With so much about to go down on the show and my having a few days off, I'm now able to update earlier than usual, so here's a new chapter for all you lovely readers. Congratulate me: I managed to end this one on a cliffhanger! ;) Enjoy!
Regina looked at him for answers as he emerged from a bush at the side of the path. Her curiosity was tepid at best, as there hadn't been much in the way of news anyway. It was necessary to keep a lookout, but Robin hardly ever found anything of interest in these abandoned parts.
"If we leave the path and go south, we'll come across a hut." Robin brushed a shower of dried needles off his shirt. "We can spend the night there."
"It's only midday. We can go a long way yet." Her patience was extraordinarily short now that their little group was together again. She needed to get away from this land as soon as possible - and from Robin's constant presence.
Robin shook his head and her temper flared. What was he thinking?
"If you feel you have time to waste, fine," she snapped, "but don't expect me to-"
Robin's eyes flashed with anger, but his voice stayed oddly calm as he interrupted her.
"There's a storm coming," he gestured at the horizon over the top of the trees. A heavy steely mass was gathering in the distance, painting the sky a cold dark hue. "We need to seek shelter, and fast."
Regina looked around in exasperation. Snowflakes were floating gently in the air, fat and fluffy. They showed no sign of thinning, quite the contrary: it was becoming increasingly hard to see through the thickening curtain of snow. A cold gust of wind blew a handful of icy shards in her face. Her eyes fell on Roland, who was already wading knee-deep in the squeaking snow. Robin was right, no matter how much she hated to admit it. What was the point of having rescued Roland just to let him come to harm from something as trivial as the weather?
"Alright," she said curtly. "He needs to stay warm. Roland," she called after the boy, who was breasting the snow and wind several steps ahead with her in tow so she could keep and eye out on him. "Roland!"
The snow already seemed to be muffling all sounds. It was only a matter of time before it swallowed up everything. But Robin was already at Roland's level, having caught up with the boy in just a few quick strides. He scooped Roland up in his arms and spoke a few words to him, then turned from the forest path in the direction of the trees. He waited for Regina to follow, and led the way into the thickset, shielding Roland's head from the overhanging branches with a careful hand. Regina's senses sharpened and she held her magic at the ready as the forest swallowed them.
"Is this it?" she shouted into the raging wind. Robin merely nodded, and beckoned her further out into the small clearing. Only now that they'd become fully exposed to the raging elements did they wholly appreciate its mightiness.
The abandoned hut was indeed just that: a weathered construction of logs and wood the size of a small room. It looked desperately shabby in the swirling gusts of snow. It was hard to believe it would offer much protection from the oncoming blizzard at all. She took a step forward, but the frown remained settled on her brow. Robin was waiting just a few steps from the entrance. Regina looked at him with annoyance as she caught up – what was he waiting for?
"A creek," he yelled, leaning slightly towards her. The word seemed to have carried for miles and barely reached her for the whooshing wind.
Indeed, there was a thin strip of frozen water surrounding the hut, making it stand isolated on a pathetic excuse of an island. It was too wide to overstep safely due to the treacherous frosty ground. At the same time, the ice could be too thin to hold them, and the water, albeit too shallow to threaten with drowning, would no doubt be ice-cold.
Regina flexed her gloved fingers. She could certainly make a way if need be. Robin, probably guessing her intention, placed a hand on her arm though. Regina's eyes flashed. He held her gaze for just a split second but did in no way react to her cold stare. He turned away instead and began walking around the perimeter of the hut, keeping at a constant distance from the creek. Roland gave her a small wave from the height of his father's embrace, and she started after them.
They reached the back of the house, and Robin began probing the ground with his boot at a certain spot. After a moment's toiling, he raised his head and nodded. Slowly, he inched across the creek, his footsteps uncovering a narrow footbridge hidden beneath the snow.
"It's not safe," she blurted out, realising only then that he probably couldn't hear her anyway. Roland merely waved to her again, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes had an adventurous glint that made her heart both melt and contract with anxiety. She glanced at Robin, who had just reached the other side and turned to call her onward.
