A/N: Hello all! Sorry I'm the worst and take forever to update. Without any further ado, here's the next chapter of Powerful. Hope you enjoy!

. . .

Regina stayed in the bath until the water cooled. She didn't get out until she was shivering.

The water doesn't have that horrid rusty tint anymore. After the blood was washed from her skin, her maids had the water changed. She assumed it was her maids anyway, but she didn't see them. All she sees is the crowd lunging for her, crying out for blood, enraged by her hands on their precious new king. She still hears their screams, still feels a thousand unwanted hands on her. She imagines what would have happened if they had managed to pull her down from her horse. They would have beaten her to a pulp. She would have been unrecognizable by the time they were done with her. She pictures her body warped by the hands of the people she's supposed to call her own, her face so broken and bloody that not even Daddy would be able to recognize her. If they had pulled her down, she could have defended herself, she knew, but would she have? What would people think of her then, when the rumors were confirmed? What would they think of her when she killed a crowd of people with a flick of her hand? Her magic still so raw, power untapped, that she doesn't even know what would have happened had she tried.

Your child queen is a enchantress after all, better grab the stake and firewood.

What would Robin think of her, if he knew? Would he still look at her that way he does, soft and longing and unsure?

No, Regina thought. He would be very sure about what to do with her, and none of it would be pleasant. He would be disgusted. He would think she killed Leopold and who would blame him for coming to that conclusion?

She played a game to distract herself. Her body ached and her skin mottled with bruises. Her shoulders and arms coiled with tension from gripping Robin so tightly on the ride back. She had long since slumped into the porcelain tub in what she was sure Mother would have called an undignified manner. As she soaked, she glided her hands over the surface of the water. At the touch of her fingertips, the water rippled out in little pops of light and color. First yellow, then blue, then green, and red. The ripples expanded and ran into each other, creating new swirls of color. She tried to concentrate and make certain colors come from certain fingers. It's a little show all for her.

Rumple had taught her many spells and enchantments. He could be a good teacher when he wanted to be, but she was starting to learn things on her own. She had barely started, but the magic danced in her like a waltz with an old friend. Once it had awakened in her, there were things she suddenly, simply, inexplicably, knew.

Some things startled her. A few months ago she was walking past a few of Leopold's guards practicing their swordsmanship. She had stopped to watch as two of them battled, the sound of iron clashing against iron rang through the air, every movement of their body's precise. These men were the King's personal guard. It was their duty to protect him, to die for him without question if need be, and she was sure they were happy to do it. It was an honor to die for your King. One of the men lurched forward, but the other was quick. He parried the blow by ducking down and away, his sword ready to puncture his opponent's side. She thought about her wedding night then. These men had been outside Leopold's chambers that night. They had been the one to let her in, to usher her through those imposing doors, nothing more than a lamb to the slaughter. As she watched their swords fly through the air, the other men around them laughed and made bets and shouted encouragements. She wondered, then, how willing these men would be to die for Leopold had they known what was happening to the girl on the other side of the door. She remembered his eyes the best. She'll never forget what his hands felt like on her, but it was the way he looked at her that made her feel particularly vile. He looked at her not with reverence or even desire, but with boredom. With disinterest. As if he was playing with an old toy and not crawling all over her in the hopes of leaving a prince in her belly. She felt like a prop, more so than she had her entire life. She remembered clutching at the sheets, tears stinging at her eyes as she tried to restrain the magic that was welling up in her. She couldn't have done anything that night. She would have been executed on the spot, but she thinks of the men outside the door. The last thought she had, as she stared down at them, was that she'd like to show them what their valiancy meant to her.

That's when it happened. A sickening snap came from below, followed by a howl of pain. One of the soldiers was clutching at his arm, the sword falling to the ground with a heavy thud. His hand twisted, jutting out from his arm at an angle. The other guards raced to his side, all wearing similar expressions of shock and confusion. A broken wrist, no doubt about that. How does a man, doing something he does everyday, break his wrist with no influence out of the ordinary? If someone asked Regina, she would have replied that such matters were not of her concern, but nobody ever asked her anything. So Regina had turned, as calmly as she could. She left the courtyard until she returned to her quarters where she proceeded to violently empty the contents of her stomach.

She had never hurt anyone with her magic before. It had been an accident. She had been angry. She had wanted him in pain, but never in her life had she have imagined she could actualize that pain. His howl of pain and the snap of bones echoing in her ears, Regina realized that thinking about revenge was one thing, but having it at her fingertips was entirely different.

That had always been Mother's territory.

There is a comfort in these parts, she supposed, that she knew she could defend herself if she had to. That was something.

Other parts of magic, though, were lovely.

She could do her makeup with magic now. Granted, she still needed a little work. Once she tried to magic lipstick onto her mouth and it ended up on her ears.

