A/N: If there are any spelling errors or poorly phrased sentences/paragraphs, I apologize. I've been mailing in editing a bit of late due to investment fatigue.
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 17 – An Unwilling Pawn
After having traversed at least ten miles, Regina and Snow finally approach civilization. Or the facade of it anyway.
A hundred yards or so off the yellow brick road lies a hamlet about the size of Perrault – the rustic village in which Red was born. From a glance, it appears to have been deliberately constructed by planners rather than allowed to sprout up randomly as nature prefers, making it fairly unique for such an inconsequential location. Vicinity to the Emerald City must have inspired the founders to put forth more effort in organizing their settlement, or so Regina guesses. A mildly sprawling square dominates the layout, around which are arranged the main municipal building, a pedestrian market, and a modest variety of stores. Though the town lacks any buildings larger than the plain, two story municipal building, it is at least an indication of ordained governance.
Sadly, like the land it inhabits, the village reeks of decomposition. And not of the odious sort produced by flesh returning to dust but a supernatural rot that makes the hair on the back of Regina's neck stand on end. Snow does not seem a bit perturbed, however, which confirms her initial impressions of the declining state of this world. Her sister's magic appears to be corroding the very fabric of Oz. The fact that Zelena's power is so prevalent and permeating gives her a pause she lacked moments before.
Regina has seen this phenomenon before. When she fully succumbed to the temptation Rumple was offering via the dark arts, she noticed little things changing around her. The stone walls of her chambers started to stain progressively darker and on occasion a flower would wilt in the wake of an absent touch when her emotions were running exceptionally high. After Leopold's death was arranged and accomplished, the strange effects become more pronounced and widespread. And when she banished Snow and publicly embraced the evil she had thus far been practicing in secret, the entire castle began to take on a sinister gloom, as if in permanent dusk, and she could no longer visit the gardens if she was angry for fear of inadvertently killing everything alive inside.
But this? This is something on a level that Regina has never seen. At her worst, the insidious influence of her magic never extended outside the walls of the Dark Palace. Yet Zelena's are projecting miles beyond the Emerald City, the seat of power in Oz, meaning her malefic streak must run exponentially deeper and stronger than Regina could have fathomed. If so, could it be that the quest to save Red was doomed to fail from the outset?
Steeling her nerves, Regina refuses to allow that fear an inch of purchase. This mission cannot afford to be deterred, even by legitimate concerns about her sister's frighteningly influential magic.
By the time they arrive at the path veering off toward the village, the sun has noticeably dipped in the sky. They will have to hurry if they want to make the Emerald City before night falls in earnest. To get back on track, she straightens her shoulders and fixes her gaze down the meager aisle of dirt and stone connecting the village to the central thoroughfare. Before heading off in the direction of town, she does the courtesy of indicating toward Snow with her head that they should pay it a visit. Snow, bow still in hand, nods and silently follows Regina until they enter the evenly developed square, at the center of which is the village's main well.
Regina's earlier assessment that this is a civilized place is called into question upon closer inspection. A couple of townsfolk are milling about, and judging by the poor state of their dress, this area is mired in an economic depression. So close to the Emerald City, the heart of commerce in Oz, it should be a bustling hub of activity populated by relatively well-off citizens. Instead it is nearly as bleak and sluggish as the rest of Oz appears to be.
The bedraggled bystanders, obviously unused to strangers entering their village, peer at the newcomers with barely veiled suspicion.
Regina plasters on a winning smile. Time to put on a show.
"Hello, good citizens of Oz," she greets with a flourished formality that she'd perfected by the age of ten. "I am Queen Regina of Misthaven. My companion," she gestures toward Snow, "is Queen Snow of the White Kingdom. We are here on urgent business in pursuit of information for which I am prepared to reward handsomely." With a flick of her wrist, she summons one of five large purses of gold she has brought along. After loosing the leather tie holding it shut, she opens It up to show the contents to the raggedy, gaping villagers. She smiles at them enticingly. "All of this awaits the first person bold enough to lend us their aid."