Regina eyed the plank – or the little she could make out of it in the snow – with mistrust. She certainly had no desire to make an ass out of herself and tumble into the ice-covered water while Robin watched. She could use magic, but it did seem something of a waste, and he might just think she was a coward for it. Regina sighed and set out across. One slip on the ice made her curse internally and focus harder. It was only when she was safely on the other side that her fists unclenched and she breathed with more ease again. As soon as she got across, Robin had disappeared in the door.
The smell of wood and smoke hit her as she entered the cottage, a smell lingering in the walls and the sparse furniture: two beds, a rough-hewn table with two chairs, and a simple bench by the wall. She had to strain to pull the door shut behind her but once she did, it was a surprisingly tight fit – no draught was getting in.
Regina wrinkled her nose at the stink of decay. What a hole. Well, at least it looked dry.
"There's no firewood," Robin observed. "I'll venture out to get some in a moment, although it might be that we'll once again be getting more smoke than heat with the humidity."
Regina stomped her foot. He could be so damn impossible sometimes.
"I have magic, remember? I am perfectly capable of making us a fire without all the unnecessary trouble." And even as she spoke, a bright orange fireball unfurled in her palm, and she hurled it in one effortless motion into the full old ashes.
The fire crackled merrily, its tongues as lively as if it had been burning for hours. Regina could already feel pleasant warmth emanating from it in waves. She shot Robin a challenging look.
Like before, he said nothing, and looked away. Ever so gently, he unwrapped Roland's arms from around his neck and placed him in front of the fire.
"I'll get us water," he said without looking at her, and disappeared outside.
With a vague sense of irritation, she glanced at Roland warming his hands over the fire, and smiled at the sight. It didn't matter if Robin had not a word of thanks – the little boy was warm, and that was all of her concern. She crossed the small room in a few steps and leaned over Roland. Carefully, she removed the snow-soaked blanket from around him, undid the clasp of his wet cloak, and spread it out by the fire. He'd be dry now.
Roland murmured something incomprehensible and held up his arms to her. He felt feather-light as she obliged and picked him up, and his eyes fluttered closed with his head barely having rested on her shoulder. The long walk must have exhausted him. Those small feet were unfit to trod in that amount of snow or walk such distances, but when ever she'd suggested carrying him, the boy would shake his head and stumble on merrily, clearly enjoying the fun mess underfoot. Now he was falling into a heavy sleep.
Regina looked around the hut's insides instinctively for some bedding, only to feel utterly foolish a moment later. Of course there would be nothing. Even if there were, it would probably be unsuitable for use anymore. The blankets they had were sodden, since each of them had walked with one wrapped around themselves to keep out the cold. Never mind – she could handle this just as well of course. Regina flicked her wrist, and within a heartbeat Roland was resting amid a puffy pillow and a fluffy duvet. One or two careful, swift, experienced motions - this time no magic was needed - and he was all tucked in.
A gust of wind-and-snowflakes later, the door banged shut, and Regina winced involuntarily and wheeled around. Robin had returned with the water and a handful of walnuts. His eyes darted from her to Roland under the blanket and back to her again. For a moment she was certain he'd turn away without a word once more.
Then he nodded. "Thank you, Regina."
At least he still used her name – she'd been half-expecting him to have returned to "Your Majesty" or else "milady" by now. Despite the evident cooling of their behaviour, this small nicety still remained, and deep down she was grateful for that.
"You disapprove of magic," Regina cut through the heavy, lingering silence.
Roland was fast asleep and she and Robin were finishing a humble supper.
The thought had been present all day. Of course she'd known before, but today it unnerved her. The way he'd come to keep his distance unnerved her. But of course it wasn't his fault. It had been her decision in the first place. Robin was merely coming to accommodate the change in her behaviour. How could she blame him?
He eyed her for a short moment before he replied.
"I believe the price is hardly worth the gain."
So he was admitting to it. That should have come as no surprise - he had never tried to mollify her by commending what he didn't agree with, even in the face of her temper.
"Luckily, I am the one paying the price," she said.
Robin fixed her with a gaze.
"Then perhaps I'd rather you didn't have to pay it either."
"Why would you care?" she blurted before she could stop herself. As the words tumbled out, she attempted for them to sound mocking at best, yet she felt immediately that it had fallen short. It went too deep, too intimate – it erupted from the very core of her soul, possibly revealing far more than she had ever intended.
