AN: Happy reading! XOXO, Jess
Wolves and Wild Flowers
Regina wakes up to the calming sound of rain pitter-pattering on her canvas tent. It begins as a whisper – light and playful. Wind huffs, rising up, stirs the entrance flap, and an unwelcome, cold air makes her shiver. She lies in bed and listens to thunder rumbling in the distance and the crescendo of forest leaves rustling. Two days – her baby has been gone for two days, and it's agony. Her heart fills with despair, and rain seems to beat down harder.
The sound deafens, and she closes her eyes and listens to the unrelenting downpour. She pictures herself washing away with the force of it, imagines the water trickling, and flowing, and pushing debris, and gravel, and pieces of fallen logs to the river. She knows at the rate the sky is opening up that it'll overflow soon, uproot trees, and create mudslides, but she also knows that when the sun finally peaks its way out from behind the stormy gray clouds and the water settles, it'll bring life to the forest. And if anything, she's happy it gives her an excuse to stay in her tent, to hide away for a little bit longer from the non stop pestering of Snow's questions, concern and pouty eyes that make Regina feel like she kicked a puppy.
Snow drips with hopefulness and encouragement. It makes her want to vomit. There doesn't seem to be anything that can crush that infuriating girl's spirit. Regina thinks about everything they've been through just to end up right back where they started. They both have lost their parents. Eva and Leopold, Cora and Henry. She lost Daniel. Snow lost Johanna. They both lost Graham – a particularly sharp pang of guilt irritates her heart at that one, but she doesn't allow it to consume her. She's already drowning under so many other emotions. Countless murders, multiple attempts on her life and Snow's. A dark curse, betrayal, Neverland and Pan. Not even being separated from her husband with false memories deterred Snow's spirit, not for long anyway. And, here she is separated from her daughter for a second time, and she still keeps urging Regina to accept their new fate and live her life. But really, Regina just wants time to process her grief and anger and heartache because there's a part of her that's terrified she'll go back to the way she was before.
She's not blind to her own misgivings. She knows she has an awful temper, knows she's quick to anger and slow to forgive. She knows what she's like, knows what she's done in order to protect herself from loving again, from hurting again. She knows what her nasty habits are. But Henry, she'd been surprised by how deeply and quickly she loved him, and he slowly started to soften her edges. Before him, she fed rage and mistrust for years, and now without him she's not sure she knows how to live any other way.
Regina groans and buries her head in the crook of her arm. The worst part is it's all her fault. She cast the first curse, and she had to pay the price for being angry, for seeking revenge, for not choosing a different path at a tavern long ago. It devastates her that she has no one else to blame for this disastrous outcome. She's responsible, and it makes her want to scream out at the injustice of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? What crueler price is there to pay than fighting your whole life to find the thing you love most just so that you'll have to give it up in the end?
All magic comes with a price, dearie. If her mentor were still alive, she'd punch him in the face. No magic, no purple smoke, just one "full force of her body, draws blood and bruises her knuckles" punch. But he's not here, and now she has to live with the fact that she's stuck in a realm without her son, stuck in a land and what feels like an alternate universe with Snow and David.
Burrowing deeper into the winter furs Robin brought back to her tent after tending to her wounds last night, Regina's thoughts drift to the thief – something, it seems, she's been doing since the moment they met. She doesn't know what it is about him, but he has a way of getting under her skin, at catching her in vulnerable moments off guard. Her arm still aches from her wound, and her cheek is certainly tender. It looks awful, but she knows it'd be far worse if he hadn't brought her that salve and helped clean dirt out of her cuts. She needs to be more careful; she's already let him see more of her than she'd normally be willing.
"Thief," Regina mumbles, before groaning and throwing back the heavy fur.
Robin may have stolen from her carriages and castle treasury, but she will not let him steal his way into her thoughts.
She pushes herself out of her bedroll and dresses for another day on the road. They leave for his camp this morning, and she needs to get ready, regardless of whether or not this rain wants to stop.
Robin truly tries hard not to think of her, tries not to remember her tears or her sass or her wit. He attempts to not picture her holding Roland in her arms while he laughs, tries hard not to see the way she rubbed her nose lightly against his son's. But he fails miserably. It surprises him, the way she is with his boy, but he learned long ago not to judge a person based off someone else's word, and so far he's been pleased with what he's discovered about Regina.
