A/N: So, this is a monster. Also there is tons of internal narration. This was, originally, the first chapter after the prologue, and much of this was written to further expand upon the background history this story is based on. Next chapter things will pick up. Should be Monday night.
Standard Disclaimer: These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.
Chapter 3 – Motherhood, a Frightening Prospect
One Week Later
Regina awakes to a twitching at her side. Groaning in protest, she shifts slightly, shoulders brushing against the soft, wavy hair tumbling down her bed partner's back. Red is sleeping soundly, facing away yet pressed as close as her body will allow, her back flush to Regina's arm and firm rear nestled against her hip. The soothing contact is further enhanced by the cozy heat radiating from a werewolf whose skin is often akin to a small furnace. Good thing, too, as the room has grown chilly in the absence of a roaring flame, the fire they refueled and stoked before retiring having petered out to dull orange embers.
Yawning so hard her jaw creaks, Regina rubs at her bleary eyes as she sits up slowly, careful not to wake Red, which is not an easy feat seeing as Red's heightened senses are capable of picking up a pin dropped on carpet from down the hallway. Fortunately Regina has a lot of practice at this, so with smooth movements that barely jostle the mattress, she maneuvers her torso upright and then props herself up by extending her arms out behind her, splayed fingers facing the headboard and palms flat upon the downy mattress. Once firmly anchored, she casts a weary, and wary, glance about the room – an old habit from the Dark Days when she had ample reason to entertain notions that some suicidal assassin might infiltrate her chambers in the night to stick a knife in her throat while she slept. That never happened, of course, but vestiges of the old paranoia remain, only now she is less concerned over her own safety as Red's.
Regina heaves a sigh of relief. Tonight there is not a hint of movement outside of her own within their chambers other than the steady rise and fall of Red's chest as she breathes. The only sound Regina can detect is the faint crackling and popping of the dying fire and a brisk autumn wind scratching and howling at the window panes of the great bay window jutting out of the northrn wall of the castle. With no cause for alarm to be found, she relaxes her study of the intimately familiar environment.
The chambers are still shrouded in shadow, sunrise not due for some hours yet, though she can make out details through the darkness. An antique dresser is pushed against the wall opposite their huge four-post bed, boasting storage enough to accommodate the undergarments, casual and sleepwear, and various sartorial accessories of two women – one of whom owns more clothes than the combined possessions of many modest villages. Upon the surface are an array of boxes containing their personal jewelry, some large and some small, along with an assortment of perfumes and oils, the latter of which are mainly for skincare, though a few are for Regina's hair, which requires more attention than Red's ridiculously perfect mane. Next to the dresser is a vanity, a tall adjustable ovular mirror held atop an oaken desk, padded chair with intricately engraved surfaces pushed beneath. Every night they are able, they brush one another's hair at that vanity, one hundred fluid strokes given while holding the other's eyes in the glass as they talk about the happenings of the day or the plans of tomorrow or their various hobbies and interests outside of ruling a kingdom that is growing nearly beyond the scope of comprehension.
To the left of the vanity and dresser is a long arched corridor leading to the balcony overlooking the eastern courtyard, the same balcony Regina once plummeted over and would have died had she not been 'rescued' by the most incompetent fairy to ever flit across the skies of Misthaven. To the right is the long wall common to the hallway of the Royal Wing, surface lined with paintings, three commissioned by Red and the others by Regina, all of which depict things or people they don't wish to forget. A portrait of Daniel is there amongst them, description of him supplied by Regina's memory, along with an image of Peter as he was remembered by Red. Red's grandmother Is also honored with a spot upon that wall, depicted as seated in a rocking chair, glasses perched low on her nose as she weaves a patchwork blanket. A painting of Perrault, Red's hometown, is also to be found there, portrayed as if viewing the quaint village from a vantage point upon the young, modest mountain range nearby. There is other art in the room as well, lush carpets from halfway across the known world, uniquely decorated drapes crafted from material Mulan called silk, figurines of horses and wolves upon wall mounted shelves, marble statues of Artemis and her fellow Olympians in the alcoves of the arched hallway leading to the balcony, and, of course, the most precious of all, the Crown Jewels – a magnificent collection of opulent golden diadems, tiaras, scepters, and ornate rings to adorn fingers and ears. Unless worn by one of Misthaven's Queens, the Crown Jewels remain on display against the inner wall within glass cases that are protected by defensive wards Regina painstakingly designed to resist virtually all forms of dismantling.
After ensuring her most favorite piece – a diadem called The Midnight Crown – is undisturbed, Regina settles back down in bed. As she heaves a long, tired sigh, Red whines in her sleep, not so much distressed as irritated by Regina having disturbed her, and then scoots even tighter against Regina's side. Honestly if Red were to get any closer, she would be on top of Regina. Not that such an outcome would be unpleasant.
There was a time Red's subconscious need for proximity was bothersome. Over the years spent as Leopold's wife and Snow White's step-mother, Regina developed an acute allergy to physical contact initiated without her consent. She had endured groping fingers and invasive appendages more nights than she cares to recount, and by day the constant, irritating pawing of a child she was forced to care for against her wishes. Upon seizing the crown, her lovers were privately taught through threats and acts of violence alike that she was in control of their trysts, while in public those foolish enough to so much as disturb the fabric of her dress without permission were met with swift reprisal. Many wayward digits were either broken or altogether removed before people learned to keep their grubby hands to themselves. Soon enough, no one dared to so much as breathe in her general direction and that was precisely how she liked it.
Looking back at those days, the polar shift in her tactile response is remarkably dramatic, or at least it is within the confines of the bedroom. Seven years of sleeping next to her beloved werewolf has made her almost as dependent on nocturnal contact as Red is. Those rare nights she has to sleep alone are intolerable. It's hard to get any rest at all when she's tossing and turning endlessly, sporadically reaching for an uncommonly warm body that is painfully absent. The silence of the night becomes increasingly oppressive as she strains to listen for the rhythmic sound of Red's breathing or the cute little noises she makes when she's dreaming. Sleep elixirs are a requirement whenever one of them has to travel, thus necessitating the other to stay behind to run the kingdom, and those provide a few inadequate hours at best. Although the herbal aids are sufficient to keep her functional, waking bleary eyed and run down is an unwelcome reminder of a mode of existence she has mercifully left behind.
