutely lost her mind. "It's… nearly two in the morning."

She blinks. "You're up."

"I am, but with a purpose."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you on the lookout for Santa Claus for Henry and Roland? Because, I hate to tell you that's all a—"

He chuckles. "No, no. I'm on kitty watch."

"What?"

"Well, you see the boys got up about an hour or so ago—"

"They did? Are they al—"

"They're fine. Absolutely fine. They went to bed early and… well…" She watches as her father bites down on his lip, looking guilty. "It was snowing."

"You woke them up."

"For just a bit."

"Daddy—"

"They were back in their beds within the hour, Regina."

"Still."

His eyes roll. "Well, the cat followed them, as expected, and... well…" A hearty chuckle escapes him as he turns back to the library. "Come and have a look for yourself."

Regina sighs as she reluctantly leaves her place on the stairs—and when she reaches the library, her father steps out of the way, and she can't help but smile at the sight of Toulouse, nestled in the lowest branches of the tree as if sleeping in a hammock.

"Roland was afraid he'd fall."

She smiles gently as she looks back at her father. "You and I both know he'd land on his feet."

"Yes, but… there's something so nice and content about sitting in a dimly lit room, looking between a decorated Christmas tree and the snow falling outside as you snack on left over treats." Grinning, he offers her one of the raspberry tarts from Roland's birthday. "And now that I've explained myself, it's your turn to explain yourself."

"Hm?"

"You just… thought it'd be a good idea to inspect the carpet fibers in the middle of the night? Looking for dust or, perhaps—"

"My wedding ring."

"What?"

"At some point over the course of the day, my wedding ring went missing."

"Oh," he muses, frowning a little. "And you've no idea—"

"Daddy, if I had even the slightest idea where it was, I'd be looking there instead of combing the carpets."

He chuckles lightly and pops another tart into his mouth. "Mmhmm."

"It… could be in here, too. Or… outside somewhere. I…"

"It'll turn up."

"You sound like Robin."

"He's not concerned about it?"

"He didn't seem it."

"Well, it is just a ring."

"It's my wedding ring, Daddy."

At that, he laughs. "Still. It's a ring. It's not like you misplaced your husband."

"I just… I feel terrible about it."

"Why?" She blinks—and though it seems so obvious that this is something that should be upsetting, she struggles to answer her father's question. "Come here," he says, taking her by the hand. "Let's have a little chat about this."

"Daddy, I don't want to—"

"What else are you going to do? Go dig in the snow?"

She frowns. "Maybe."

"Come on. Sit down," he says as he gently takes her by the arm and leads to her to the couch by the hearth. "Let's chat about this."

"Daddy, it's not—"

"Sit." Regina sighs but nonetheless follows his direction, watching as her father sits beside her. "Is Robin upset about the ring?"

"No, but—"

"I know it matters to you, but truly it's a symbol of something that matters to you." Gently, he grins. "You've always had a habit of beating yourself up over things."

"Well that was all but beat into me."

She watches as her father's grin fades. "Since coming back here, I've thought a lot about your mother and you and—"

"You don't have to—"

"I'm not sure an apology would even suffice."

Her lips tighten.

He's right. Nothing can undo the years spent in her mother's clutches. But she knows better than most what it feels like to think you've made every possible wrong choice and that your best intentions paved the way to your own misery—and worse, guaranteed that same misery for your child.

"I'd say things worked out for both of us," she says, attempting and failing at sounding cheery, as she reaches across the couch for another tart from her father's plate. "Here we are."

"Indeed. Here we are."

"You know, earlier—before the debacle of losing my ring, or, well, noticing that I'd lost it—Robin and I were speculating what it would have been like had you and I stayed here."

At that, he brightens. "The two of you played once, did I tell you that?"

"No," she murmurs, feeling a smile tug up at her lips. "You didn't."

"He and his parents were just stopping through—an obligatory stop, really—on their way to somewhere more exciting." He chuckles softly at the memory. "It went poorly. You threw mud at him."

Her eyes widen. "I threw mud—"

"Oh, yes. Quite a handful. He cried." She sighs as her father laughs out. "You claimed that he tugged on your braids, or maybe it was your ribbons—"

"Well, did he?"

"It's possible."

"Then it sounds like he deserved to have mud flung at him," she says, her shoulders squaring as she smirks. "Though, I'm quite glad he was able to forgive me."

"Ohh, by the time you were adolescents that little altercation was long forgotten."

Her brow furrows. "Adolescents?"

Her father grins. "Do you remember that purple dress you had? It was made by—"

"Of course I remember it. It was the first thing I ever wore that I actually had any say in. I loved that dress."

He nods, grinning at the memory. "Well, you were wearing it one day when you tagged along on a trip with me into town. I promised you raspberry cordial and as we were on our way to get some, we all but ran into Robin with his nanny—"

"I don't remember this," she murmurs, her eyes narrowing as she tries to conjure some recollection of it. "I vividly remember the dress and I remember getting raspberry cordial as a treat, but I don't remember… well… anything else."

