AN: Following the wise advice of my lovely beta, Hayley (htoria on tumblr) and splitting this chapter into two. I'd be lost without her. She's amazing, you guys. The second part will be posted in the morning. A lot happens here. I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for your patience and happy reading.
The Tavern and Going Home
The spell leads Regina, Robin and their small company further into the forest than they imagined it would. Deep, deep and deeper still, over babbling brooks and through the thickest of the woods, bordering the Badlands, an area Robin and his men would normally avoid at all costs, but they've no choice. Regina's tracking spell leads them dangerously close to it. As the sun begins setting, they still haven't reached their final destination (nor do they know where this journey will lead them) and everyone is exhausted. Regina feels the fatigue down to her bones; eyes stinging, muscles aching, and she should stop, she knows if she tells Robin she's tired he'd halt the entire party immediately. But she's stubborn, strong-willed and simply refuses to admit she's ready to collapse for the evening and sleep until sun up. Countless women have been pregnant before, countless will be again without fuss. She'll make no exception. Mercifully, she doesn't have to focus on the way her body is protesting for much longer; Alan grumbles about sore feet and supper, and they stop, make camp and rest for the night, wishing they'd brought horses, but there's nothing they can do about that now. They didn't want to draw a lot of attention to themselves anyway, traveling by foot was necessary, even if it is cumbersome.
John and Tuck prep a quick, easy meal – stew with ingredients packed for them by Widow Lucas. Carrots, onions, a few potatoes in a rucksack. It isn't as hardy as any of them would like, but it's enough, fills their bellies and gives them the energy they'll need for the continued journey tomorrow. Twice, Robin offers Regina his food, wanting to ensure she's cared for and well-fed, and looks very much like he's prepared for an argument when she refuses to take his share of the food but thankfully stays silent. She's still weary of anyone finding out about their baby.
She excuses herself shortly after supper, moseys on over to the tent she's sharing with Robin and ducks in. The others don't see her for the rest of the night.
She's lounging in a bed of furs when he joins her a while later, has pulled the pins from her hair so it loses its elaborate updo and changed from her traveling clothes into a gown simple enough for sleeping. There are bags under her eyes, and even in the dim candlelight, he can see that she's not feeling her best. He wants to tell her not to push herself, wants to tell her to take it easy, to say when she's tired or needs a break, but he knows she's already well aware of the fact that she needs to do those things. She's just being her usual stubborn self, so instead of chastising her like a child (which she most certainly is not), he eases himself behind her and starts massaging tension out of her clearly fatigued neck and shoulders. If she were ever in serious discomfort, he trusts her enough to decide for herself when enough is enough. She gave him her word, and he believes she'll do as she said.
"Mmm," she leans further into his kneading fingers and lets her head loll to the side as he brushes her hair away from the nape of her neck. "That feels nice. Thank you."
He kisses a bit of skin along the column of her throat and continues massaging. "Better?" He asks, inching her nightgown down off both her shoulders and rubbing his hands together to warm them further so he can work at the knots in her upper back.
"You've no idea," she groans, hand gripping his thigh and thumb rubbing over his trousers. They're worn and dirty from a hard days travel, but she pays no mind, and neither does he – he'll change after he's made sure she's alright. He wants to make sure she's comfortable, having seen the way her back stiffened with each mile they put between them and the castle behind them. Regina moans the more he moves his fingers, the more he plies her skin, relaxing her as he eases out tension. Her palm eases its way over her still fairly flat stomach and she moans again, but it isn't that same pleasant sound that escaped her earlier. This one is full of discomfort and annoyance.
Robin immediately stops what he's doing, skates his hands away from the knot and below her neck down her arms. "Regina?" He questions, worry in his voice. "You alright, love?
She nods, swallowing audibly. "Fine. Just–" she pauses and then leans back, resting against his chest and angling her face toward him. Regina smiles and then shakes her head. "I'm fine. It's the–" but at the slight panic in his eyes, she breathes and quickly adds, "We're both fine. I'm just nauseous."
They sit there in silence for a while, Robin gently rubbing circles on her belly, his own attempt at soothing her nausea, while Regina steadies her breathing, reveling in how safe and warm she feels when she's with him, enjoying this moment because she knows that sooner or later something will happen to shatter her happiness – the way that it always does.
"I thought something might have been wrong," he admits, never faltering in the motion of his hand as his palm slides in circles over the fabric of her gown, rumpling the material in a way that would – were she wearing anything more regal – have her scolding him for ruining her clothes. It helps, soothes the same way his voices does, and they talk until her eyelids get heavy with sleep. Robin thinks of Roland back at the castle as her body falls heavier against his chest, wonders what his boy has been up to, whether or not he's listened and stayed away from the sweets Granny Lucas was baking for Snow and Charming. Regina thinks of Henry as sleep pulls her in, of him somewhere back in the land without magic, of what he's doing and whether he's happy; he might not remember her, and that might kill her every second of everyday, but she hopes with all her heart that he's happy.
They fall asleep in each other's arms, snuggled close together, Robin unchanged and uncaring, both missing their children with dull aches in their hearts, and no way to soothe it.
The morning comes quicker than either of them appreciates, and after what Robin would consider the lousiest breakfast he's ever had the misfortune of eating, Regina re-enacts the locator spell for their party to pick up where they left off last night. The journey is every bit as tedious as the previous night, and by midday, they are breaking through a tree line. An overgrown mess of sharp, dense thorny vines, twisting like skeletal fingers that snare their clothes and scratch their arms as they carve their way through to discover an uneven, dirt path.