"What is you want to know?" a man says from the fringes of the square, lingering in the shadows. He takes a single step forward to reveal a young, handsome face. A patrician nose, square jaw, and sharp hazel eyes peer out from beneath a noble brow, the only blemish an inch long diagonal scar scored into his left cheek. Closely cropped brown hair, fine and impeccably pressed clothing completely out of place in the relative squalor of this village, and a gait that is the epitome of power and efficiency mark him as military. Perhaps even an officer. If that is the case, he presents a juicy target for interrogation.
Regina narrows her eyes at him. "I'm seeking knowledge of a particular place in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City. It is a grove guarded by an enchanted gate only the pure of heart may pass through."
"You're speaking of the Sacred Grove of Ozma," he says, eyeing her with as warily as she is him. "No one in this little squat of mud and despair will have set eyes upon the jade gates. The Wicked Witch has forbidden any mention of the Grove, and none are brave or idiotic enough to defy her."
Regina catches his slip, and rises to her full height. Towering over the now cowering villagers, her tone grows cold and demanding. "And yet you speak of these 'jade gates' as though you have seen them personally. I wonder, could you be lying to me? And if so, why?"
The man winces as he realizes his mistake. "Maybe I have my reasons," he offers, casting his eyes about nervously. His hand moves subtly toward his back pocket. Regina assumes he is reaching for a knife. She is proven correct when in one fluid motion he grabs it and starts to throw it at her.
Before the handle can slip free of his fingers, an arrow whizzes by her ear, brushing the bound hair at her temples at is passes by. The missile dislodges the weapon, sending it tumbling to the ground, as it pierces through the man's hand and lodging into the wooden siding of the building he was standing against. The young man screams in pain, clutching at his wrist as blood seeps from his wounded appendage. Enraged, he again snatches at another pocket with his remaining good one only to be interrupted by Snow's voice.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the former bandit says, her voice laced with more venom than Regina has ever heard from the bastion of virtue. Snow steps forward, arrow nocked and drawn, eyes sharp and unyielding. "Just in case you're wondering, I didn't miss. That was a warning. The next one will land between your eyes."
Regina marvels at the feat of marksmanship. She'd heard Snow to be an archer of deadly accuracy from many sources, including Red, who gushed about how effortlessly Snow had taken to the weapon. Regina never imagined her to be so skilled as to pull off such a feat of accuracy on reflex. What's more impressive is that Snow actually drew blood. Normally the infuriatingly compassionate woman made sure to resolve conflict without unnecessary violence. It seems, though, that Snow is willing to bend her own rules if it means getting help to Red more expeditiously. Regina is all in favor of that attitude, and very much hopes it will continue from here on out.
Still recovering from the shock of Snow's action, she raises a brow, trying to hide her smirk but failing. "Well done, my dear. I didn't think you had it in you."
"Out in the wild, you learn to how to walk the line between kindness and survival," Snow returns without taking her eyes off the groaning man her well-placed arrow has pinned. "I have you to thank for that lesson – at least in part."
Rather than being offended, Regina preens as if having been praised for her role in Snow's criminal endeavors. "What a genuine compliment! It's been a long time since I've had one from you, so I'll take it." She chuckles when Snow cuts her eyes over and huffs in irritation.
The poor individual Snow White disabled uses their distracted attention to attempt dislodging the arrow. Regina tuts out a warning before he can wiggle it free. "Don't even think about it," she growls, then stalks forward with a malefic smile. As she approaches, he shrinks against the building in a futile and pathetic attempt to get away from her.
Upon reaching her quarry, she waves her hand, restraining him with her magic. "Obviously you have something to hide. I'll get it out of you one way or another. So, if you value the rest of your appendages, you can start by telling me who you are."
"No one of consequence," is his evasive reply.