Robin watched her intently – so intently she felt as if he were attempting to reach right to her soul. Regina felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation down her spine but was loath to admit defeat by being the first to avert her eyes. Instead, she resorted to doing what she always did when she felt threatened: she attacked.
"I merely find the suggestion hypocritical after the hostile attitude we have engaged in in the past days."
Despite the unfairness of it, the implication obviously stung. His eyes softened somewhat.
"I had no intention of appearing hostile," he sighed. "I do believe I'd been rather forthcoming before. You've given every sign of it being a burden to you."
Regina's jaw clenched. His words were way too accurate – and there was no hint of an accusation there either, just a certain disappointment, a dejection she didn't fully comprehend. And he didn't stop there.
"Can you blame me if after a fortnight I run out of incentive to remain quite so obliging?"
In all fairness, she had no right to - but try as she might to be pleased about having achieved what she had set out to do, the change in their dynamics was only bringing pain and sadness on a scale she hadn't counted on, and none of the relief and safety from being hurt that she had expected it to bring.
"I may not be as amicable now," Robin admitted with a small frown, "but I still believe I maintain a decent attitude to make the rest of this journey tolerable."
Regina arched her eyebrow. "And I'm making it intolerable."
"Your incessant bickering is a hindrance," he blurted.
So that was how he felt. Until then he'd managed not to show any frustration her behaviour must have caused, which had annoyed her to no end. Robin ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to have lost his self-control for once, and as much as Regina wanted to, she just couldn't feel pleased.
Suddenly, she felt tired of everything.
"It wasn't my choice to do things this way, Robin."
He should have let her go when she'd left on her own. He didn't need her anymore anyway.
"Your son was held captive by a witch, so it made sense to team up then. I wanted to part ways afterwards, but you insisted on sticking together." The bitterness on her tongue made its way into her words as well, and Robin huffed.
"So I'm the one to blame for this."
"Why was it so important to you that we make our way back together?" She stirred the tea in her mug. It had gone cold and tasted foul this way. She grimaced. "As you've just said yourself, I'm no pleasant company."
Robin opened his mouth and closed it again - what could he possibly have wanted to say that he'd changed his mind?
"I had also said this land is full of dangers," he reminded her eventually, "many of which you don't even comprehend."
"I come from this land. As much as I dislike it, I do know a thing or two about it."
It wasn't as though she'd found herself in an all new world, as Storybrooke had been. Storybrooke. It felt more like a home to her than this place ever had. If only she could go back.
Robin's voice cut through her fruitless dreamery. "Not after the Curse."
"Which I cast."
The victorious note brought a frown on Robin's face.
Regina's short-lived safety bubble came to the brink of bursting. Was Robin right? Did she have a habit of holding up the Evil Queen as a shield when she felt threatened? She'd just done it - she'd felt sure it would end this conversation. And it had another benefit, too: if she kept reminding people of the fact, at least that allowed for less disappointment when they suddenly threw it in her face at a moment of hopeful oblivion on her part.
But Robin didn't reprimand her again for this little stunt she'd pulled, nor did he proceed to try and refute it. He merely gave her a sincerely interested look.
"And then there's this Witch who seems to hate you," he said as if she'd never interrupted him.
"A lot of people hate me." If one person were any reason to feel constantly threatened, the crowds of them would have driven her crazy a long time ago. "Believe me, this is no news to me."
Robin made a non-committal sound. "Not all of them have the means to set wraiths and monkeys and murderous Cyclopes on you."
Was he really suggesting he worried about her so much that he'd put up with all her nastiness not only for Roland's safety, but her own? No, that was impossible. She should be offended that he believed her so gullible. Yet there wasn't a single sign of him being anything other than sincere.
"Why do you care?" Regina heard herself ask again, with an insistence that was making her sound close to desperate. Ashamed, she turned to her mug again, but there was nothing left to sip on.
Robin rose and retrieved the improvised kettle from the fire. He refilled his cup and offered to refill hers. Regina held it out automatically. He set the kettle back down and returned to his seat. Only then did he answer.
