A/N: for the OQ prompt party (2021), monday.
using the personal prompts:
. Any update for Fallen
. Regina nurses Robin back to health and it confuses the other angels because why does she care so much?
. A Mal and Regina moment
and the general prompts:
22 : work on any wip/ the next chapter of a fic you started
171 : a kiss for comfort
71 : fireflies
27 : enemies to lovers
The deconsecrated graveyard is, weirdly enough, one of her favorite places in the town. There's something eerily calming, about all the tombstones and flowers and – yes, even the people who are mourning.
Regina is still a devil, after all.
But her favorite time to come to the graveyard is after dark – she found a way to get inside the walls, years ago, and it's really easy, it's just climbing a tree and it really takes nothing – and she doesn't see why she would stop doing it, just because it's wrong to do it. Since when she's let wrongness stop her, after all?
After dark, the graveyard is completely empty: there were some kids who used to come, at twilight (she knows because they once almost surprised her there, and she had to hide till they went away), but they always leave before the sun sets. There still is something creepy about being young and reckless and inside a graveyard after dark, maybe it's some sort of preservation instinct the humans have.
So she's usually alone, when night comes. And it is rather beautiful… the glow of the moon above her, and the glow of hundreds of candles around her. She walks amidst the tombstones, slowly, spies the fireflies – buzzing lowly, shining like a thousand stars – and she pays her respects to the dead.
Sometimes, she envies them. The dead. Their existence is quiet now, or damned in Hell, but there's some kind of comfort in eternity.
Sometimes. But this time, she is not alone… this time she doesn't have time for self-pity or that kind of feelings – because this time she brought Robin along.
He followed her up the tree and down on the ground – and if she thought he'd object to them doing something illegal like breaking into a cemetery that has real, actual walls around it – he didn't do anything of the sort. His reaction to her proposal was an adorable but confused face, and he played along above the cup of coffee they bought at the school's cafeteria.
"I know it's not… your usual spot for a date," she has said, an unfamiliar sort of hotness creeping up her neck – embarrassment, she has realized with horror. "But I love the atmosphere there. You just have to see it."
"I admit it's not what I would expect from a normal date," he has said, smiling, "it's exactly what I'd expect from you, though."
And it has taken all she had not to laugh, but to send him a death glare instead, so that the students creeping around wouldn't get the wrong ideas. She knows they've started talking, the students, and she doesn't like it, not one bit.
(She wouldn't consider it past her mother's methods, to pose herself as a fake school psychologist or something similar just to pretend to work there, but in reality it'd be to check and spy on her.)
So it is better if no one, no one knows yet. And her thoughts are swimming away, her gaze trembling with the flame of the candles, when his voice shakes her away from her horrifying thoughts of her mother finding them while they kiss inside a broom closet –
"Regina?"
"Yes, sorry," she smiles, looks at him for a moment, and reaches for his hand, squeezes it. "I haven't asked lately, how's your wing? It has healed entirely, hasn't it?"
"Yes, I'm as good as new," he says. Silence falls for a moment, they take a few steps amidst the graves. "I spoke to Belle. She's still here, she didn't go back to Australia yet."
Regina doesn't answer, but looks at him, prompting him to go on.
"So… I wondered if there's something she's not telling me. You know, she loves her life down there, I see no reason for her to stay here for this long. I thought it might involve Mary Margaret, but apparently, it doesn't, because Mary hasn't called me since we spoke after the wing affair."
"We don't know who did it yet," Regina murmurs. It's not a question, her eyes cast down, because she hates how they haven't found the culprit yet, they haven't found who hurt him so badly he had to skip work for two weeks and was forced to have a very awkward conversation with Mary Margaret and David – those idiots, she can't resist to add in her mind.
"No, we don't. but I'm wondering if you'd be willing to do some digging on your part? Can you think of some… trustworthy devil?"
She laughs, can't help it, the fact that he'd trust a devil is adorable. (Still, even after all that's happened between them, sometimes she can't believe he trusts her.)
She crouches down, lights a candle for a woman who – apparently – died twenty years prior. "A trustworthy devil? There's no such thing. But… I suppose I could ask around. I'll have to think of a way… I could probably trick Zelena or Mal into telling me what they know. But there is a chance they'd see right through me."