Before Red assumed possession over half her bed and all of her heart, she was used to existing on very little sleep. Recurring nightmares plagued her to the point she was afforded only a handful of hours on the best nights and as little as an hour on the worst. By the time Red was sharing her bed on a regular basis, she had long since adapted to functioning on unhealthy portions of rest. But now she does not need to settle for paltry scraps. Red's proximity is a pacifier that quells those old terrors that once kept her awake until the wee hours of the night. She is still plagued by nightmares, as she always will be, but they are blessedly infrequent and far less intense. And while she still does not sleep more than six hours per night, those hours are more regenerative than they have been in over a decade.
Nightmares were not the only reason she once had trouble resting, either. Sharing a bed with Leopold had created a sense of claustrophobia that transformed them into isolation cells designed specifically to physically, emotionally, and psychologically torture her. Back then, crawling in under the covers next to her much older husband was a nightmarish scenario consisting of roiling nausea triggered by a clawing fear running up the length of her spine over whether or not the king would be in the mood that night. At the time, she was powerless to refuse his advances, as it was a privilege of his position to demand use of her body at his convenience. There was nothing in all the world she hated more than the feel of his hands on her flesh or the weight of his heft resting upon her, suffocating her as he destroyed with one grunted thrust at a time what little light she had left in her soul in the wake of Daniel's death. When the torment was over and he rolled off her, passing out soon thereafter, she could do little else besides curl up into a ball to mitigate her trembling. She would then either lay there for hours numbly or cry silently so as to not wake the callous brute back up.
Upon ridding herself of Leopold's loathsome presence, the first order of business was to torch the royal bedchambers, bed included. She watched the room burn from the courtyard below, secure in the knowledge the flames were contained by her magic. It was quite a spectacle. The grand windows had all burst from the heatwave, raining down glass onto the crowd gathered to witness the symbolic event. The purpose behind the act was not merely a method of purging any reminders of her late husband, but of declaring to the entire kingdom that she had no intention of suffering any further mentions of him. The message was clearly written by flame. If the nobility wished to keep their wealth and position, Leopold White's memory and name were to be regarded as he was, forever dead, reduced to ashes that were soon enough swept away and disposed of in the refuse pile behind the stables. A fitting end, she thought, to the possessions of a beast.
Sadly, while her efforts produced immediate results and made her very happy for a week or so, her insomnia continued on unabated. Even years after she procured new furnishings for her bedchambers, she never felt truly at ease sleeping in a bed. Which is why she kept a luxurious chaise lounge handy. Before Red came along and upended her life in the best way possible, she rarely ever slept upon the spacious bed she'd custom commissioned upon assuming the throne, preferring instead the relatively cramped confines of the lounger. There was only room for one upon the narrow but cushioned piece of furniture, which helped alleviate her anxieties at having the weight of another body nearby while she was most vulnerable. Normally whenever she enjoyed a tryst, she would simply force her lover out after she was finished with them, but on the rare occasion she let them remain in her chambers until the morn, she would abandon them in lieu of curling up on her lounger. She didn't want to risk dredging up sickening recollections she was desperately trying to keep buried.
Red changed all of that. With her relentless patience and devotion, she transformed their bed into a refuge, a sanctuary free of past torments that Regina could retreat to when feeling overwrought. There, securely wrapped in strong arms and her high-strung demeanor disarmed by an easy smile, consolation could be found whenever she was distraught and rejuvenating rest when she was so weary she could barely hold her head upright.
Red has always been hyper-aware of her state of mind. One of the many benefits of being a werewolf is possessing an innate, unique insight into human behavior. For instance, she can smell subtle changes in pheromones and detect the slightest irregularities in breathing or the most minute shift in the rate of a person's heartbeat that indicate the onset of rage or joy or arousal. Those supernatural senses make her the best bodyguard – and lover – Regina has ever known. At least a dozen times now Red has intervened to prevent violence that would have claimed multiple lives; five of those instances one of the lives might have been Regina's. It is equal measures comforting and unnerving that she no longer needs to utter a single syllable for Red to suss out her mood. And although that unnatural perceptiveness is occasionally irritating, mostly she is grateful that her capriciousness hasn't driven Red away.
The value of having someone who knows and understands her so intimately without being disgusted by the darkness festering in the depths of her soul is immeasurable. Rather than exploit the knowledge, Red wields her insight with all the skill of a surgeon and the tenderness of an angel. Whenever Regina is feeling unworthy, Red is there to offer earnest affirmation; when dispirited or depressed, Red pours out endless waves of affectionate encouragement; and when Regina gets so angry she can barely make sense of her own thoughts, Red's calm assurance never fails to eventually soothe the rampaging beast. The love of a simple peasant girl has elevated the marriage bed from something that once was a hideous dungeon into a beautiful sanctuary.
What Red has managed to do, and without really trying, is nothing short of miraculous. Having sanctified what was once desecrated and redeemed what was formerly condemned, she has transformed the defiled place into a haven of peace in the midst of the worst storms life can throw at them. Now that Regina has acclimated to this blessed refuge, she can not imagine inhabiting it alone. She needs Red's supernatural strength, feminine softness and familiar warmth next to her with a fervency that should be, and sometimes is, frightening.
Inhaling deeply to take in the sweet, earthy scent of her wife, Regina basks in her good fortune. It's on mornings like this that she opens herself up to the potential existence of deities. Her father is to this day a devout practitioner of the monotheistic religion of his country, but her mother had only believed in what the senses could interpret and the mind could comprehend. To Cora, magic was a natural element simpletons could not fathom and was therefore no proof of any higher order to the universe. By carrot and by stick, she drilled that skepticism into her daughter.
Regina did not think to question her mother's wisdom until she met Daniel and was introduced to the concept of love. How could anything so potent as to overwhelm the human heart and soul originate by natural means? The drive for procreation could explain physical attraction and the compulsion to provide stability for any offspring was surely responsible for emotional bonding. But when her lips touched his the first time, she knew the forces at work in her heart and soul were beyond what any textbook or learned scholar of a groundbreaking branch of science could rationally explain away as the mere product of brain chemistry. In that very instant she realized it was True Love and no one could have convinced her otherwise.
