A/N: first entry for the OQ prompt party, Monday.
28. it's cold and oq share a blanket
82: robin teaches regina how to shoot an arrow


Samhain

They were coming for her.

She burrowed closer into the load of dirty straw she used as her bed. She was cold. Like a hunted animal, her gaze was fixated on the door, waiting. She was trapped, there was nowhere to go.

She didn't dare to close her eyes.

The sun filtered through the door, meaning it was time for the sunset – her last sunset – and then they'd come. They always came at the dusk, it was more aesthetically pleasing to watch someone die with the sun red above the waters of the lake. She wondered if they'd carry some torches.

Fire was good. Fire was her friend, fire she didn't fear. She listened to her aunt's voice – long lost, as she taught her how to use herbs, how to mixture potions and decoctions. A bunch of ungrateful idiots, they were. She'd saved their wives, their children, cured their maladies and sickness, and now they wanted to kill her.

Burn me at least, she'd yelled the last time. And she just knew, they wouldn't.

When they came, the sky was blue and pink and red. She didn't resist – they dragged her, tied her arms with rope, and she just stared. Looked at the angry mob, daring them to speak up for her. Watching for traces of guilt, of shame, she saw people she'd cured and smiled with, now refusing to meet her gaze. Cowards.

.

The last time, she'd been a fighter. She'd held her bow and screamed, Don't come any closer!, and they were afraid of the witch's curse. Less people, the last time, she could have had them pierced with her arrows in no time.

She was holding her bow like it was her lifeline. Breathe, came his words from the past. Aim, breathe, release. Easy.
Her friend of when they where kids. Ro, she used to call him, they'd meet down at the river and the first time she'd seen his prey: a little bird, not enough to feed a family, but enough to keep their stomachs full for the afternoon. So she'd begged him, Teach me. He was older than her – a couple of years, maybe, just the right gap not to find her a boring little girl. He'd helped her train, far away from her aunt's eyes.
Breathe, Regina. His arms were steady on hers, correcting her grip on the bow. You have an excellent eye, now you just have to learn – how to be patient.

Last time, she'd fought and made him proud – him who she'd not seen since she was nine and he'd gone away with all his family.

This time, they'd burned her weapons and a part of her house. This time she didn't have a place to go.

.

She vaguely listened to George King, reading out loud the sentence – completely invented. She already knew the rules. If she swims, she's a witch; if she drowns, she's innocent. Marvelous. You can't win, Regina, her aunt's voice came from a forgotten dream. You must be careful, darling.

And yet she'd been an idiot and trusted them, and now here she was – about to die. To die because she knew the medicine and how to help, and they feared her. No one to hold her a hand, no one to say something.

She'd fought, in the past. She'd kicked and pushed and spat, but now… it was all for nothing. They were so many, so angry, so –

"Have you got any last words, witch?" King asked, his face contorted in a grimace of triumph.

"Yes," she shrugged. "I should have never helped you. Not a single one of you. I regret it – I should have let you die in pain. "

"You've heard the witch?" King roared, outraged. The crowd responded, one or two of them coming ahead to spit at her. She turned her head towards the water. Maybe it wasn't going to be that bad… maybe the feeling of cold water around her, taking her, down, down, it was going to be good… a relief…

"Go on! Kill her!" A voice came, as on cue, the men pushed up to her, and King stood and moved, away. A completely unnecessary slap crossed her face and she shut her eyes in pain. The world was upside down, blood in her mouth as someone was dragging her ahead, voices all around. The water sloshed around her feet, the rope around her waist tight, and she wanted to cry. She knew, it was going to happen twice. Once to see if she was swimming or not, and once to kill her for good.

The first impact with water was a shock. It was freezing cold – a unique shiver, a single one coursing through her body. She felt herself plunge, the depth of the lake calling her down, as if there was a mermaid singing to her. Her throat tightened when it realized she couldn't – ever – breathe again. And then, seconds later, it was over.

The voices had changed. Some, feminine, were screaming. She's innocent, let her be. A male voice answered, Do you want to go next?, silencing the girl who'd dared to speak. Her eyes blinked open, she coughed, spitting water and probably her lungs in the process. She'd never loved air so much, she thought, as she saw the crowd opening to let a horse pass. More than one horse – several, a charge of men towering over her captors.

"Leave her in this instant," a male voice growled. The man holding her shook with laughter against her body.

"And if I don't?"

She didn't need to look upwards to see that the man had been killed – it just took the sight of the arrow protruding next to her, her eyes closed. She didn't want to see. Never, for a single moment, she believed this could be her salvation. She thought of the Count of that land, of whores sold to him and murdered when he'd tire of them. She thought of all sceneries that could be worse than dying in a frozen lake.

Without the man's weight to hold her up, her knees started to collapse. Screams around her, and then – darkness.