"I have to admit, it does sound tiring to have to play mind tricks with your friends," he murmurs. "No offence."
"Yeah, well, not all of us can actually pride themselves with having a group of angels who are on your side and can't wait to dismantle the system, so…"
She feels Robin's gaze on her skin, the spot of light on her back pulsing uncomfortably, and she shifts, her gaze still fixated on the gravestone.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. She looks up, stares at him. "About everything, you know. I wish it was easier."
"We talked about this," she answers, as lowly as she can. "We just have to… go on, I guess. And hope for the best. Hope should be your specialty, shouldn't it?"
He chuckles, as he crouches down next to her – she swears she can see a slight grimace on his face, and she wonders if he really has fully healed like he told her earlier, but he leans on and presses a kiss on her lips. She expects him to lean back, but his forehead touches her and his hand goes to find her fingers. It's grounding, and comforting, and she breathes in that same smell of clean and air and sun that bothered her so much when she felt it for the first time.
It scares her to think that it doesn't bother her now. Not at all.
"It'll be alright."
.:.
"Hello, Robin."
He answers to the phone – it's Belle, and he wonders if this will finally be the time when she opens up with him.
"Hello yourself," he says. He pushes a bookmark between the pages of the book he was reading, and he rises from his chair to close the door of his office. "How is it going?"
"It's fine," she dismisses. "I've just found a temporary apartment, it's not far from your town. I wanted to ask… how's your wing?"
He smiles, because it's typical from Belle, not to share anything about her plans but to ask about the scientifically interesting thing that his wing currently is. He stretches on his chair, a dull pain slithering through his back. "It's not bad," he answers. "Better than yesterday, for sure. Regina has… she has found me a sort of ointment, and the wing has been improving ever since."
"I have to admit, it confuses me," Belle says, and he can just hear her frowning. "Why does she… care so much about… well, you? Your health? She…"
"I'd rather talk about it in person," he tells her, "because it's a long story, and – well, I know we're supposed to be kind and perfect, but still – I have some questions for you as well."
She hesitates, at that. He knows it's a low blow, because she's been nothing but kind with him, for the last few weeks – centuries – but he needs to know that she's not working for someone who could betray her, or use the most important secrets in Robin's life to threaten his blossoming romance with his sworn enemy. Or to threaten Regina. Both possibilities are, to be honest, terrifying.
"We can see each other soon," Belle says. "Have you heard from Mary Margaret again?"
"No, I think she bought my excuses," he answers. "I haven't heard from her ever since. I wanted to ask you… have you found something else about that student of mine? The one I was telling you about?"
"Henry? … No, I haven't found anything, for now," she says. "I'm trying, but… It's more difficult than I anticipated."
"Well, I think we still have a bit of time. So… don't rush, but… it's going to happen, sooner than later, and he is still waiting for answers, so I'll have to tell him something eventually."
"If you can hold on until summer break – oh hang on, I gotta go," she says, seemingly in a hurry. "I'll call you. Goodbye, Robin."
"Goodbye," he manages to whisper, before she hangs up.
.:.
Regina goes to see Mal, a couple of days later. Her last… date with Robin has left her shaken and worried, and she tried to conceal it, but he's become increasingly good at reading her.
She likes it.
For months she's fought against this growing something they have, because it's wrong and forbidden and it's everything she should avoid. And yet, she likes it. She likes the little dates they have, even though they are forced to spend all of their time together behind closed doors – whether that be one of their offices at school or one of their houses. (Or the graveyard, but that's another thing entirely). And it's only been a few weeks since the first time they kissed… he's definitely having an impact on her, she thinks. This pull she has, a pull that pushes her to investigate on his account, to throw herself in the arms of danger when she should be doing the exact opposite and flying under the radar for the current time-being, is definitely suicidal, but they can't afford to not know the truth anymore.
Mal agreed to meet her in a club, her supposed friend, and Regina has worn a too-short and form-fitting dress with the uneasiness of someone who's been away from her devilish duties for too long. And Mal probably knows that.
When she enters, she's already there – surrounded by a couple of men, but she shoos them away with hard eyes and a soft wave of hatred.