"You will be if you don't answer me truthfully," she then says, grasping his jaw with an iron grip. She leans in close, snarling. "Continue to be an annoyance and I will make you famous as an example to these fine folks that will remain long after I have departed." He gulps nervously, and the reaction tells her that he is reaching a pliable state. "Now, one last time: who...are...you?"
He does not answer immediately, glaring back at her as best as he can around his otherwise fearful expression. She grips his jaw until her nails begin to cut into his flesh, and then draws her hand back to summon a fireball big enough to engulf his head. Expression baleful, she brings the flame up close enough that it flickers and dances in his eyes and she can see his skin reddening from the terrific heat. The closer it gets to touching his face, the more horrified he becomes. Sweat begins pouring from his skin, and his eyes widen as the flame licks at the underside of his stubbled chin.
"Alright, alright! I'm an imperial guard," he finally spews, panicked at the threat of his face being melted off. Regina raises her brow at him at the vague answer, and he gets the hint. "My name is Darion. I am a guardsman of the Second Royal Regiment of the Grand Army of Oz."
When Regina pulls the flame back slightly, Darion slumps with relief. "To whom are you beholden?" she presses, and when he hangs his head in defeat, Regina internally crows with delight. Breaking prisoners was always one of her specialties. It's nice to know she still has the touch, though she wouldn't have minded getting to flex those muscles a little more thoroughly before her victim caved. This one was rather pathetic...
Drawing a shaky breath, the weak-willed guard says, "I once was loyal to the Royal Family of Oz, but now I work for the Wicked Witch."
So he's a turncoat as well, Regina thinks, her opinion of him plummeting by the second. "And where, pray tell, is it that you are stationed?"
"In the Emerald City."
Regina grins with unrestrained giddiness. Another break in the endless procession of storm clouds she has been living under. An intrepid ray of sunshine pokes its way through, bathing her in its warmth. If only a tiny bit, fortune seems to be smiling down upon her after all. Her knowledge of Oz may be limited but she knows enough about the Emerald City to have set it as their first objective on this mission. As the central seat of power in Oz, the probability is high of obtaining documents which contain relevant information concerning the Grove. Maps detailing its the precise location are also likely to be stored there. Darion's position would provide them with a generous head start towards that achieving both aims.
"Excellent! Now we're getting somewhere." She sharply pokes at Darion's wounded hand, still pinned by an arrow, and leans in closer as he groans in protest. She feels Snow's disapproval of the unscrupulous tactic from over her shoulder, but ignores her companion in pursuit of the lead they've so serendipitously stumbled across. "If you want the pain to stop," she says to a squirming Darion, "tell me how to enter the city undetected."
The guardsman's eyes narrow into slits. He grits he teeth as sweat pebbles at his brow. "Why should I tell you that? What's your business there? I thought you were seeking the Grove."
"I am," Regina says, keeping steady pressure on the wounded hand, "but I require directions to reach it. I'm most likely to find them in the city, even if I must infiltrate the palace itself and pilfer any maps I can find from under that Witch's snooty nose."
"She...she'll kill you if she catches you."
A fair point. Or it would be if Zelena were present on this world. Regina releases Darion's hand, feeling quite smug. Aside from satisfaction derived from his pain, she is more than a little pleased at having a significant head start on her sister.
She leans in even closer, conspiratorial smirk on her lips. "It's a good thing she's not here to catch me then, isn't it?"
"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," Darion says, his confident tone indicating her assertion is false.
Regina pulls back to study his gaze. Eyes narrowed, she reaches toward his wounded hand only to veer away at the last second to rest her palm next to it against the wall. The threat is well received, as Darion gulps in anticipation of further abuse to the appendage.
"What does that mean? What are you not telling me?" she asks. It's less a question than a command that Darion, thankfully for his sake, correctly interprets.
"The Witch returned to Oz yesterday," he says, and Regina can detect no deception in his answer. Her heart lurches as her hopes plummet. "She has holed up in the palace ever since. I was deployed to this village to watch for your arrival and report back to her. She is expecting you."