True Love is a power no ancient wizard or vaunted intellectual has ever been able to adequately explain. The origins of that mystical energy are as mysterious as those of magic itself. There is no other force known to man that can break any curse, instill a faith and hope that cannot be extinguished, and which can inextricably link two people via tethers time or distance can never sunder. So many have tried to study it, to bottle it, to break it down and scrutinize it's inner workings, only to fail miserably at every attempt. With the recent advent of telescopes by astronomers across the sea, the secrets of the cosmos are slowly but surely being unfolded. Medical advances have provided detailed schematics of the human body. Those in more advanced worlds, it is purported, are even beginning to understand the mechanics of the infinitesimally small substrate that exists beneath the surface of the material world limited human senses can perceive. And yet True Love remains stubbornly esoteric to science and incomprehensible to men.
In her youth, Daniel persuaded her this was proof that there is more to reality than what can be explained in a billion years of intensive study. Something greater, he had passionately argued, thrives beyond this plane, something that possesses consciousness, intelligence, and willpower to affect change wherever it sees fit. He called this entity – or entities – the gods according to the traditions of his ancestors. And while she was unwilling to project her own definitions upon this force, her doubts of its existence were daily fading into obscurity. One stolen kiss at a time, she was starting to believe in a higher power.
Daniel's death all but crushed that brief flicker of revelation. Her mother succeeded where the Pantheon failed in preventing Prometheus from instilling the secrets of the flame within her all-too-human heart. Perhaps that was a secondary motive for her mother's dreadful actions that fateful day in the family stables. Perhaps it was more than just Cora's lust for power and her scheme to gain it vicariously through her daughter that precipitated the cold blooded murder of the most gentle, loving person – aside from Red, of course – that Regina has ever met. She had made the critical mistake of questioning the worldview she had been painstakingly programmed to subscribe to, a worldview that had shaped her mother's every decision for longer than she had been alive, and that could not be permitted to continue for even a second. Whatever the impetus for the deed, it nearly ensured she would never again so blindly place her faith in intangible concepts that only fools followed.
Only she hadn't counted on a leggy brunette with a heart even bigger than her smile to revive those old questions. Meeting Red that day on the mountain pass was no coincidence. No certifiable evidence existed to verify that, but she is nonetheless convinced there were forces at play beyond the limited corporeal plane humanity inhabits – forces no mind, however brilliant, could begin to comprehend. Call it fate, destiny, or a god of some irrelevant designation, something inspired her to listen to her heart for once and pursue Red every bit as much as it guided Red to leave Snow's side and consequently save the life of an undeserving tyrant. It sure as hell wasn't any rational thinking on her part that propelled her feet down that narrow pass, risking her death for another glimpse of the creature who, through only a brief exchange, arrested the fullest extent of her interest. The internally memorialized evidence compiled over years that have since rolled by did nothing to alter that view. If anything, she is more convinced than ever that her mother was wrong. About everything.
Red is here with her because she is meant to be. While their love unquestionably involves an element of choice in that both of them could have walked away from the pull being exerted upon their hearts that day on the mountain, it was also predestined, written in the stars, spoken by the bones, and read in the tea leaves that they should meet and be given the opportunity to choose correctly. By whom or what the encounter was arranged is of no consequence in the grand scheme of things. All she cares about is the exceedingly precious gift so undeservedly bestowed upon her, a gift she has no intention of ever taking for granted. To do so, she is sure, would evoke a wrath she would have rightly earned.
Few ever experience such a love once in a lifetime, not to mention twice. And that the second is even greater than the first puts her in rarified air belonging to the grandest of legends and mythologies. If she squanders this heaven on earth that is Red's love, there will be no escaping the fiery judgment that will greet her in the afterlife. This degree of happiness is not meant for mortals, yet she is bathed in it each and every morning. Sometimes she is unable to breathe for how unspeakably grateful she is. Grace has, in the form of one slumbering angel, provided her deepest craving out of life, and there is no power in all of creation can take it away from her without a fight.
Overwhelmed by an onrush of adoration, she softly winds a fingertip down the muscled plane of a gently curved back. Her contentment intensifies into a silly smile when her touch produces a tiny whine of protest from Red, who then flips over to her other side. Now facing Regina, the junior Queen of Misthaven breathes a deep sigh. As she does, her nose scrunches up adorably and she snuggles her head deeper into the pillow. Long, dark lashes flutter briefly only to grow still once more.
Reaching out with as little movement as possible, Regina tenderly tucks a strand of silky brown hair behind Red's ear. "I love you," she whispers. "More than I you'll ever know. More than I can ever express in words. Every moment with you is blessing my heart can hardly contain. I wish an effective method existed to properly translate how much you mean to me so that I could tell you how I truly feel. I suppose I'll just have to take it on faith that you know, and hope the way you love me is evidence you understand because you feel the same way."
That Red cannot hear any of this does not matter when there is a burning need to say the words. Her love for this incredible woman is the one defining thing more pertinent to her being than her own selfish desires, and with the darkness of the night to shroud her, she feels a freedom to express herself that she wishes could extend in the light. Decorum and a need to appear indestructible in public prevent her from addressing Red the way she wishes she could. When unwelcome eyes are watching, it is often more than she can bear to be so close to her wife yet unable to touch her or hold her or simply say those three little words for no other reason than to receive one of those glorious smiles no one else can replicate. It is only here in the safety and seclusion of their bedroom that she can indulge her every affectionate whim, and she does so whenever the compulsion hits.
It hasn't always been that way. There was a time she valued her revenge more than love. She used to spend all of her time plotting to kill Snow White, the source of her every torment. It was Snow who caused Daniel's death, which in turn lead to her being married off to an elder king at the tender age of seventeen. It was Snow who spent her days yammering on about how glad she was her hero became her new mother while Regina gritted her teeth against the urge to scream. Each night, she chewed the inside of her lips until they bled to block out the anguish of being mounted by an old man she despised. Snow's betrayal had cost her everything, and after Leopold's death, her every waking moment was a lucid fantasy revolving around the day Snow would turn eighteen, after which the wretched brat would become fair game.
The day after the Princess's eighteenth birthday bash, not a single moment was wasted before setting in motion a plot she spent months contriving. Through a series of clever payoffs, she manufactured a paper trail that made it appear as if Snow was responsible for hiring out assassins to dispose of her stepmother. That was all the leverage required to banish the Princess from the kingdom and forever stake a claim to the throne. In remembrance of the sweet young girl she had once saved from a runaway horse, Snow was afforded three months to adapt to her new way of life before the proverbial hunting horns were sounded – and sound they did.