She doesn't appear to be the Evil Queen he heard stories about, the one who placed wanted poster of his face up all over this kingdom and into the next. She doesn't look like someone who would approve of the behavior of the Black Knights or who would burn down villages just to chase after a princess. Her words may be sharp, and she may be quick to anger, but below the surface he sees kind eyes, a woman who cares enough to calm a child's fears when they think they've done something wrong. Ever since he laid eyes on Regina in the forest, she has consumed his waking thoughts. But, that doesn't seem to be enough, because his dreams last night were also plagued by the light moans she made while he cut her bindings, by the way her nipples peaked in the crisp, morning air. In his dreams, she lets him get closer to her, lets him see beyond the wall she's built up, and when he woke before dawn to rain and thunder and clouds, he immediately thought of her and how she was faring and whether or not she was already up, listening to nature's sounds like him.
He cuddles with Roland as thunder ricochets off the surrounding mountains and around Princess Snow White and Prince David's camp. They'd been kind enough to give him and his son a tent, asked someone named Leroy if he'd mind giving up his, so Robin and Roland could have their own, while he shared one with Doc and Little John. Robin insisted he and his boy would be fine, they didn't want to put anyone out, but Leroy grumbled, said something about whiskey, and all but shoved Robin toward the meager shelter.
He's grateful for that now, given the storm raging outside and Roland's fear of thunder and lighting. He rolls over and brushes Roland's hair away from his sleeping face and kisses him on the forehead. The rain has died down a bit; they'll need to get up soon.
They have a long journey ahead of them with the castle being a month away on foot. He's glad he sent Friar Tuck back to camp yesterday so he and the remaining Merry Men could go ahead to their next meeting point. They need to secure more provisions for Regina, Snow and David's quite large caravan.
"Good morning, my boy," Robin whispers into Roland's ear while rubbing his calloused hand over his little back. "Another day for adventure …"
"Mmm … 'nother day for mischief," Roland sweetly whines, still tired from all the excitement of meeting his first queen yesterday. "Papa?" he yawns, rubbing his eyes.
"Yes, Roland," Robin smiles, "Another day for mischief, but not too much. Do you remember where we're going today?" He thinks about the two-day trek awaiting them before they meet up on the north ridge of the forest with his band of men.
Roland rubs his little eyes again with the palms of his hands and furrows his brow. He scratches the back of his head and his eyes widen in realization, "With da Queen! With 'Gina!"
"I suppose she's coming, too," Robin laughs, mussing up his son's hair. "But that's not all. We're helping everyone get back to their castle. Would you like to help?"
"Yes!" Roland shouts, scrambling out from under the covers on all fours. "I'm 'Gina's knight. I hafta help!" Last bits of sleep forgotten in his excitement.
"Well, alright then. We mustn't keep the Queen waiting," Robin states, helping Roland put on his boots before he slips on his own, picks him up and hoists him onto his shoulders. "Lets go," Robin echoes Roland's exuberance and ducks out of the tent.
By the time midday comes, they're deep within the canopy of the forest. Sunlight flickers between branches, and Robin listens as a few squirrels jump from limb to limb above them. Sweat clings to his tunic and his thoughts wander, musing over ways to approach Regina. He hasn't spoken to her since he treated her injuries last night, and he swears she's avoiding eye contact with him. Every so often, he catches her staring out of the corner of his eye, but whenever he turns to look, her attention is focused forward. Roland scampers ahead of him, chasing after imaginary beasts he can fell with his imaginary bow and arrow – oblivious to his papa's internal dilemma. Robin wants to talk to her, wants to know more about her, maybe then he'll have a better understanding of why he feels drawn to her.
"Roland, not too far," Robin calls as his son breaks away from the group a little.
Regina turns her focus away from the conversation she's having with Snow as they walk in tandem. The forest is quiet, settled and calm after the torrential downpour earlier this morning. The ground is soggy under her boots, and air is refreshing and light.
"So what do you think of our new friend?" Regina asks Snow, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. "Can we trust him? He is a thief?"