Drawing back, Regina starts to pace frenetically. All her carefully laid plans are unfurling before her very eyes at a rate she will be unable to keep up with. Zelena is in Oz already! She'd arrived ahead of Regina and Snow. But why? This information does not sit well, and that is aside from the implications to her quest here. If Zelena has discovered her intention to travel to Oz with Snow White in tow, it means she was either magically eavesdropping or had a spy placed within the heart of the citadel. Before now, Regina would have considered the former an impossibility. She had only discussed her plans with the few select individuals she trusted implicitly to put Red's needs ahead of all else. She assumed Snow and Charming would have remained silent out of a similar motivation. Unless…
Was it possible that Snow had once again betrayed her? Had the idiotic woman actually gone and blabbed about their plans to the wrong person in the brief time she'd been privy to them? Was an hour really too long to stay silent? Then again, it hadn't been much longer than that when Snow spilled the last secret she entrusted to her to a manipulative Cora. Daniel died not long after.
Fury rises up inside her with an incredible force and speed, propelling her heart rate until the organ is racing in her chest like a prized thoroughbred stallion at full gallop. She whirls around, ready to kill the insipid brat right then and there, only to stop cold as a singular thought crosses her mind: what would Red say right now?
"Why do you always assume the worst of people?" Red would ask, and strangely enough, Regina can actually hear the warm honey of her voice in her head. That this is the second time it has happened is concerning on a whole other level outside of her current predicament. "Snow wouldn't betray me like that any more than you would."
"Is that so?" Regina argues internally with the Red in her mind, pacing to and fro as she does so. The rest of the world fades into the background and she lets it, heedless of how mad she may appear to a bunch of strangers and one woman she spent half a lifetime hating. "She did it once. Why not again? In my experience, people are who they are. For instance, I'm me: an angry, obsessive, possessive, vengeful pessimist. Whereas Snow is a goody-two-shoes with a dysfunctional brain, a naive heart, and a tongue that cannot be tamed. Her very nature makes her the primary suspect."
Regina can almost see her wife's frustration at her stubborn cynicism, and she for sure hears it in the imaginary reply. "First off, you are those things, yes, but that's not all there is to you and you know it! You're not the same woman you were, hon, and neither is Snow. She isn't a ten year kid anymore who just lost her mom and got rescued by the most beautiful, badass lady to ever live. No wonder she was naive enough to fall for your mother's act. She's grown up since then. She has a kingdom of her own she rules over. She's a mother now, too. She's learned from her mistakes. Besides all that, she loves me and knows how important this mission is. She wouldn't risk my life for anything or anyone except Charming or Emma, and far as we know they're both safe and sound. And last but not least, she's not doing this just for me. She's doing it for you, too. She loves you, Regina! Can't you see how much she wants to make up for what she did all those years ago?"
Gritting her teeth, Regina stills her pacing. Her hands clench at her sides and she squeezes her eyes shut against a rapidly escalating rage. Red should damn well know she does not want to recognize any of that! She is perfectly content to remain ignorant to Snow's impossible hope for reconciliation. Wasn't the armistice she offered enough? Honestly, to ask more of her at this point is patently absurd.
And yet, she's seen it all the same. Snow has changed. And so has she. To deny either of those charges would make her the worst brand of liar.
"Damn you, Red," she thinks. "Why do you always have to be right?" She half expects her wife's disembodied voice to flaunt the concession as she usually does – with a huge smile, a playful wink, and a teasingly drawled out response. "'Cause I'm just awesome that way. Best not forget it, lover." That doesn't happen, though. Instead, Red's dreamlike voice calmly states, "I'm not always right. Especially not this time, because I'm not me. This is all in your head. Deep down, you want to believe in Snow, you're just afraid to. Well, stop it. You don't have time to be afraid."
