Robin gets a voice of his own in this one (and will in the future, as I plan to keep switching between Regina's and Robin's POV), and Regina negotiates the conflicting voices in her mind and heart.
Robin leafed through the book he was gazing at but was actually taking nothing in. It seemed useless. All he had found had been so, really: either lacking magic completely or featuring magic way too advanced for him to even understand.
The Queen would know.
What else could she want with the Dark One's library if not to study magic? It was a shame the library wasn't Robin' to offer in exchange for her help.
He would never have thought he might some day seek to ally himself with the Evil Queen. It had come as a shock even to himself when the idea popped up in his mind. The thought of the atrocities she was said to have committed made bile rise in his throat, and the idea of an alliance went completely against the grain. Yet chance had made their paths cross at a moment of dire need, and despite his misgivings, Robin had been quick to understand the potential benefits: someone with the Queen's abilities would greatly help his fight against the Witch.
Was it mere coincidence that the Queen should return to the land after such a long time precisely when the Witch was becoming an ever larger threat? Why was she back, along with other former denizens of the Enchanted Forest including even her arch enemy, Snow White, with whom she seemed to have no intention of contending?
The pile of unanswered questions grew by the minute, but the whys would soon turn into hows in Robin's mind. With magic to match the Witch's, his chances of rescuing Roland and the other kidnapped children were sparse. He had no magical allies, the books were proving useless without magical training, and precious time was being wasted in fruitless research while his son was in danger. He might not like it, but he needed the Queen.
Unfortunately, his cock-sure assertion made to the Queen had been a bluff, an idle wish at best - in reality, Robin had no irresistible offer to make. Calling on her pride and powerlust should have done the trick, but it hadn't, and the failure to capture her interest genuinely puzzled him. Robin had guessed the person the Queen was cracked up to be would jump at the notion of someone claiming her throne and her kingdom. Either the stories he had heard were misleading or they no longer applied, for after the initial speck of ire, the Queen's face had cleared and her answer had been poised.
However, it was not the unexpected collectedness of her reaction that intrigued him the most. There had been a brief moment in between the memory of which Robin just couldn't shake: the pained, hollow gape of loss staring from her eyes. What was that all about? If he had to guess he would probably say some great tragedy had made the Queen insusceptible to banalities like palaces or power. It almost seemed she had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose.
For reasons his mind didn't entirely grasp, this was making Robin even more anxious for her to accept the offer.
What more could he do? If the Queen didn't want power, what indeed could there be in it for her?
He'd have to think of something.
Regina drew the moth-eaten damask curtains, letting some daylight into the room. It was still early, very early in the morning, and she had hoped to have the library all to herself for a few hours before the outlaw joined her. Everything about him caused her discomfort, which in turn brought forth irritation, which would manifest in malicious one-liners and even a thunderous row the previous day. Much to her dismay, she spotted the scoundrel sprawled in an ancient armchair with a book on his lap and a pile of them at his feet. He was asleep.
Had he stayed till late at night looking for some means to increase his chances against the Witch who held his son hostage? Most likely he had.
The sight of his careworn face made it impossible to banish the thoughts: the circles under his eyes, the droop of his lips, and the frown that stayed on even as he slept awoke sympathy within her that she couldn't weed out. She had seen it before - she had lived it before. Neverland had given her many memories, none of them good; yet she welcomed even those because Henry had been there still. Yes, she knew how this man must feel. Perhaps she really could help him.
Regina sighed with frustration. This was not what she had come here for. The man was a stranger to her, an outlaw, a thief, and who knew what else. Besides, she could hardly do it anyway. It took massive effort to just get out of bed in the morning. Perhaps it was the drive, the purpose she saw written all over this accursed man's face that made her own plight seem even worse. No matter what dire circumstances he was faced with, he still had the chance of saving his son, of being reunited with him. For her there was no hope, no such prospect to draw strength from.
But she was here now. For all the trouble it had cost her, she could as well do some of the research she had claimed, before the Charmings and now also this stranger, to have come here for.
What was she looking for?
Something powerful. More powerful than she had ever even heard of. Something with the power to give her hope again.