"Are you asking me that question, because you really want to know if I trust him, or because you're trying to convince yourself not to?"
Regina snaps her head back to look at her former archenemy. "What did you just say?"
"Oh, come on, Regina. I saw the way you sauntered into camp yesterday, swaying your hips back and forth," Snow accuses. "You were pleased with yourself."
"I'd hardly say I was pleased," Regina throws back.
"Sure, whatever you want to tell yourself. Besides, even if he is a thief, think of it from his perspective. How do you think he looks at you?" Snow replies before smirking. "And, didn't he prove himself yesterday by bringing you back to us? I still think it's awful what happened. You know, you're not indestructible."
Seeing Regina return to camp, clearly beaten up and injured, disturbed Snow more than she thought it would.
"Point taken," Regina rolls her eyes. "And, I know."
"I don't think you do," Snow snorts, crossing her arms over her chest as they keep pace.
"Why do you even care about what happens to me?" Regina asks, confused.
"Because, other than Charming," Snow begins, "you are the only person I have left that I consider family."
"I'm pretty sure trying to kill you disqualifies me as your stepmother, dear," Regina asserts.
"I know, but I've known you longer than I've known anyone. And, as terrible as we both were to each other, I never really gave up hope on us."
Regina scoffs. "You're insufferable, you know that right?"
"I thought I was a naïve, little princess?" Snow counters with a comment Regina threw her way during their fight in Neverland – a conversation that now feels like a lifetime ago.
"That, too," Regina smirks and looks over her shoulder again.
"He's pretty cute, mhm?" Snow asks with raised eyebrows.
"He smells like forest," Regina retorts, her eyes following Roland as he comes to walk in between her and Snow.
"Hi 'Gina," he smiles a big dimpled grin and grabs her hand.
"Hello, Roland," Regina's eyes widen at his boldness. Snow seems just as equally surprised.
Robin watches as Roland walks between Regina and the princess. His boy has taken a fancy to following the Queen around like a little shadow, never wanting to be far away from her side. It's a sight to behold for Robin. His son has never warmed to strangers so quickly. He's often shy and quiet, and usually it takes one or two bribes in order for him to ease out of his shell. Yet, like his father, it appears he's found something truly enchanting about Regina. He's distracted by Roland's shouts of glee, watches closely as he, every now and then, asks Regina questions, to which she answers with an air of hesitance when she catches anyone else watching them. Twice, she smiles down at his son, and Robin sees her purposely holding herself back from him. Roland lets go of her hand and skips ahead again, looking over his shoulder and smiling at her.
Robin doesn't have much more time to think about it though, when the air shifts suddenly and the shrill shriek of a flying beast swoops overhead.
"Incoming!" Neal yells, while everyone either draws a blade or readies their bow.
Robin does neither, instead he frantically gazes around, trying to put his eyes on his son, who is lost in the shadows of their caravan. The beast shrieks again, and his breath leaves him in a whoosh when he spots where it's headed.
"Papa!" Roland shouts, terrified and paralyzed in place. "'Gina!"
Robin calls to his son and pushes between those standing in his way. Desperation unlike any he's ever felt before fills him, and he screams again, "Roland!"
Regina, without hesitation, runs to Roland and scoops him up and out of the way of the flying creature. Holding him fiercely to her, she quickly spins around and scans the sky. She zeroes in on the beast, driving toward them again, and places Roland protectively on the ground behind her, blocking his body with hers.
"Not so fast," her voice bellows in a deathly calm manner as she waves her hand through the air and the simian transforms into something small and fluffy.
She bends down to pick it up and kneels in front of Roland. He immediately throws his little arms around her and buries his face into her neck; the force of it requires her to brace herself with one hand on the floor behind her.
"Roland," Robin sighs in relief as he sprints to him and Regina. She stands up, holding Roland in her arms, and passes him to Robin who hugs him urgently.
"See not so scary, and now you have a new toy," Regina soothes, rubbing circles on Roland's back as Robin holds him. He stares at her, mouth opened, brow furrowed. He can't focus on much else around them, but he hears each slow inhale and exhale of breath that leaves her, smells the lavender oil on her skin again, feels Roland quivering in his arms, and he only thinks one thing: she saved his son.
