Author's Notes:

Special Thanks to ale_nena for her constant support and the lovely cover art available on twitter at ale_nena.

Setting: Misthaven non-magical modern AU. The society and political system will be based on a combination of modern countries, with a probable bias toward the American system as I am an American. However, all characters are fictional and resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidence.

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Regina slowly woke up to the pleasant warmth underneath her down comforter.

It was the first bitterly cold day of the year outside, but she hardly noticed. As usual for a Saturday, her parents were spending the day at the club and most of the staff, who could get away with it, had taken the opportunity to sneak away from the estate as well.

Robin, however, stayed behind and they enjoyed a morning of carefree, lazy love making.

Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked at the man next to her. She hadn't done this kind of thing ever since college, and it felt so freeing.

Smiling to herself, she let her eyes roam over his dark gold hair and his shoulders. The edges of the tattoo across his back just peeking out from under the covers.

Moving her hand out, she eased down the blanket so that she could see the entirety of it. She'd never been a particular fan of tattoos. Her mother considered them low class, of course. This one was very aesthetically pleasing, though.

It was a long feather that stretched from shoulder to shoulder, curved in the middle to look as if it were floating.

Reaching over, she traced her finger over the edges of it.

The action caused Robin to stir, turning his head to blink tiredly at her.

She smiled at him, "Sorry."

"S'ok," he murmured into the pillow.

She adjusted her hand on her head so that her temple rested on her fist, and continued tracing the quills.

"See something you like?" Robin teased.

She laughed, "It's nice I guess."

He chuckled as well.

"Robin...can I ask?"

He lifted his head again to look at her questioningly.

"Why a feather?"

His expression froze at the question and she could sense hesitation, so she took her hand off the tattoo, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just curious."

"You might laugh," he finally said.

"I won't!" she insisted.

He sighed, "Okay, well, five years ago my parents...were killed. It happened suddenly and was really hard to deal with. Well, as you know, I made some bad decisions after that and ended up going to prison. That was pretty much the lowest I'd even been. I thought it was all over for me. I'd lost my family, screwed up my life...well then I kept noticing everyday in the exercise yard that I'd come across feathers. I swear, everyday for weeks..."

She shifted, encouraging him to go on.

"My mum always used to pick them up whenever she'd find one and so when I kept finding them...it gave me hope. Like...I don't know...maybe it was a sign from her not to give up."

Regina's lips fell open.

"Anyway, when I was approved for parole, I got the tattoo my first day out."

She swallowed hard, "I'd never laugh at that."

He didn't respond.

"How did they die?" she asked.

He looked away and answered quietly, "A car accident. Another driver was going too fast, hit them at an intersection and their car skidded off the road and flipped."

She didn't know what to say to that other than, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, "I'd just really rather not talk about it."

They watched each other quietly for a few moments before, she cleared her throat moving her hand further beneath the covers to his lower back, "What about this one?"

He froze again and she asked, "What? Oh Gods, don't tell me it's-"

"No!" he interrupted, sighing heavily, "It's nothing like the feather one. Quite the opposite, actually."

"Really? Now I'm intrigued," she said, pushing down the covers to take a better look, "Does it mean you're a tramp?"

She laughed at her own joke, but he simply said, "Kind of."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Okay, now I have to know!"

"Alright, well, it was right after Killian was discharged from the navy," he explained, "We met up in Soñar City to celebrate, got really drunk and…"

"Decided to get tattoos?" she guessed.

"Yep."

She laughed, "So where's his?"

"Same place," Robin answered.

She looked at him, then back at the tattoo...an arrow and an anchor.

"Wait!" she suddenly said, "Are you saying that you and Killian have matching tattoos on your lower backs?"

He didn't answer.

She cracked up, falling back into her pillow, "Oh by the Gods! Maybe I should have been jealous of him in Sherwood!"

Lifting himself up he said, "Oh, so you finally admit you were jealous?"

Her laughter died as she realized she'd said more than she meant to and now he was sending her and extremely smug look. She smacked his shoulder, "Don't be an ass!"

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, reaching over and pulling her toward him, his fingers tickling her ribs and causing her scream out.

Laughing they fell into each other's arms. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

"What about this one?" she asked, lifting up his arm and rubbing her thumb over the black shield with the outline of a dancing lion inside.

"That's my family crest," he answered.

"Family crest?" she asked, glancing up at him in surprise.

He nodded, "The Locksleys go way back in Sherwood."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said, "Before Misthaven annexed the Southern Provinces, of course."

"Yeah, it'd have to be," she said, "Families with crests are rare...how far back are we talking?"

"A long time," he acknowledged, "About a thousand years, according to legend."

"Legend?"

He let out a breath, "Well who knows how much of it is true…"

"Tell me," she urged.

"Okay, well," he explained, "I'm probably about the fifteenth or sixteenth Robert Locksley in my family line. By now everyone's lost track."

She sat up further to listen.

"You've heard the Robin Hood legend, right?"

"Yeah, sure," she shrugged, "Folk legend of a bandit who robbed the rich to give to the poor. All cultures have a version of him. It comes from struggles with economic inequality under the old feudal system."