Dozens of books were pulled out from the high-reaching bookshelves. Some were entirely non-magical; Rumple seemed to have enjoyed a good novel once in a while - or had that been Belle? Some were entirely too magical; indeed, there was one or two so gruesome they turned Regina's stomach. Apparently there were depths of dark arts even she and Rumple had not come anywhere near to.
There were unspeakable things magic could accomplish, ones Regina hadn't even dreamed of, and she reached the conclusion that much of what she was seeing should in fact never see the light of day. Was that the kind of magic she'd have to resort to in order to get back to Henry? She shut the book close. Henry would never want that; and, somewhat to her surprise, she realised neither did she anymore. There was no point in forcing a way back into his life at a cost that would make him not want her in it in the first place. Part of her felt relieved by that - the part that recoiled at the idea of plunging into the realms referred to by those wretched books.
It was at the sight of the growing pile of discarded old tomes that it dawned on her. How on earth had it taken so long?
Regina stood over the sleeping man with an arm hovering over his shoulder for a while, still unable to decide whether the idea was just foolish or completely insane, and unsure as to how to wake him. Oh, for crying out loud, just do it. She shook him with what she judged was moderate strength - decisive but not outright aggressive. He stirred immediately, sitting up bolt upright and ready to engage an enemy. The wild look on his face and the sudden movement of his hand to his belt challenged the composure she was determined to show, but in the end she managed to refrain from showing any of the distress she had momentarily experienced.
"How powerful is this witch?" she asked without preamble.
The Witch came form a different land, possibly with kinds of magic unknown in this world. If she possessed some powerful means, knew spells unknown possibly even to Rumplestiltskin, perhaps she would be the answer Regina barely dared hope for. Perhaps she would be the way home. Regina felt hope sprout in her soul and tried to uproot the tender blade - there was nothing more torturous than false hope - but once there, it was impossible to remove.
Besides, she had realised as she had stood over the sleeping outlaw, if this Witch was threatening the land, Snow White's efforts at rebuilding the kingdom would naturally lead to a state of war between them. They would not have a child-kidnapper go unpunished - a sentiment Regina had to admit she shared. She could as well engage the Witch right away.
Regina waited with bated breath as Robin slid the blade back into his belt.
"Powerful," he said finally. "So far she has met with little resistance. Am I to gather that Your Majesty is afraid of a challenge?" His eyes gleamed at the insinuation, and watched her intently.
"Your preposterous manipulations have no effect on my decisions, bandit." It was clever of him to try and play her like this, she had to give him that, and perhaps some time ago she would have been deceived, but now she saw past his intentions. "But this might be your lucky day. This Witch might, in the end, be the answer to my problem."
"What does that mean, exactly?" he asked with narrowed eyes. Did she catch a glimmer of hope in his carefully arranged face? Well, it was indeed his lucky day.
"As much as I detest the idea," Regina stressed, "it seems we have a common case after all. I have magic, and you - if you're to be believed - have information we could use to destroy her."
"I don't like this any more than you do, Your Majesty," he replied with shocking sincerity but a surprising lack of animosity. "But all the same, I'm glad we see eye to eye on the matter. How much time do you need before we leave?" he gestured towards the books scattered on the floor.
"We can leave in the afternoon. Hopefully we'll have finished with the Witch by nightfall."
"By nightfall? Your palace is several days' journey from here."
"You forget about this," she smirked and revealed with a flourish a knot of bright yellow flames on her palm.
He shook his head with a small smile. "I'm afraid it won't be quite so simple."
There was little for her to pack - next to nothing, in fact. Two books from the library and a pair of identical, small mirrors fit easily in the leather bag she had discovered in one of the drawers. She ransacked a few bedrooms in search of a pair of boots presentable enough but flat and thus more convenient for this ridiculous hike they were about to embark upon. The man who referred to himself as Robin Hood - though heaven only knew if that was the outlaw's real name at all - had informed her, with an unnerving mixture of amusement and weariness, that the rules of magic seemed to have been slightly altered by the Witch's doing, wherefore it would be unwise to just poof themselves to the Dark Palace as Regina had planned to do. Regina was beginning to feel infuriated by this mystery witch. The bandit was turning out to be a real pain in the rear, too.