Robin forces words past the painful lump in his throat. "Thank you," he breathes.
Regina looks up from checking on Roland, and her brown eyes meet his blue, and they hold each other's gazes for a long moment. She nods and it renders him speechless, his emotions getting the better of him. He squeezes Roland closer as everyone gathers around him and Regina. She drops her hand away from Roland's back, realizing how intimate they must look. She takes a few steps away from him.
"What the hell was that thing?" Charming demands as his eyes rake over the sky above.
Robin answers David. "The same kind of beast that attacked me and Regina yesterday."
"Wait, what?" Snow frowns. "When were you attacked?"
Robin's eyes widen and he realizes Regina hasn't told them about their first meeting in the crisp, dark of morning like he had with his men. He's not exactly sure what to say, but he doesn't have to worry about it, because Regina answers for them.
"It was yesterday before any of you were awake. I was down by the river …" Regina explains, trying to think of something to say while leaving out details she didn't want anyone else to know.
"And, I happened upon her while I was hunting. Shortly after, we were attached. I needed to get back to my men and the Queen needed to return to your camp. It was chance that we met again."
"Indeed," Regina grins, thankful he didn't tell them about how he found her with her heart in her hand.
"Okay, so now that we've established that you knew where the river was and still got lost fetching that bucket of water, can we focus on …" Leroy points toward the stuffed animal Roland is holding. "That. If I didn't know better, I'd say it looked an awful lot like a monkey."
Charming's voice is full of disbelief. "A monkey with wings?"
Robin notices as Regina's eye grow wide. "Yes, that's it. That's exactly what it was," she agrees, her voice filled with a dawning comprehension.
"Okay, you look like you've seen them before," Neal says, uneasily as he meets the Regina's eyes.
"That's because we have, in stories and movies back in Storybrooke," Belle defends Regina, which shocks her, and addresses Neal and the rest of the group.
"And if you remember, there's only one land that has creatures like that – Oz."
"Oz?" Snow gives Regina a look of disbelief. "That's real, too?"
"Bookworm is right," Regina glances from Belle to Snow. "It's very real. The question is, 'What are they doing here in the Enchanted Forest?'"
"I believe I can help with that, Milady," Robin interrupts. "Not long before you arrived, my men and I started hearing rumors about a witch terrorizing the land. Now, we're not sure exactly where she's taken up residence, but we thought perhaps she might be at your castle. That's why we offered our services. It's still a month away, which gives us time to come up with a proper strategy. I'm not too keen on the fact that this is twice now, we've been attacked in my forest."
"Flying monkeys. Oz. It must be the Wicked Witch," Regina growls. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I didn't say anything because we still weren't sure if the rumors were true. Yesterday was the first time I laid eyes on a beast such as this, and I wanted to make sure before speculating. Now that you've said it's the Wicked Witch, we can strategize more accordingly."
"We talking east or west?" Leroy asks.
"Does it matter? Neither one sounds good," Snow replies.
"Well, one, you drop a house on. The other, you toss a bucket of water at," Leroy deadpans, earning a reluctant nod from the princess.
"So, Regina, do we even have to ask? What did you do to her?" David accuses.
Robin watches the exchange between the two of them. The accusation in the man's voice bothers Robin greatly, but he remains quiet.
Regina glares at him. "It's nice to know some things never change. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I've never met her."
Charming's eyebrows rise into his hairline. "This isn't a personal vendetta? Shocking. Okay, then, it looks like we'll need to head to your camp anyway, Robin, so we can arm up, and once we have a better idea of what's been going on, we can figure out what this witch really wants."
It's late in the day, when they finally meet Robin's men on the north ridge of the forest a day later. They're all exhausted, unused to walking miles and miles each day having grown accustomed to driving and riding bikes throughout their small town in Maine. Robin gives proper introductions and helps the newcomers set up their tents; he begins to collect kindling for a fire with Roland. Regina watches them from a far.
"Girl," Granny calls to her. "Help me with this, will you?" She motions to the pot she's hefting off the ground.
"Do I look like a servant to you?" Regina purses her lips.