If she needed something across the room, she could make it fly over to her with the twitch of a finger.

She knew how to read Elvish now. Not only were the Elves adept at spellcasting, they also wrote wonderful poetry, a book of which she had taken to hiding under her bed.

She knew she didn't need a dresser anymore. She could picture the clothes she wanted to wear in her head and after a few seconds of concentration and a swirl of purple, there they would be. It didn't matter. The facade must be maintained. So if she had stand and wait while a clumsy fingered maid laced up her corset every morning, so be it. Her life depended on it.

When she finally lifted herself out of the tub, she was exhausted. Her eyelids felt weighted from all the crying she had done today. Regina had long ago told her maids to leave her for the night, and so with a swish of her hand she emerged from a cloud of purple dry and dressed in her nightgown. She sat down at her vanity and combed her hair. She could plait her hair with magic, but something about a few quiet minutes to run her fingers through her long raven hair sounded relaxing.

She thought so anyway, until she felt the change in the air, like the world around her was getting ready for a storm. There was a low hum that she was familiar with now. In an instant, instead of looking at herself in the mirror, she was replaced with a swirl of grey smoke, and then Rumple's face was the one staring back at her.

He giggled maniacally. "I have to say, dearie, you've looked better."

Gods, she really did hate him. He was a lifeline, but she knew it was true what he said. All magic comes with a price. Some days, she thought it was his constant surveillance and antagonism. Other days, she had the sinking feeling that she had yet to pay it.

Regina sighed. "I've had a very long day."

"So I heard, Your Majesty. When there is rioting in the streets, news tends to travel quickly."

"I don't see how that is any concern of yours," she hissed. She turned and got up from her vanity, but it was no use. His face appeared in the full length mirror next to her armoire.

"No use throwing a tantrum, dearie! Don't want to get too angry and hurt that lover boy of yours."

Her brow furrowed. "Robin? I've already told you, he doesn't change a thing."

"That's what you say now, but what about a few hours ago when the mere touch of your hands sent your so-called subjects into a murderous rage? I don't think he found that particularly charming, do you?"

Every day she felt his grip on her grow a little tighter. Everyday it was harder to breathe. She knew she had to get out from under his wing, but she couldn't do that until she had better control of her powers.

She wasn't good enough to trick the teacher. Not yet, anyway.

Still, her voice was quiet when she replied. "No...he probably didn't."

"Now that he's seen how much they hate you, he'll have you locked up the moment he's allowed. Or worse. A king will do as he pleases."

"No," Regina said, relieved to find the strength in her voice had returned. "He wouldn't do that."

"And why not?" Rumple said, his image flickering in the mirror. "Once you laid a hand on him and the moment that woman in the crowd shouted, he wasn't going to see you as anything other than a monster."

"You don't know the first-," she cut herself off. The sorcerer's word's turned over in her mind, and something rang out of place, a bell tolling that refused to be ignored. "How did you know that it was a woman who started the riot?"

The mirth of his smile didn't reach his eyes, instead twisting into something vile. He let out another giggle before his image began to warp. Then was no longer Rumple staring at her but a peasant woman. The same woman with the searing hatred in her eyes, who had accused her of bewitching Robin.

"She's cast a spell on our new king! She had him bewitched!" The woman in the mirror shrieked, until the image melted away and Rumple was looking at her with those reptilian eyes again.

Regina could feel her heart pounding its way into her throat, as if it trying to escape. Her hands trembled at her sides as the screams of the towns people ricocheted in her head. A wave of terror swelled up, up, up, devouring her, and she was drowning.

"Why?" She asked.

"No need to be alarmed. I was merely showing you how bloodthirsty they are. I knew you could have defended yourself had it been dire enough. Humans can be so stubborn. It seems that little Snow White's placations haven't worked as well as we all thought they did." It was then that his voice dropped lower, a seductively sinister quality to it, like honey dripping with venom. "The only hope you have is to dispose of Robin and the Princess. Once they're gone, you'll have your life back. Once they're gone, you can get rid of anything else that stands in your way. It's you or them, dearie. Choose wisely."

His likeness faded away, and when Regina could see her own face in the mirror again, she cracked. She dropped to the floor as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She muffled the sobs in the sleeve of her nightdress. She thought of finding Daddy, of going to his chambers and crawling into bed with him the way she did when she had a nightmare as a child. He had always been able to sooth her, but this problem wasn't one you could coax away. For all she knew, if Rumple found out she had told anyone about him, he might kill her father without a second thought. The thought of her father, the wretched snap of the guard's broken wrist, and the smell of blood on Robin's sword earlier are all enough to make her cry until she crawled into bed and fell asleep, trapped and alone.

. . .

She woke just before daybreak to the sound of someone softly knocking on her door. Regina laid in bed for minute, listening for it again. She must have been dreaming it. Then she heard it again, the sound of someone wrapping their knuckles against wood. The only people who come to her chambers are her servants, Snow, and Daddy, none of whom knock or do so before the sun's up. She stood and walked to the door, and that's when she heard it.

