A/N: Only a week since I updated this? Feels a lot longer! It would have been up sooner, but first I had horrible writers block, and then, inspiration struck, but instead of getting this chapter done I sat down and pounded out what I think will be chapter 8. So, yeah. My brain does not want to work in a linear fashion. Oh, well. Less time to wait for that one when I finally get there, I guess.

Enjoy!

A few days after their impromptu tour of the castle, Regina's parents returned. It was two days before the wedding, just in time for them to attend the rehearsal. Both of her parents were participating in the wedding. Henry, of course, was walking her down the aisle, and Cora was the matron of honor.

That day, Robin did not see Regina at all, as the wedding rehearsal and banquet took the entire afternoon and spanned both the midday and evening meals, and he was elsewhere, preparing for the deluge of wedding guests that were expected to descend on the castle the next day.

The following day, he brought her midday meal to her chambers as usual, and was surprised when it wasn't her voice that invited him in, but a harsher voice that belonged to her mother.

"Lady Cora," he began respectfully, "I didn't realize you'd be joining the princess today. Shall I bring more food?"

Regina rushed to answer, as Cora turned to survey the food he had laid out.

"No, Robin that won't be necessary." Turning to her mother, she added tentatively, "there's enough for both of us, mother, they always give me more than enough."

"Indeed," Cora agreed sharply, "and have you thought to tell them to stop sending so much food? No, of course not. Honestly, Regina, you'll never amount to anything as queen if you can even give simple commands to your own servants."

"I've been busy, mother. It slipped my mind." No, she hasn't, thought Robin, but knew better than to interrupt.

"Nonetheless," said Cora, turning to Robin, "young man, inform the kitchen that my daughter only needs half this much food at her meals."

"Of course, Lady Cora." He noded at her, and turned to leave. "My lady," he nodded at Regina on his way out the door.

"Wait!" Cora's voice sounded behind him, and he turned to see her with a frighteningly intense expression on her face, and Regina beside her, doing her best not to cringe.

"This is how you address my daughter!? Show some respect! In a few short days, she's going to be your queen! It's, 'your majesty' when addressing her, and I'll thank you to use it."

"Mother…" Regina began, but her mother cut her off. "No, Regina, you are going to be queen. You can't just let people walk all over you like this. Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?!"

"I assure you, Lady Cora, I am perfectly aware of your daughter's status. However, as I'm sure you know, the title of 'your majesty' is reserved for members of the royal family, to which she does not yet belong. Once she is queen, I– and everyone– will use the proper title. Until then, I've been assured that 'my lady' is an acceptable forms of address." That was a white lie. He had been told only that she was a princess from another kingdom, but since she hadn't objected to his continuing to call her 'my lady,' he assumed that she didn't have a problem with the title.

Cora paused, momentarily speechless in her outrage. Regina took the opportunity to dismiss him from the room before her mother could say anything else.

As he left, he heard Cora's voice, admonishing her daughter for dismissing him, and wondering aloud how someone so 'impertinent' had ended up as Regina's valet. Before their voices faded completely, he heard Regina begin to explain the circumstances, and he was surprised by how disappointed he felt at the reminder that once she was wed he would no longer get to see her every day.

The next day, he brought her midday meal - with half as much food as usual - to her chambers, and knocked on her door with some trepidation. He hadn't seen her at all yesterday afternoon, as she had joined her parents in their guest rooms for the evening meal, which her parents' staff had handled.

Nonetheless, he entered confidently when he heard her invitation, and was relieved to find her alone.

"Good afternoon, my lady."

"Good afternoon," she said, smiling weakly, "I… would like to apologize. For my mother. She can be…"

"There's… no need to apologize. I understand. I'm sure she was just looking out for your best interest."

"Well, she certainly thinks she is. Still, you deserve an apology. You've been nothing but respectful, kind, and helpful to me these past few weeks, and you didn't deserve that. Just, know that I disagree with my mother. And… as long as she's here, you can send someone else with my meals… if you want to avoid her."

He thought for a moment, considering her offer, but he was certainly capable of putting up with a little complaining, and he wasn't about to shirk his duties. He wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction of having scared him off. Besides, avoiding Cora would mean spending less time with her daughter, and, though he would never admit it, he wanted to spend as much time as he could in Regina's company before he was removed from her service after the wedding.

"Thank you for the offer, my lady, but I assure you, I am more than capable of enduring a few complaints and I will not neglect my duties, nor my obligation to you."

Her face brightened at his words, and he thought he saw the slightest hint of a smile on her face. "Very well. You may go," she dismissed him. "Oh, and Robin?" He paused on his way out the door, and turned his head to face her. "Yes, my lady?" "Thank you." He nodded at her, smiled, and left the room.

The next day, she was married. The ceremony was limited, of course, to royal and noble guests, so Robin did not attend, but he was at the ball and banquet that followed. The castle staff had been stretched to its limits preparing for the wedding, and everyone was looking forward to the next day, when most of the guests would leave and things would return to normal. Robin was tasked with making sure the guests had their fill of the beverages, but he also found himself busy elsewhere for much of the party.

The work was mindless, and Robin let his thoughts wander, searching for something to occupy them throughout the afternoon. He found his mind, and his eyes, when he could see her, drifting towards Regina– the queen, she was the queen now.

She was beautiful, as always, as she mingled with the guests on the arm of her new husband. Everyone, surely, was offering their congratulations, and she smiled and nodded at the guests, but she moved stiffly, and spoke only rarely, allowing the king to do most of the talking. And, most troubling, her smiles were not the genuine, beautiful smiles he had grown to enjoy glimpses of in the last few weeks, but seemed tight and forced. He suspected, however, that he was the only one who could tell she was any less than thrilled with the event. Except, perhaps, for her parents, who surely knew the girl well enough to read her expressions far better than what little insight he had, after knowing her just a few weeks.