"You look like someone with free hands, now get over here," the old woman demands.
The only person in Storybrooke who'd ever been able to meet every one of Regina's snarky comments with one of her own was Granny. And, she'd never tell her, but she always appreciated it and the way she mothered her.
"It's not like I have anything better to do," Regina quips, stalking over to her, and helps move pots and pans for preparing supper.
Granny drags a brown sack of carrots and potatoes next to the cauldron, pulls out a knife and begins to chop. She nicks her thumb and hisses.
"Give me that," Regina stretches her hand out for the blade. "I don't want your blood anywhere near my food. It's bound to turn us all into man-eating wolves."
Granny chuckles. "I'd have to bite you, and something tells me neither one of us would like that, girl."
Regina glares at her as a smile plays at the corner of her mouth; she sits down, moves her cloak out of the way and begins to peel the skin off potatoes. Thirty minutes later, the brown sack is empty on the floor, and Regina plops the last of the vegetables into the now boiling cauldron of water.
She loves cooking. It wasn't something she'd ever been able to do when she was younger; her mother always said it was beneath her. It wasn't something she'd ever been able to do as Queen; meals were laid out well before she arrived, and she was never allowed in the kitchen. So when she first woke up in Storybrooke, it was one of the first things she taught herself. She learned through experimentation, through studying recipes and honing her skills. Puff pastries stuffed with feta and caramelized onions. Brown butter and sage butternut squash risotto. Layered lasagnas with basil, oregano and garlic. She loves all of it, loves creating things from scratch without the use of magic. She enjoys the rhythm of it, kneading dough with her fingers to make bread, pressing patties together to make Henry's favorite hamburgers, mixing batter for their pancake breakfasts.
Cooking calms and soothes her in ways magic never could, in ways riding never could after Daniel died.
"Well, isn't this lovely. You sure that's such a good idea," a young man sneers, "Letting her cut and peel potatoes. She might poison us. Isn't that your specialty, your majesty?" His words drip with malice.
Regina's gaze meets his. She recognizes him as one of the boys who knocked her out, dragged her back to Robin's camp, and tied her up.
"I prefer to use apples, dear," Regina stands up from where she's sitting on the ground, she brushes dirt off her legs, and rights herself, squaring her shoulders, and Granny watches as her expression twists. She'd been so open and different just moments before, so much more like the young girl she saw on the day King Leopold made Regina his wife.
The boy scoffs. "They believe you've changed, but I know better. You ruin lives, you hurt people," the boy bites, coldly. "It doesn't matter what you do or what you say, you will always be a monster."
"Alec!" Robin shouts, and Regina whirls around to look at him. She didn't hear him walk up behind her. "That's enough."
"No, he's right," Regina laughs darkly. She hasn't stopped hurting people since she became Queen, since she started using magic, and the price she paid for that was her soul, her father, and her son. She didn't need Robin's pity, didn't need him to protect her. She's been doing that just fine on her own.
Regina waves her hand and the cauldron behind her stops boiling. "Dinner's ready," she hisses, pushes past Robin and begins to make her way toward her tent.
"Regina, wait," he grabs her elbow, forcing her to look back at him. "It's not true. I don't believe that. He doesn't know you."
Regina yanks her arm away from his hand; she misses his touch instantly and silently berates herself before shouting that Robin doesn't know her either.
"No, but I would like to," he offers, and again Regina doesn't understand him. Her eyes drift closed, and she pushes him further away from her.
"No, you really wouldn't," she sighs and stalks away. He tries to follow her, but Granny stops him.
"I'll go. You two call the rest for supper," Granny points and, as she walks by Alec, she wallops him in the back of the head. "You idiot."
Granny finds Regina leaning against a tree near her tent. She's facing away from camp, arms wrapped around her, hair falling in light waves down her back.
"He's just trying to help, you know," Granny says, wiping a wooden spoon off on her apron, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, eyes staring at Regina over the metal frames with a knowing look.