"He was across the way and…" A little laugh bubbles from her father as he shakes his head. "And he was staring at you like he'd seen something absolutely extraordinary—and, of course, he had—and if circumstances had been different for both of you, that would've surely been the start of something."

"When we were first married he told me he had a crush on me when we were teenagers."

"He told me the same when he proposed," Henry admits. "And you know, I don't know if I believe in fate or soul mates or any of that sort of thing, but your paths always came so close to intersecting. It was as though the universe was trying to toss the two of you together." He laughs gently and shakes his head. "And if the universe also wanted to piss off your mother by doing so—all the better."

She laughs, too, smiling at the thought of her and Robin as once star-crossed lovers whose paths finally converged. "Why are you telling me this? Not that I mind it. I just…" Her voice trails off and she shrugs. "Unless your goal is to distract me from thinking about my ring—"

"Oh, no. No, no. It's not that," he tells her, stopping to take a long sip of his cider. "These last days I've just been quite reflective and…" He sighs as he looks back to her, setting his mug on the little table at his side. "I suppose it's a comfort to me to think that your life worked out as it was supposed to in spite of me."

"I wouldn't say in spite of you, exactly."

"How about in spite of your mother, then?"

"That's better."

He offers a short nod. "And I saddled you with that mother."

"No—"

"I could've made different choices."

"Who's to say she'd have let you?" Her brow cocks and she shrugs. "She had a plan for me. I might've blown it all to hell, but when I was little, she had no reason to think I'd do anything like that. She'd never have let us just… be. She'd have found a way to ruin the happy little bubble you created for us sooner or later."

He nods, grunting as he reaches again for a drink as if considering that—and as he mulls her words, she finds herself thinking of her mother and her childhood, and eventually, her thoughts wind around to Zelena, the sister she never knew she had.

"Can I… ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did you know about Zelena?"

For a moment, her father just stares blankly. "Zelena—"

"I know that she's my half-sister."

Again, he just stares. "How long have you known?"

"A couple of weeks," she murmurs. "Though, looking back, it seems so stupid that I didn't know before then."

Her father's eyes press closed. "Yes. I knew about Zelena."

"The whole time?"

He shakes his head, drawing in a breath as his eyes open to meet hers. "Not her whole life, if that's what you're asking. Your mother told me who she really was when she showed up at Dragon Head with a note from Johanna—"

"Johanna West."

"Yes, she was... um… a lady's maid at Dragon Head for a time. She worked for us when Cora and I first married."

"Zelena believed she was her mother."

"That was the story Cora paid Johanna to tell her, and… well, I assume that Johanna grew to love her as her own. She raised her from the start."

Regina nods as she considers that. "So, she… had a baby that you didn't know about—"

"As I told you, I wasn't around much. I suspected something, I just… I didn't know what exactly. Truthfully, I didn't really care what it was she was keeping from me."

"So, she had a baby you didn't know about and… gave her away."

"Yes," Henry murmurs, his voice clipped. "She thought it best."

"Interesting."

"And then when Johanna died, she arrived at Dragon Head with a note—"

"What did it say?"

"I don't know. I didn't read it. Your mother did, though, and that's when she informed me she had another daughter and that daughter was going to come and live with us."

"And you were alright with—"

"I wasn't alright with any of it," Henry sighs. "But what was I to do? The poor thing was an orphan—or so she thought—and she was a nice enough girl. The two of you go on well, for a time."

"Zelena didn't know, though, did she? She thought—"

"Oh, no. Cora was adamant about keeping the truth from her. She cooked up some story about her being a distant relative and…well, that was that."

"But she knew Johanna wasn't related to us. She had to have realized—"

"She was young and grieving, and the thing that made Cora's story so convincing was that there was an element of truth in it, you see. According to Cora's lie, the distant relative that Cora fabricated was Zelena's birth mother and it was she who gave Zelena to Johanna."

"Oh—"

"I always wondered when she'd figure it out. In some ways, it was a blessing that you took after my family. It wasn't obvious just by looking at the two of you that you were sisters."

Regina nods. "But… why did that matter? I don't understand why she couldn't just tell—"

"The truth?" Henry interjects, laughing out in a sardonic little burst. "Think of what it'd have done to Cora's reputation. Think of…" He stops and frowns. "Cora and I talked about it. I was willing to claim her as my own, but we couldn't quite get around the fact that your mother gave the girl away, and… well… your mother felt that you had a better chance at… at a… um…" He sighs as he starts to stammer, and when he looks down, it becomes clear.

"At a profitable marriage."

"Yes, and providing for one very attractive dowry was easier than splitting the difference."

"Why me though? I was so… unruly as a girl."

"Your mother thought that between the two of you, you were the more desirable one."

Regina blinks and feels her lungs nearly deflate. "She… thought I was prettier."

Henry nods as she considers that—as she considers that the only thing her mother saw in her was her beauty, that she never saw value or potential elsewhere—and then, she thinks of how that must have seemed from Zelena's point of view—to be thrown away because she was inconvenient, for her value and potential to be looked over because she wasn't pretty enough.

"I… almost feel sorry for her."

