Snow learns the truth about her father's marriage to Regina and it's not pretty. TW for discussions of marital abuse, marital rape and miscarriages, as well as Rumple generally fucking with Regina's mind, with some mild Outlaw Queen and Dimples Queen at the end.

Thankfully, the castle was well-stocked, enough for the sudden influx of residents, and enough to buy time for more supplies to be sourced.

Over the next few weeks, messages came in from Thomas and Ella, and Frederick and Abigail, assuring them that they, and their respective subjects, had arrived safely in their kingdoms.

Abigail's message added that the Lost Boys had remained with their new families and were settling in to life in the Enchanted Kingdom.

With the threat of Zelena not quite diminished, Regina was reluctant to cast out the castle residents that would not have ordinarily belonged there, even if they did consist of former enemies, peasants and, of course, thieves.

The Merry Men had become quite the thorn in her side - loud, obnoxious, and always around when she wanted some peace - even though she had to admit (in private, never aloud, and certainly never to their faces) that they behaved themselves, and took on the role of castle security without fuss or, indeed, even being asked.

Regina was still the Queen of Misthaven and she continued on as she always had, without the undercurrent of war against her stepdaughter, but with a kingdom that had doubled in size, thanks to the refugees from Nolansia.

Officially, however, with war over and the treason charge rescinded, she was technically only Queen Regent; the rightful Queen of Misthaven was Snow White, and Regina waited for the day when her stepdaughter brought that up.

But she never did.

As the days passed, Regina continued to involve her stepdaughter in the day-to-day running of the kingdom, subtly giving her the lessons that she never received growing up, lessons that would help her if she took the throne of Misthaven, or eventually returned to Nolansia.

Slowly, Regina became accustomed to having Snow at her side once more, the way she always had as a child, and on days when she allowed herself space from grieving Henry, she allowed herself to admit that she had - dare she say it - missed the girl.

Even as Regina became more comfortable, Snow became quieter and quieter.

More than once, Regina caught her staring at her with an unreadable expression, but when pressed, the princess simply shook her head and changed the subject.

Even Charming seemed to be confused by his wife's behaviour, asking Regina at one point - clearly in jest - if she'd cursed her.

"Seriously, though," he'd added, when they'd both had a good laugh at each other's expense, "she hasn't mentioned anything to you?"

Of course she hadn't. If Snow White was going to confide in anyone, it would be her husband, and Regina told him as much.

But then, one day, almost a month after they had arrived back in the Enchanted Forest, Regina received a knock at her bedroom door.

She wasn't yet dressed, but had dismissed Ivy almost twenty minutes ago, unable to decide what to wear for a day that - unusually - had no meetings and no official business pencilled in.

And on a day like that, all of her dresses seemed far too extravagant, and the rest of her outfits just seemed …

Evil.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," Snow's voice answered.

"Come in," Regina said, turning away from her wardrobe.

Snow slipped through the door, already clad in a simple pink dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, looking much younger than she really was.

Or maybe that was the lack of make-up on her face, or the vulnerability in her eyes that was contributing to that particular look.

Without thinking, Regina ushered her stepdaughter over to the armchairs by the fire - even in summer, the castle was large and draughty. "What's wrong?"

"I read the charters," Snow said in a small voice. "Like you said I should."

Regina had forgotten that part. She waved her hand, summoning a tea service from the kitchen, and began to pour. "You have questions?"

"I had loads," Snow admitted. "I didn't understand a word of it. Why didn't I get taught any of that stuff?"

Regina sighed. "Because your father didn't want it. I actually advocated for it, but then he never wanted me to be your mother."

"Yes, he did," Snow said, frowning. "That's why he married you."

"No, dear, he wanted me to indulge your every whim," Regina said, no real heat in her voice. "Not do any actual parenting. As far as he was concerned, he was going to have a son to inherit the throne - what did you need to know how to be queen for?"

"I had to get David to help me," Snow said softly. "And he didn't know, because he wasn't raised like this. No one else could understand either except …" She hesitated. "I shouldn't have been showing anyone else, should I?"

Regina shrugged. "It's not confidential information, dear. Generally speaking it's only the council who see it, but it's up to you who that is anyway."

"But it's your kingdom," Snow said.

Regina raised an eyebrow, deciding against pointing out the obvious. "So who helped you?"

"Robin," Snow said. "I don't know how he knew."

Regina took a sip of her tea, thinking. "I don't know," she said slowly, "but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he had a noble upbringing. He understands court etiquette too well not to."

"Was that a compliment?" Snow asked, a bit of her old self returning.