Regina is so irritated she is on the verge now of popping the cork on the pressurized bottle that is her anger. "You think I don't know that? Your life is on the line and my only hope of saving it just went up in smoke because my sister is in Oz already! How am I supposed to sneak in to the Emerald City and get the information I need without Zelena finding out?"
"That's just the thing," the Red voice says. "Maybe she should find out." Regina physically opens her mouth to berate her own insane projection when it dawns on her just what it was hinting at.
"That's splendid!" The volume of her response is high enough to draw the attention of passersby who, for fear of her, have til now purposefully ignored the interrogation being conducted right in front of them.
"It is?" asks Snow with barely concealed disbelief.
"Yes, my dear, it most certainly is," Regina says, her hope having been restored. At least for the moment, anyway. "We have an opportunity to distract our foe thanks to our new ally here."
Darion grunts sourly. "I'm not your ally."
"Oh, but you are." To reinforce the point, she adopts the dangerous pose and buttery smooth tone that generally means she's as cheerful as she is murderous because it would actually make her happy to murder someone. "If you aren't, why then I'll have no use for you. Which in that case, I suppose I'll just have skewer you on a spit and roast you slowly over a low flame. It would be most amusing to feast upon your delicious screams." She grins when he swallows audibly. "Or…you can work for me this once and receive the reward I have already promised plus an additional hundred percent on top of it. The choice is yours."
The subdued guardsman doesn't even bother to disguise his piqued interest. "A hundred percent extra?"
Regina's answering grin would put the Cheshire cat to shame. Gotcha, you slimy bastard. "Indeed. It is a most generous offer if I do say so myself."
Darion gives up all pretense of resistance as he sags in surrender. "What is it I must do?"
Regina gives a delighted laugh then roughly yet impishly smacks his cheek a couple times. He rubs at the sore spot as she relays his instructions. His orders are to return to the Emerald City posthaste and inform the Witch that she and Snow have arrived in Oz already armed with the knowledge of the location of the Grove. To avoid undue suspicion of openly using magic, they chose a convoluted path designed to throw their adversary off the scent. This alternate route will carry them far out of the way to the west before veering north toward the mountains. Before revealing this false information to Zelena, he is to hire two willing individuals, no matter how much gold has to be promised, in obscure clothing to travel said route. If all goes according to plan, her sister will calculate their trip to the mouth of the pass to take several days and thus delay her own arrival.
Meanwhile, Regina will be making other more expeditious arrangements. All she needs is to find one person who has physically laid eyes upon the gates of the Grove. With that, she will be able to cast a transportation spell utilizing their memory which will take her and Snow directly to their destination. While Zelena is out chasing her own tail, Snow will already be collecting the bark from the tree. And by the time Zelena gets to the Grove and realizes she's been tricked, they will have returned to the Enchanted Forest and woken Red. Of course, Regina knows that plans rarely ever go off without a hitch, but any meaningful delay in Zelena confronting her is a boon she will take.
After securing Darion's oath that he will do as agreed, she issues one final warning. Should he cross her, she says, she will hunt him down and visit such pain upon him that his ancestors would beg for mercy. When she releases him from her magic, he scurries away toward the outskirts of town. Moments later they hear the sound of hoof-beats plodding toward the city. It is the sound of a minor victory in a war that will likely feature many more battles.
Regina turns to Snow, ready to move on in the interest of haste. "Let's go. I don't trust that neanderthal to tie his own boots, but if he comes through, we must be ready to take advantage."
Snow nods, but does not move toward the path leading back to the yellow brick road. Instead, she jogs off toward a man standing by the well who has observed all that happened with calculated disinterest. Regina can tell by the man's dress and his huge musculature that he is the local blacksmith, and therefore the local farrier who in all likelihood has ready access to a horse. Again, she is impressed by Snow's deductive capabilities, but withholds any accolades out of principle.
"Excuse me, good sir," Snow greets the bearded mountain of a man, "I wonder if there might be a horse we can purchase? As you have no doubt seen, we have gold aplenty."