He recognises it instantly, feels a tug at his heartstrings as remorse overwhelms him. The road has changed, the trees now unkempt and overgrown, the landscape altered in the years it's been since he last made his way through these parts – but there is no mistaking it.
Robin is home.
As they step onto a meager, wooden bridge over a little creek, he stops and searches for a familiar etching. His gaze travels over the third post, and there it is. He reaches out and rubs his fingertips over the initials – R.L. – carved into one of the beams. His fingers move a few inches to the left and trace over the lines of two more letters. Letters that have bile rising up in the back of his throat.
A.L.
"Robin?" Regina asks, coming up to stand next to him. The vial still floating in the air in front of her, pausing at her command. "What is that?"
He looks at the carving for a second longer, lost in memories of a different time, and then says, "I did this when I was just a boy. With Andrew." A bitter smile weakly makes its way onto his face. "I haven't been here in years."
Much and John give each other a knowing look, and then wait as Robin finishes with, "I grew up here."
His men know about his past, his upbringing, the childhood that led him to join King Richard's army and then the atrocities he witnessed that made him question honor and duty. Atrocities that then led him to poor choices until he and the Merry Men found each other. They all have sordid pasts, their main reason for creating their own vows, their own code of honor and conduct. The theft came later.
"This is your home?" Regina quickly replies, eyes darting to his. Questions bombard her mind and she goes somewhat on the defensive.
Was the person who tried to poison them targeting Robin all along? Does someone want him dead? If so, who? Who did this? And how did they get into the castle? Now more than ever, she needs to know who's responsible. If someone is after her family, she'll make them wish they were never born.
Her family.
It still rocks her when she thinks about what breaking the curse stole away from her. A lifetime with her son, with Henry, tucking him in at night, reading to him while he's still young enough that he wants her to, dropping him off at the bus stop, spending Saturday mornings in their pajamas and just being together, loving him, comforting him, keeping him safe. A fool's paradise ripped from her grasp by a curse she knew the consequences of all too well. The guilt that sits in her gut is ever present, makes her question whether the constant nausea has anything to do with her pregnancy and everything to do with the fact she's growing a new child and nurturing another - Roland - after abandoning her own. Guilt. Heavy and unrelenting, and does she feel it because she's not with Henry? Or does she feel it because she's not embracing this second chance, this new family she's been given?
Her eyes settle back on Robin a second later, the thoughts ever present in her mind being pushed away as he nods slowly, but then almost waking from a trance, he hastily shakes his head. "No, it's not my home," not anymore, he asserts, removing his hand from the beam as if he's been burned. "It hasn't been for a very long time."
Not since his mother died, he thinks. Not since he lost his brother. Not since their father abandoned them. Not since he, himself, left to try and take hold of his fate and do what he thought was right, just and honorable. Robin chuckles darkly, getting lost in his past for a moment, thinking about his young, adolescent self – a naïve, foolish and pigheaded lad with a temper and misplaced trust in a brother he thought would never abandon him.
"Come on," he finally breaks the silence that's washed over their group and directs their attention back to the spelled vial. "We must be close. Village center is just a mile more."
Regina frowns but doesn't prod any further. Being here bothers him. That much is clear. They've talked little about his childhood save for what he briefly told her the other night about his brother and father. She wants to be there for him, the way he is for her, and in a moment of genuine concern, she places her hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze, unconcerned with the Merry Men standing around them. If they see the public display of support then so be it. By now, she's well aware that they know she and Robin are together. She's just happy they haven't drawn attention to it, don't bother pestering her or Robin (as far as she knows) with questions. They leave them be and don't mention it, which is more than she can say for Snow or David who are constantly asking her how she's doing (even though she knows what they really mean to pry out of her are details about what's going on between her and Robin).
The Merry Men are not blind. She knows this, knows they've seen her playing with him and his son, knows they saw her come out of his tent late at night while they were still traveling to the castle months before, knows they are privy to the fact that Robin is sharing her room. They just don't actually know how serious it is. They know she loves him, and that he must love her, after all, she did break the curse of Living Death upon him. Hard to deny True Love after a shared True Love's kiss. However, they don't know that she's pregnant, and she'd very much like to keep it that way, at least until she's further along. She likely won't carry to term (really she's still terrified she'll miscarry, that another glimmer of happiness will be marred, tainted, destroyed by tragedy), and she doesn't need the added stress of a fretting and doting Snow. She's already stressed enough as it is without the President of the Hope Commission breathing down her neck.
"Your Majesty?" Much prompts, pulling her out of her thoughts. He's pointing toward the road in front of them. She looks at him slightly dazed, so he says again, "Regina, shall we? I don't know 'bout you, but I'd like to catch the bloke who did this and head back to the castle as soon as possible."
She rolls her eyes but grins as she strides forward. "Anything to keep you from whining like a child, Much."
The men laugh, Robin even smirks a bit, and they make their way down the path, unaware that what awaits them is more than just one bloke out for revenge.
The spell stops outside a run-down tavern – one with which Robin is quite familiar. He and his brother used to frequent it rather often to check in on their father.