"Yeah, well," he told her, "In Sherwood the legend is a little different. He wasn't a bandit he was a nobleman who fought for freedom for the people of Sherwood from the influence of the Northern Kingdoms."

She nodded, slightly uncomfortable. The Northern Kingdoms were the old name of the country that would eventually unite with the Tierras to become Misthaven.

"He fought successfully for the kingdom of Sherwood to remain free," Robin explained, "And legend has it that he was my ancestor."

Her chin dropped to her chest in surprise, "Hang on...are you saying you're of noble blood?"

"No such thing anymore," he reminded her.

"You know what I mean!" she argued, "You're descended from ancient nobility?"

"'Ancient' being the keyword there, but yes."

She laughed incredulously, "Are you kidding me? Mr. Equality?"

"Yeah well those days are long gone!" he laughed, :and if you believe my family's version of the story the noble part was lost long before Misthaven abolished it!"

"Oh?" she asked, "Well do tell! This has been very informative so far!"

"Alright, well the legend in Sherwood is that he disappeared from history due to a romance gone wrong."

She raised her eyebrow.

"Lord Robert Locksley was friends with the king until he fell in love with the wrong woman and angered the him."

"Very dramatic. Who was she?" Regina asked.

"Well her name's been lost, but some of the legends say she was the king's cousin…" he trailed off.

"What?" she prompted him to go on.

"...the way my father told it to me, however...she was the queen."

She looked at him before cocking her head skeptically, "Come on."

"That's what he told me."

She laughed, "Right, this was your ancestor and my name is Regina...you know you already got me into bed, right?"

He chucked, "I'm serious!"

She rolled her eyes, "Alright well then what happened to them?"

"According to my dad, Lord Locksley was killed."

Regina blinked, waiting for him to go on.

"Then the king tried to erase all traces of him, hoping that everyone would for get his name."

"This king sounds like quite an ass!"

Robin laughed, "Well that's why the people created the legend, to make sure it'd always be known that they hadn't forgotten."

"Hm," she hummed, "It's a good story, though kind of depressing."

"I don't know," Robin shrugged, "He was willing to die to help people and ended up dying for love...doesn't sound so bad to me."

She swallowed hard around the lump that formed in her throat at the thought, "Yeah, well, don't go getting all romantic on me! Here in the real world you need to focus on staying safe, not making some grand noble sacrifice!"

He laughed too, giving her a naughty look, "Is that an order, Ms. Mills?"

"You bet it is," she said against his lips as he leaned over to kiss her. She accepted the kiss open-mouthed, nipping at his lips playfully.

Her voice was husky as they broke apart, "I have few other orders for you too."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

He kissed up her neck to her ear before moving back to her lips. After another deep kiss, they stared into each other's eyes.

"What were they like?" Regina asked softly.

"Hm?"

"Your parents," she clarified, "What were they like?"

He looked at her, "You want to talk about my parents now? I thought you had some orders for me, Ms Mills."

She stopped his hands as they travelled up her ribs to her breasts, "Come on! We have plenty of time for that, my parents won't be home for hours and I really want to know!"

He sighed.

"Just something," she urged, "What did they do? Was your father an EMT too?"

"Not exactly," Robin answered, "He was a volunteer firefighter for awhile, so kind of similar, but, in terms of his job, he was a truck driver."

"And what was he like?"

"He was...great," he said, "Best person I ever knew."

Regina sat up on her elbow to listen.

"He always taught me to do the right thing," he explained, "That we had an obligation to help those who needed it…"

As he trailed off, she cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her, "I'm sure he's proud of you."

He quirked his lip doubtfully, "I'm working on it."

"Robin, don't say that," she insisted, "I know what you're thinking and he would understand what happened to you. I mean the reason it happened was that you were trying to help someone! Even if it was a little misguided."

He didn't answer, so she changed the subject, "What about your mother?"

"She was a music teacher."

"Oh?" she asked.

He nodded, "Piano and voice."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Really?"

"She had a beautiful voice," Robin mused.

"Did she teach you to sing?" Regina laughed.

He met her eyes as he answered, "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Leaning over he brushed his lips against her ear, humming a gentle tune against it. Even without lyrics, she could tell that he had a good voice.

Her eyes slid closed as she revealed in the fact that she was spending a rare private moment with her amazing, sexy, bodyguard.

Grabbing the back of his neck she forced his lips over to hers and kissed him hard. He kissed back and rolled them over to settle on top of her as they got lost in each other again.

* 0 * 0 * 0 * 0 * 0 * 0 *

Cora accepted a glass of Prosecco from a passing waiter as she glanced around Mals garden. It was a bit too cold, normally for a garden party, but Mallory Drago, ever resourceful, had several discrete overhead heaters brought in that were keeping the guests warm while providing a lovely sunset view of her grounds, the trees in full fall colors.

"Pumpkin tartlet, Ma'am?"

She wrinkled her nose, as she waved away the tray and brought her glass to her lips. A chuckle came from behind her.