"Not a word to the man," Regina warned, a hint of a smile on her face. "So he helped you?"

Snow nodded, her face falling. "Daddy was starving the kingdom to death. The taxes were so high that people couldn't eat. And no one was arguing!"

"How could they?" Regina murmured. "That was treason. And you know what the punishment for that is."

Snow's face paled. "He didn't. He wouldn't have executed people for that!"

"No," Regina said. "But that's because no one was ever brave enough to try it. Such is the way of it, my dear - I can assure you that other kingdoms were doing the same thing."

"They're just as bad as we were?" Snow asked, aghast.

"Nolansia was," Regina said, "but you and David fixed that when you took over. Didn't you?"

"We didn't change anything," Snow whispered. "I didn't know we needed to. I thought if there were any problems, the people would bring them to us, but … They wouldn't know we were different, would they?"

"Of course not," Regina said with a sigh. "And it's not your fault. You wouldn't have known. Sherwood is as bad as Misthaven used to be - obviously. The others … Well, the system is the same, but Midas and Thomas are fair. And I'm sure Phillip and Aurora are as well, now they're in place."

"You made it better," Snow said. "When you became Queen, things became better for everyone except the people helping me. That's why I didn't get much help in Misthaven, wasn't it?"

"I assume so," Regina said cautiously.

Snow stared into her teacup. "That first law you passed … Why?"

Regina raised an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why did you pass it?" Snow asked.

"Because it needed to be passed," Regina said. "Under the old laws, a woman was her husband's property, which meant that sex was considered a husband's right. A wife would not have the right to deny him that, for any reason."

"No, I understand that," Snow said. "But … it wouldn't have even occurred to me that it needed to be passed. I assumed that marital rape was - you know - rape. How did you know it was still legal?"

Regina hesitated. "You have to understand, Snow, that those beliefs go back a long way in our society, and are engrained in many people."

"That didn't answer the question," Snow said.

"I know," Regina said softly. "I was seventeen when I married your father, Snow, and he was older than my father. The love of my life was dead, and my mother had trapped me within the castle with magic. With that in mind, do you think that any intimacy that occurred between us did so with my consent?"

Snow's face paled even further. "Did he know?"

"I don't think you …" Regina began.

"Did he know?!" Snow demanded again. "Did my father know that you had been forced into marriage with him? Did he know that you didn't want him?"

"He knew," Regina admitted. "After I banished Mother to Wonderland, I told him about Daniel and about her magic. I didn't know about Eva then, or I would have told him that as well. I remembered what you'd said, about how your father would have released me from our arrangement if he'd known about Daniel." She sighed. "He informed me that my parents had agreed to the union. I didn't have any say in it. I …" she hesitated, eyeing her stepdaughter over the rim of her teacup, but the girl was an adult now.

And she had asked.

"I went along with it on our wedding night," she continued softly. "I thought if I could just get past that, we'd be alright. Yes, it would be a loveless marriage, but that didn't mean I had to be miserable."

"But you were," Snow whispered.

"I spent every day being unfavourably compared to your mother," Regina said. "And then every night, I'd lie awake, dreading every set of footsteps outside the door, knowing that any minute, I could be summoned like some common whore to do my duty. And, yes, he did know I didn't want him. After that first night, I fought him every single time."

"Did it help?" Snow asked, looking anywhere but at Regina's face.

"No," Regina admitted. "But I'd already decided that I was going to kill him one day, when I could find a way of not getting caught. And when I did, I wanted him to know damn well who was behind it and why."

"Did he hurt you?" Snow asked now, her voice shaking.

Regina sighed heavily. "Every time."

"I'm sorry," Snow whispered. "I ruined your life."

Regina set her cup down and reached out to take Snow's as it rattled ominously in its saucer. "Snow …"

"I ruined your life," Snow repeated louder, finally looking up and allowing her stepmother to see the tears in her eyes. "I knew it was my fault Daniel was dead, and I knew you weren't happy but I had no idea he was hurting you, and you wouldn't have even been here if it wasn't for me, and I … It's all my fault, no wonder you wanted me dead …"

To Regina's surprise, the words sent a jolt of pain through her chest - not guilt, although that was there too - but pain at the thought that her daughter had to live with that knowledge.

And there it was.

She hadn't thought of Snow as her daughter in a long time, not since Leopold's death.

But now she reached out automatically, unable to watch the tears that rolled down the girl's cheeks.

Snow buried into her arms the way she had as a child. "I'm sorry, Mama; I'm so sorry."

Regina closed her eyes, stroking her hair gently. Snow hadn't called her that in a long time. "It's not your fault."