The hunt climaxed two years later on a cold, bitter day after the latest in an endless string of attempts at apprehending Snow was thwarted by the stunning werewolf who kept company with the fugitive princess. The rest, as they say, is history. A week later, Red showed up to dinner, and then again the next week, and the week after that. Pretty soon, Red was spending days at a time at the Dark Palace. Within six months, she was practically living there. Being that Snow had found her True Love and with the bounty on her head suspended, Red was no longer needed to protect her dearest friend on a daily basis. Regina was glad of it. Having come to prize her time with Red above all else, she loathed their partings whenever Red would venture back to Snow's side.
Three months later still, the inevitable happened when they fell into bed. It honestly astounded her that she lasted so long without claiming her criminally enticing prize when there were days it took all of her considerable willpower to resist temptation. The war to resist those annoyingly persistent urges to rip Red's clothes from her body and ravish her against the nearest solid surface was one she was unaccustomed to waging.
Upon becoming Queen, practicing patience in sexual matters was no longer required. If she saw someone she wanted who seemed equally interested, she merely had a trusted knight discreetly escort that individual up to her chambers. Once the door was shut, nature took it's course with no strings attached. This method of scratching a very pleasant biological itch was an ideal solution for a woman who believed herself to be cured of interest in romantic entanglements.
With Red, though, she found herself longing for companionship that extended beyond a torrid affair or quick tryst. Although her desire to know Red in a carnal sense was maddening at times, she was too afraid to take that step knowing it would irreparably alter their emerging dynamic. She worried that, as with Daniel, they would inevitably to be torn apart. In the process of time, she would drive Red away by simply virtue of attrition, meaning her selfish, cruel, vindictive nature would eventually erode Red's unwarranted affection into bitter loathing. Or worse, the unthinkable would happen to Red and it would be like losing Daniel all over again. She didn't think she could handle either scenario, so she tried her damnedest to maintain the status quo.
The great upheaval finally came one day in the early months of autumn. Regina can clearly remember dragging into her chambers, exhausted from a long day of court-related tedium. Upon arriving she'd found the door already open with Red waiting inside. Perched upon the seat below the bay window, she was completely engrossed in a thick tome containing an assortment of Eastern literature. She hadn't heard Regina approach, and as she read intently, so peaceful and still, it seemed as if she was posing for a portrait. The evening sunlight filtering into the room cast her in a faint orange glow as it played across her features and filtered through strands of rich brown hair left hanging down from a hastily applied leather tie. The sight was so breathtaking that Regina would eventually commission a likeness to be preserved by the royal artist that hung in her study to this day. Red had not enjoyed having to recreate and then maintain the position long enough that it could be translated to canvas for posterity.
Anyway, despite having adjusted to constant exposure to Red's beauty, Regina was nonetheless so awestruck that she gasped aloud, finally catching Red's attention. When Red lifted her nose out of her book, her entire countenance lit up at the sight of Regina standing in the doorway, as if she had become the sole source of her every joy. It was at that very moment acceptance of the hard truth arrived. Their current arrangement was no longer sufficient. They had waited long enough to consummate their undeniable feelings. That evening, they made love for the first time as the last rays of the sun set over the horizon, and they did not sleep until the moon had risen high in the night sky. That terrifying yet exhilarating step from a deep and meaningful friendship into sexual intimacy precipitated a fall from which she has yet to recover.
Never one to let the grass grow beneath her feet, she wasted no time thereafter claiming Red as her own. Privately she marked her new lover in ways that made Red blush for days while publicly declaring to the kingdom that Red now belonged to her and was therefore to be treated with the utmost respect properly due to the Queen's official companion. Not that it did any good insisting Red be shown respect when she was just as soon to be found roughhousing with the soldiers on their training days or milling among the peasants in the village below the Palace as to be about the castle carousing with nobles whilst adorned in the opulent and incredibly expensive dresses she was provided. The people adored Red unconditionally, accepted her as their own, and approached her without fear because they knew she was one of them. That she had risked her life on a daily basis to protect their not-so-secretly beloved Snow White only endeared her all the more to them.
In a turn of events that Regina hadn't predicted, Red became a bridge over the gaping chasm between the Crown and its subjects. As she would soon discover, Red's mere presence among them served as proof that their Queen was moving past her vendetta, that she was not just the maddened tyrant they had once rightly believed her to be.
This was proven one day when she ventured out of the castle in disguise.
_RQ_
Arrayed in the rags of a peasant, much as she had posing as Wilma to gain insight into Snow White, Regina was a woman on a mission. Red's daily excursions to the village below the palace were no secret, nor were her motives, which were obvious to anyone with a brain. What she could not figure out was the reason behind her lover frequenting the village bakery in particular.
The subterfuge, she felt, was necessary due to what she thought was a justifiable suspicion. Red was spending so much time in the bakery of late that paranoia over potential betrayal was creeping in. That the baker and his wife had two highly attractive and eligible children did not help matters in the slightest. Their son was only two winters older than Red's twenty-two, was stout of build with sandy blonde hair and possessed a relentless kindness that no doubt made him a kindred spirit. The couple also had an overly friendly daughter Red's age with bouncing blonde curls and large almond-shaped blue eyes the exact shade of a summer sky. How could there not be an attraction to at least one of them?
With that in mind, Regina glamored herself into peasants garb and slightly distorted her features to avoid detection. As when Rumple transformed her into Wilma, she proceeded to slip past her guards while they thought she was using the facilities. It wasn't much trouble traversing the palace, the courtyard, and the outer citadel without being detected. Servants often were invisible to those with the authority to detain them. So effective was her disguise that she made it to the bakery without attracting even a single second glance.
When she arrived, the baker's wife – a middle aged woman she could tell was once every bit as beautiful as her daughter – was standing out front speaking to a friend. Seeing an opportunity to glean some intelligence into the target family, she maneuvered around to the side of the building to eavesdrop.
"Why do you let that...that gold digging strumpet hang around so much?" the friend asked, clearly referring to Red in a derisive tone that implied other less savory aspersions. The slight upon her lover, however inferred, had Regina gritting her teeth against an urge to anonymously out the woman as a dissident to the nearest guard.