He puts his hand on the door, aged wood rough on his calloused palm, and then turns his head to give directions. They need some sort of plan, even though now that they're here he realizes how foolish this might have been. They're a company of six, a decent number, but he has no idea what awaits them on the other side of this door. He's not one to enter an establishment ill-prepared when keen on tracking down an enemy.
Robin meets Regina's gaze, and she seems to know what he's thinking. Whether plundering Maleficent's castle, breaking into King George's royal treasury or robbing the carriages of lords and ladies as they passed through Sherwood Forest, he and his men have always had some semblance of a plan. She tilts her head to the side and a line forms on her brow.
Yes, he thought as much.
She doesn't want to turn back, and truthfully, neither does he – no matter how cautious he wants to be. Roland could've just as easily eaten that porridge, could've easily been ripped away and lost to him forever, and for that matter, so could've Regina and their unborn child.
He cannot allow an attack on his family to come so close to home.
Not again.
It's with a newfound certainty that Robin says, "John and Tuck, go to the back entrance. We need to cover all escape routes." He nods at Much and Alan. "You two cover the front. Regina and I'll go in. We don't know what to expect or what we'll find. So if anything happens–"
"We'll cover your backs. Don't you worry about that," John replies, and the others are in agreement. "We're a team. We take care of each other, Robin."
He chuckles humorlessly and drags his hand down his face. "No further need for speeches or valiant pep talks, then." They've been through worse, he knows this; this is just them following through on a location spell. Or so they think.
Robin forces a grin at his men, and Regina smirks a little at their camaraderie. He looks her up and down, thankful she's wearing less conspicuous clothing – brown riding boots and black riding pants, a beige tunic (it's loose around her stomach but belted at her hips) and a deep blue gray cloak. They're a kingdom over from hers, in a domain ruled (or at least it was before the curse) by King Richard. Not many will recognize her on sight, not in these garments, but her face is still one that enough people might know. She was – is – after all, a notorious monarch. He steps into her space, close enough that she can feel his breath on her cheek as he reaches behind her and pulls the hood of her cloak up and over her head, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as he does so. He cups her cheek, brushes his thumb along her jaw; and Regina catches his hand reassuringly as it leaves the warmth of her skin and smiles at him.
"Alright," Robin finally breathes, turning around to push open the door. "Let's find out who attacked our home."
The tavern is dank, dimly lit and crowded; the dirt floor poorly covered by straw. Men and wenches laugh boisterously, knocking back pint after pint of cheap, watered-down ale, telling lewd jokes, and some of them are disgustingly drunk and overly fed.
Clearly, a room full of society's finest patrons.
A few casks line the wall behind the bar counter; messy bowls and plates are piled up there. Regina and Robin comb the crowd, slowly walking along the edge of the wall, staying in the shadows for the most part, trying not to draw too much unwanted attention to themselves. It can't all be avoided. They know that. As soon as either one of them spots the culprit, Robin has a feeling that neither of them will be able to hold back. Though, he thinks he'll probably fare better than Regina ... her temper usually gets the better of her, and as endearing as he may find that from time to time, he knows it will bring nothing but trouble if she blows her top when they're at a disadvantage.
Their eyes dart from face to face, looking for anyone familiar, anyone they've seen before until–
"Robin." Regina stills him with a hand on his shoulder and he follows her gaze. A lad sits across the room at a corner table, and they both instantly recognize him. Anger immediately ignites in Robin's gut and he crosses the gap separating them with the agility of a hunter.
He was wrong. It will not be Regina's temper that gets them into trouble.
The boy looks up just as Robin reaches him, eyes wide and startled, but he doesn't have time to scurry away. Only has time for a yelp to leave his mouth as his former leader grabs him by the collar, lifting him up from the bench with brute strength, and crashes his back against the wall behind him. It knocks the wind out of the boy's lungs and a harsh oomph careens out of his mouth.
"Alec," Robin bites; his swiftness and the lad's scuffling feet kicking at the ground draw the attention of a few men nearby. But their curious gazes don't bother Robin, he only sees red, only sees Alec and the way he cursed Regina's name and helped Jakan tie her up all those months ago. He sees red and the attack on his family. He sees red and everything else blurs into the background.
"Where's your mate?" He bites, because he knows Alec isn't a leader, doesn't have the courage or the wits to carry out yet alone think of a plan by himself that involves casualties, some likely very innocent.
He sees red.
"I– I don't know what–" Alec tries, but Robin cuts him off, places a slight pressure against his windpipe with his forearm.
"Don't lie to me, Alec. I know what you did, that it was you who tried to poison us. And I also know you didn't do it alone. So tell me. Where. Is. Jakan?"
Regina has never seen Robin like this before. Never been witness to the dark side that he's told her about, but now she can see how he might think it's there, waiting below the surface. Only, all she sees is a man protecting his family. A father protecting his children. A leader protecting his people.
The lad struggles against Robin's hold, fear paralyzing him the way a rodent is paralyzed under a viper's gaze. He shakes his head and Robin eases up a bit on his throat. He wants to scare the boy into confessing, he doesn't want to actually cause permanent harm. "No, no– it wasn't me– I–I didn't–" Alec stutters, still foolishly denying what Robin already knows to be true.
This approach isn't working, so Robin attempts a different one.
"You've an opportunity to redeem yourself," he sighs, lets up even more on his grip so that Alec can at least stand without his back digging into the rock and wood of the wall; he lets up his grip so Alec will see that he's serious. "I know you didn't act alone," he continues, and Regina sneers, This child doesn't have a magical bone in his body. He has to be allied with someone else, before Robin goes further with, "So tell me, who gave you that potion? At whose behest are you working?"