"As it just so happens, there is," he replies, his voice every bit as gruff as Regina expected. "For the right price, I will sell you mine. I shod him afresh not two days ago. He's a good, sturdy boy who will get you wherever you need to go, but he won't be cheap."
"How much?" Regina asks after joining Snow.
He indicates toward the bag of gold she had summoned with his head. "That bag right there ought to do."
Regina's lip curls at the outrageous demand. This pouch contains enough gold to pay for half a dozen horses. His price is simple fleecing, no more, no less, but since they are in need, far from home, and with time running out, she sees no other alternative but to agree.
"Fine," she sighs, but then hardens her gaze. "However, I'll not be parting with a single coin until I've seen the animal in question. Bring him to me and then after I personally inspect him, I will pay you."
With a nod, the man plods away to fetch the horse. Regina watches him go, staring balefully at him all the way. It is only after he disappears behind the same building Zelena's guard had that she turns back to her traveling companion.
Snow smiles at her almost fondly enough to make Regina's stomach curl. "You always were a tough negotiator."
"I learned to be one by the flat plane of a very sturdy ruler," Regina replies wryly, then resumes watching for the blacksmith to return with their horse.
"I'm sorry," Snow says after a short silence. "I can't imagine my mother treating me that way."
Regina dismisses Snow's concern with an idle wave of her hand. "Don't be. I don't need or want your sympathy."
"And yet you have it," Snow insists rather stubbornly.
Regina rolls her eyes. "Duly noted. Can we just wait for the barbarian to return with our horse in silence now? I am tired of talking for the moment."
"Fine," sighs Snow, "but know that we will revisit this at a later date."
"Don't hold your breath," Regina retorts. "I'd rather swallow a crate of rusty nails than discuss my childhood with you."
"Do you talk to Red about it?"
Regina growls in annoyance. "Did you not hear what I said less than five seconds ago?"
Snow shrugs off her irritation. "Yes. But I still want to know."
Regina bites the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Or turning Snow into something squishable. "And what do you imagine entitles you to that knowledge?" she asks a moment later in a carefully modulated tone.
Snow tilts her head to the side just so, and gestures at Regina with her hand. "Simple. I'm here. I'm helping you. And not just for Red. I know it may be hard to believe, but I honestly care about you. I never stopped."
This is the last topic Regina wants to discuss. She hadn't wanted to get into it with the fake Red in her head, and she sure as hell doesn't with Snow. After all, Snow's feelings for her were what got Daniel killed. Furthermore, she is never in the mood to bandy about rehashing the girl's perpetual naivety. She is even less inclined to entertain it in their current setting.
"Then you are a fool," she declares, closing off her expression to end any further needling from Snow.
Snow's lips quirk up at the corners, but she gets the hint. "Maybe I am. And maybe I don't care if I am," she replies, then attempts a change of track back to the original topic. "So do you? Talk to Red?"
"By the gods! You never stop, do you?!" Regina exclaims, angrily throwing her hands up. "Yes! If it will shut you the hell up for five damn minutes: yes, I talk to Red about it. She's my wife, Snow, I have no secrets from her."
Snow nods happily at that, taking absolutely no offense at Regina's harsh tone. "Good. That's really good, Regina. I'll be quiet now, 'cause that's all I wanted to know."
Regina heaves out an exasperated sigh. "Thank the blessed gods above."
Unfortunately, the silence does not last beyond a minute, for the blacksmith soon returns, a handsome dapple gray steed in tow who is already saddled. His coat is in the dark range, and his legs are solid black all the way up past his joints. As if to juxtapose with the depth of his grays, his tail and mane are a gleaming white that seem almost unnatural. Regina perks up at the sight of him. He is gorgeous, and she is immediately in love.