Lord, this girl is stubborn, she thinks. But, she knew her, knew the girl Regina used to be right at the beginning of her reign. Not many people do, not many people wanted to look with open eyes during the coronation. They wanted to see the mask, not the truth hiding behind it. Granny first heard about the young commoner, King Leopold proposed to, when she was in the market buying flour and arrows. Townsfolk whispered about it for days. A new queen, one of their own. No one mentioned she was only 17 – only a few years older than her Ruby, a few years older than Snow – the king almost three times her age.
"I don't want his help," Regina whines, "And, shouldn't you be more concerned about your granddaughter and Whale? I'm surprised this camp isn't already overrun by a litter."
Granny snorts. "You've grown, you know," she ignores Regina's snarky remark and keeps talking. "That boy back there, the Evil Queen I used to know, she wouldn't have flinched the way you did."
"No, she'd have killed him, and if he –"
"Exactly. He'd be dead; she'd have broken his neck or turned him into a cockroach and crushed him with the heel of her boot without even thinking. She wouldn't have walked away. You did. That means something, Regina."
"It doesn't mean anything."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Granny objects, pops her knuckles and rolls her head to the side to crack her neck. "I'd say it means a lot, especially to that boy who doesn't know what the real Evil Queen looks like."
"Good thing I made the cricket our town therapist. You're terrible at this," Regina retorts. "Stick to serving coffee, you're good at that."
"And, you're good at pushing people away, girl. Even when, all they want to do is help you. Don't make the same mistakes, Regina," Granny pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "Now, when you're done sulking, you can come back to the fire."
"You're giving me orders now?" Regina snaps.
"Just advice, girl. Take it or leave it."
Supper is more of a celebration than anything else, an excuse for Robin's men to dance and drink and do what they do best – be merry. Ale and meat and potatoes are passed around on small wooden plates. Food and drink are consumed, laughter is heard round camp, and everyone seems to be getting along. Even Regina appears to be having a relatively good time. It's not very obvious, the way she sits still on her section of log, knees together, back straight and hair pulled over her shoulder, but Robin sees the corners of her mouth inching up a little here and there until she finally excuses herself and walks off into the forest. He doesn't think she'll go far, probably just enough to clear her head. By now, many either passed out around the fire or turned in for the night.
Roland yawns in Robin's lap, his little fists clinging to his papa's shirt. There are only a few of them around the fire now, conversations low and not about anything particularly intriguing. Crickets and night frogs chirp in the distance and an owl or two hoot back and forth.
"Well, I think it's someone's bed time," Robin whispers, rubbing his thumb up and down his son's cheek. "What do you think, my boy?"
"Not yet, Papa," Roland mumbles, trying to stifle another yawn. "I not that tired."
"Hmm, I beg to differ," Robin's voice is husky and soothes his weary child. He stands, shifting Roland's little body in his arms so he can hold him more securely. "Come on."
It doesn't take any convincing. Years of putting his boy to sleep has taught him how to rock him ever so slightly, how to bounce a little on his heels, how to soothe with his voice. Moments like these are Robin's favorite, getting to carry Roland in his arms after a long day until his eyes drift closed and the land of dreams takes him. It's in these moments, he hauls Roland up and lays his tiny head on his shoulder. His boy usually sucks him thumb, murmurs a few words so softly he can't understand them, and snuggles closer into his papa's warm embrace.
Robin kneels beside the bed he shares with his lad, pulls back the covers with one hand, and tucks him in safely. He's about to leave, when Roland quietly says, "wait, Papa."
"What is Roland? It's time for you to sleep now, my boy," Robin crouches beside him.
"Mhm," Roland sighs, his eyes closed, he yawns and points. "'Gina," he says.
A line creases on Robin's brown. "What?"
"Fowers, for 'Gina," Roland points again to the tiny table in their tent. "Can you give them to her, Papa? Say fank you. Twied to stay up and give dem to her," the tiny tot yawns, "Can you fank 'Gina for Mo Mo and for saving me?" Roland hugs the stuffed, little monkey Regina conjured for him and says, "Luv you, Papa."
"I love you, too, my boy."
Robin leaves their tent with the small bundle of flowers in his hand. He walks to the fire and kneels down in front of the campfire in the dark stillness of the forest. Robin stares for a long moment into the glowing embers, while thumbing the petals in his hand. Then, after a quick shake of his head, he turns, picks up a couple of logs and tosses them into the pit. He watches, almost mesmerized, as the flames lick around the thick branches. The bark-covering curls in the intense heat, the edges burn brilliant red, while small pockets of air pop and spit sparks into the surrounding darkness.