She turned around, to Mal, who was standing next to Albert Spencer and watching her with an amused expression, "Ramping up the dieting? One might almost think you're expecting to be in the public eye again…"

Cora glared, "Very funny, Mallory."

The blonde laughed again, leisurely walked toward her, "I believe you've met Albert Spencer."

"Yes," she nodded, holding out her hand.

"Cora," Spencer shook her hand, "Lovely to see you again."

"Albert," she acknowledged, "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has," the older man said, taking a sip of his own drink, "How have you been?"

"Oh quite well and yourself?'

"Very well, thank you," he answered, "I don't want to be tacky and bring my business at a party-"

"But I asked," Cora teased.

"Indeed you did," he responded with a twinkle in his eyes, "Things are going quite well. What about you?"

"Our investments are healthy," she answered casually, "And my husband has been doing quite well with the Mills Foundation...considering it's not for profit."

"What about yourself, Cora?"

"Me?" she asked.

"Rumor has it your focus is back on politics."

"You listen to gossip, Albert?"

Lowering his glass from his lips, Spencer pinned her with a piercing look, "Come on now, Cora. Haven't we known each other long enough to dispense with these games?"

Cora met the look strongly. She run into many attempts by men to intimidate her, and she certainly wasn't going to let someone like Albert Spencer get away with it, "Games? I don't believe I know what you're talking about."

He frowned, "Very well, play coy if you want, Cora."

"I don't play," she said in a hard voice.

"If you say so," he shrugged, "Just be aware, though, that you aren't hiding your plans as well as you think. Everyone know you're planning a Presidential run."

"The election isn't for two years, Albert," she pointed out, "It's a bit early to be talking about that, I think...though that's quite an assumption you're making that I have anything to hide."

He laughed, "Well at least you've prepared yourself for it."

She frowned, biting down a retort about not needing his approval.

Instead, she changed the subject, "And how is your son?"

Swallowing a sip of his champagne, he answered, "He's quite well. He just moved back from Arendelle."

"Really?" Cora asked, "You're finally ready to give him a real role in the family business?"

Spencer laughed, "Well, he did make the company billions on the Arendelle financial market, I believe he's earned a place."

"And wanted to?" she asked.

He frowned at her, "Why would he not? He's my son!"

She let out a sniff, "I mean no offense...in fact, that's a problem I wish I had!"

"I thought your daughters were working for you?" Spencer asked.

Cora sighed, "Zelena's still freelancing as a political consultant, and that's a good role for her. Blake is running the political office in the Federal District, and he does a good job. He's organized, has the contacts, does as he's asked…"

"But?"

"I believe Regina's the one with actual instincts, though," she explained, "However, she insists on wasting her time with my husband at the foundation!"

"Ah," he nodded understandingly, "That must be very frustrating."

"What's frustrating is that she refuses to listen to me! About anything! Her career, her personal life...I just wish she'd get it together!"

"I understand that feeling," Spencer said ruefully.

"I thought you said your son was doing well?" she asked.

"In terms of his career he is," he mogul acknowledged, "However, his personal life...leaves a lot of be desired."

"Is that right? I hadn't heard anything."

"Yes," he spat, "And it's taken a lot of hard work to keep it that way!"

She raised her eyebrows, "I see."

"James is still in that sort of young, playboy mindset," Spencer went on, "I wish he'd grow up or at least learn some discretion!"

"I understand that feeling," she muttered before she could think better of it, quickly adding, "Not that Regina's that kind of girl. Certainly not! It's just that she's nearly 30, it's time she get more serious."

"Hm," Spencer hummed thoughtfully, sipping his champagne again.

Looking at him out the corner of her eye she asked, "Are you thinking something?"

"Are you?" he returned the question with a sly look.

She chuckled, "It is horribly medieval of us, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," he shrugged, "Though it would be a very good match."

"It would indeed," she purred, "And if I did have future plans, it would be good timing. Not to mention if could help your son launch a political career...if he were interested in that."

Spencer nodded, "It does sound like it'd be quite mutually beneficial."

The two stood side by side quietly for a moment before Cora finally said, "We'll have to be subtle about it."

"Will we?"

She shrugged, "It would help if James had somewhat of a higher public profile. After all, other than that he's your son, no one's ever heard of him."

Spencer frowned at her but answered, "Is that your daughter's main concern?"

"My daughter," Cora said in a hard voice, "Has been listed as the most eligible woman in Misthaven by three different publications over the last two years-"

"And, yet, she's unattached and, you said yourself, not serious about anyone," he argued.

"I could change that," she said.

"Can you? What have you been waiting for?"

She gritted her teeth, "If I'm going to go the effort, it'll have to be for someone who is worth my, and my daughter's, time!"

He sighed angrily, but finally answered, "Fair enough...perhaps it is time James had his own publicist anyway."

"That would be a good start," she said casually, "Perhaps we can discuss it more after the holidays."

"Uh huh," Spencer said grouchily, "Well, lovely catching up with you as always, Cora."

She smiled smugly at him, "You as well, Albert. Give my best to your son."

"And to your daughter," he groused as he excused himself.

Smiling to herself, Cora looked back out over Mallory's grounds and downed the last of her drink.