"Please," Alec begs, his eyes darting around. "Don't make me tell you. She'll kill me. They both will."
"No, I promise, we'll protect you. It doesn't have to be like this, Alec." And Robin means it, he does. The lad is clearly afraid of someone, afraid enough that he snuck into the castle and did the unthinkable.
"You can't promise me that. How do you think I got in? It's not safe. No one is. She sees everything, and he– he won't forgive me. He'll gut me if I talk."
"You've already talked," Regina says, and her eyes soften a bit. He's just a petrified child, a teenager. He has acne and grime all over his face. His arms are lanky, posture poor, shirt untucked, laces undone. He's a mess. And if she were … well, if she were anything like how she used to be, she'd have used him as well. He's afraid, and fear gives people like her power. She knows all too well that fear can be used as a tool for manipulation, makes even the brawniest of men do things, follow commands under duress. A boy of Alec's age? If he's being coerced the way she thinks he is, he doesn't have a choice. "Alec, where did you get the draught? Who made it?"
"Is it the Wicked Witch? Did she put you up to this?" Robin whispers, because that's the only thing he can think of, that's the only person who's threatened them lately. But Alec shakes his head and Robin demands, "Then who? Why'd they do this? Who was their target?"
Regina can see that he's about to break, and the hopelessness in his eyes reminds her of something Emma said long ago in Neverland. Something about the lost boys and what she saw whenever she looked at them. And that's when it hits her. What does every child ultimately want? A home. He just wants to feel safe. "Alec, if you tell us who they were after, whoever this person or persons are," she takes a step closer to him, "We'll figure something out. We'll bring you back with us. You'll be safe." That's all she can promise him, because they'll still need to discuss his punishment. They still need to figure out if he's a real threat.
Alec meets her steady gaze. "It was you," he mutters. "Jakan … he took the potion from the crone. She … it was supposed to kill you."
"What crone?" Robin demands, combing through possible suspects, all the vagrants and witches he's come across or heard about over the years. "Did she tell him to do this? What's their motive?" Robin asks, hands still holding him by the collar of his shirt but not as tightly as before.
"No, she didn't know. He stole it … he said …" And then Alec stares at Regina with this knowing look in his eyes, and she takes a step back.
"His village," she says matter a factly, no question in her voice because she already knows what comes next. Alec told her she'd annihilated Jakan's village during her more erratic days as the Great and Terrible Evil Queen shortly before he abandoned their company and parted ways.
Alec nods, and then he's searching around for someone else's attention again, but the patrons are back to drinking their ale. Too busy getting drunk to mind what's happening with strangers. For all they know, this chap might owe Robin a few gold coins or is a runaway serf. Either way, the matter is no concern of theirs. That is, it isn't, until Jakan comes trolloping down the stairs to their right.
Everything after that happens quickly.
Jakan and Robin make eye contact, Alec shouts for his help, and Jakan shows his true colors by trying to bolt, rushing toward the back door, toppling over a few chairs on his way that clatter on the ground noisily, but he's stopped by an invisible force that seizes him around the neck.
And that's when the rest of the tavern riles up, when ale is finally forgotten, benches scrape roughly against the ground, something breaks as it crashes on the floor and Robin hears the shing of steel against scabbards as swords are drawn. He turns to see what each man is gazing at, but he already knows what he'll find behind him, can feel it in the pit of his stomach as every hair on his body stands on ends as if the air is live with energy. It makes him shiver, makes his muscles tense and every fiber of his being shout Get out! Get her out of here! Get out!
But it's too late for that.
Regina stands fierce and menacingly with her arm outstretched, her eyes wide and chillingly dark. There's a snarl on her face, a hard unforgiving thing that he and every other man and woman can see clear as day because the hood of her cloak is no longer shielding her face. No longer protecting her identity from beady, untoward glances, because it fell in her hurry to freeze Jakan on the spot. Hair let loose in long waves down her back, strands of it lightly lifting away from her cheeks, clinging to static that's ebbing off of her in short pulses. The magic may have first grabbed the attention of each criminal or war monger or petty thief or whoever else may be in here, but by the hard-lined expressions on their faces, Robin knows that no amount of common clothes could prevent these people from realizing who the woman is that stands in the center of the tavern.
Because they recognize her.
"Well, well, well men. Look what we have here," a sturdy bloke grumbles, getting up from a wooden bench. It scratches against the dirt floor as he pushes it away from the table. He drunkenly wavers on his feet for a moment, catching his balance on the shoulder of a fellow upright beside him and taking another generous gulp of his tankard of ale. He slams it down, a bit of froth splashes out and two more men join ranks next to him, each dressed in worn black garments and dull maille. They were soldiers at one point. That much Robin can tell, but by the looks of the holes in their clothes and their unkempt appearance, they're either disgraced or have long ago abandoned their posts. "It's been quite some time since we've laid eyes on our great Evil Queen," the man sneers, and Robin doesn't like the way he's eyeing Regina. He's got a jagged scar across his face that's slashed over his right cheek from the bridge of his nose to his ear. He's not the biggest man, but he's all muscle and gut; gut most likely from one too many a pint and provisions. He's raking his eyes over Regina's body from head to toe and lingering in between far more than Robin would care to have anyone look at her or any woman for that matter in such a disgusting way. But it's not just any woman.