"For a long time, I did." He sighs. "After you and Daniel ran off, your mother tried to cozy up to Zelena—"

"Like she was some sort of replacement."

"Yes."

"That's awful."

"But Zelena always seemed to fall short in your mother's eyes." He frowns as if trying to decide where he's going with this bit of information, and as he decides, her stomach flops with discomfort. "Well, at some point, Zelena figured it all out—"

"Does Mother know that?"

"I don't know, honestly. Your mother and I… never really talked a whole lot. Much of what I know about this situation I picked up from observation or by overhearing whispers from the staff."

"Ah—"

"When she started buzzing around Richard, I knew that was going to be messy."

"I still don't under—" Her voice halts as she looks up at her father, the pieces slowly but surely clicking into place. "Oh. I… I do understand."

"Do you now?"

She nods. "If she could steal the Locksley fortune, one way or another, then… then she'd… she'd be able to prove herself. She could… earn her spot in her own mother's heart."

"That is a very likely possibility."

"I wonder if it'd have worked."

"I don't know," Henry murmurs. "As I told you the other day, I don't pretend to know what's in your mother's heart or mind."

"But it's the only thing she ever truly wanted, the inheritance she felt she was robbed of."

Henry nods and a little grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "That's why she didn't try to stop you from marrying Robin, you know."

"I figured."

"But don't feel too badly for Zelena—"

"I… I can't help it," she admits, thinking of Zelena as she once did, thinking of her as the orphaned child desperately trying to find a place in the world instead of the woman who'd try to ruin her. "I do, in a way."

"That's because you're a good person with a big heart," her father says gently, reaching out and patting his hand against her knee. "But Zelena will be alright. I can guarantee that."

"How?"

"Well, I can tell you, one thing she absolutely inherited from your mother is her tenacity, and as soon as she gives up on trying to win over Cora, she's going to realize there's another parent in the mix."

"Oh. Right. She… she has a father."

Henry nods. "And that pathetic little imp is loaded."

For a moment, Regina just stares, not quite understanding—and then, as the realization settles upon her, her eyes widen. "Gold is Zelena's father."

"Yes."

"Oh—"

"He and your mother had… quite a thing for awhile."

She blinks as she tries to process that. "They—"

"Might've married had your grandfather not plucked me up from the pile of not-so-lucky bachelors." He grins and shakes his head. "Gold might've been loaded, but he's always been a bit of a loose cannon. I was… steady."

"What a match they'd have been."

"A match made in hell, that's for sure."

"And after you married, they… carried on and…"

"I was quite glad for it. Their affair allowed me to have my own." And then, Henry shrugs. "Well, that bit is ancient history now, but I'm sure Gold will take it from here."

"You think he wants her to know?"

"Why else would he have fed you all of those clues?" She hadn't really considered that; but now, it does make sense—at least to a degree. "He was so angry with your mother when she gave Zelena away—"

"Oh, I can imagine."

"As can I," Henry tells her. "That's when he really lost it."

"That's… sort of sad."

"It is."

"Wow."

Holding out the plate, her father offers her another tart. "I was worried your mother would figure out your role in it and unleash her wrath. But, alas, you're safe from her up here, and… well…"

"I hate her."

"Your mother?"

Regina nods as she looks up at him. "When I got pregnant—"

"I know."

"And after Henry was born—"

He nods. "I know."

"She was horrible to me."

"Yes. She was."

"And…what I did was… it was no different than—"

"I know," her father murmurs. "I know."

"My god—"

"I think in some ways she resented you for the parallels in your stories."

"Because I repeated the mistakes she made?"

"No," he says, grinning sadly. "You were braver than her. You… owned your choices and struck out on your own to make a life of your own choosing. She could never do that. She… she was never brave enough to do that. She could have turned me down. She could've run off with Gold. She could have done a lot of things, but she didn't because in the end, she's a coward."

Regina's brows arch. She's never thought of her own story that way.

She felt like running away was the cowardly thing to do, that she was hiding from the shame she knew would come with her mother's wrath—and certainly, her mother thought of her as a coward for doing what she did.

"She was so terrified that her secrets would come out."

"I… understand that feeling."

"Why didn't you ever tell me this? I'd have loved to lord it over her like—"

"People don't lord things over your mother."

Regina frowns. She knows that's true. "Still. She made me feel so…" Her voice trails off. "Just to have knocked her down a peg or two would have been—"

"Terrible."

"What?" She shrinks back a bit, feeling betrayed. "How could—"

"Your mother is dangerous when she's angry. She's crueler than usual and she'll stop at nothing to protect herself." He sighs and when he speaks again, his voice nearly cracks with concern. "Regina, she would have never just let you hold something over her. She'd have…" His eyes press closed and he draws in a breath. "Who knows what she'd have done to you."

"You… think she'd have hurt me for simply pointing out—"

Henry scoffs as his eyes open. "When an animal is wounded, they don't care who they bite."

"What do you—"

"Regina, you should leave it—"

"Stop protecting her."

"I'm not. I swear that I'm not, Regina. I'm trying to protect you."

