For OQ Prompt Party 2020
Prompt 7 - Missing Year: the Queen's birthday.
It's February 1st and the palace ballroom looks like a piñata threw up on it.
There are frilly decorations and ruffley red everything accenting every pillar and wall, candles glowing on every surface and big platters full of apples and apple-flavored desserts littering the tables. A string quartet is playing and inviting people to dance, and just above her throne, HAPPY BIRTHDAY REGINA is spelled out in big, gold letters and held up by two birds tweeting and chirping a melody that sounds a lot like the Birthday song.
Regina hates all of it.
"I told you I didn't want a party," she spits at Snow.
"And I told you you were having one anyway," the princess shrugs. She's wearing a gold gown, the skirt a big, floating mass of shimmery tulle that Regina wouldn't be caught dead wearing.
"I know you didn't want to celebrate your birthday, Regina," she hears her stepdaughter say. "But Henry would want you to have fun."
That just makes her angrier.
"No," she snaps. "Henry wouldn't want that, because Henry doesn't remember me, or you, or any of his life in Storybrooke, so don't bring him into this!"
Snow looks properly chastised at that, mumbles an apology and looks down as she fidgets with her hands, ashamed. Good.
"I left a child behind too, you know," she says then.
"Yes, well, good thing you have a replacement coming soon, then," Regina spits.
"That's not fair," Snow says, her tone low and sad. "We're never seeing them again, Regina. You know that. It's the only way to keep them safe. It's been months. We have to move on, to find joy here however we can, you can't resent me for doing that."
Watch me, Regina thinks, and storms out of her own, unwanted birthday party, using her magic to slam the big, heavy doors of the ballroom shut behind her.
The gardens are empty, moonlight adorning the paths, shining on the frost-bitten bushes. It's quiet out here, and chilly. Perfect. No one will brave the cold to come find her.
No one, it seems, except the thief.
She can hear him walking calmly behind her, his boots crunching dry leaves underfoot as he follows her to a clearing in the grounds. Regina doesn't turn back once.
"Rough night, milady?" he asks when they stop.
"Just leave me alone," she spits, still refusing to face him. He's closer now, she can feel the warmth radiating off of him as he places a hand on her shoulder. Regina shakes him off, takes a few steps further away, but he follows. Always follows.
They've been having these moments lately. Lingering looks and accidental touches that ignite tingly little sparks low in her belly, and somehow those signs of attraction have made him bolder, as if their chemistry entitles him to comfort her, to get to know her better.
She's flirted with the idea of letting him in, has even accepted him as a friend of sorts (one can only break down so many times in front of another person without some kind of bond forming, after all). But they can't be more. She's broken, empty inside now that she has to live without Henry. She'll never be whole again, and as obnoxious as Robin Hood may be, he deserves better than a shattered villain.
She's tried to push him away, but he comes back every single time, melting her resolve with his kindness. Like right now, when he puts that hand on her shoulder again and whispers, "I wish there was a way I could ease your pain."
The words bring tears to her eyes, and Regina fights so hard to keep them at bay, blinks back one, two, three, twelve times, but she can feel her lashes getting wetter and wetter, and suddenly he's there, bringing her close and letting her unleash the full brunt of her sadness onto the clean linen of his shirt.
She hates this. Hates being weak in front of him, in front of anyone, but he simply holds her, whispers soothing words against the top of her head and rocks them both from side to side, easing her suffering with the tenderness of his touch.
"She's wrong, you know," he murmurs after a while, when her sobbing has subsided and she's no longer shaking in his hold. Regina pushes back, looking up at him and raising an eyebrow in question.
"The Princess," Robin clarifies. "I, uh... heard you arguing."
"I'm betting the whole party did," Regina comments, making him chuckle slightly. She tries not to dwell on how much she likes making him laugh.
"Yes, well," he continues, "I understand where she's coming from. I commend her for trying to build a life in this realm despite everything you've all been through. But her moving on doesn't mean you have to. You've lost your son, you get to mourn as long as you need to."
"She lost her daughter," Regina tells him, moving away from him and sitting on the nearby bench, hands settling at her sides on the cold stone. The wind is crisp and dry, sobering her up and getting rid of the last of her tears. "I know we don't talk about it much, but we all lost something when we left that world. Snow was right, I wasn't being fair."
He takes a seat next to her, careful not to touch her until she allows it, she notices, and together they stare out at the winter-beaten flora surrounding them for a few silent seconds before he tells her, "Maybe. But I also know that it's not fair of her to expect you to get over this as quickly as she did."
"She's not over it," Regina clarifies, sighing. "She's just... Snow. But thank you."
Another stretch of silence follows, and then he's inching closer, taking something out of his pocket and offering it to her with a timid, "I, uh... made this for you."
Regina looks down at the parcel in his hand. It's tiny and delicate, wrapped in a clean, gossamer cloth and tied haphazardly with purple string. Her mind is screaming at her not to accept it, but her heart is too far gone, dictating her actions before her brain has a chance to stop them.
She takes the small package from him, and takes her time to open it, pulling slowly on the string and watching it unravel, her thumb caressing the soft fabric. She can feel the item it covers, hard and smooth under her fingertips.
He stays quiet despite her quizzical look, but Regina feels him move closer, senses his eyes on her as she pulls the fabric away to reveal a dainty gold necklace.
It's handmade, forged by hammer and heat and the endless patience it takes to weave the miniature links together. Hanging from it is a raw, lime green stone.
"Is that..." Regina begins to ask, overwhelmed.
"Peridot," Robin confirms. "I know it's not as fine as the things you're used to, but—"
"It's perfect," she cuts him off, running her thumb over the uneven edges of Henry's birthstone, then looking up into his eyes with tears building in her own once again. "Thank you."
It's then that she notices they've moved closer to each other on the bench, his fingertips brushing hers on the smooth stone. Robin takes that hand when he catches her looking, brings it to his lips, and dots a sweet kiss on it, his eyes never straying from hers.
"Happy birthday, Regina," he whispers, and she shivers, not from the cold gust of wind that's suddenly blowing around them, but from the reverence in his tone as he speaks her name.
She feels warm as she rests her head on his shoulder, anticipation making her whole body tingle as she sags against him and decides that maybe, just maybe, surrendering to this... connection, this thing that draws them together, isn't such a bad idea after all.