It's Regina. The Queen. His Queen. His love. And these men not only recognize her, they know her, know exactly who she is.
Fuck.
They're in a vulnerable position with more men standing by the minute; they'll need to let Alec and Jakan go. They're too outnumbered.
"Regina," Robin utters, spinning himself and Alec around so he can fully look at her. They need to get out of here, preferably alive and the longer they stay here, the longer they do nothing, the more likely these men with crazy, hungry eyes are to realize (they're outnumbered, even with the Merry Men outside) they're alone. He says her name a little bit louder, loud enough that two men look up at him and evilly grin, stepping closer, circling them like prey. But she still doesn't respond. He raises his voice a bit with another, more stern Regina! And it's with enough urgency that she shouts back.
"I know!" And then she glances at him apologetically, eyes blinking in awareness, her anger not meant for him. Magic still ebs off of her in waves, small purple pulses, a rhythmic thrumming that he's never seen before. "I know," she says a second time. And she does. She knows she has to let Jakan go, but there's a part of her that's been internally warring against another part of herself for the last few minutes.
It's the part that very badly wants to jerk her wrist as she used to and snap Jakan's neck. The part that remembers he frightened Roland all those months before. The part that can't forget the way he hit her over the head and tied her up to a pole. The part of her that remembers what revenge tastes like – sweet and familiar, slides down her throat with more ease than hot honey. It's intoxicating – the way darkness opens its arms and welcomes, beckons her in with warm tendrils. But revenge isn't the only thing that tastes sweet. Poison does as well, and Regina isn't the same person anymore (even if the darkness misses her and the delicious things they've done together; she doesn't miss it) despite how much she wants to kill this boy for almost costing her her soul mate and endangering her people – yes, her people, because as annoying as Snow and David and everyone else can be, they're still hers and they're all she has left.
And it's that part of herself – the part that can't tighten her magical grip and squeeze until this … victim, boy, child's face turns blue – it's that part and Jakan's terrified face, his panic-ridden eyes and words ringing in her head that save him.
She killed my parents. She slaughtered my whole village. She's a monster.
Tears sting and blur her vision. In anger, in frustration, in sadness? She's not sure. Maybe it's a combination of all three, because with a startling sucker punch to her chest, she realizes that in Jakan's story – in this boy's story, in his life – she murdered his family, massacred his village, lit the whole thing aflame and let it char and burn to the ground. She stole parents away from their child. She … a single tear slips down her cheek … she's done exactly what she accused Snow of doing when she was only 10-years-old. Only Snow's intent – though Regina could never admit it until now – wasn't malicious. Naive? Yes. A little bit selfish? Probably. But malicious? No. The only monster here is … herself.
She ruined Jakan's life.
She stole a mother away from her child, robbed them of a future together. A child just as innocent as the one growing inside of her, and now because of that, because of her anger and blind revenge, that child has grown into a young man ready to reciprocate, ready to kill without thinking. She may not have done to Jakan exactly what Rumple or her mother did to her, but it's the horrendous things she did without thinking of the consequences that put him on a course of bitterness and revenge. A revenge that almost cost her Robin.
She is the villain here. Not him. It may have been clouded by vengeance, but he was just doing what he thought was right – taking out the Evil Queen before she could hurt anyone else.
"Regina," Robin urges, oblivious to the internal struggle he's just pulled her out of and back to the present. He lets Alec go, pushes him toward the door; and terrified of what's going to happen next, wanting to live another day, the boy stumbles over his feet, doesn't second guess his release as he runs out of the tavern, leaving his friend behind.
Regina breathes in and out, in and out, and then meets Jakan's gaze. His eyes are still steely, jaw set and teeth clenched, features hardened, but she can see what he's trying desperately to hide. The fear. The possible regret. It's been weeks since their failed attempt on her life so it's very likely that word has spread even to this village about the people who weren't so lucky, about the commoners who died at the hands of sorcery. She imagines that Jakan's warring emotions match her own, because she's familiar; she knows what that feels like (Snow and David had been ready to execute her in what seems like a lifetime ago, and, in many ways, it is); she knows the bitter taste of remorse, recognizes a piece of herself reflected in this teenager's eyes. She did this. She put the fear there; he may have been responsible for his choices after, but she's the one who ruined his life in the first place.
Evil isn't born. It's made.
And she made him. Regina releases her hold on Jakan, her shoulders clearly sagging, and takes an uneasy step back. Jakan coughs, slumps to the ground, hand coming up to massage his throat while his other fist props him up out of the dirt. He looks up at Regina, his expression unreadable, and then he scurries toward the door and runs as well.
They'll need to figure out who the boys are working for another time.
Robin approaches her slowly, bow already pried from its place at his back and in his hands where it belongs, grabbing two arrows and ripping the fletching off one side of each with his teeth before notching them. He stands with his back to hers and whispers, "What's the likelihood that we can take them all between the two of us? Those fireballs you're so fond of and my arrows?" He asks, with a smirk on his lips. The cheeky bastard. No amount of sarcasm or playfulness is going to make this easier, and he's well aware, which is why he's been counting how many men surround them ever since swords were unsheathed.
