A/N: My spring break is coming to an end, so updates will sadly slow down a bit. Thanks for reading! I really love writing this story.
"Very good," Tinkerbell said without even looking at Snow's paper. She'd only been teaching the girl for a week, but she already detested her and this job. She had no interest in children or teaching, and she couldn't stand the girl's smile or the way she sang while she drew.
Snow White had trapped Regina here, and now she'd trapped Tinkerbell, and the former fairy hated her for it.
She had to admit that there were benefits to living in the castle. Tink had no idea what she might have done as far as food or shelter when left out on her own. And being there meant glimpses of Regina. The queen didn't talk to her, didn't even look at her, but Tink lived each day on the hope that their paths would cross, that she could just see Regina for a moment.
Tink shook thoughts of Regina from her head and forced herself to glance at Snow's still life. "Let's end our lesson for today," she told her student. "Your father would like me to begin painting your portrait."
Snow lit up at that, abandoning her easel. "Oh, but I don't know what to wear!" She ran from her sitting room, where Tink conducted all indoor lessons, into her bedroom and enormous closet. Tink lingered awkwardly in the sitting room until Snow came back to her empty-handed. "I must ask Regina. She'll know just the thing!"
Tink's heart both leapt and sank. The thought of seeing Regina – even just hearing her name, really – thrilled her, but she knew the queen wouldn't be happy about the disruption. "Princess," she started, but Snow was already racing towards the hall, and all Tink could do was follow her. "I really don't think we should disturb the Queen," she called after her, but she was used to flying, not running. The effort of keeping the princess in sight was exhausting.
Snow finally stopped, throwing open the doors to the library. Tink followed her in, trying to catch her breath, and glanced around the towering collection of books. She'd never seen so many in one place. But as always, her eyes drifted towards Regina.
The young queen was sitting on a window seat, writing in a journal that she snapped shut as soon as Snow called out her name. Tinkerbell stopped to brace herself against a bookcase, both the exertion and the way Regina looked there in the sunlight leaving her weak.
"Father wants Lady Tindra to paint my portrait," Snow explained, hopping up onto the window seat beside Regina. Tink wished she could be that bold. "I don't know what I should wear."
Regina's irritated gaze landed on Tinkerbell, since she couldn't get away with looking at Snow that way. "Why don't you choose some options, and I'll come to your room in a while and help you?" she asked stiffly.
Snow was off in a flurry again, but Tink remained, not able to muster the energy to race after her. "I'm sorry for disturbing you," she offered.
"I know it's Snow's doing, not yours," Regina said almost kindly, hugging her journal to her chest. "If you wanted to see me, you'd just sneak into my room."
Tink blushed at that. "It won't happen again," she promised, and headed back to Snow's chambers.
Regina had to admit that she wanted it to happen again. She wouldn't admit it aloud, of course, only to herself.
She'd liked when Tinkerbell had visited her all those nights as a fairy. She'd liked having something like a friend, and after having something like a friend it was hard to go back to being alone. To just penning her problems in the cold, silent pages of her journal, writing poems that no one would ever read. She wanted someone to talk to more than she'd ever thought possible. And now that Tinkerbell had been here a week without giving up any of her secrets, without letting anyone see that she was not, in fact, Lady Tindra, Regina was starting to think that perhaps she could trust her.
"Wait!" she called, hating herself for doing so immediately. Hating herself for being pathetic and lonely enough to need someone.
Tink stopped and turned and looked at her in that way of hers, a way that almost reminded Regina of the way Daniel used to look at her.
Clutching her journal, Regina made her way to Tink's side. "It might be all right if you visited again," she said in a low voice.
"Might it?" Tink smiled brightly. "Perhaps tonight."
It was nice having someone look at her like that, like she was worth something. Regina allowed herself to smile back. "Tell Snow I'll be there in a moment," she said, leaving for her own chambers to return her journal to its hiding place. When she glanced back over her shoulder halfway down the hall, Tink was still smiling.
Tinkerbell knew Regina wouldn't return to her chambers until late, but she was too eager to wait. She slipped into the room through the servants' entrance and once again sat herself at the queen's vanity. Before the mirror, she found herself inspecting her appearance and fixing her hair, desperate to impress.
Not that Regina had the least bit of interest in her. But perhaps they could be friends, and Tink would be happy with friends. At least she hoped she might.
