For Dragon Queen Week - Day 2: Drinking Buddies
A/N: This is angsty because sad Regina… and there's mention of Robin. Just so y'all know.
She's only just been brought back from the dead, just revived after a long stay in some eternal middle of despair and loneliness, but even so, it's like no time has passed between her and Regina.
Her makeup is lighter now than it was in the Enchanted Forest, her clothes more relaxed, and Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers. Those drapings, the expensive, lavish adornments on her person were nothing but armor, nothing but a way to keep people at arm's length, and yet here, she's so much freer, so much more at home in the world, so much happier.
Or at least she was, at least that's what she's gathered from rumors she's heard around town, that Regina was happy at last, and then that happiness had been ripped away by something that was not her fault, something that couldn't have possibly be foreseen, something that makes it seem like the universe is out to get her, out to prevent her from ever finding her happiness.
Just like old times, then.
Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers.
All those nights where Regina's wrath would ignite her own, those nights where her darling little queen's ire was the spark that would help her find the dragon in her and transform, carrying the young monarch on her back from one end of her lands to the other just so they could both have a respite, just so they could both feel free.
But Maleficent also remembers the bad days, the awful moments where she'd open her bedroom door to find Regina crying and curled up amongst her pillows, the picture of grace and beauty in her nakedness as she'd strip off her fancy trappings and soak in Maleficent's tub, asking her to warm the water, to make it scorching hot so that it would burn away the traces of the touch of a man not of her choosing.
Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers.
She remembers the anger, the frustration on Regina's face whenever she'd escape Leopold's clutches, because it was never fast enough, because she was never able to scurry away before he left his mark on her, not before he managed to chip away at her composure just the tiniest bit, until little by little she'd become unhinged, mad in her thirst for revenge, depending on the Dark One for the power to do so.
Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers.
And now she's there, sitting in a random bench in the middle of the park after hours, the moonlight casting silvery rays over her silky hair, adding a pallor to the tone of her skin. On the nights where things were especially rough at King Leopold's castle, or on the nights where the absence of her love Daniel tore her apart more than usual, this is what she would do, she'd find a place where she could be alone with her thoughts (usually in Mal's own castle), and then let them consume her, let them navigate through her mind in waves of spiteful insults, uttered reminders of past grievances and unworthys and not enoughs that ended up making her cry in Mal's arms until the sun came up.
Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers.
She remembers how it was her who soothed that ache, how some wine and soft caresses were the only way to stop the tremors in Regina's body, and she knows then what she must do.
"Sulking in the night, as usual?" she asks in a low, uninterested tone as she reaches her friend, sits down next to her and stares out at the lake in front of them, not moving her gaze to Regina even when she hears the tell-tale sniffle of her sadness.
"I'm fine," she snaps in a broken voice, and this is how it was before, the entire scenario a big deja vu to the dragon sorceress who says nothing, only continues to gaze at the lake, though her hand finds Regina's on the bench and trails nimble fingers over the back of it, a quiet gesture of reassurance, one that Regina doesn't reject, but rather takes refuge in despite her attitude of just seconds before, turning her hand palm up and lacing it with hers.
"Sure you are," Maleficent replies, using her free hand to pull out the hip flask she'd stashed in her trousers for this exact purpose, thumb popping off the cap before she brings it to her lips, the liquid burning down her throat even after she's taken a swig and offers the drink to Regina.
"No, thank you," the queen replies shakily.
But Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers.
She waits, flask still held out for Regina to take, and after a few seconds, she feels the brunette's grasp on her hand slacken as she relieves her of the item, taking a deep gulp from it.
—
An hour and two magically refilled flasks later, they're at the mansion, sprawled in the living room floor, and Regina is crying in Mal's arms again, just as she used to, except this time it's not due to Leopold's clammy hands on her, or to the despair of not being able to enact her revenge. This time, Regina cries for love.
She cries for the thief (a man Maleficent sees no worth in, really, but, well, who is she to judge?), she cries for the happiness she'd thought she'd finally obtained after struggling down a new path of good and heroism, she cries because once again, the injustice of the world picks her as its favorite punching bag.
They drink, she cries, and they drink some more, Regina's silent tears fading away into the soft silk of her blouse, until it seems she's shed every single salty drop her body could conjure and she's left with deep, uneven breaths exhaled warmly against Maleficent's neck.
Her fingers weave into dark locks and scratch lightly at Regina's scalp in that loving way she used to, because Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers, and this is how it's always been, her touch the only soothing balm amongst a sea of frustration, the only thing she can offer her friend in moments like these, the only consolation in a world of pain.
"I miss him," Regina whispers in the dark as she sinks further down Mal's body to rest her head on her lap, and her voice is so low, like she's afraid speaking louder will make it more real, will make it hurt more.
"I know, dear," the dragon replies, her nails still scraping over her friend's head, still playing with her hair, still soothing the ache she knows she feels.
"Do you think I'll ever be happy? Truly happy?" her friend asks then, and she gives her the answer she always does when Regina asks things like this, because that's what the young queen is looking for, Mal realizes, she wants the familiarity of their time together before all this, needs that comfort right now, and she's all too willing to give it.
"Oh, I'm absolutely certain you will be."
Because Maleficent knows, Maleficent remembers.
Because despite having locked her up in dragon form for all those years, despite now being friends (family, even) of the people who stole her unhatched child from her, to Maleficent Regina will always be the brave young queen who gave her back her fire, the idiot girl who took the broken pieces of her life and put them back together for her, and she will gladly repay the favor as many times as it is needed.