"But …"

"It's not your fault," Regina repeated firmly. "You were a child, Snow. Yes, you were naive, and yes you should have listened to me about my mother. But it wasn't your fault. I can see that now. I was so alone and so miserable that I listened to the wrong people. I let Rumple convince me that Daniel was your fault, and that the only way I would ever be happy was if I got revenge."

A horrible realisation struck her, one that had her sucking in a breath and tightening her embrace.

"What's wrong?" Snow asked.

"I let him convince me that I hated you," Regina whispered. "I let him convince me that I had to hate you because I wasn't capable of loving you, not with my mother's blood in me. I let him … Oh, Snow, I'm so sorry."

"I don't understand," Snow said, pulling back to wipe her eyes.

"I should have realised," Regina said, feeling miserable. "I had to lock away all good memories of you when your father died, otherwise I would never have managed it. And I did it without thinking, because I'd let him convince me that I hated you. But I never hated you."

"You didn't?" Snow asked.

"Of course not," Regina whispered. "I loved you; you were my daughter." She choked out a bitter laugh. "Gods, I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not," Snow said.

"I am," Regina said, shaking her head. "I tried to murder my own daughter because I let a man I knew was bad news convince me that I didn't love her. My own body murdered four of my sons, and the last was so miserable with me that he ran away to find his real mother." She closed her eyes. "Henry's better off without me."

"You're a good mother," Snow said firmly. "I mean it. You were a wonderful mother to me, until the obvious happened, and if you're going to blame yourself for trusting Rumplestiltskin … Well, we've all made that mistake and you know it. And Henry went through a difficult time, learning about the adoption, and about the curse, and, yes, things were bad for a while. But Henry loved you, Mama."

Regina smiled sadly. "You haven't called me that in a long time."

Snow smiled back. "Well, maybe it's time I start again, as long as we ignore the fact that it makes me my own grandson's stepsister."

"You never stopped being my stepdaughter, dear," Regina said, "so that's always been true, whether either of us like it."

Snow squeezed her hands. "What did you mean, about the four sons?"

Regina hesitated. "I had four pregnancies fail when I was married to your father."

"You know that's not your fault," Snow said. "You've lived in Storybrooke too. Unless you know something I don't."

Regina shrugged. "Rumple told me it was because of the darkness in me, just like my mother."

"Well, your mother carried two children to term," Snow said. "So clearly that's ridiculous. And I know you. I know that, no matter how they were conceived, you would have protected those babies. You wouldn't have risked them."

"Your father blamed me," Regina said.

"Well, Daddy was apparently not the man I thought he was," Snow said. "And he's a man."

"And?" Regina asked, almost amused despite the topic. "Whale's a man too."

Snow grimaced. "I know. But he's a man with a medical degree. My father was just a man. No uterus, no opinion."

Regina laughed, unable to help herself. "That's an excellent point."

"So is it okay?" Snow asked, a little shyly. "If I call you Mama again, I mean. I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to, I don't know, replace Henry or something."

"You could never do that," Regina said, "anymore than he could replace you. And if you're comfortable calling me that, then of course you can." She waved her hand to send the tea tray back tot he kitchens. "Now I suggest that you and I head down to breakfast, dear, before your husband starts to worry."

Snow chuckled. "Well, you can't go down like that, Mama. You're not dressed yet."

"I know," Regina said with a grimace. "I can't figure out what to wear today."

"Can I have a look?" Snow asked, already halfway to the wardrobe. "What about this one?"

Regina tilted her head, eyeing the dress Snow had pulled out - from where, she didn't know.

That particular dress had not seen the light of day since before the king died, before her heart turned black and her deeds evil.

"Are you sure?" She asked dubiously. "Will it even suit me anymore?"

Snow held it out to her. "Try it."

Regina still wasn't convinced, but gamely took the dress and slipped it over her head, allowing it to fall as it wished, before checking her reflection.

Soft royal blue cotton clung to her curves, not indecently - far from it, actually, this dress harked back to a time when her husband would insist she practically covered herself from head to toe to prevent leering eyes while simultaneously criticising her for not having the fashion sense of his first wife.

It was, at least, cool and comfortable in the hot weather, but it still didn't feel right, like she was wearing a ghost of her former self.

"You look lovely," Snow said quietly.

"It's not really me," Regina said. "Thank you, dear, but … I'm not that girl anymore."

Snow frowned. "Well, you're not that woman anymore either," she said, gesturing to the dresses at the forefront of the wardrobe.

"True," Regina murmured, wondering if maybe that was part of the reason she had felt so unsettled.