"Daddy, I'm an adult. I'm not a child anymore, and I have a life completely separate from her."

"And thank goodness for that."

"Tell me what you meant then." Her shoulders square. "She can't hurt me. I won't let her."

"That's naive—"

"How could she possibly—"

"Have you ever wondered why Richard hates Cora so much?" The question takes her aback. She hadn't expected Robin's father to be brought into this—and then, something in her father's demeanor changes. "If you really want to know why I kept your mother's secrets, if you really want to know why I tried to put you off the trail when I learned you were talking to Gold, if you really want to know why I allowed you to run away with Daniel… I'll tell you."

She nods, struggling to find her voice. "I… I do."

"You have to understand, you can never let on that you know."

She musters a sort of grin. "It's not like I make it a habit to talk to her, you know."

"I know," he says, offering the same fake little grin. "So, have you wondered why Richard was so adamant that our family and the Locksleys stay apart?"

She nods. "Of course. He was… awful to me because of that. Of course I wondered why." She shrugs. "I just… thought it was because of… the choices I made after, um… after Daniel died."

Henry shakes his head. "It had nothing to do with you at all, Regina, and it had everything to do with your mother."

"How? Wasn't their feud simply about the inheritance issue?"

"Initially yes, but that was always more on your mother's end, not Richard's."

"Oh."

Henry takes a breath. "You… told me once that you and Robin found some things in his mother's cottage. A day planner, among other personal items."

"Yes…" Her brow furrows. "But what does that—"

"And you know that his mother hired Johanna West shortly after she left Dragon Head." Reigna nods. She'd all but forgotten about that. "Well, you see, it seems that Johanna, though she loved and cared for Zelena, never quite could get over the fact that your mother could just toss the child away—"

"Well, it is a terrible thing to do."

"It is," Henry nods. "Robin's mother agreed."

Regina's brows arch. "Johanna told her?"

"Cora thought so."

"Oh—"

"I don't know what happened," Henry says, his voice shakier than it was more. "I… I wasn't there in the room with them, but…" He sighs and his eyes press closed as though whatever comes next in this strangely disjointed story is painful to him. "We were all at the Blanchards—your mother, like Richard, was an old friend of Leopold's."

"I don't remember—"

"They had a falling out when you were young. That night was… that night was the last time your mother and I were invited to the Blanchards'."

"Oh—"

"You see, Robin's mother confronted Cora—"

"About Zelena?"

Henry nods. "Presumably."

"And—"

"She was pregnant, just starting to show—" Regina blinks and suddenly, her heart begins to beat a little faster. Robin's mother died while she was pregnant. She'd just assumed that she'd died in labor—and perhaps that's what Richard told Robin. "She and Cora got into an argument and—" He stops, his eyes widening. "As I said, I wasn't in the room, but… when a crowd gathered… Eleanor was at the bottom of the stairs and Cora was at the top."

"Oh… oh my god. She…" Suddenly her stomach churns, and she finds that it's difficult to breathe and speak at the same time. "Did she… push…"

"I don't know," Henry murmurs, answering the question she couldn't quite finish. "Cora says no. She swore on your life that she didn't push Eleanor down those stairs."

"But—"

"As I said, she'd do anything to protect herself."

"And… what about… what happened to..."

Though he's looking right at her, her father's gaze seems so distant. "She lost consciousness and was bleeding and—" He stops. "By the time the doctor arrived, there wasn't anything that could be done to wake her."

"So, she just… she died from the fall?"

Henry offers a curt nod. "And so when Robin asked for your hand… all those terrible things that Richard said to you, he said to you…"

"He said because I'm a reminder of her."

"I think so."

"Oh. Oh my god, I—"

"I never wanted you to know any of this. I never wanted you to—"

"She's even more awful than I ever imagined."

Henry nods. "I learned that far too late and from that moment, I spent every moment I could trying to protect you from her." Her eyes brim with tears and a thousand thoughts swirl around in her head, yet for the life of her, she can't quite make sense of any of them. She finds herself thinking of all the times her father gave into her mother's whims, all the times he urged her to just be good, all the times he remained present in a tense moment, all the times he dragged her away from the estate for a fun outing in town—it all seems so different to her now. "It's why I let you go—"

"And why you didn't come after me."

"If she couldn't find you, you were safe." He sighs and a little grin tugs onto his lips. "And it's why I pushed you into a marriage you didn't want."

"Well, that's different—"

"Maybe, but you didn't know it would be. You didn't know that Robin would be the man that he is."

"I learned though, in time—"

"Yes," he says, grinning gently. "But I had to marry you off before your mother realized your husband's intentions, before you realized your husband's intentions—"

Regina's eyes press closed as she takes a breath. "She really did want to use my marriage to gain back what she felt the Locksleys stole from her, didn't she?"

"That's always been her main objective, yes."

"Wow."

"I know," he sighs. "So, there you have it."

Her stomach churns and she almost wishes she hadn't insisted that her father unveil all of her mother's secrets—and yet, as much as it pains her to know the sordid truth, she's glad she knows because it gives her an understanding of her own life that she wouldn't have otherwise found.

