written for the inspired by oq week, day seven. from a manip by starscythe.
Away With Morpheus
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They whisper about it in the streets and in the taverns, they murmur as if it's too shameful of a secret to be spoken out loud. The Queen is dead – well she's not dead, but trapped in that limbo between life and death, forced to an eternal sleep. They say the King is mad with rage and the Princess is heartbroken – having lost her second mother, as if the young Queen could have been her mother to begin with – and Granny doesn't stop the whispering patrons, but she waits patiently for the rumors to die down.
The Queen will sleep until a True Love's kiss wakes her, as the Dark One has told the King. He himself is furious, the Dark One, but no one quite seems to be able to pinpoint why – why does he care, no one but the Dragon Lady, as they've heard, someone, murmurs, the Dragon Lady said the Queen knew of an ancient magic, and she prickled her own finger with a deadly potion, and not even her own father is able to wake her.
Robin knows, he's heard the stories, he's good at picking up little snippets of information here and there, and so he goes, borrows a horse from Granny and rides to the castle without telling his men about it. He has to seize the moment and… well, the King is distracted, his wife is on the brink of death, and the riches of the castle will surely be unattended – at least, the ones in the Queen's chamber.
Climbing the wall is easy when they placed a convenient ivy up till the balcony, as he had predicted, no one's there, the chambers are empty and frighteningly still and silent. His steps are stealthy as he pads around, one ring here, a bracelet there, a tiara, coins, in drawers and jewelry boxes which are only collecting dust since she fell asleep, so who would need them anyway?
The candles in the room give an atmosphere of peace, as he brushes satisfied hands on his cloak and readies himself for the climb down. But something inside him makes him hesitate, as his gaze finally turns to the bed he so gleefully ignored as he pilfered her room.
She's a bit hidden – he has to take a couple of steps to finally behold her face and be taken aback by her beauty. He gets closer, his rational mind battling with his instincts, he walks by the bed and thinks he would never tire of this view. What could it be that pushed this woman to inflict upon herself such a terrible fate? He doesn't imagine, but his hand touches her cheek and his finger find an unexpected warmth.
Could it be?
Her breaths are slow and her mouth smiles, peaceful in her slumber, and she looks… serene. As if whatever she's facing now, it isn't worse than what she's left behind. But eternity like this seems an awfully long time.
He stills there, a strange itch takes hold of him – to just – try, just to know, just to be sure because could it be? Even though this is the first time he meets her, is this need to kiss her completely wrong?
Before he loses his nerve, he bends down, slowly, and presses his lips to her forehead.
A rush of rainbow and memories and love comes back.
And Regina opens her eyes.