"If you'll recall, I'm not from around these parts," the baker's wife explained to her friend. "I knew Red's grandmother long before she was a twinkle in her mother's eye, but in the time she's been here, I've come to know her personally as well."
Hearing that embarrassed Regina. She had jumped to unfounded conclusions when Red had just been seeking a connection with someone who was once close with her grandmother. Even so, she continued to listen, spellbound by the ensuing conversation.
"That 'gold digging strumpet,'" the baker's wife continued, "is the sweetest thing I've ever met aside from my own babies. And that's sayin' somethin'."
"Makes you question what she's doin' with the Queen, don't it?" the friend then asked, contempt for Regina on open display with the familiar company. Regina had bristled silently but continued to hold her tongue in pursuit of her objective. "I wonder how she can stand to sleep next to a monster every night."
"It's because her heart is as tender as Princess Snow's," the baker's wife replied without hesitation. "That tells me all I need to know. If Red can love the Queen, then we've been wrong about her all along. Because I'll tell ya, she couldn't love someone who isn't worth lovin'. There is good in the Queen, we've just been too blind to see it."
The words had shaken Regina down to her foundations, not only because it seemed her subjects were beginning to perceive her differently. It was jarring to hear someone other than Red so boldly declare that Red could not love her if she was not worth loving. Regina realized that day how much she'd started to change, that she was remarkably less austere of late, more patient in general and increasingly equitable in her judgments. Without the pursuit of Snow being her primary mission and with Red's unwavering love and support rounding some of her razor sharp edges, she'd begun to invest herself more in ensuring she had a healthy, functioning kingdom.
The exchange that followed only served as further confirmation.
"But what about all the evil she did?" the friend had countered, verbalizing Regina's own negative inclination. She'd never really cared what the people thought of her, but at that moment she discovered that it mattered anyway. She had been a terrible ruler, had treated her subjects reprehensibly, without even realizing it, had become exactly what her mother wanted her to be. It was a wake up call, to say the least. "She slaughtered entire villages," the critical friend continued with a vehemence that bespoke personal investment, "and hunted the princess down like a dog for no good reason. How many people has she killed since she stole the crown from King Leopold? Dozens? Hundreds? More? She's called the Evil Queen for a reason, ya know."
Pressing her back into the wall she was tucked against, Regina felt white hot shame creeping up on her, inflaming her cheeks and turning her stomach until she felt sick. It took all of her hard learned restraint not to bolt from the uncomfortable discussion, but she'd been glued to the spot, unable to move as her eyes and ears were finally being opened to the truth she'd so long repressed. Snow was not the criminal; she was. In her lust for revenge, her sanity had slipped away from her like sand from a sieve and she had abandoned what once was an ironclad conscience. Without those preventative factors, the darkness her mother instilled in her took over, influencing her every thought and deed as she committed one atrocity after another. Now that a modicum of sense was coming back to her, she was revolted.
Suddenly she'd wondered what the hell Red was doing with her. What had Red seen in her worth loving when she could see so little in herself? How, she wondered as tears pooled in her eyes, was she ever going to learn to live with what she'd done without being crushed by the enormous pressures of a guilt she was unprepared to deal with? At the time, it had seemed an insurmountable obstacle to reconcile herself to what she had become in the name of a vengeance Daniel would have abhorred.
"No doubt the Queen was a wicked woman," the baker's wife then replied, and hearing it from so fair a woman's mouth was like a vicious slap to an already raw cheek. "But haven't you seen how different she is since Red came 'round? For a long time, I was ignorant of it, too, but then I tried a bit harder, if only for Red's sake, to see what made her love the woman. Know what I found?"
"What's that?"
"I saw someone who is capable and strong," the baker's wife then elaborated. "She's truly becoming a good ruler. Is she severe in judgment? Yes, but not how she used to be. Used to she'd have someone flogged for burning an apple pie, but not anymore. She's much more fair now, more willing to be persuaded for clemency. And she's always been shrewd with finances, but she's started giving back to the people that need it most.
"Don't get me wrong, I hated the cruel, vindictive witch that stole the throne just as much as you did, but I think that woman is slowly disappearing. I don't even think that woman was really her. I have become convinced, like Red has told me so many times, that what we're seeing now is the real person that just got buried under huge mountains of hatred and anger, a person Red saw and loved before anyone else. We have a lot to thank that girl for...the kingdom has a lot to thank her for. So as far as I'm concerned, she has a place here any time she wishes, and that's that!"
_RQ_
Not needing to hear any more, Regina can remember rushing away far enough to magic herself into her chambers. Alone at last, she sequestered herself for the rest of that day to contemplate what she'd heard. It was late when Red got back, and by the time she had begun to process what she had learned and found to her amazement that she was not totally repulsed by it. The baker's wife had been right. Red was helping her to change organically. Without her hardly being aware, she was slowly rediscovering the idealistic young lady who once fell in love with a stable boy and without thought for her own safety rode to the rescue of a princess in distress.
In further analyzing the subtle transformation she was undergoing, she realized those words she'd spoken to Red on the mountain weren't empty platitudes meant to entice a gullible girl into tangled web. She really was tired of fighting for something that could never make her happy, and she was sick of being a prisoner of her mother's persistent, insidious influence.
Daddy had been right all along. So long as she continued to react the way her mother taught her to, she would never stop being that scared little girl who had trembled before her imperious and heartless mother, begging not to be punished for the slightest infraction. In a stark moment of clarity, she realized she didn't want to be a scared little girl anymore. Through every encouragement, every smile, every kiss, every touch, Red was reminding her of who she used to be: a young woman who refused to allow her totalitarian mother to dictate her life, whose heart was full of love, and whose convictions were set in stone. And though she could never fully reclaim her former innocence, she was actually learning to accept the person was becoming, someone who inhabited the gray area between the looming shadow of ever-encroaching darkness and the morning sun so full of promise.
What made reconciliation of this epiphany all the more palatable was that Red never asked her to change. Once, she even plainly declared that she had fallen in love with the Evil Queen with eyes wide open, then went on to reassure her that there were no expectations or strings attached to that affection. Regina was not expected to earn her love by being good. All she ever asked was that Regina be considerate of her feelings on certain subjects and to curb her violence whenever possible while in her company.