"I'm glad you're away from her," she murmurs, looking back to him. "I… I can't imagine living with all of that."

He nods. "I'm glad to be away, too, but more than I'm glad that I'm away, I'm glad that you are. Cora doesn't have the means to come up here. She can't travel unless you and Robin afford her the money. She's a kept woman and as long as she depends on you, she can't hurt you."

"Because she'd only be hurting herself."

He nods and again reaches out and pats her knee. "Go back to bed, Regina. Stop by the nursery and kiss your boys, then go back to bed knowing that you beat her at her own game. You won."

"I don't feel like I've won anything."

"Winning doesn't always feel good," he says. "But there isn't anything you can do about the choices she made."

"I know, but—"

"Tomorrow is Christmas and for whatever reason, Christmas always feels like a new beginning. Let it be one." Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her cheek and then he grins at her—and his grin is filled with such warmth. "I'm proud of you, Regina. I'm proud of the woman you've become despite your mother's best efforts, and if you really feel like you have to do something, continue doing exactly what you've been doing—showing love and kindness to those little boys of yours, raise them to be good men, and in some cosmic way, maybe all that goodness will help balance out the evil that Cora's brought into this world."

At that, she nods, finding herself unable to move—and her missing wedding ring is no longer at the forefront of her thoughts.

On Christmas morning, she doesn't have time to think about her mother or her misdeeds, and for that she's grateful.

The boys are up before the sun. She and Robin find them in front of the tree, marveling at the brightly wrapped packages, each with their stuffed dragons under one arm. Her father and Mrs. Beakley join them—Mrs. Beakley with a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and her father with the cat—and though she and Robin are adamant that presents should wait until after Christmas dinner, her father manages to convince them both that opening up just one present won't do any harm.

And, unsurprisingly, opening up one leads to the boys opening them all.

The boys both get a drawing book and a set of watercolors to share. Roland gets a little replica of a German castle and some little figurines of knights and dragons to go with it, and Henry gets a chess board with game pieces carved from wood and painted in bright reds and blues. They each get books, too—a book of poems for Henry and a book of songs for Roland (another thing they can share). The big gift for both boys, though, are matching pairs of ice skates—something they both clamor to try out immediately, and something they're both disappointed to learn will have to wait until the following day.

They get some other, more practical things—each get a box of woolen socks and new boots—and some new pencils for their school work. And of course, they each get a stocking full of candy—which immediately quells any disappointment about having to wait to use their skates.

Once the presents are opened, the boys are sated, laying in a heap of wrapping paper and ribbons with Toulouse napping contently between them while they each suck on red-and-white striped peppermint sticks.

"I didn't find your ring," Robin whispers as he sits down on the arm of the chair and stretches an arm around her shoulders. "I looked outside and had no luck."

She frowns. "I don't think it's there. I think it's… it's in here, somewhere. I had it in the wagonnette on the way back from the mill."

"Maybe I can check the stables again before we open up the house."

She nods and offers a soft grin. "Thank you."

"It'll turn up. Promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Robin offers a coy little grin. "I'd never."

He slides down onto the chair with her and pulls her legs over his lap—and when she looks around the room to find that her father and Mrs. Beakley have both disappeared, she cuddles back against his chest, enjoying what she knows will be the calm before the storm…

Promptly at nine that morning, the house is opened up.

She and Robin stand out front—her in a green and red plaid skirt and him with a matching waistcoat—ready to welcome in the villagers.

They come in droves, at first, the poorest of the residents ready for a hot meal and the youngest of them ready for games—and for the better part of an hour others arrive. Chip and Anna are among the guests, there in part to participate in the festivities and in part to see Mrs. Potter, and they bring a couple small gifts—a bottle of wine for her and Robin and two smaller bottles of lime cordial for the boys.

When it seems the incoming crowd has thinned, Winston replaces them so they could go into the ballroom.

The ballroom is lined with tables. The house staff stands behind them serving toast and biscuits, gravy and oatmeal, a variety of breakfast meats and scrambled eggs. At the end of one table, Henry and Roland sit with Mal, offering up napkins and dollops of jam, and Mrs. Beakley buzzes up and down the open space behind the staff, barking out orders to keep things filled and fresh. Her father and Mrs. Potter pour coffee and tea, and as Regina looks around, both the food and the people seem endless.

For a moment, she just stands there, staring and feeling a little lost until Robin takes hold of her hand. "I don't know where to start," she whispers, as he starts to lead her toward the line. "It's… more overwhelming than I thought it'd be."

"You could mingle," he says, nodding to the tables at the center of the room. "Or oversee the games." She blinks as she looks to the hall where some of the younger footmen were watching a group of children run around with ribbons in their hands. "Or silverware at the start of the line. No one's there yet."

"Silverware," she murmurs. "That sounds easy."

And so that's where she starts while Robin makes rounds up and down the rows. She smiles as she greets their guests, asking them how they're handling the winter and about their families, and she perks up a little when she finds that she recognizes some of them from the Harvest Ball that fall.

