She ducks in the shadows, clutching what little she'd managed to take from the Sherriff, nearly screaming as something small and four legged scrambles over her feet. She bites her lip to keep from crying out as the rodent's silhouette becomes visible, knowing she'd much prefer to stare down a bear or battle an ogre than deal with a well-fed rat.
God. She hates they city. Give her a cave dwelling in the forest any day.
A moan from behind her startles her, and she jumps on her haunches, squinting to make out the sound source among the piles of waste she's been avoiding. Then there's a cough—one that doesn't sound good at all—one that is undoubtedly human and probably not long for this world. Her legs are frozen, and she debates on whether she should check on the person in trouble or simply keep running to ensure her own safety. After all, helping the sick isn't something a bandit wanted by the queen herself has time for in the grand scheme of things.
But then there's a sniffle and a cry. Dear God—a child. Regina cannot turn her back on a child.
Damn it.
She turns and hops over what trash she can see, breathing a prayer that the rats will even find the smell too revolting to bother her any further when she nearly falls over a small child who can't be more than four year old, one whose haunted dark eyes stare up at her in what light the moon affords.
"Can you help my mama?"
Another cough racks through the person on the ground—a woman, a mother, it would seem, her long, dark hair matted to her face, her cheekbones nearly protruding through her skin as silver light illuminates her face. Her child is thin, but not like this—not skeletal, and Regina reasons that this woman has been feeding her son to her own expense as disease siphoned away what little strength she had remaining.
"I don't know," Regina answers honestly, and the woman sends her a small, resigned smile, shaking her head in response.
"You can't. No one can, believe me."
Her tone is gravelly and rough, and she coughs again, making Regina draw the boy back towards her instinctively. He fights being pulled away from his mother, trying to get back to the sick woman, sobbing in the dark alley that is the closest thing to hell Regina hopes she ever sees.
"Can I summon a doctor?" Regina questions, thinking through her options, knowing seeking a physician's help could easily get her captured. But the boy looks back at her, his eyes rounding in hope and awe, and she knows she cannot just leave them there to fend for themselves. The woman will die.
And then what will become of her son?
The woman tries to laugh, but it quickly overtakes her body, and she's coughing up something Regina is glad she cannot see, the smell itself nearly enough to knock her down.
"I've seen a doctor," she answers, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "At least the one who occasionally visits The House of De Vil. He told me that the only thing I could do for myself was to leave the establishment and take my bastard with me so as to not infect any of the paying customers and start an outbreak."
Ah—the brothel. That explains a lot, unfortunately.
"There has to be another physician around," Regina tries, but the woman raises her hand and waves away the suggestion.
"I'm dying," she murmurs. "I won't last the night, and we both know it."
Somehow the stench of the alley melts away as the child's form sags into Regina's legs, and she holds the boy upright, her hand automatically brushing through his ragged curls.
"Don't say that, Mama," he whimpers before burying his face in his hands. But he doesn't protest further, making Regina wonder just how much death he has seen in his short life.
"It's true, Roland," she breathes, the labored noises she makes to simply draw breath enough to make Regina cringe. "You must accept this and go on. Be my brave boy, alright?"
He's nodding and shaking his head at the same time, and Regina turns his wet face into her tunic, letting his tears soak her clothes, her heart nearly frozen at the gravity of this situation.
"You said you want to help?"
Regina can't remember if she did or not, but she can't say no to this woman and her son, not here, not now.
"Of course," she answers. "What can I do?"
The woman sits forward, coughing until she can't breathe. She finally stops and pulls a pendant off of her neck, extending it towards Regina with a trembling arm.
"Take this," she wheezes, dangling it insistently. "Take this, and take my son."
Her hand clasps over the chain just as the bulk of her request hits Regina squarely in the chest.
"I—your son?"
"No, Mama, no," the boys sobs, and he runs to her, throwing small arms around her neck. They're both crying now, mother and child, and tears prick her own eyes, the measure of just how grave a situation she's stumbled into nearly making her legs buckle. "I'm gonna stay with you. You're gonna be ok. Promise."
"No, Roland," she murmurs, pulling his arms away from her, pushing the boy in Regina's direction. "I won't be. You need to go with this nice lady. She'll take care of you." She coughs again before she stares directly back at Regina.
"Won't you?"
He's looking up at her, clearly distraught and terrified, and Regina tries her best to swallow, the pendant in one hand, the boy's shoulder in the other. She nods, she's not certain what prompts it, but she does, and then the woman smiles, looking younger as if the weight of the world has been lifted from her chest.
"I knew you would," she murmurs, leaning back into the wall. "I knew it the minute I saw your face." She pauses to cough again before inhaling painfully. "You're my savior."
She's no savior, she knows it, but no sound comes out of her mouth as the child continues to sob into her clothing.
"Take care of my boy," the woman manages, pointing directly at Regina. "His future is in your hands."
Her eyes close then, and Regina's widen, the boy Roland clutching her legs with the strength of a child twice his age. She holds him to her instinctively, the chain now woven through her fingers as the woman breathes her last.
What is she supposed to do now?
Then there's a noise coming from the main street, and she sweeps Roland up against her chest, moving them back into the shadows and stench where neither the sheriff's men nor Black Guards would dare to venture.
"Shhhh," she breathes into his hair, hugging knots and tangles, muffling his sobs into her shoulder. "Remember what your mother said, Roland. It's time to be brave. Can you do that for me?"
He draws back and looks at her, nodding in a pitiful attempt to obey his mother's last wishes.
"I'm Regina," she whispers. "And if I get caught by the sheriff, I'll be in a lot of trouble. Do you understand?"
Whether he does or not, she doesn't know, but he nods all the same, and Regina realizes that this boy has spent his entire life on the wrong side of the law. After all, the children of whores aren't usually looked upon as worthy of the crown's protection.
"I need you to be quiet and walk away with me," she continues, gazing towards the alley's opening before returning her eyes to his. "Can you do that?"
He nods in earnest this time, and she smoothes the hair away from his forehead, smiling back at him in the dim light, hating that a child so young has already lost so much.
"Come on then," she instructs, tugging them both up on their feet and turning to slide out of one alley and into another. But Roland pauses, looking back at his mother, frozen in place for a moment that pierces Regina's heart.
"You'll take care of me?"
She closes her eyes and breathes in the stench, clasping his little hand within her own. How the hell is she supposed to take care of a little boy when she's already on the run from the queen?
"I'll take care of you," she promises, feeling his fingers latch into hers, knowing somehow it is a promise she must keep, one that will consume her life from this point on, one that will take precedence over her own survival.
"Just like Mama said," he whispers, and her heart flutters in her ribs. They look at each other in silence before the sound of barking dogs cuts into their reverie.
"Let's go," Regina instructs, maneuvering them out of the alley slowly, leaving death behind for the promises of life and freedom.