"He's magnificent," she comments when the man and horse draw near. She does not ask for permission to inspect her potential purchase. She slowly approaches the stallion to offer her hand. When he ducks his snout into it and blows out a snort of acceptance, she grins. Daniel told her from their first meeting that she had an innate touch with horses, and time had only reaffirmed how right he was.
Carefully, Regina proceeds to circle around the animal, allowing her hand to brush along his back and flanks. She does this to get a good sense of his muscle development at crucial areas in order to ensure he is healthy, which he is much to her approval. At approximately four years of age, he is the picture of equine fitness.
Already relaxed with her, the horse does not protest her examination once. He stands calmly as she maneuvers all the way around him, and when she is at his head once more, he nods and whinnies as he steps trustingly toward her.
"Hello, handsome," she says, giving him what he wants by stroking her hand along his nose and in his mane. She eyes the blacksmith as she continues her ministrations. "What's his name?"
"He doesn't have one," the man says.
This angers Regina. She bristles visibly. "Are you completely without manners? It is a disgrace to refuse a horse its name. They are not the dumb beasts that graze in your fields, but majestic creatures who are to be respected!"
The man simply stares, completely unaffected by her outburst. "I don't care. He does the job I need him to do and that's all that matters. Now, are you gonna buy him or what?"
Regina almost steps into the man's personal space to castigate him further only to be stopped by Snow's hand on her elbow. It is a brave move, and one that Regina would normally not respond well to. As it is, she modulates her reaction by harshly shrugging off the hand and schooling her features.
"We'll take him," she says, and then tosses the man the pouch of money. After catching it, he gives them a yellow, decrepit smile before unceremoniously walking away. "How uncivilized," she comments as she watches him go, but another nudge from a moist nose draws her attention. Her expression immediately softens. "At least he took decent care of you. What shall we call you? Huh?" she muses as she takes his lead and begins walking toward the path leading back to the yellow brick road. She knows that Snow is watching her with rapt attention, but pays that fact no mind. She is far too captivated with her new friend.
"Perhaps Whitemane," she then poses, and as if he understands her, he shakes his head. She laughs and begins suggesting a litany of horse appropriate monikers which don't really fit and which he doesn't seem to appreciate. Finally nearing the yellow brick road, she glances up and catches a hint of the moon in the darkening sky. Inspiration hits. "Lucas," she calls out at him, and in response, he nickers. Regina beams at him. "That's it isn't it?" she coos, scratching as his nose as he leans into her. "Lucas. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy."
"And girl," Snow adds pointedly.
The mention of Red brings with it all sorts of mixed emotions. Regina wishes Red was there to meet her namesake, so proud and beautiful and strong, just like her. Lucas seems to radiate a goodness, a light from within that cannot be extinguished, and it reminds Regina of Red, which – along with glimpsing the moon – is why she'd blurted the name out. It just seemed so fitting.
Stroking the length of his jaw affectionately, Regina leans in to rest her head against his nose. "I wish she was here to meet you, Lucas. I think she would love you as much as I already do." After too short of a moment, she draws back, and resettles herself on the mission. As much as she would love to simply enjoy a long night ride upon Lucas, swiftly reaching the Emerald City takes precedence.
Regina does not have to worry about whether the stallion will accept her or not, and her faith in him is affirmed when he patiently allows her to mount up. Once steady in the saddle, she looks at Snow and pats the space behind her. "Come on. We haven't got all night."
Snow nods and then accepts the hand Regina stretches out, using the stirrup to propel herself up. Pressed against Regina's back, Snow winds her arms around Regina's waist and then says, "Ready."
Regina places her feet in the stirrups, getting used to their feel for a moment as she'd been taught. Comfort washes over her in gentle waves. The saddle has always been a second home.
With a smile splitting her cheeks, she nudges Lucas forward with her heels and a barked command that he immediately obeys. With a happy whinny, he charges forward into a gallop.
Back on the road, the Emerald City shines brilliantly in the waning light of the evening. The target is firmly in sight, their destination looming ever larger and more definite by the yard. What awaits them there is far less certain.