"This will get easier as you do it," Mrs. Potter tells her as she passes by to refill the sugar bowl. "And it means a lot to the village."

She smiles and nods—she can see that. It's obvious on their faces, and as the line winds down, it fills her with a sense of accomplishment and pride.

By half past noon, most of the guests from the village have come and gone.

She joins Robin out behind the kitchen, helping to hand out the pre-organized crates of food to keep in their pantries, and though all she really does is stand beside him, occasionally helping someone secure their hold on the crate, by the end of it, she's exhausted.

"I could use a nap," she says, leaning into him as they watch the last of their guests disappear. "But I'm sure the house is demolished."

Robin grins and cocks an eyebrow. "Are you planning to do the cleaning yourself?"

She frowns. "Well, no, but—"

"They've already started cleaning, you know."

"I can't believe how…"

"Smoothly that went?"

"Yes."

Robin stretches an arm around her shoulders. "Well, they do have some practice."

"The older staff, yes, but not the maids and footmen. They've all just been hired over the course of the last few months."

"But they're young and spry." Robin grins as they step into the kitchen and the warmth of the fire in the hearth hits them. "And they're filled with the Christmas spirit."

She grins back at him. "Perhaps."

"Should we find the boys?"

"They're upstairs with Mal and your father," Mrs Beakley calls out from the little room that connects onto the kitchen where she usually prepared the grocery lists and did her meal planning. "I assume they're all napping," she says, chuckling softly as she looks down at something on the desk. "I know that's what I'd be doing, if I could."

Regina smiles gently. "How about I join you upstairs in a little while. I… want to talk to her for a bit."

Robin nods and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I look forward to it… but should I fall asleep before you come up—"

"I won't wake you."

He kisses her again, then continues out of the kitchen, leaving her and Mrs. Beakley alone.

For a moment, she just stands there, awkwardly gazing through the window, watching as Mrs. Beakley writes at her desk—and the longer she stands there, the more uncomfortable she feels.

Finally, she pushes herself forward, gently rasping her knuckles on the frame of the door. "Hi."

Mrs. Beakley looks up from her desk, offering a warm smile as she takes off her glasses. "Regina. Hi."

"I'm sorry to interrupt—"

"Oh, you're not. You're not interrupting a thing. I was just… looking at the damage from today's meal and counting up my next order."

"Oh, then I was—"

"I'm more than glad to put it aside."

A bit awkwardly, she nods. "Alright, well… I just… my father and I spoke…"

"He told me."

"Right."

"Is it terribly uncomfortable for you?"

"No," Regina murmurs, a little grin edging onto her lips. "Not terribly." Drawing in a breath, she shifts her weight on her feet. "I just… I feel like I owe you an apology or—"

"Why on earth should you apologize to me?"

"Well… had I not… well, had I not existed—"

"You don't need to finish that," Mrs. Beakley says, rising up from her desk. "You do exist, and I for one have always been glad for it."

"But I complicated your life. I—"

"It's just the way it was."

"But it didn't have to be."

With a sigh, she rounds the desk. "Your grandparents would never have let their son marry a girl like me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, for starters when they were looking for a wife for him, Cora was the woman they chose, and sure, she was pretty enough, but after more than five minutes in her company—" Mrs. Beakley's voice halts and she shakes her head. "I know she's your mother, but—"

"Oh, don't hold back on my account."

She grins. "There's no love lost there, eh?"

"Not exactly"

"I'm sorry for that."

Regina shrugs. "You can't force someone to love you—"

"And what a sad sentiment that is coming from a child in regard to her mother." Leaning back against the desk, she just stares at her for a moment. "Did Henry tell you about the fight we got into when he decided he was taking you back to Dragon Head?"

"No, that… um… that didn't come up."

"Even though you only stayed for a little while, by the end of it—in my mind, anyway—you were mine." Regina swallows hard as she considers that. "I know you weren't, but… well… I don't have to tell you how easy it is to fall in love with someone else's child."

Regina nods, thinking of Roland. "There's a part of me that wishes he would have stayed—"

"Me too."

"But—"

"But if he had—if the two of you had—your life would have taken a completely different course."

"Sometimes I wonder if that wouldn't have been such a bad thing."

"There's no telling that, but… had you stayed there'd be no Henry or Roland—"

"It's hard to imagine that."

Mrs. Beakley nods. "It is, and your life is certainly better because of them."

"It is," Regina agrees, a little smile edging onto her lips. "I don't think I'd be myself without them."

"So, perhaps, this is all a matter of timing."

Regina nods and again, shifts uncomfortably on her feet. "It just seems so strange that... well that you're the cook here and I'm the—"

Mrs. Beakley doesn't let her finish, instead interjecting with a laugh. "Oh, sweetheart, the lines between staff and family in this household have always been blurred. I mean, just look at Mal."

"That's true, I suppose."

"Don't overthink it. Just… be happy that, finally, things have worked out as they were meant to." Mrs. Beakley steps toward her and takes both of her hands in hers. "And don't you ever apologize for simply being. I know you have a tendency to see fault in everything you do, but in this case, you're looking for something that's just not there. You grew into a lovely person. You're a wonderful mother with a kind soul, and you should—" Her voice halts and she looks up at her with jarring alarm. "What happened to your ring?"