Admittedly, at first even that little request was difficult to abide by. She found it exceptionally difficult not to react according to her deeply ingrained programming. To stop and think about her actions and words before going off at the drop of a hat required a reservoir of self-control she hadn't tapped into for so long she was amazed anything remained of it at all. She had always been impulsive, but after Leopold was disposed of, she surrendered any and all restraint, self-imposed or otherwise, that might hold her back from taking whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it.
Nevertheless, she started to make a concerted effort to do better. And she succeeded to some degree. If not everyone was thrilled with her progress, so be it. Red is happy as a lark, and keeping her that way is Regina's primary concern.
"Hey," Red suddenly interrupts her thoughts. Her wife's voice is slurred as she regards her through bleary eyes. "What're you still doin' up? Need ta be sleepin', hon."
"No reason aside from just waking at random," Regina replies. "A lot on my mind, I suppose." She does not mention that it was Red's inability to stay still that initially roused her from a very pleasant slumber. It is nothing new for her to be awakened in the middle of the night by a stray poke from a sharp elbow or a glancing kick from a bare foot. Much like an excitable puppy, Red is in constant motion even when she sleeps, which Regina finds endearing. Mostly.
Red frowns sympathetically and reaches out to rub Regina's arm comfortingly. "'M sorry."
Regina leans in to give her wife a chaste kiss. "It's not your fault, my love," she then whispers against Red's lips. Drawing back slightly, she caresses a pale cheek. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest. We have a long day ahead of us."
Tomorrow is the appointed monthly date for petitions to be made in court. Usually the cases consist of those unable to be resolved locally due to conflicting or convoluted laws and instances where the parties involved successfully argued with the local magistrate for an appeal directly to the Queen. Very rarely do they have to make life and death judgments, and those they tackle together. Only with both of their consent can a death sentence be rendered, which has happened exactly two times in five years.
Their day is likely to be as boring as it is stressful, but that doesn't mean the decisions they make aren't important. Rest is vital for a clear mind. If only her brain got the message.
Red leans into the touch and then shifts her head to press a responding kiss to Regina's palm. "Only if you do, too."
"I can try but I make no promises of success," Regina concedes. She runs her fingers through the silky hair at Red's temple, tucking it behind her ear. "I'm afraid my mind is awhirl at the moment."
Red's brow furrows worriedly. "You're not stressin' 'bout what I mentioned earlier, are you?" The question is not without basis.
Earlier, Red had informed Regina that their handmaid Iris and her husband were trying to get pregnant. During the course of the short conversation that followed, Red not-so-subtly worked in a hint that she was interested in the idea of expanding their own family in the not too distant future. Despite having frequently thought about that very subject over the years, Regina was unprepared to entertain a discussion about the possibility of bringing a child into their lives. She is still raw from being strong-armed last week into putting a deadline on producing an heir.
The only positive out of being blindsided by the Council is that she's gained an important ally. Lord Maurice is the wealthiest man in the realm by far, and with his merchant days having afforded him connection all over the known world, his vast influence has all but invalidated the novelty of his title.
In the week since the stressful meeting, he has kept her apprised as agreed of the nobles acceptance of her terms. No one was pleased at yet another delay in her decision, but they have thus far all acquiesced, in large part because Lord Maurice convinced them it was in their best interest. Twice she has met privately with the physically imposing but otherwise gentle man, and each time he has reiterated his sympathy with her difficult circumstance. Whether or not his support is for Red's sake or hers is of no consequence when she has it. The lesson of gift horses and mouths is not lost on her.
That said, she remains reluctant to discuss the topic. To avoid getting into another argument with Red about over it, she changed the subject quickly. It did not escape her attention that the hasty deflection hurt the feelings of the most important person in her world. To Red's credit, she hid her reaction well, just not well enough. The pain in her eyes would not have been obvious to anyone else. But Regina was not anyone else. It was her job to read her wife's every mood, to be able to interpret her body language and know what every conceivable emotion looked like in her eyes. As she shifted the discussion to safer waters, the disappointment lacing through those green irises was unmistakable. That she felt like a callous bitch having put it there did not deter her from putting her own emotional fragility ahead of Red's. And that only made her feel worse.
They went to bed last night with a cloud of sadness over them that no amount of flowery language or affectionate petting could dispel. One night suffering Red bravely bearing her discouragement was bad enough. However much she would rather avoid this uncomfortable topic, she cannot allow this heaviness to continue.
Red's moods are infectious when they are in full bloom. Ruling has taught her to mask her emotions quite effectively, but when they are brimming to overflowing, they virtually inundate everyone around her. When she is happy, which thankfully is more often than not, everyone in her proximity is happy, too. In that way, the metaphor her smile lights up a room is actually accurate.
Unfortunately that means the opposite is true as well. Regina has watched both happen in real time, but none were as frightening as an incident three years ago. They were scheduled to attend a party in Baron's mansion not far from the Palace that regrettably fell on the anniversary of Anita's death, only Regina didn't know that because Red hadn't mentioned anything about her mother's demise aside from generalities. Without the full picture, she hadn't been able to figure out why Red was so withdrawn during the carriage ride, and watched in muted horror as the death of all gaiety seemed to follow her morose wife around wherever she went. It was one of those rare occasions where nothing or no one, however interesting, could engage Red. She was totally disassociated and operating as if an emotionless automaton whose strings were being pulled only in the directions she did not want to go. Later on back home, she finally confessed the reason behind her strange behavior.
"I just felt so empty," she had said, hugging herself as if she was freezing and brittle and marred by a thousand spider-webbed cracks. "Like a balloon that had all the air let out. Just elastic and useless. I'm sorry I ruined the party. I really tried to make it go away. It just wouldn't."
Regina kissed her pleas away and held her tight all night long so she wouldn't feel alone. But that valuable lesson was never forgotten. As startling as it was to rows of people simultaneously succumb to gloom prompted her to take extra notice of Red's emotiveness. They never again ventured out into public when she was feeling, as she had described it, empty like a deflated balloon.
There are few individuals she has ever met that are as strong as Red is. With all she's gone through, that that sort of thing doesn't happen continually is testament to her resilience. That said, being denied something she clearly and ardently desires over and over again is sure to eventually push her straight into the poisonous fingers of depression. The last thing they need is a castle full of weepy, dispirited, and demotivated servants.