"Regina," she greets her, confidently walks towards her even though she's in twelve-inch heels. "It was about time. Hadn't you showed up, I was going to find a random sad person and sleep with them and cause them more pain than they'd seen in the last few years," she licks her lips, in her eyes a glimpse of the demon she's hiding so well.
"Hello, Mal," Regina answers. "Thanks for waiting. Can we… talk? Somewhere private?"
Her friend rolls her eyes, and nears her, her body flush against Regina's. "Don't tell me… you've become a homebody, my dear," she whispers in her ear. "We should really dance first. Cause some havoc. For example, those two…" she points at the two men who were talking to her, "they were interested in me, and we should really find a couple of random men to kiss right in front of them. I really am in the mood for a fight between alpha males."
"Right," Regina chuckles, uncomfortably. "Let's… do that. Sure. But then, I really need to talk to you."
.:.
As she drives back home, she thinks. She forgets to turn on the music for the ride – so deep in thought, she sees images from this evening slosh around her. She hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol, not once, especially after the last time Mal got her drunk at Christmas (she still doesn't have any memory from their evening, and when you're keeping such an important secret, that is so dangerous).
The noises from the fight have followed her and Mal towards the VIP room, until her friend has closed the door behind them.
She wanted to talk right away, Regina, but Mal started kissing her – and even though she's not new to the experience, not in the slightest, she thought maybe Mal would be more receptive to her attempts of… digging, as Robin called it, if she gave her what she wanted.
So she accepted her kisses and even something more, not because she fully desired to be with Mal, but for the pursuit of her goals…
Well, no one ever said she should play fair.
The road speeds under the wheels of her car, she pays it no mind as she keeps thinking about Mal who told her the devils are, in fact, planning something, and it's something between her and Lucifer and someone else for now, and – Regina shouldn't worry, because she'll receive the instructions in due time.
Fuck.
This information is somehow expected, and yet – she can't help but think, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, and yet it doesn't tell her anything about who attacked Robin. She'll try with her sister, she decides.
And maybe… just maybe… maybe it really is someone on Robin's side.
She slows down when she enters the town, and turns towards the graveyard. She needs to go back there, she needs the kind of calm only the sea or the thought of death can give her.
Climbing up and inside the graveyard is as easy as it always is, and she lands down with a soft thud. It hasn't changed since she was here with Robin – she walks between the graves, feeling a bit out of place in her short dress, but no one is here to see her anyway.
She reaches a secluded place – behind a couple of cypresses, she kneels down and lights up a candle. It's an unknown man – she bows her head to pay her respects, and sits on the grass, feeling the humidity of the ground wet her thighs.
"I don't know what to do," she confesses, her voice so low she almost can't even hear it. "Even though I have Robin, it's… still strange to think I can trust him, and it's so new, and I don't want to go too fast, and I also don't want to make him think I don't want this – I also don't want my… people… to find out, but I don't know for how long we'll be able to live like this… one day, something is going to shift, and – "
She stops abruptly, her head snapping up.
A noise.
She raises on her feet, curling her hands into fists, wishing she could transform. Her heels sink into the ground, and she waits, holding back from shouting Who's there?
The figure exits from the shadows before she can react, and she instinctively takes a step back, snapping a tree branch.
"Hello, Regina," a voice says, and the figure slides down the hood of a black cape. It's a woman, and she's otherworldly beautiful, black skin and golden eyes, the cape hiding her forms. "I've been waiting to meet you for a very long time."
Regina looks at her, wary, and asks, "Who are you? How do you know me?"
"My name is Hecate."
She gasps – can't help it, because she knows who this woman is – the goddess of the night, of the crossroads, of necromancy and of magic.
"You clearly know who I am," she says, amused at her reaction. "I don't have much time to talk, so I'll make it quick. There is a message for you – from someone whose identity I ignore, but it was in the cards and in the dreams, so I felt compelled to pass it on." She takes a step towards Regina – raises one hand and touches her cheek, and it's ice and fire at the same time, and she whispers Close your eyes.
A force more ancient than life makes her obey – images and images blowing like blossoming stars in front of her eyes, but most of all, a message resounding in her mind.
We're on a chessboard, the pieces are moving. Be careful.
A pause.
Be careful, Regina.
When she opens her eyes, Hecate is gone.