And with that, Regina feels her shoulders relax and a low groan escapes her before she fills her in on the debacle that's become her missing wedding ring, and finally, there's someone else who understands her anxiety.

Christmas evening is spent as a family.

Though, when Regina pictured how she, Robin, and the boys would spend Christmas evening, it had been inside with hot cider and a warm fire. She imagined her and Robin cuddled together underneath a blanket as the boys played, she imagined that it would start to snow and that they'd be glad for the warm fire, and she imagined that they'd drift in and out of a cozy slumber until it was time for dinner. There were variation of how they might spend their time—sometimes the boys would play Christmas carols on the piano, and other times she and Robin would teach them a card game—but every variation that she imagined was calm and peaceful, and absolutely nothing like what they were actually doing.

But alas, they were at the whim of two very energetic little boys adamant on using their new skates...

So, after their naps, she and Robin bundle up the boys—who were not nearly as excited to make use of their new boots—to go to the little lake on the outskirts of the estate grounds. They take with them a little picnic basket of leftover goodies—the oatmeal from that morning that have been turned into cookies, the breakfast meats are stuffed into the centers of the buttermilk biscuits, and the scraps from the brick of chocolate that was used to make Roland's birthday cake becomes hot cocoa. The boys each bring their dragons, too, which she uses as an excuse to stay in the wagonette bundled beneath the blankets—and when Robin arches a brow at her excuse, she easily explains that Igor and Bruni might be sad if they're left all alone while Henry and Roland go off to play, and while the excuse doesn't convince Robin, it does convince the boys.

Regina holds her breath as Robin leads the boys out to the frozen lake and winces as their arms flap in an effort to keep themselves upright, and when they inevitably fall down onto the hard, cold ice, she winces and bites down onto her lip so hard that she's stunned when it doesn't bleed. But each time they fall, Robin helps them up and little by little, they become more stable—and as they get more stable, they also get braver.

Roland decides that he likes to skate as fast as he can and then crash into a mound of snow, while Henry tries to be more precise, doing a series of lopsided figure-eights.

Robin joins her in the wagonette and slips beneath the blanket with her, sipping on hot cocoa and laughing at her every attempt to stifle her gasps when the boys inevitably slip and fall on the ice.

"I'm not sure why we thought skates were a good idea—"

"We didn't," Robin says, smirking over at her. "I did. You said they'd break their arms or fall through the ice or—" She rolls her eyes, remembering the argument they'd nearly had (and only didn't because Robin refused to engage) when the boxes of skates arrived at the Lodge a few days before. "Well, anyway. It looks like I was right."

Again, her eyes roll. "Well, the jury's still out on that one."

"But look how much fun they're having."

She looks to the icy lake where both boys—red-cheeked and full of giggles—are holding hands twirling around together—an image that would look so sweet, if she didn't know that sooner or later one of them was going to let go and send the other flying.

"Yes, but—"

Before she can even make her point, the inevitable happens. Henry goes in one direction and Roland goes in the other, shooting across the ice. Their feet go up over their heads and their arms flap, and before they can even slam down onto the ice, Robin is halfway to the lake.

And when the boys both spring up and run toward each other, hands outstretched, likely ready to do it all over again, it's her turn to smirk.

A little humbler, he joins her again in the wagonette, accepting the cup of cocoa that she pours for him.

She cuddles against him as they watch the boys play—and finally, when their sons are all tuckered out, they load them up into the wagon and head back to the lodge.

Belle quickly helps her change into a new dress. She lets Belle pick it and tries not to frown when Belle emerges with a soft pink dress with white trimmings that she doesn't particularly like—but instead of fussing, she lets her put it on her, deciding that the fact that it isn't wet around the bottom means it's good enough to wear around the house for the rest of the evening. While she's changing, Mal takes the boys to the nursery for their baths—and by the end of it, just like the night before, they're tucked in and fast asleep long before their bedtime. With her changed and the boys in bed, she excuses Belle for the night—once the staff's duties are done, they have Christmas night off as well as the following day, and she can only imagine that she's eager to attend to whatever plans she made with Ruby.

She finds herself in the library, skimming through the rows and rows of old books looking for something to read. She groans at all three volumes of The Wealth of Nations, and Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire receives a similar reaction. Momentarily, she hovers briefly at Common Sense, but at the realization that it isn't a novel, she pushes back the spine and continues to skim—and finally, she settles on dusty old copy of Frances Burney's Evelina.

She opens the book and settles on the chair closest to the fire, relishing in its warmth as she reads the first few pages of the novel, and when she decides that she'll continue on, she turns herself properly toward the fire and kicks her legs up over the arm of the chair.

"Oh, hi—"

"Hey."

"I wondered where you disappeared to."

"Just shutting up the house, making sure doors are locked, windows are closed, fires and candles are put out, that sort of thing." Robin grins as he comes deeper into the room. "I've realized that by giving the entire staff the night off, I've become quite paranoid of fires and burglars and such."