Besides considerations of Red's state of mind, she also cannot abide allowing her wife to continue to fret over the misconception of having upset her. Not when the truth is she has been wrestling of late with a similar desire to be a mother. The only difference between them is that she is too cowardly to admit it. And for obvious reasons.
For one, she doesn't feel like she deserves to have that kind of pliable medium in her life. She is not so far removed from the Evil Queen that any sane individual would entrust her with a the welfare of an impressionable child. Even more so, she worries about repeating her mother's mistakes. She was not blessed with the best example of motherhood, and while Red's grandmother was a far cry from perfect, she at least loved Red and put Red first at the expense of her own ambitions. To the contrary, everything Cora ever did for her daughter was for her own benefit. To that end, she had groomed Regina to be a selfish and vindictive woman who is disturbingly likely to irreparably corrupt a child's innocence in the same way her mother had hers. The thought is as distasteful as it is terrifying that she might do to someone else what was done to her, thus keeping the cycle of abuse intact.
Frustrated with herself, she heaves a furtive sigh and determines to be honest for once. If not for her own sake then for Red's. "Perhaps I am a bit disconcerted about it," she admits, finding the words difficult to spit out. She feels better, though, once they are out in the open.
"Oh," Red responds, looking crushed, although she rallies quickly by putting on a false smile. "I totally understand. I love our life together, and I'm happy with the way things are. I just thought I'd see how you felt about adding to our family now that some time has passed. But since I know you don't want to, we can just move on. No harm, no foul, okay?" Though she tries to hide it, Regina can tell that Red is about to withdraw and feign going back to sleep so that she can let the tears fall silently without them being seen.
When she begins to shift away to face the wall, Regina stops her immediately with a firm hand on her hip, keeping her in place. "Sweetheart, I am not dismissing the idea outright," she explains, holding Red's eyes. "I just have concerns, mainly related to me and my capability to be a mother. I didn't have the best example, as you well know." And Red most certainly does know. Firsthand at that.
When Cora suddenly reappeared about eighteen months ago along with that backstabbing pirate, Captain Hook, she went about implementing a series of convoluted maneuvers to reintegrate herself in Regina's life. The last attempt involved removing Red from it, which she'd very nearly done by taking Red's heart and then using it to force Regina into compliance. With that much leverage at her disposal, Cora was able to rule the kingdom by undeclared proxy, thus granting Red an up close and personal glimpse into Regina's childhood hell. It was, perhaps, the second worst period of her life.
During that most trying time, she'd had to endure going through the motions of court, deferring every major decision to her mother who insisted on attending each session. Every meal was taken in tense silence, with only her mother's occasional questions and Regina's clipped answers to fill the coldness of the atmosphere. Eyes were on her everywhere she went. When her mother was not present to watch over her, Regina was accompanied by members of her personal guard whose hearts had also been collected by Cora to assure their loyalty.
The nights were the worst, as she'd had to suffer being separated from Red, who was kept confined to the tower of the citadel, for the first time in years. 'It's for your own good,' her mother had told her. Each night following Red's detainment, Cora made a show of visiting the tower after saying good night to her daughter. The unnecessary drama served as a pointed reminder that the slightest failure to be obedient would result in Red's defilement on any number of grotesque and unthinkable levels. Her mother was not above selling access to the most universally desired woman on the continent.
To prevent the worst atrocities imaginable being visited upon Red, Regina kept her rebellions minor. Sadly that did not stop her mother from doling out less perverse punishments upon the woman she saw as the primary factor behind Regina's aberrant lifestyle. Had things gone on much longer, she was certain her mother's nightly visits would have inevitably included graphic descriptions of what activities with Red tonight's customer had purchased. The sole purpose of that most atrocious lesson would have been to enforce Cora's supreme dominance over every aspect of Regina's life, something she could not, would not, allow to happen. Not at Red's expense.
The charade went on for another whole month before she was able to surreptitiously locate her mother's well-hidden heart, which she then used to command the power-hungry witch to relinquish Red's heart. Once that was back in place, Regina ordered Cora to her knees. With the organ in hand whose absence had caused so much suffering throughout her childhood, she'd realized there was no other alternative than to permanently end her mother's machinations. Weeping openly while Red pleaded for her to reconsider, she said her final goodbyes and then crushed the heart to dust right in front of her mother's disbelieving face.
That excruciating tribulation for the most part cured Red of any remaining curiosity about Regina's childhood. The stripes she received at Cora's hand, both physically and magically, served as ample evidence of the horrors Regina was made to endure. Surely, then, she should understand why Regina feels reticent to bring a child into her life, why she feels as if she has been set up for failure. Deep down, she believes Red does understand, and is relieved to be proven correct when her wife's features soften with sympathy.
"I get why you feel that way," Red says sympathetically, "I really do. I just happen to think that your worries are misplaced."
Regina frowns. "I fail to see how. You met my mother."
"Yes, I did, and she was a nasty piece of work. But you are not her." Regina scoffs in objection. "You're not!" Red insists more forcefully. "Are you like her? Yes. But you're not her. That means you have a chance to learn from the mistakes she made with you so you don't repeat them. If the past seven years have taught me anything, it is that you have a good heart beating inside your chest." Regina scoffs a second time at that. "Don't be so dismissive," Red grouses, irritated now on her behalf. "I'm being serious! I think you've always wanted to be a good person, you just lost your way for a while."
"That's an incredibly generous description of events," Regina retorts. If only her enemies could see it that way, she'd have a lot easier go of diplomacy. In her experience, people simply cannot let go of the past...
"Maybe. But it's true." Green eyes swimming with unadulterated love, Red cradles Regina's chin between her thumb and forefinger, keeping their gazes locked. "I see your goodness every day in the way you love me unconditionally. I'm not without my faults, but you've never held them against me. I'm stubborn and reckless and sentimental and emotional, yet you've never asked me to change to suit your preferences. You accept me as I am, and I happen to think that is an indicator you will make a wonderful mother."
Regina nibbles at her lower lip, caught between implicit trust in Red and a woeful lack of it in herself. "I'm glad you think so," she says. "Unfortunately I do not share your unbridled optimism."