"I simply do." His hand with the cup in it sank back down from his lips at the slight shake of her head. "Is being cared about such a terrible fate?"
Was being happy such a terrible fate?
Regina struggled to shake off the ghosts of the past. Damn his choice of words.
"I find people only show interest when they have something to gain. There is always a reason." She took a sip of the steaming liquid just to occupy herself and hide her face - the topic was sensitive, and she didn't see how he would refute her argument considering that they had teamed up in precisely that kind of situation. Her lips burned at the contact and she pushed back a hiss.
Robin's lips tightened for a moment, then his eyes bore into her, and she made it a point to stare into the depths of the mug, her ears pricked for his answer.
"Then you have clearly had the misfortune of meeting the wrong people."
"What a nice notion." The sarcasm helped keep her feelings at bay. It always did. "I doubt it."
It was Robin's turn to stare into his tea. Perhaps he'd run out of arguments now. Finally. She'd been stupid to secretly hope he'd have a good counter-argument she couldn't refute. Why on earth would she hope for that at all?
Robin looked up from his cup with a determined curve to his mouth, but his eyes were soft. "The night I found you outside the camp alone, crying, I certainly wasn't thinking of any kind of gain for myself."
Regina's hand shook, and brownish water spilled onto the floor.
"That never happened."
He'd never mentioned this before, not since that awkward night - why now? Why at all?
Robin nodded, as if he'd expected this reaction.
"We both know better. You held me at arm's length, and I withdrew, because even though I wanted to offer comfort, it just seemed to upset you even more."
The jumble of emotions of that night returned as alive as ever. She couldn't deal with this now. He should never have seen her like that. He was right, he couldn't help her - she didn't see how he could possibly make her feel anything but panicked and exposed.
"I don't have to discuss this with you," she glared at him pointedly.
Robin nodded again. "You don't have to discuss anything with me. But you could - if you wanted to."
"Well, I don't. I want to do what needs to be done for us to go back home." For starters, she needed to get the hell out of here, away from this conversation. She set the mug down with a clang. "And I'm starting now."
The moment she said that, his obliging demeanour changed.
"Regina, there's a blizzard raging outside." He stood up, suddenly towering over her. "Even when it stops, there might be no leaving this place for a while."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"This place is known for dire weather calamities. We could be snowed in for days."
"No," she stated simply. "I'm not letting a little snow detain me longer than until morning, and certainly not for days. I can make a way even where there is none - remember?" She opened her palm to reveal a shining fireball licking at her fingers lazily.
"That's not a good idea." Robin said straightforwardly - what gave him the nerve? "You might end up doing more harm than good." The flames in her palm danced reflected in his eyes.
"You have your sentiments about magic, I have mine. Stay here with Roland." Regina glanced at the shock of hair prominent against the contrasting bedding, and suppressed a pang of guilt and tenderness. The Witch had told her she was no longer interested in children. Robin was perfectly capable of protecting his son from other dangers. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Regina, don't." She walked briskly to the door, but as she put her hand on it, his fingers curled around her forearm. "Do not go out there."
"Let go off me," she spat.
"Please," he added quietly. "There's a line between being determined and being foolish. Don't be the latter."
"Let go," she hissed.
To her slight surprise, he did exactly that.
"As you wish."
The spot on her arm he had been touching just a moment ago burned curiously. He hadn't been rough with her despite the urgency, therefore the sensation was quite peculiar.
So was the shadow of worry that accompanied the cross expression on his face.
Robin sank back into his seat in front of the fire.
Bold and audacious to a fault.
Well, she wouldn't be long. As deep as the snow had been when he was out there last, the narrow path to the edge of the forest he had dug to get to firewood would now be covered in snow and guarded by an even higher white wall on each side. Regina wouldn't get far.
Yet several minutes passed and she hadn't returned.
Robin's unrest only grew. He stood and went to check on Roland, who was sleeping peacefully, untroubled by worries of any kind. Thank goodness for that. He watched him a little longer, then adjusted the fur to make sure he stayed as warm as possible.
A mighty whumphing sound, not unlike a bag of potatoes being dropped into deep snow, shook the cottage's walls.
Robin's blood froze. He knew that sound: the sound of hurtling snow, plundering everything underway.