He turned his gaze to Cora for a moment, having concluded from what little Regina had said about her, as well as his own brief interaction with the woman, that his initial suspicions were most probably correct: She had more than a little to do with setting this marriage in motion. And indeed, the expression on her face when she looked at her daughter on the king's arm could only be described as triumph. But, strangely, he noticed that whenever her gaze strayed to the king himself, a scowl took over her face. He wondered at that, for after all, her daughter had just become queen, and surely that had been her goal. What reason could there possibly be for her to be upset?

He shrugged off the question, after all, it was none of his business, and turned his gaze back to the young queen. He watched the king lead her to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife. She was exquisitely graceful as she spun around the dance floor, moving with the music. Someone of her breeding had probably been taught all the steps to all these dances from a young age, and her steps never faltered, completing each dance flawlessly. But he noticed that her movements were very precise, mechanical, and she lacked the thrill, the passion exhibited by the other dancers around her. After a few dances, the king beckoned his daughter for dance, and the queen left the dance floor and returned to her place at the banquet table.

He watched as her parents made their way over to her. He couldn't hear the conversation, but her mother was clearly scolding her, as she sat up straighter and her tired expression morphed into a frozen smile as the older woman spoke. She spoke to her parents for a few minutes, and then Cora left the table. He didn't see where the woman went, as his attention remained focused on the young queen and her father. Henry laid a hand on his daughter's back, and she let her façade slip for just a minute, blinking rapidly in a way that suggested she was trying to hold back tears.

At that point, he got called away– they needed his help in the kitchen. He stayed in the kitchen for an agonizingly long time, unable to get the image of her blinking back tears out of his mind. And, no matter how many times he reminded himself that she was married, for god's sake, this was her wedding– to the king, no less— he could not shake the wish that he could be the one to comfort her, to dry those tears, and ensure that nothing but a smile would ever grace her beautiful lips again. It was an incredible, ridiculous wish, he knew, but something about the girl was damaged, broken, crying out for help. He desperately wanted that cry answered, and no one else seemed able to hear it.

When he returned to the ballroom, the dancing had long finished, the meal was nearly done, and the king was finishing a toast. "… my new wife, though she will never replace Eva in my heart, nor in Snow's, but will be able to serve as a wonderful queen and role model for my daughter."

Robin was stunned. Although it was the prevailing belief among the staff that the king was still in love with his dead wife, he had never thought that the man would state it so blatantly in front of his new wife, particularly in a toast at their wedding. His eyes snapped immediately to the new queen's face, and what he saw there broke his heart. She stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, her attention turned inward. Her face was expressionless. her façade like glass— about ready to shatter at any moment.

And, quite suddenly, the ridiculous wish seizes him once more, and he wants to talk to her, to comfort her, to let her cry the tears he can see her holding back. He is grasping for an excuse to talk to her, to give her some measure of comfort. And he knows these are dangerous thoughts. These are not things he should be thinking about the kings wife– especially not on their wedding day. It shouldn't matter to Robin, it should be the king's job to comfort his wife. But he cannot abandon the impulse, not when the king has just informed the whole room of how little regard he has for her feelings, and no one else seems to have even noticed the implication of his words, let alone care what the queen is feeling.

So, when she finds a moment to escape to the balcony, he excuses himself for a moment and follows her. He pauses on the way to grab a glass of the fruit juice she likes. She isn't particularly fond of wine, he knows, she has asked him to stop bringing it with her meals, and judging by her nearly full champagne glass, she feels the same way about the bubbly beverage.

"My- your majesty?" he says softly, just barely remembering her new title, as he approaches her on the balcony, and she whirls around to face him, startled.

"Oh, Robin, it's you…"

"I… I'd noticed you haven't had much to drink, my lady. I thought perhaps you'd prefer this," he says, holding out the glass of juice.

"Oh," she says, taking a sip. "Thank you, Robin."

"No trouble," he says. "I noticed you've barely touched your champagne, so I thought you might like something different."

"Yes," she nods, grimacing. "I can't stand the taste of that stuff. Wine, champagne… Everyone says I'll grow to like it, but… I'd rather have something a bit sweeter."

"I can certainly understand that. And may I just say, you look stunning in that dress, my la- your majesty." Stunning doesn't begin to cover it, he thinks, but the compliment is well received.

She gives him a small— but genuine— smile. "Thank you, Robin. And… 'my lady' is fine." He moves to object, but she cuts him off. "No, really. I'm not really comfortable with 'your majesty.' At least not yet. Just… use it when my mother's in the room. Or the ki- my husband. I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Very well, my lady," he smiles at her. "If you are done with your drink, I have to get back to work."

"Of course," she says, finishing the glass and handing it back to him.

He leaves the balcony, and returns to serving drinks. She returns to her place at the table shortly afterward, looking, if not happy, slightly less miserable than before.

A/N: Ok, I know that technically Cora married a prince, but can you actually picture anyone calling her 'princess'? I really can't, and that's why Robin calls her 'Lady.' I could make up a complicated political reason if I really wanted to, but it wouldn't really fit in the story.

Edit: Ok, so I rewatched 'The Miller's Daughter,' and at the end her father-in-law actually does call her 'Princess Cora.' Oops. Still, I can't see anyone addressing Barbara Hershey's adult Cora as 'princess.'

Please, please, please, please, PLEASE leave a review! I'm actually really shy, and the next chapter's giving me some trouble, so I could really use some encouragement.