But Regina doesn't have a chance to answer his question, nor does she have time to keep thinking about Jakan, even though the revelation has shaken her, left her mind reeling and her body quivering like she's in some sort of post traumatic stress fit. She angles her head to look at Robin and tries to reply, but the sturdy bloke from before chuckles darkly and beats her to it. "Not very likely, I'd say," he spits, spinning his blade in his hand so light beaming in through a window glints off the steel. "Shall you tell him, Your Majesty? Or shall I?"
Regina grits her teeth and ignores his question, choosing instead to respond to annoyance in her usual fashion. Which really, why poke a hive when it's already provoked? But she's never been one to sugar coat words or mend fences. So she does what she always does and says, "I see you're still a soiled drunk, Audric."
He glares at her and the remark does nothing to dampen the upper hand he knows he and his men have. "I'm not one of your Black Knights anymore," he bites, and there it is, the truth, Robin thinks. He's one of hers, a former soldier and a bitter one at that. "Your Majesty. None of us are."
"Maybe now isn't the best time to talk about the bloke's ugly mug, Regina?" Robin tells her, attempting to refocus the drunken soldier's attention onto himself. And it does just that.
"I'm gonna enjoy slitting your throat," he says, taking a step toward the both of them. The other men take it as their signal to form a circle around Regina and Robin but none seem brave enough to actually make the first move.
Robin pulls the string back on his bow more tightly, knuckles grazing the side of his cheek. A bow is not a good idea for close quarter combat, he'll need to grab the knife at his belt rather quickly after these two arrows fly. He'll take down two men; he can do that much, and then he'll go for fatal blows with his hunting blade. His muscles tense and release; and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a fireball form in Regina's palm, the heat of flame brushing up against his skin.
Magic makes things a bit more even but not by much. There are at least thirteen of Regina's former Black Knights standing up, and it's just the two of them. They're in tight quarters, too close to sharp, stinging swords, haggard men with greasy hair and yellowed, malicious smiles.
Smiles that boil Robin's blood with the way they're directed at Regina. Greedily. Lustfully. Maliciously.
There are moments Robin can recall that seemed to stand motionless, as if time didn't exist from one second into the next. Moments when leaves stopped falling and water stopped moving and everything was … just … still. When he could hear his own heart beating, feel each breath pass through his lips, and see every twitch and flutter and disturbance in the forest as if everything was moving at a glacial pace.
That's what this moment is like, that's why out of the corner of his vision, he catches a man rushing up behind Regina, only he isn't rushing. He isn't rushing at all. He's falling forward, slowly and then quickly and then he's just collapsed on the ground, a plum of dirt kicking up like a tidal wave, arrow protruding out of his chest; and that's when the fighting starts, when a cacophony of animal like shouts and guttural screams begin, and Robin realizes the arrow isn't his. But he doesn't have time to realize more, because that's when everything speeds up again, and all of his senses come reeling back and he can hear more than just the sound of men dying. He hears everything, and then he sees it, too – pupils dilated like black saucers. John, Alan, Tuck and Much barrelling into the tavern, weapons drawn, swords already bloodied, felling anyone who steps into the fight.
Regina's holding her own, as she always does, but this time she's looking more and more exhausted by the minute, swaying a bit on her feet, pushing back two men with magic who keep coming at her, but with each violent wave that goes out and each fireball that careens from of her palm, she physically gets wearier and wearier and Robin notices she's not all there. She's distracted.
There are only a handful of men left, when she practically trips over her unsteady feet after snapping an unnamed Black Knight's neck. She falls, hits the ground hard and her knees make a god awful cracking sound on impact. She seems dazed, confused, skin pasty, breathing ragged, hands shaking, and Robin's attention is diverted for too long, eyes not focused on danger like they should be, and he barely escapes the swing of a blade that would've taken off his arm, but instead just slices through the sleeve of his tunic and knicks him. He hisses but it's nothing more, just a scratch, not a real concern, not when he sees Audric stalking toward Regina who's still on the ground.
He's not close enough to her, too much space between them for him to cross the ten paces in time. He reaches back to grab another arrow because that he can do, but just as he's knocking it back and ready to aim and let loose, he hears more than sees the heavenly sound of a dagger cutting through the air and hitting its mark just below Audric's jugular. He's dead and bleeding out in the dirt within seconds. Good riddance, Robin thinks, watches as Alan runs up to retrieve his blade.
And that's it. No more. Bodies strewn about on the ground, benches and tables toppled over, some used as shoddy and insufficient barricades. By the looks of it, all the other patrons cleared out, including the barkeep.
Robin rushes over to Regina, asks if she's alright as he's lifting her up off the floor and helping her gain her balance, checking her over, and she says, I'm fine. Though. No. Actually, she's not. Not fine at all for that matter. Feels heaviness settling into her limbs and darkness pulling at the back of her eyelids. She's ready to collapse again, feels her magic sapping away energy much more than it should. Robin steadies her, hands on her shoulders, crook of his finger tilting her chin up so he can better look at her, and it's then she sees his men staring, so she brushes his touch away, because they're not doing this here. Though, maybe she should sit down.
"We saw those two idiots run out like a fire was burning under their arses," Tuck says, unclasping a flask from his hip and offering it to Regina who's white as a full moon. "Shall we go after em? Can't have gotten far." He gestures for her to take the flask again, but she frowns.
"I don't day drink," she replies, and it's true, she doesn't. But that's not the only reason she won't be partaking in ale or whiskey or wine, no matter how much she craves them.
John steps up to Robin and asks, "It was them, wasn't it? Jakan and Alec? They're the ones that brought the curse upon the castle."
