Written for Bea's bday. Missing Year.


At Dawn

The sun is starting to rise, when they reach their destination. Regina slides down her horse, taking sight of her surroundings, her untamed hair caressed by the wind. The sky is painted of a pale pink and a shade of lilac, almost entirely deprived of blue.

But the sky is a mere frame to the real protagonist of the view – the calm, translucent sea, washing quietly over the cliffs underneath them, blowing a smell of air and new beginnings, of fresh breaths and calmness.

"Why have you brought me here?"

It comes out like a whisper, but Robin hears her. He pats his horse on its rear before sending him gently to the nearest green spot, to graze. Then, he reaches her, his eyes roaming over the sea in front of them, and speaks.

"Because it's one of my favorite places in the world."

She doesn't answer.

Instead, her hand brushes his own, still timid. They've come to know each other, the past few months, intimately so – one could say physically. But this, this is new. Sharing. Discovering. This is beautiful and terrifying, because Regina now thinks she likes it.

She has appreciated and even needed the quick fucks in deserted hallways and behind massive columns, back at the castle. But tonight, she has let him stay in her bed. For the first time. Tonight, she has woke him up because of a nightmare, and he has taken her hand and brought her to the cliffs.

His skin is warm, hers is cold. She is painfully aware of how close she is to him, the comforting heat from his body near hers – that not even the unforgiving wind up there has managed to dull.

Dawn is slower, in the Enchanted Forest.

The sky is now of a more and more bold orange tinge, overpowering the pink – this still lingers up where it mingles to the light blue. The first rays start to filter from the horizon line, and Robin links his finger to one of hers. She wonders how they must appear, if there happens to be some fisherman in a small boat, floating under the cliffs.

Her emerald green cloak flutters, following the wind, her hair dances. Two deities, here it is. They are immortal beings, right now, supervising over the moment where the sun is born. Two legends, straight out of a myth, creatures of uncertainty and mystery.

She scoots closer.

The first half of the sun is up, tracing a perfect semicircle over the sea. If she had to choose a melody for this moment, it would be from violins.

She fears that speaking will break the spell, so she stays silent.

When Robin leaves her finger, she feels lost. It lasts a moment, though, because his arm circles her waist in a loose hold.

She's forgot how to breathe.

The first tendrils of red have started to spread from the orange glow, when Regina places her head on his shoulder. She feels bold.

It's so beautifully quiet, up here.