"Regina?"

His voice called from the other side of the door. He was quiet, like a child sharing a secret, but she knew it was him. When she opened the door, he was standing with his hand raised to knock again. He had on dark green silk pajamas under a finely embroidered robe and a pair of slippers. They stood there, staring at each other in wide-eyed silence until Regina spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he said, those bright blue eyes scanning her face. His gaze lingered on her lashes, across her cheeks. He could tell she had been crying. She doubted he would blame her. "I'm sorry to come at this hour, but I didn't know how to ask where your chambers were without it sounding odd."

"Have you been looking all night?"

He nodded. She wanted to say something relevant but she was reeling. He had been wandering around attempting to seek her out all night, thinking about her and wondering how she was. Instead, she smiled and said something about her not being worth the trouble.

"It's alright. It's going to be my palace soon, I'd like to get acquainted with it." Then, he smiles. "And don't be ridiculous. You were worth every moment. Even all the times I stubbed my toe."

She grinned at that, silently thanking the early dawn for hiding the blush that creeped up her neck.

Robin gestured down the hallway. "I will say, we have a lot of busts in this place that look like the exact same gentlemen. I don't know how you feel about it, but I find it rather unsettling."

That made her laugh. "Thinking about redecorating already?"

"Ah, yes, definitely less busts of the same man and more elegant tapestries depicting the fruition of my destiny to be king, I think," Robin said.

"Perhaps some stained-glass windows to declare your anointing as a divine being among men?"

"You know, admittedly, I do enjoy a nice stained-glass window."

He smiled and she smiled back. For a moment, she looked at him and relished the light-heartedness of it. No one made jokes to the queen, especially to the queen they believed to be a murderer and a witch. He wanted to make sure she was alright.

The smile drops from his face. "Today was a bit terrifying, if I may be so bold."

"You may," she says, "It was."

"I mean, by Gods, the way they reacted, you'd think I'd been holding the hand of-,"

She remembered what Rumple had said. "A monster?"

He seized both of her hands in his then, drawing her eyes up to bore into his. "You are the furthest thing from a monster, Regina. Those people don't know you."

"Neither do you, Robin."

It's true. He doesn't know her, and she doesn't know him. Not really, not yet, and the truth of that seemed to stun him. He sighed heavily and stared down at their entwined hands. She thought he was out of things to say, that he had resigned himself to being wrong. Then he brought her hands to his mouth, brushing his lips across her fingers and the smooth skin on the back of her hand. He was barely doing anything to her and yet she felt a low down tug in the pit of her stomach. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared in disbelief while he cradled and kissed the hands so many feared.

When Robin quelled the soft press of kisses, he didn't pull her hands away, so she felt his words skirt across her skin as he said them. "I want so badly to know you, Regina. Every moment I'm with you I grow more curious about you. I don't want you to think that what happened today changes that at all. You can't blame yourself for the actions of others. I wanted to see that you were alright, Regina, but I also wanted to say that I had no idea it was like this for you. I didn't know it was this dire, but I promise you it won't be that way forever. I don't care what it takes, but I'm going to make them see reason. We will make them see reason together. You will be my wife in two days, Regina, and I want you to know I will stand with you."

He was looking at her with such sincerity in his eyes that she could cry. The last person who looked at her that way ended up dead in her arms. She felt something like hope stir in her chest at that look, followed by the crushing weight of how he would say once he knew she was lying to him. It was so much, too much, but she never wanted it to end. He reached up and brushed away a tear-when had the tears started to fall?

"Robin?" She asked. She was clutching at his hand now, because as the warmth of his body began to seep into her skin, she realized that unlike magic, he didn't come with a price.

"Yes, darling?"

"I know where I want to go on our honeymoon."

He squeezed her hands and smiled down at her, excitement in his eyes now. "Where would you like to go?"

The Summer Palace, she told him. It's the perfect time of year and a small staff lives year round there so they won't have to travel with their servants. It would be nothing like the grande show Leopold put on. Except for a few cooks and maids, it would be just the two of them, and it was only a day's ride.

Wonderful, he told her. He stroked his thumbs across the backs of her hands before releasing them. He bid her goodnight, or good morning, rather, and walked away smiling. She was grinning when she shut the door behind him, even still as she crawled into bed, and the smile lingered when her eyes finally drifted shut.

She was a damn fool.

. . .

A/N: Hope you enjoyed that chapter! I have a question for you all who have read this far. This story has thus far maintained a certain structure. The chapters alternate Regina and Robin's perspective and I have been keeping the chapters at a certain length. My question is this: would you mind longer chapters and maybe more switching perspective? Let a sister know. Please review, it makes my day:)