"What's with the flowers?" Little John inquires curiously.
"Roland picked them for Regina," Robin clears his throat. "For the Queen. He asked me to give them to her as a thank you."
Each flying ember reminds him of a miniature fireball, and he's suddenly assailed by his vivid memory of Regina by the river, broken and moments away from burying her heart. He's been trying to convince himself that he intervened only to help save her from herself, but Robin knows better. He felt drawn to that side of the forest that morning, pulled from sleep by something far more bewitching at work, something that caused him to rise before everyone else in his camp. He could still picture the sorrow in her eyes – the unadulterated heartbreak – and the sound of her sobs as she looked toward the heavens and pulled the beating heart from her chest. In that moment, Robin's breath left him, and he moved as if it was not of his own volition, as if his life depending upon saving her.
"Robin, be careful. I know what you're doing, trying to rationalize why you should help her, but –"
"But, what? John. You didn't see her out there in the woods by herself. You didn't see the look in her eyes," Robin argues. "It's not something one easily forgets."
A frown mars his face as he recalls that moment from almost a week ago. Regina's words had just been so typical of a royal, and yet he saw the way her tears flowed despite the threats and insults she threw his way. He saw the pain and anger in her eyes, heard the hopelessness in her voice. He stood there before her, captivated by her beauty and her shattered spirit. He listened to what she was shouting and tuned into what she left unsaid. For him it had been a moment of profound realization – the first time that he'd consciously acknowledged just how deeply heartbroken the Evil Queen really was. A moment of awareness that was both stunning and painful in its intensity, because he knew then that her grief wasn't recent. No, it was deeper and hidden behind a mask she used as a shield. A shield that protected her from unseeing eyes and cruelty, but it didn't protect her from him.
Taking a deep breath, Robin drags his eyes away from the dancing flames and his gaze drifts across the camp. He catches a glimpse of her as she walks behind rows of tents. Her arms are crossed in front of her, holding her cloak tightly to her. He notices she does that when she's uncomfortable. She did it on the road while talking to Snow, did it again when talking to Roland. He sighs, tilting his head back, he looks up at the blanket of stars twinkling in the night sky and tries to let their beauty ease his mind. It's not working. Quieting his thoughts for a moment, he searches the heavens. This novel vantage point gives him a unique point of view, and he wipes his hand over his face at the foolish idea running through his head.
While Robin tries to rein in his galloping heartbeat and regain some measure of control, his eyes drift down the line to Regina's tent as she disappears into it. He hates that she was affected by Alec's idiotic remarks, wishes she thought more highly of herself, but obviously she doesn't. It shows in the way she does or doesn't take care of herself, lets wounds fester and the words of others sting.
"Uhhh," Robin groans, making up his mind. He pushes himself to his feet and consciously reminds himself to inhale and exhale. Unable to drag his eyes away from his destination, he speaks in a gruff whisper to his friend across from him. "John, please listen for Roland."
John's brow furrows as he looks toward Robin's tent where he knows the toddler sleeps. "Where are you going?"
"I need to speak with the Queen," Robin answers.
John's lips press sternly together in what Robin knows is an attempt to keep his thoughts to himself, but his mate immediately follows with a response. "Just remember who she is."
Robin's burns with something he hasn't felt in a very long time and honestly answers his second in command. "She is the woman who saved my son. Never forget that, my friend. For I certainly never will."
He didn't meant to hurt her, but he knows he did. He was so caught up in helping and making room for their new guests in their camp that he hadn't really considered the opinions of his men and how having the Evil Queen share living space with them would make them feel. He misjudged the animosity still plaguing some of their minds – pure and simple. After Alec's comments when he tried to stop Regina from leaving, he saw anger flash in her eyes, and he knows she has every right to be angry with him. Maybe not so much with words, but mostly in his relentless persistence to try and make this work. She hadn't liked the way he tried to defend her, and now he felt like he owed her an apology.