"It appears so, yes," Robin answers and then tells them that the lads are working for someone else. But they didn't get that far in questioning them before all hell broke loose. They just know it's not Zelena. Someone else is pulling the strings on this one – a crone. Regina's leaning into him a bit more but not as much as he wishes she would. Stubborn idiot.
"We go after em, then?" Alan asks, mimicking Tuck's suggestion, but Regina shakes her head with a firm No, immediately regretting it and groaning as the world spins again. This time Robin doesn't let her push him away when he supports her with one hand on her hip, letting her lean into his chest a bit.
"No," she repeats. Thinking about Jakan and the fear and hatred in his eyes. "We're not going after them."
"Regina, we can't let them– " Robin starts, and she stops him.
"He's … he's just a boy," she breathes and John grumbles, a bloody dangerous boy who tried to kill us. "He's a boy and he's not the villain in this story." She sighs, meeting their gazes. "I am. I murdered everyone he loved. Me," she points at her chest "I made him like that."
"Regina," Robin practically scoffs, but her vertigo is finally disappearing so she steps away from him, out of his warm arms so she doesn't have to feel the refusal to accept what she's telling him reverberate in his chest every time he speaks.
"I've done a lot of terrible things in my lifetime, Robin. I've hurt a lot of people. And I know that's not me anymore. I do. But there are reminders here, and so many more than in … than in Storybrooke." It's a new kind of pain, a new kind of agony, being aware of herself and the horrendous things she's done. Snow and David, Granny and Ruby, even Leroy may have forgiven her … but it would be naive to expect that everyone else has done the same or even has the ability to and that's something she has to live with. Because theirs, the people with similar stories to Jakan's? She won't ever be able to take it back, her debt to them will never be able to be repaid. "So for that, Jakan and Alec, they get a pass."
Alan and Tuck are shocked, dumbstruck and it shows clear on their faces when John says, "So we're not going after em, then?" Just to be sure.
"No. No, we're not," Regina sighs and closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She's a headache coming on, and with the way its stabbing between her eyes, it'll be a migraine well before they make camp on their way back to the castle. She groans thinking about the long walk back on foot. She thought about using magic to transport them there, but … if she's already this weak from a few measly fireballs and small spells … her stomach churns in protest and she places her palm there to quell it, not even thinking about the company around her.
Deep lines set on Robin's brow, and he nods back at Tuck who's quick to offer Regina the flask again. She opens her eyes when he taps her on the elbow, gesturing it toward her mouth.
"I told you, I don't day–"
Tuck shakes his head and laughs. "It's not ale. It's water. Drink up," he says, passing it into her hand. And then he surprises her with, "Besides, looks like ye and the wee one need it."
She practically chokes on the refreshing liquid traveling down her throat, sputtering an, "Excuse me?" with a hand over her heart.
"It's alright, Regina. Jig's up," Much interjects and winks at her. "We've known about the little one for a bit now. S'fine." He comes up next to her and gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but the glare she gives him makes him retract his hand. Too much Much maybe. He grins at her, not at all deterred by the way she's looking at him. They've all spent enough time with her by now to know that her bark isn't as bad as her bite. Though it can be. Bloody lethal when she wants it to be. She's just reminded them of that. She's beautiful and powerful, but she's also a weapon. A monarch whom long ago killed peasants based on rumors and tortured for information all in the name of anger and revenge. But they also know that's not her anymore, and she's proven herself to them over and over again in the last several months.
Much chuckles, and Regina's shocked expression softens. She turns her gaze to Robin, but he raises his hands up in earnest. "I didn't. I swear."
"Tis true. He never let it slip. Not willingly anyway." An amused smirk similar to Tuck's pops up on John's face. "We all remember how ya were with Marian, Robin. You're the same way with the Queen. It's hard to miss when ya know what you're lookin' for."
"So you all knew? You knew this whole time?" Regina questions and Robin runs his fingers across his scalp, scratches at the nape of his neck. "Is that why you were so insistent you come with us?"
"Well yeah. Couldn't very well let the two of you come have all the fun. Not when we made a vow to protect you and our newest addition to the Merry Men," Alan points toward her stomach.
Regina stares at them gobstruck. Obviously, she and Robin hadn't been as careful keeping their secret from people as they thought. But if she's counted right, she's nearing the three month mark or just passed it, and her fears haven't been realized yet. She's still pregnant and the baby – she rests her palm low on her stomach – the baby is still here. She hasn't lost it. So she meet Much's eyes and asks, "And if it's a girl?" A smile tugs at the corners of Robin's mouth, happy to see color coming back to her cheeks.
Much grins because that one's easy. "Ya don't have to be a boy to be one of the Merry Men, Regina. You're one of us, aren't ya? Besides, I quite like the idea of a little Princess of Thieves, right mates?"
They all nod and Regina smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes as the rest of them laugh and congratulate them. She watches John pat Robin on the back and give him a bear hug. She's smile, smile, smiling, but there's this pang in her gut that won't go away, this heaviness that's pressing down on top of her and trying to bury her behind layers of dirt and earth and worms and creepy crawly things. She smiles but weakly, because there's this small voice whispering into her ear that the baby may be alright now, but …
She thinks of Jakan. Henry. Greg Mendel. A raspy cackling in the dark. Leopold's face flashes across her vision, and her mother's words echo in her ear.