Tink looked through all of the objects on Regina's vanity, touching the bottles of perfume reverently. Her eyes lit on the leather-bound book she so often saw Regina writing in, but that she didn't dare touch. Instead, she picked up another book, a novel the young queen was reading, and perused it without soaking in a single word.
She was listening so carefully that she heard the limping steps in the hall and the doorknob turning. She waited eagerly for Regina to appear, but her smile instantly faded once she did.
Regina looked even more ragged and miserable than she had the last night Tink waited for her. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smudged, and there was pain both in her expression and in the way she carried herself. She didn't look like a queen tonight, just a girl.
"Oh," she said softly when she saw Tinkerbell. "It's you."
"It's me." Tinkerbell hurried forward to take Regina's arm and help her to the bed. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," Regina replied curtly. She reached for the clean nightgown laid out on her bed, and allowed Tink to help ease her out of her robe. The former fairy gasped when she saw blood staining the white silk Regina was wearing underneath.
"You're not fine. You're hurt." Tink touched the spot on Regina's side where the stain was worst, and the brunette winced.
What she wouldn't give to have magic again, to be able to help in some way.
"Let's clean you up, at least," she said, heading for the queen's bathroom, but Regina stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"There's no water," she explained. "I'm not allowed to wash after sex. It'll hurt my chances of conceiving." It was clear from the flat tone of Regina's voice that she had little hope of ever being successful.
Tinkerbell just gaped at her for a second. Sex was just one of many of the odd human things that fairies never experienced, but from what she'd heard of it she didn't expect it to be so brutal. "That's sex?"
"Leopold leaves in the morning. He likes to leave his mark before he goes."
"I'm going to get you water," Tink told her. "I don't care what's allowed."
At that, finally, Regina really looked at the former fairy. "Thank you," she said softly, almost a whisper. "You're very kind."
While she waited, Regina raised a hand and healed the cut on her side. Not completely, just enough to stop the bleeding. She could save herself so much pain if she could only heal everything, but doing so might lead to her husband discovering her secret. She was no longer seeing Rumplestiltskin, but she'd learned enough already to be able to care for herself in small ways.
But Leopold expected to see her the way he left her, and she would only raise suspicion if her injuries entirely disappeared.
She finished stiffly changing into her clean nightgown by the time Tinkerbell returned with a basin of water and a cloth. The fairy wetted the cloth and moved to clean the trickle of blood that had run down Regina's leg, but the queen reached out to take over the job. She followed the blood up to and under her nightgown, washing away all of the remnants of Leopold and the pain he caused her.
Tinkerbell flitted about with nothing to do, looking very much the fairy, before finding Regina's hairbrush and climbing onto the bed behind the brunette. Regina paused in her cleaning after a few careful, gentle strokes, closing her eyes.
"When I was little," she said, "my nanny used to brush my hair after my mother punished me. It always made me feel better."
Tink kept up the motion. "Did it work?"
"Always. It reminded me that there was someone, at least, who loved me." Regina set down the wet cloth and hugged her arms around her stomach. "My mother was cruel and my father was always busy but there was one person who would always be there." At least until Cora killed the woman when Regina was eight, but the queen didn't mention that part. It was so easy to pretend that it was Nanny sitting behind her, taking such great care with each stroke of the brush.
"I could be that for you," Tink offered, her voice filled with hope. "Always there."
"I don't need anyone," Regina said automatically, used to her walls and safe distances.
Tink didn't answer for a long time, eventually setting the brush down and braiding Regina's hair. The queen went back to washing, finding the silence and the blonde's presence surprisingly comfortable. She felt the loss when the weight shifted on the bed and Tink got off.
"Are you feeling any better?" Tinkerbell asked as she gathered the cloth and the basin of pink water.
"Yes, thank you." Regina absentmindedly ran a hand over her braid. "And tomorrow night I can go to sleep in peace."
Tink shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Should I come tomorrow night?"
"I…" Regina paused, unsure. She didn't mind Tinkerbell's company, but letting the fairy in deeper felt risky. Especially when she looked at her like she was now, as if her whole world contained only Regina.
"You're allowed to need someone, you know," Tinkerbell said. "You don't have to be alone."
Regina thought, for a moment, of how these nights usually ended. Without Tinkerbell, she'd be sticky and sweaty and, in all likelihood, crying from the pain and humiliation of the things her husband made her do. But tonight she was calm, and even though the constant empty ache in her heart never disappeared these days, she'd been able to forget it was there for a minute or two.
"Tomorrow night," Regina confirmed. And when she closed her eyes to sleep, she was surprised to note that she was still smiling.