Robin glances around the mostly sleeping camp. He wishes it was earlier in the evening, because he doesn't want to wake her if she's already in bed, but he made a promise to Roland. Standing outside her tent, he calls out to her softly.
"Milady? Are you still awake?" Robin asks, he hears her mumble back a response, bites his bottom lip between his teeth, and steps into her quarters.
"Thief, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Regina sits on her bedroll with a single candle for light. One of her hands is combing a brush through her hair, while the other holds a cup of tea.
"Pleasure?" he muses. "I…" He steps forward and lets the tent flap close behind him. "I thought... I have something for you. Is this a good time?"
She clicks her tongue and chuckles. "I'm not even sure what that means anymore. Why don't you just say what you came here to say."
Rubbing his hand across his mouth, he sighs deeply and nods. "Alright, well I'm here for two reasons. One, I need to apologize. I understand you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, and I'm sorry if I keep getting in your way it's just… well, for the life of me, I can't figure out why, but I care about you."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better? Some half assed apology for a feeling you don't understand?" Regina looks down at the cup in her hand, the brush forgotten at her side.
"Ugh, no, that's not what I meant. I just meant that…" Robin sighs, "This isn't coming out as eloquently as I imagined. So I'm just going to offer you my apologies and say I do care about you."
A small smile brightens her face and her shoulders shake with a silent chuckle. She enjoys make him squirm. "Apology accepted."
He narrows his eyes. "You're laughing at me?"
"Nooo, I just find it hard to believe that you actually care, we've only just met."
"You seem to have a problem with that. Believing in people."
She hums her agreement. "So it seems. The second?"
"Second?" Shaking his head, he clears his throat, "Oh, right, these are for you?"
He brings his arm out from behind his back and holds out a bouquet of wild flowers. She studies him for a moment, and then, reaching out, she begins to ask, "What…"
"They're not from me, Milady," he corrects, the flowers still in his hand. "They're from Roland. He wanted you to have those for the toy. As a thank you. Poor lad tried to stay up and wait for you, but it got rather late."
Regina takes a shaky breath. "I don't know what to say."
"That'll be a first." His eyes flicker to her, and she raises her eyebrows.
"Excuse me?"
Holding up his hand, he assures with a smile, "A jest, your majesty."
Regina sets her cup down, and extends her hand to take the little bouquet.
When the petals touch her fingers, Robin says, "Let's make a pact, you and I."
"About what?"
"Friendship," He smiles.
Hesitantly, she questions, "friendship?"
Robin kneels down beside her and takes her free hand in his. "Believe me, when I say I trust you and that I believe in you. I may not know much about you, Regina, but I know above all else that you are a strong, confident woman. You prefer the quietness of solitude. But I also know that you are hurting, very much. It pains me to see it. I offer you my friendship, Milady."
She looks down at their clasped hands and notices that his gaze follows hers.
He squeezes her hand and strokes his thumb across her knuckles. "I bid you goodnight, Regina."
From his simple touch, warmth spreads to her cheeks and steals her breath away. She finds that she doesn't want to let go of him, and, for just this once, she decides not to. Squeezing his fingers back, she begins, "I…"
Softly, he interrupts, "I know how hard this must be for you. Not just being the queen, but trying to blend a bunch of rogues into the ranks of thieves while battling flying beasts and a wicked witch. I want you to know that you're not alone. I'm with you every step of the way."
She meets his eyes and her heart melts at the sincerity and loyalty she see there. "You're a remarkable man, Robin. For a thief that is."
"Thank you." He squeezes her hand again and in a lighter tone suggests, "What do you say to perhaps a walk with Roland and I tomorrow?"
"You're pushing your luck, thief," Regina states, looking down at the flowers in her hand, "But, I'd like that. Not for you. For Roland."
"I'll take what I can get, Milady." He brings her hand up to his lips and places a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "Goodnight, Regina."
"Goodnight." She retracts her hand and gives him a bemused smile as he turns and leaves.
As she tries to fall asleep later that night, she rubs her knuckles where his lips had brushed across her hand. They tingle, and she chuckles at the brief notion that she might not want to wash her hand tomorrow. The evening definitely didn't turn out how she expected.
Disclaimer: not mine