Unbidden memories of Snow invade her thoughts. How easy it had been for her to pretend to love her step-daughter like a good mother should! All the while she was consumed by a ravening hatred that made her crave giving the girl a second smile right in front of her bastard of a father. Funny how talk of having a child of her own illuminates how depraved she became where another was concerned. And while Snow certainly bore her fair share of responsibility in Daniel's demise, there was no arguing against her being a minor incapable of comprehending the ramifications of her betrayal.
Ultimately, Regina had chosen to unleash the fury of her devastation on the victim least capable of surviving it, which made her not only a coward but decidedly not the type of person to be responsible for a helpless infant wholly dependent upon her for vital nourishment. How many innocents had she slaughtered in her mad quest to kill Snow White? More than she can reliably account for. Would that effusion of blood stain her child by association? Worse still, how corrupted could that malleable life become were her degenerate nature take control again? In investing herself in extending her line, would she, like her mother before, only wind up raising another monster whose generationally-compounded malevolence surpassed that of it's predecessor? Would the kingdom come to rue the day the Evil Queen spawned a devil worse than her? She just couldn't imagine ever taking the chance of unleashing that much evil upon the unsuspecting world.
Instead of being swayed by her very rational concerns, Red just keeps holding her eyes, that remarkable faith shining all over her features. "In that case I'll just have to keep on reassuring you every single day you until you believe it yourself."
Regina, unsure of whether to kiss the woman for her dedication or shake some sense into her, heaves out a frustrated sigh. "You're not going to let go of this are you?"
"Not a chance." Red releases Regina's chin as she shuffles in close and presses their foreheads together. "I want us to have a baby together," she then says in a breathy whisper full of promise. "Many babies. A castle brimming with babies if I have my druthers."
Regina recoils away with a noise of disbelief, putting a hand's width of space between them. A castle brimming with babies? Adopting an heir will not be so simple. No doubt the nobility will require any potential successor to be of at least minor pedigree, of which there are exceedingly few within the swelled ranks of the kingdom's orphanages. Finding a suitable child will be a delicate task that will entail a measure of luck if any success is to be had. If Red wants many children as she has so stated, biology will have to be involved. And how, exactly, does she expect that to work when there are obstacles, both obvious and secret, that would prevent her from fulfilling her end of the reproductive process?
"You can't be serious." Red says nothing but her eyes tell that tale that she'd spoken truly from the heart.
Regina grows more horrified by the second at the very prospect of enduring multiple pregnancies even though she knows very well it is impossible for her. Endless months of hormonal mood swings followed by hours of ripping pains as she passes an object the size of large vase through a hole tight enough to grip around a single finger. Frankly it sounds like torture, and one she cannot ask Red to endure in good conscience even if they possessed the means to make it possible in the first place. Which they most assuredly do not.
Seizing on the impracticality of conception under the circumstances, she adds, "Just how exactly do you propose to accomplish this miraculous feat? Last time I checked, we're missing an essential appendage required for conception."
Red nods, unperturbed by these irrefutable facts. "So? Like we discussed, we can adopt."
Regina concedes the point with a shrug of her shoulders. Insistent with confidence as Red is that adoption is a wholly acceptable choice, she cannot help but balk at her inability to provide so essential a service to her spouse.
Feeling insecure, she picks at the sheets between their bodies. "That is a viable option, of course. But I fear we will be fortunate to find one suitable child to adopt that the nobility would approve as legitimate successors. They will vastly prefer natural heirs. Which brings up the fact that you're young and fertile and I am neither. Don't you want to get pregnant, to grow large with a child that's been made out of love and bond with it before birthing it into the world?"
Just because she's not keen to go through such an awful ordeal doesn't mean Red feels the same. And judging by the wistful yet pained expression that overtakes that pretty face, Red does not share her reticence.
Red sighs, and the disappointment with which she speaks squeezes at Regina's heart. "You know I want that or else you wouldn't have brought it up. But tell me, who am I going to make a baby with out of love, huh? Because I have to tell you, you've ruined me for anyone else. It's just not possible for me to love anyone else other than you. So that's not gonna happen. And besides, there are so many kids out there of every age that need a home. Wouldn't it be incredible to give some of them a home that is full of love and support and encouragement? One where their parents are madly in love with each other, and have so much to give to a child who only wants to be loved. I don't need to give birth to be a mother, Regina, and neither do you, so don't let that be a hindrance to us having a family. And who gives a rat's ass about what the nobles think? This isn't their kingdom last I checked. They'll accept our kids or take a damn hike. I'll tell 'em myself if I have to."
Regina stares at her wife with a wonderment she ought to have run out of by now. But Red keeps finding ways of surprising her, of exceeding her expectations, and of showing her just how astonishingly vast her reserves of love are.
Tears of joy well up, and she reaches for her wife's hand to thread their fingers together. "You really mean that don't you?" she asks, tone matching her awe of the woman she neither deserves or appreciates nearly enough. "You would really be okay with adopting and never getting to have your own child or fulfill your somewhat illogical dream of singlehandedly repopulating the castle?"
Red gives her a longsuffering look as she thumbs away a tear that Regina hadn't noticed escape her lids. "Of course I would, you silly woman. You're the love of my life! I want a family with you, however we have to go about making that happen."
"Okay, then." Regina whispers the words so faintly that no one else could have heard them but her werewolf of a wife. Her reward is a smile so wide and bright and beautiful that it could never be adequately portrayed by even the most prodigiously talented artists of any realm.
Still smiling, Red's grip on Regina's hand tightens until it is a bit uncomfortable. Her excitement is unmistakable. "Yeah? You really, really want to?"
Regina nods, feeling her own excitement grow. "I really, really do."
"Oh, Regina! Oh! I didn't think you'd say yes, but I'm so happy you did, 'cause I've been talking to Matron Vilenda at the orphanage, and she was telling me about this one couple who waited for so long to adopt..."
Regina listens as Red goes on about the tragedy of a woman who lost her husband and her entire family only to then die in childbirth. Nodding sadly and smiling encouragingly where appropriate, she lets Red gush about the resoundingly successful adoption of the infant boy without a soul in the world left to claim him.
And when Red is finished, eyes alight and cheeks flushed with excitement, she swallows down her many, deeply rooted apprehensions and simply says, "Alright. You've convinced me. As soon as we are able, we'll pay a visit to Vilenda."
Red's exuberant shout of unadulterated joy fills the room and Regina's heart, too. When she finally makes it back to sleep half an hour later, she has a tiny but hopeful smile upon her face.