No matter how hard she tries to be good or do good, Regina will never be enough.
Memories overwhelm her.
Daniel in the dirt without a pulse, without a heart beating life through his veins. Her wedding night and her mother telling her to listen and do better and try harder and to win the people over after only being married to Leopold for less than a day. Gold's shop and cradling her dying mother in her arms; the fear of being alone, of being left behind, of not knowing what to do wracking her frame. Electricity jolting through her body, burning skin, searing pain. The beastly face of a man who used to be a little boy crying at the townline, a keychain in her palm and tears in her eyes as she watched him walk away. Henry ripping out his heart and thrusting it into Pan's chest, seeing him collapse on the ground like a broken doll, white hot agony shattering her soul. Emma and Henry driving away in a beat up, yellow Bug. Cloud of purple dissipating and she's back in the Enchanted Forest, without her son, without hope, a hole in her heart that can never be filled.
And that's when it hits her, that's when she finally is willing to admit, she thought she didn't want to tell anyone about the baby because she was afraid of losing it, because she was afraid of what loving this child would mean for her curse. But those aren't the only reasons.
There's a little corner of her heart where love and hope are trying to wiggle their way in, but there's also a huge gaping hole in her heart that can only be filled by Henry, and this baby … this baby is just reminding her that she doesn't have her son, and that's killing her, that's making her feel like she's already failed this child and the price she's suppose to be paying. This child that hasn't even been born yet, and it isn't fair, none of it is, because she's not done grieving the loss of her son and she wants so desperately to love the thing that's growing inside her, but right now – right now – the only energy she has is directed toward holding onto every memory she has of Henry. His laugh, his smile, the sound of his voice. The way he left his stupid shoes all over the house.
God, what she wouldn't give to find a pair of his sneakers on the floor and not in their rightful place in the hallway closet.
Before when it was just her and Robin and Granny who knew about the pregnancy, that, she could deal with. She could handle it just being their secret, because it meant that she only had to process what she was feeling, what Robin was feeling, and she never had to worry about Granny. Granny's only concern is that Regina is taking care of herself.
But now ...
Robin looks at her, smiles, beams. As is his right. To feel the elation that she wants to feel but can't. She smiles back, puts on a face (because that she can do. Those she's good at. She internally cringes. Mother always did love her face.).
Much pats Robin on the back, John pulls a flask from his hip that does contain ale and he's toasting Robin and he's toasting her, and they're all smiling and elated and happy and congratulatory, and she's just … not ready. Snow will know now, then so will David, and soon the whole castle will be gossiping about her pregnancy and voicing their opinions. But the one opinion she actually cares about, the one person who she needs to tell … she can't. Because he isn't here, and even if she could tell him, he wouldn't remember her anyway.
Alan tells them there's a blacksmith nearby where they can acquire a few horses, plenty for them to ride back instead of walk. It'll save them the day, and if they're lucky, they'll make it to the castle before nightfall. This bit of news brings their party added cheer, and they depart the tavern.
The door shuts behind them, squeaking on its hinges as it swings. A rat pops its little head out from behind the bar counter, sniffs the air and scurries away. Broken glass crunches under heavy footsteps, and a hand comes up from behind the counter. "Jakan and Alec … those fools," Nottingham says, dusting off his knees and standing up and out of his hiding spot.
Fools, but at least they brought him the missing pieces of his puzzle, he thinks, exists through the back door, and disappears into the trees at the edge of town before Robin, the Queen and the Merry Men ride by on their newly purchased steads.
It's sun down by the time he bursts into Mortianna's lair. She's hovering over a small makeshift table, reading bones and casually brewing something that smells absolutely putrid, a combination of rotting eggs and decaying flesh. It makes him want to gag, makes him flinch as wisps of it sting the inside of his nostrils. Jakan is there sitting in a corner and well out of her way, but upon Nottingham's entering he stood up swiftly.
"You're lucky I don't slit you from throat to navel," Nottingham threatens, dagger out of its holster and pointed at the lad.
"I've already dealt with my nephew. I don't need you to do it as well, Nottingham." Mortianna stands up and pads over to the cauldron boiling in the hearth. "He was already punished at the last crescent moon for stealing and trying to assassinate the Evil Queen." She angles her face toward Jakan. "Even though he failed miserably and cost me three moons worth of collecting ingredients. And I've just discussed his next punishment for getting caught by the Evil Queen and Robin Hood. He knows he could have led them right to us and ruined the only element of surprise we have." Mortianna shuffles back over to her bones, pricks her finger with a needle and drips a drop of blood onto them before saying, "Alec is gone. But we needn't worry about him. The Wicked Witch has already seen to it that he doesn't speak a word of our plan. He didn't know we were working with her. Now, tell me." She drags her nail through spit and bone and blood and sneers because she knows what his answer will be before she even asks the question "What did you see?" The answer lays before her already, arranged in sizzling bubbles of spittle and crimson.
"I saw her. I saw the Queen."
"And?"
"The bitch is with child. Your prophecy is coming true."
"Then it's time. Gather the men from the north. Go over the plan. Jakan," Mortianna turns to her nephew. "Send a message to the Wicked Witch. If she wants the key to our realm, it's her blood we'll need to get in through the secret tunnels."
"Wot ya gonna do?" Jakan asks, heading toward the door.
"We're going to kidnap the Evil Queen."
Disclaimer: they're not mine, but this storyline sure is.