"Well, lucky for you, it's just one night."

Robin grins as he sits down on the coffee table in front of her. "Lucky for me, indeed," he murmurs, reaching for her feet and pulling them onto his lap. "What are you reading?"

"An old novel."

"Is it any good?"

"You wouldn't like it, but as far as six pages goes, I think I will."

"I sort of thought you'd be in bed—"

Her brow arches. "Why's that?"

"Well, when I took a nap, I couldn't help but notice that you didn't."

"Oh, Mrs. Beakley and I were chatting in the kitchen. We sort of… lost track of time."

Robin nods. "What did you talk about?"

"My parents, for a bit, and then… my ring." She frowns. "It still hasn't turned up."

"Hmm…"

"What?"

"Well, I just… are you positive it's not in the tree?"

She sighs and folds the book down on her lap. "That's the one place I'm sure it isn't."

"But, did you look—"

"Twice, and I was under the impression that you looked, too."

"Hmm…" She watches curiously as he eyes narrow and he zeroes in on the tree. "I think you should look again."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's just… a hunch, I suppose."

Her brow arches higher. "You're going to make me get up—"

"If your ring is in the tree and you don't check it now, and in a couple of days Winston has a couple of footmen cut it up and toss it in the fire—"

She sighs, not letting him finish—that would be her luck.

Getting up, she goes to the tree, giving it a quick look up and down, and as her eyes fall to the center of the tree, something shimmery catches her attention. Blinking, she looks to the spot just in front of her—and lo and behold, there is her ring.

A little gasp escapes her as she reaches for it, plucking it up from the branches—and when she does, she notices that it's attached to a little red ribbon. Her brow furrows as her finger slips through the ribbon, holding it up and letting it dangle as she suddenly realizes that she didn't lose her ring, after all.

Annoyed, she turns—thinking of how upset she was, how desperate she was to find her ring, how much sleep she didn't get because of it—ready to lash out and tell him that this joke wasn't funny.

But then, just before she can get out the words—before she can tell him how mad she is, how inconsiderate he was—she sees him, kneeling in front of her on one knee, and it catches her off guard.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

She blinks. "No, not really."

"I'm proposing."

For a moment, she just stares, and despite her annoyance, she feels a smile tugging up at the corners of her mouth. "You—you're proposing?"

"Yes."

A little giggle escapes her as she feels her frustration falling away. "Proposing what, exactly?"

Slowly, he reaches out and slips his finger through the red satin ribbon attached to her ring—and he takes the ring and holds it up between his thumb and forefinger.

"Marriage."

Again, she blinks. "Robin, I… I hate to ruin a perfectly sweet little moment, but… we're already married."

"Oh, I am very well aware of that."

"Then—?"

"I want to do it all over again. Properly this time."

"But—"

"I'm serious, Regina. I want to marry you again."

Biting down on her lip, she looks at him, noting his sweet grin and sparkling blue eyes, and the way her wedding ring catches the light from the fire. "It doesn't quite work that way."

"Why not?"

"It… just doesn't."

"Rules are meant to be broken." She laughs a little and shakes her head, but when she tries to protest, no words come. "You and I have never quite abided by the rules that are supposed to govern our lives. We both took our own paths—for better or worse. And now seems like an awfully silly time to stop doing that."

"Robin, be serious—"

"I am being serious, Regina. I have never been more serious about anything in my entire life." She grins gently, watching as his smile fades a bit. "When I think of our wedding day, I don't want to think about… about the way your hands shook or the way your jaw trembled as we stood up in front of that stodgy old vicar who smelled of church wine and cigar smoke. I don't want to think about the fact that our marriage began as a business deal. I don't want to think about the silent tears that fell from your eyes as you choked out your vows or the way you disappeared from our reception because you thought that everyone was whispering about things they didn't understand. And, when I think of our wedding night, I don't want to think about how terrified you were that something awful was about to happen to you." He takes a breath and she swallows the lump at the back of her throat, trying to fight back tears that are starting to well in her eyes. "I want to do it all again, but this time, I want to do it the right way and for the right reasons. I want us to choose to be married. I want you to say yes not because your father told you that you had to say it, but because you want to say it. Because you love me as much as I love you—"

She thinks there might've been more, but his voice cracks and comes to a halt.

"Robin, I—"

"So, I'm asking—will you marry me, Regina?"

Taking a breath, she swallows again, and this time, the tears she was fighting back fall down her cheeks. "Of course I will." A little laugh escapes her and she nods as he takes her hand. "Of course I want to marry you. Of course I choose you."

She watches as he slips her ring back on, nestling it at the base of her finger—right where it was meant to be and she feels a rush of relief. Slowly, he stands and as soon as he does, she reaches for him, pulling him to her and kissing him.

His arms fold around her and he holds her tight against him as he lifts her up and spins around—and she can't help but laugh against his lips. What they're doing is absolutely absurd; nothing will actually change between them. And yet, she can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude from his proposal and an equally overwhelming sense of empowerment from having the option to answer it for herself.