"If you don't want people to see you as the Evil Queen," Snow said gently, "you might want to stop pretending to be her. I know it's your armour and you're trying to protect yourself, but something's got to give, Mama."

"I know," Regina admitted. "But this isn't it. However …" She ran her hands down her sides, eyeing the dress carefully and then gave a little flick of her fingers.

The sleeves became looser, the neckline dropped, and the skirt became less full, a slit appearing up the side to allow her to walk comfortably.

"What do you think?"

"Lovely," Snow beamed.

Regina nodded, tying her hair back in a quick braid, before automatically tugging Snow in front of her. "Let me sort yours out, dear; you look like you only just rolled out of bed."

"I did," Snow said sheepishly. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"Then tell your husband to wear you out," Regina said frankly.

"Mama!" Snow hissed, before bursting into giggles.

Regina smiled, tucking her arm through her stepdaughter's. "Come along. It smells like Granny's scrounged up some kind of breakfast meat."

By the time they entered the dining hall, most of the castle inhabitants were there, conversation echoing off the stone walls, but when the two women entered, it seemed that the entire room fell silent.

Regina sniffed. "Honestly, anyone would think we'd turned green overnight."

Snow shook her head with a fond smile, nudging her over to the buffet table, where Granny was holding court. "Good morning Granny."

"Good morning, Snow," Granny greeted. "Your Majesty."

"Good morning," Regina murmured, taking a plate, even as Ivy appeared by her side. "Yes, Ivy, I'm fine."

Ivy smirked - something she had almost certainly picked up from her employer, because she certainly hadn't done that when she started. "Of course, Your Majesty. I was just going to let you know that some of the villagers would quite like to get back to their homes and farms. How far out does the protection spell run?"

Regina hesitated. "Technically, as far as it did before. But I don't know how close Zelena can get, and something tells me that's what they're asking. I'll look into it."

She and Snow made their way to the royal table, the latter greeting Charming with a kiss.

"You'd disappeared this morning," he murmured.

"I needed to talk to Mama," Snow said just as quietly, making Regina smile a little.

David raised an eyebrow. "We're back to that, are we?"

"Problem?" Regina asked.

"Not at all," David said. "I'm glad you two are getting along again. Snow's missed you."

"Excuse me, Your Majesty?"

Regina stiffened automatically, turning in her chair to see Robin standing nearby. "Yes?"

Robin smiled. "My boy has something he'd like to say to you."

Only now did Regina notice the little boy clinging to his father's leg with one hand, and clutching the monkey she'd given him with the other one.

She couldn't help smiling, slipping off her chair to crouch down so she was at eye level with him. "Do you now?"

Roland nodded shyly. "Thank you for saving me," he said softly.

"Your Majesty," Robin prompted in a loud whisper.

"Thank you for saving me, my majesty," Roland said, taking the prompt literally.

Regina didn't need to hear the soft squeak Snow made to know that the princess had just about melted; something she was rather guilty of herself.

Robin chuckled. "Roland, that's not …"

"He's fine," Regina said quickly, glancing up at him, and promptly regretting it.

(There really should be a law against eyes being that blue. She should look into it.)

"You're very welcome, Roland," she continued. "How's your monkey?"

"He's okay," Roland said. "He has bad dreams sometimes."

Regina was vaguely aware of Robin's sudden intake of breath but she ignored him. "I'm sorry to hear that, Roland. Do you give monkey a big hug to make them go away?"

Roland nodded, clutching his monkey a little tighter. "Uh huh. Sometimes they don't though."

"Well, do you wake your papa up then?" Regina asked. "Because something tells me he can help monkey with those dreams as much as he can help you with yours."

Roland looked up at his father. "You can?"

"Absolutely," Robin said, sounding a little stunned. "You and monkey come and wake me up whenever you need, okay?"

"Okay," Roland said. "Can I go and play with Uncle John?"

"Go ahead," Robin said faintly.

Regina rose to her feet, watching Roland dart off.

"How did you do that?" Robin asked. "He's not … He's never mentioned having bad dreams."

"He's not having bad dreams," Regina said. "Monkey is."

"Okay, but we both know that's what he means," Robin said.

"Children react to trauma in different ways," Regina said, thinking of Henry and his therapy sessions with Archie, the ones he hadn't really needed. "Sometimes they find it easier to remove themselves. I didn't think he was going to go there though. I really was just asking about the monkey."

Robin shook his head. "Thank you anyway."

"That was adorable," Snow murmured, once Robin was out of earshot.

"He's a very cute kid," Regina conceded.

"My majesty." Snow shook her head. "Adorable."