Being denied the use of magic until further notice was a nuisance but it had its perks. It would give her time to conserve her energy - something she had to admit she needed to do after the series of challenging feats of magic both in Neverland and, within a span of just a few hours, again in Storybrooke. She'd been left feeling more vulnerable than she liked to admit. Now at least she had a pretext to gather her strength again, without revealing the delicate situation to this man she absolutely refused to trust.
The feeling certainly seemed to be mutual, which was nothing but clever of the man. She was the Evil Queen for the people of the Enchanted Forest after all, and she could easily believe his words when he had stated flat out his distaste at an ally of her calibre. Yet the inexplicable absence of personal hate she had been so accustomed to receiving from the often nameless, faceless victims of her deeds confused her.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, he wasn't there yet. A grain of irritation stirred inside her, offended at being kept waiting; she dismissed it impatiently. This was difficult - constantly having to balance the Queen she had been in this land, and whose persona she needed to shroud herself in for this mission, and the Regina she had become since. Could she be both? Could she switch between them as needed, the way she was consciously opting for the Queen in face of the constant sense of threat she felt at the presence of this outlaw she had allied herself with?
"I'm sorry," she heard his voice amid hurried steps from the landing above. "I need a little more time."
"I don't tolerate tardiness," she retorted.
He stopped a few steps short of the bottom, towering over her. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face hardened. "I believe I apologised," he said dryly.
"Well, that changes nothing about the fact that you're delaying our departure, disrupting our plan already. How am I supposed to feel about working with someone so unreliable from the very start?"
"I assure you you'll find I'm no such thing, Your Majesty," he returned with indignation. "There's something I would take with me that I cannot find."
"Then by all means tell me what the invaluable object is. I might as well aid you in your search - what with your apparent incompetence, we could be here for days otherwise." That wasn't fair, and the ease with which the words rolled off her tongue practically without her own volition made her wonder if the Queen was getting the best of her - could she control how far she would let this side of her go, or would she lose herself in the process again as she had before?
To deepen her discomfort, the wretched man seemed untouched by her glaring insult. He returned her look with a calm if a little careworn look of his own. "It's nothing you will find any value in. It's a green camisole I had made for my son but hadn't gotten the chance to give to him yet."
Regina felt a crushing onset of shame. Her face burned and her lips quivered as her hand shot involuntarily to the folds of her garment. He was wrong - she saw all the value in the prized object. She bowed her head to hide the crimson creeping into her cheeks, and pushed past him up the stairs.
Sure enough, she found it on the floor beside the bedside table - she must have dropped it the morning of her arrival after she had tripped over it in the hall, and never thought of it since. Picking it up, she straightened it on the bed - a deep green camisole fit for a child about four or five years of age. Again, her hand wandered into the folds of her dress and lingered briefly on the folded sheet of paper. Regina swallowed. Now was not the time to brood. They needed to go.
Folding the small, carefully stitched garment, she made her way back to the hall.
Robin Hood was still standing where she'd left him, possibly too stunned by her inexplicable behaviour to move. Regina pushed the camisole into his hands, never meeting his eye.
"Can we go now?" she said in what she had intended to be an authoritative tone but realised with horror came out hoarse with emotion - emotion she had no intention of allowing him a glimpse into.
She strolled past him briskly but he caught up with her at the door and detained her by the arm - not harshly but the contact made her want to run and hide all the same. Or perhaps the considerateness in the gesture was precisely what made her want to run.
"Where'd you find it?"he asked quietly.
"Over there," she suggested with a motion of her head, and, against herself, stole a glance at him while she thought he would be looking the other way. She fancied she saw his lips curl into something that could be the beginning of a smile. Then his eyes were upon her, and she found she couldn't avert her look for some reason, even though she felt a rising sense of panic.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"It's nothing," she heard herself say. What the hell was wrong with her? Perhaps it wasn't too late to still save something. "It means nothing to me," she assured him, "and seems to carry much meaning for you. And now we can go at last."
Regina slipped away from him; he let her go easily. She strode out of into the daylight with her head held high. Thank heavens, it had worked - she had just saved the Queen's face.
"Thank you," he repeated as he fell into step with her under the dark blue sky.
Perhaps he wasn't entirely fooled after all; she'd have to be more careful to keep the facade up.
But the faint warm glow in the pit of her stomach certainly wasn't helping matters.