.

.

When she woke up, she was surprised to be still alive. Not much time had passed – the sun had just settled down, the air of the faintest orange and mainly blue. They were away from the lake, she couldn't see it anymore, but she wasn't dead. How strange. Her head turned, the smell of grass filling her nostrils.

"Oi!" a voice came from her left. "She's awake!"

Steps towards her, a warm hand on her neck. "She is," a new voice confirmed. "Let's get going, men."

Regina blinked, tiredness washing over her body in lazy crests. The man passed one arm around her neck, one behind her knees, and lifted her up. She knew she was somehow heavy – her dress was still soaked, her hair damp. "Can you ride on your own?" he asked her, rough.

She shook her head. I just want to sleep, she thought, but didn't say it out loud.

"Well then," he huffed. More hands joined his as she was being placed above a horse. The animal was tranquil, at least, and Regina carded her finger through its mane. She closed her eyes, with a weird kind of resignation in her mind. She'd completely given up fighting these men, escaping, because it looked like they were helping her. The man from before mounted behind her, circling her waist to take the reins. He kicked the horses gently and they started moving, rapidly joined by the others.

His warmth was comforting. He whispered, Lean on me if you need to. She did, let the horse's movements lull her into a trance. "Who are you?" she asked, absently, her head weightless.

It started to rain. He continued, unfazed, as if it was not his concern.

"We are the Merry Men," he said. "Friends of your aunt. I was sad to hear she's passed. I wish we could have arrived sooner."

She blinked, her head turned slightly to meet his eyes. "Then you're friend of mine," she stated. "Well, that… I did know, though. I had the feeling you were on my side. I asked who are you."

He chuckled against her ear. "Robin, milady. At your service."

She smiled, a small sigh escaping her lips. Robin. It was, maybe, the first time they'd called her milady. Then, a strong shiver shook her. She coughed, a gust of trapped air seized her lungs and exited violently. Her mind went to her safe place – herbs and remedies, and she started prescribing herself a recipe to cease the pain. Robin, however, placed a hand on her forearm. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes," she lied.

He didn't answer. After a moment, she felt something soft slide over her shoulders. "Your skin is cold," he noticed. "I can't do much other than this, I'm afraid."

"You've done enough," she answered. He draw a breath near her ear but didn't say anything else. He continued to ride the horse, the blanket enveloping them both. The air of evening was chilly on her exposed skin. Her dress had been torn in some points, by those bastards – she prayed they were dead, or hurting. The rain intensified. Her hair was now sticking to her face. "Thank you," she whispered. It nearly went lost in the rain.

She felt Robin nod. She felt tears pool in her eyes. She was so tired she could have passed out in moments. She wished for a home she didn't have anymore. She wished for the comfort and security of a past too far away to be a solace.

"I hope you will stay with our lot for a few days," he offered. "If you want, that is. We're always in need a good healer."

She stayed silent, her eyelids growing tired. How she wished to really be a witch right now – to transport herself beyond the rain and beyond the lake, to a new home. She tightened the blanket around her shoulder, leaned on his chest.

Sleep was just about to take her, when she remembered something. A little silver thought, almost lost in the fogs of her mind.

Robin.

"Robin?" she asked, a memory hitting her like an arrow. "Robin Locksley?"

He tensed. "How do you know that name?"

"I had a friend, once," she murmured. She didn't dare to hope… could she hope? "Same blue eyes. Very good with a bow. He taught me, in fact."

"Regina?" his voice came like a whisper. "My Regina? Is that you?"

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, heart fast, trying to turn and look at him – "You – you are here! And – oh god, you saved me and didn't know who I was?"

"I knew your aunt, not you," he explained. She felt his arms tighten around her, his chin on her shoulder. "After. I met her three years ago, more or less, but – I never met her when we were kids, and…"

"It's alright," Regina said, as if her voice wasn't about to break. "I miss her too. I'm so happy I found you, oh…"

"Me too, Teensy," he teased, with the old nickname he used for her.

"Don't call me that, you idiot," she smacked his arm. "Is that offer still standing, by the way? About coming with you?"

"Absolutely," he murmured. "We'd love to have you."

Regina nodded, a smile spreading on her cheeks, and burrowed further into his chest. She looked in the darkness, while the rain had stopped, but couldn't see ahead. With the light, she'd only been a witch who was about to die. With the sunset, she had been a drowning body, and had let water wash away her life. But with dusk, she'd been saved. And with nightfall, she'd found an old friend.

She smiled in the black of night. A firefly flew around the horse, and her eyes followed its shining path. It was the last thing she saw before falling asleep. Now, safe and sound, the world could wait. She dreamed of home.

.

just close your eyes
the sun is going down

you'll be alright
no one can hurt you now

come morning light
you and i'll be safe and sound…