A soft gasp ripples through the crowded ballroom as Regina emerges at the entrance–and though, he can't yet see her, Robin feels his breath catch in his throat as eyes slowly turn from her to him. He takes a few steps forward, the crowd parting as he moves, and by the time he rounds the table, there's an empty pathway that leads from him to her–and at the end of it, Regina is standing there, looking radiant as ever.

She's wearing a shimmery green-gold dress with white lacy gown sleeves that hug her arms and fan out around her elbows. It's low cut and a bit of cleavage peeks out above the thin lace that lines the front of the dress.

She'd been worried the dress was too scandalous–though it was an older style that would've been perfectly acceptable for their grandmothers to have worn at court–and Belle suggested pairing it with a chunky gold and emerald necklace that matched the embroidered leaves which cascaded down the front of the dress, collecting at the bottom of the skirt. He didn't give much of an opinion on the matter when she'd asked him about it–though, he'd secretly hoped she'd forgo the necklace–and told her that it didn't matter because she'd look stunning either way.

And while that was completely true, now that he was looking at her, he was glad that she'd chosen not to wear the necklace.

Her dark hair is swept up and a few curled pieces hang down around her face, nearly touching her shoulders. Her neck looks so much longer in this style of dress, and as she stands there with her shoulders back, not trying to cover herself up or shrink behind heavy jewelry, he can't help but notice the confidence she exudes.

He feels tears welling in his eyes, his emotion surging as she bites down on her lip and looks around–not quite shy, but not not quite sure of herself–and a quiet little laugh bubbles out of her as she shifts on her feet.

"Papa," Roland murmurs as he tugs at the back of his coat. "She looks so pretty."

Grinning, Robin nods, not taking his eyes off of her. "She does."

"Aren't you supposed to go and get her?" Henry asks. "And dance with her?"

Chuckling softly, he nods–he hadn't quite realized how firmly in place he was rooted or that she was waiting for him. "Oh… right."

He hears both boys giggling as he crosses the ballroom, holding out his hand to her as he nears–and as her fingers touch to his palm, he feels a little jolt, as if until this point he hadn't been certain that any of this were real or part of some wonderfully fantastical dream.

"You look…" He shakes his head as his voice fades and he finds himself struggling for a word that adequately describes her. "You're stunning."

Forming her hand around his, her cheeks flush slightly. "You don't look so bad yourself." Looking down at himself, he laughs softly, shaking his head as he smooths his hand over his green, velvet coat–and as Regina leans in to kiss his cheek, he's very much aware of the sword strapped to his hip. "It's not… too much?" she whispers. "I mean, this whole thing is…"

"Meant to feel like a fairytale."

"I feel a little silly dressed this way."

"You shouldn't," he says, pulling back and holding her at arm's length. "I mean it. You're stunning, and given the gasp that went through this room when you came in, I think it's safe to assume that I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Her cheeks flush a bit deeper and she nods–and in spite of herself, she can't stop her smile.

Admittedly, he wasn't sure what tonight would be like.

After all, they were hosting a party to celebrate their engagement despite already being married. But before he had much of a chance to worry about the look of it or what others might think of it, Mrs. Potter reminded him that as long as good food was being served and the drinks were endless, no one would care why they were attending a party–and then, as he'd nodded and considered her point, she'd admitted that she found the whole thing sweet.

And it was.

The whole thing was planned in a few short weeks–though, he supposed, Regina had been planning this, in part, since she was a little girl.

The engagement party wasn't meant to be themed–not initially–but then they'd been picking out fabrics for tablecloths and a shimmery spool caught her eye. She'd laughed a little as her fingers touched it–and then he watched as her smile faded as she explained it looked similar to the fabric of her grandmother's wedding dress.

At first, he was confused at why it seemed to be an unhappy memory, and then, she'd explained it.

Regina didn't remember her grandmother. She'd died when she was only six, but she did remember feeling sad when she died. Not long after the funeral, a fleet of carriages arrived at Dragon Head with her grandparents' things and she'd watched closely as the footmen carried the trunks up to the attic. She peered around a corner, careful not to let her mother catch her, and she imagined all of the treasures those trunks must've contained.

She'd waited until the carriages left and until her mother had gone to change for tea, before she'd snuck up into the attic and eventually found the dress. Her heart nearly stopped when she heard footsteps on the stairs–and then, to her relief, it was her father who'd discovered her, not her mother.

He'd pulled the dress out of the trunk and hung it up on a mirror so that they could both look at it, and as they did, he pulled her up onto his lap and confessed that he thought his mother would like that her only grandchild admired such an old but beloved dress.

He told her how it'd been specially made in Spain and how it'd been one of his mother's most prized possessions, and then he suggested that perhaps, one day when she was older, she might like to wear it. Wide-eyed she'd nodded and said that she would. Then her father set her back down, and together they'd gone through the rest of the trunk, finding the velvet green coat her grandfather wore and the sword that had been given to his father by King Ferdinand VI.

There were other things in the chest, but as she recounted the story to him, she could no longer remember what they were–though she admitted she'd likely forgotten by the time her father took her down for tea as she'd been so enamored by the wedding dress.

And she had never forgotten it.

Every now and then, she'd sneak up into the attic and try it on–and despite only being a small child, each time, she was hopeful that this time, it might just fit her. Then, when she was twelve, she'd gone up to try on the dress and found Cora was standing there with a row of maids–and her grandmother's things were gone. She'd been numb as she watched the maids dusting the newly opened space and her mother's eyes had narrowed at her, her tongue clicking as she told her that she was far too old for costumes and nursery games.

So, when she spotted the fabric, with his encouragement, she'd bought the entire spool and had Ruby draw up a few sketches. The seamstress had worked endlessly on the dress over the course of the last few weeks, perfecting every last detail and make sure that it fit Regina just right–and though the dress consumed the preparations for the party, he'd never actually seen the finished product.

And now, he found himself glad that he hadn't.

"We should dance," he tells her, rubbing his thumb at the back of her wrist. "I think that's what everyone's waiting for."

"It is," she tells him, nodding and giggling softly as he takes a step back and bows to her–and then, as he pulls himself back up, he takes a few more steps back, pulling her along with him.

They stop at the center of the ballroom, and once again, he's very much aware of how many people are watching. As the music starts to play, he can feel their gazes, but as he stares into Regina's eyes and watches the way she smiles back at him–filled with so much excitement and love–he doesn't feel his nerves setting in as they usually do because all he can see is her.