The moment her waters had broken, Regina lurched forward, crying out weakly as she felt pressure — the head — moving lower still within her. Trembling, her knees were bending into the sensation and were it not for Robin and Snow holding her upright, she would have sunk down to the floor, buckling against the sudden shift.
"M-my…water. My water broke.." she stammered when she was able to catch her breath enough to spit out a few words — not that there had been any question in anyone's mind.
No sooner had she spoken, Regina was leaning forward once more, the sudden release of her water bringing with it a contraction crashing through her. This was different from the rest. She had been able to breathe through them — even the more difficult ones — most of the day, but this one was strangling. She flinched, bracing her hands against the tops of her thighs as Robin and Snow took firm hold of her arms, keeping her from sinking down. Unable to keep her voice low, to restrain herself and hide her pain as she so prided herself in doing all her life, Regina let out a tight and twisted groan. And when the pain had passed, Regina breathed in deeply, choking on the sudden rush of air to her lungs. And then she was panting softly, desperate to steady herself, blinking back tears as wobbling knees slowly straightened.
"Regina," Snow breathed out sympathetically, worried eyes shifting to Robin, briefly. Because she knew their time had just run out.
"Regina — sit," Robin cooed, still holding tightly to her, his wild eyes searching for a place to let her rest. But he felt her pull against him, and turning to look back at her, she was shaking her head.
"No. No, I can't," she protested. She could feel the heaviness of the head pressing against her, and the very thought of sitting over that pressure was making her stomach turn.
"Okay…okay," Snow soothed, seeing the distress in Regina's eyes. She gently rubbed her back, glancing back towards the elevator doors — still closed. Still no sign of Hook and Emma returning.
"We need to get her to the portal," Snow concluded quickly, giving a sharp nod to Robin.
"No," Regina groaned softly, shaking her head once more. "My magic —" she hummed, turning to look into Snow's eyes, dark pools meeting with teary hazels.
Regina had felt the comforting, familiar tingle of her magic slowly dissolving since that morning. It seemed that with each slow-growing contraction, more and more left her — temporarily suspended for one reason or another. And Regina hadn't minded, happy to focus instead on the impending birth of her child — but now, it was proving to be an issue.
And Snow knew by the frightened look in Regina's eyes that her magic was gone — likely affected by her current distress.
"I can't walk that far," Regina whimpered, refusing to let her tears fall, refusing to allow herself to show any more weakness — for now, at least.
"Okay," Snow agreed, her hand continuing its soothing path between Regina's shoulders. "Okay."
Contractions were coming regularly now, and with each surge, they seemed to grow in intensity. Regina paced slowly around the room in between, her large belly cradled in her hands. It was easy to tell when another pain was coming. Regina's steps would slow, then stop. She would lean forward into Robin's waiting arms, pressing her forehead against the center of his chest and moaning low, and deep.
Snow's eyes were locked on Regina, her gaze unmoving since her water had broken an hour ago. Robin stared at the top of Regina's head where she rested against him, whispering tender encouragements, kissing her silky dark hair.
Henry resisted the urge to go to her for comfort, though it went against his every instinct. Whenever he had been afraid, it was Regina's arms that had wrapped him up tight. It was Regina's soft, whispered words that soothed away every worry. It was Regina's warmth that promised everything would be alright. But not this time.
David was pacing in front of the elevator doors, his arms crossed, nervously glancing upwards every few seconds, jumping at every sound.
"I need Emma," Regina groaned, lifting herself from Robin's chest as her contracted ebbed away. "We need Emma. We have to get out of here. We have to get home…"
There was a sudden and unsettling urgency in her tone that had everyone perking up.
"Regina?" Snow asked, standing and crossing the room swiftly to go to her side. "What's going on," she pressed, seeing sudden worry flash in the older woman's eyes.
Regina only shook her head. "I have to get her home."
And Snow nodded. She understood. She meant her daughter.
In the depths of the Underworld, Emma's heart had been proven worthy — after a perilous test. But when the heavy doors had opened, the pair stepping through, they were greeted by a dead and withered stump. The Ambrosia was dead. It had been a trap, a waste of time and an immense distraction.
"Why?" Emma asked in a breath, her mind reeling, realizing she had just left her family unprotected above, a thousand scenarios playing over, all with one thing in common — they were in danger.
"Why lie to us," she pressed, looking into Hook's eyes, knowing instinctively that this was Hades' doing. "Why send us after dead fruit…"
The realization hit Hook and made his stomach turn. "Because he doesn't want us coming with him to Storybrooke."
"Regina…Regina, breathe," Snow encouraged, her voice growing louder to combat Regina's rising cries. The dark haired woman was hunched forward, Robin's arms the only thing keeping her from sinking down. She was panting — but each short breath was now being punctuated by a soft grunt. Snow could hear the effort behind it, and she felt her heart sink in her chest.
"Hey…hey," she cooed, moving around to Regina's front, crouching down to her eye-level. "Blow," she said with a nod. "Blow…like a candle," she hummed.
And Regina tried, helplessly mimicking what Snow was doing — but she knew she couldn't fight her body for much longer. Her eyes were filled with tears as she nodded her head, and she had never been more grateful for Snow's presence before in her life.
The doors to the elevator opened as Regina let out a long, strained cry. Emma's eyes were wide, all thoughts of the pirate she'd had to leave behind pushed aside as she rushed out towards Regina.
"What the hell," Emma asked in a breath, unable to hide the worry in her eyes.
"Where's Hook?" Snow asked, turning over her shoulder from where she was helping Robin to keep Regina upright. Her daughter was alone, and distraught — and she knew the answer before the answer was given.
Emma only shook her head. "I'll explain later," she promised, and her eyes were locked on the dark haired woman. "Let's go."
"We can't," Snow explained, shaking her head. The Blind Witch cast a spell, trapping us here. Her magic —"
But the princess' words were cut off as Regina cried out again, reminding them all that the contractions were one on top of the other now.
Gritting her teeth, Regina adjusted her hold around Robin's neck, stepping her feet apart slightly, her head dipping forward in obvious effort. Her tone changed. She let out a low grunt, holding it in her throat and releasing with a heavy breath.
"No, no, no…" Snow panicked, wrapping herself around Regina's back. "No, Regina…Regina, don't push. Don't push," she begged.
"I can't…I can't," Regina panted nervously — because she could feel how close the baby was, how with every contraction, she was pressing down a little lower, how her muscles begged to push down, how her body was completely out of her control.
"We have to go. Now." Snow demanded, and she didn't stop to dwell on the fleeting thought that they should really have gone hours ago. Weeks ago.
Emma nodded her head and flung her magic towards the doors of the library, forcing them open and lifting the spell the Blind Witch had cast. A second wave of her hand took everyone from the Library to the cemetery, the portal inches away.
"Get her through!" Emma shouted with urgency, waving Robin and Snow over, watching helplessly as Regina hung between them, limp and weary. "It's starting to close — hurry!"
Regina took in a deep breath and steeled herself against the intense pressure building between her legs. She leaned into Robin and Snow, and with fiery determination, she stepped through, her form dissolving into the crackling red magic.
Henry was next, then David. And Emma turned to look out at the Underworld — and all she was leaving behind. She held back a choked sob, turning, and disappearing through the portal, back home — without him.
The other side of the portal led out into Main Street for Emma, Henry and the Charmings. But as they reappeared, Regina's absence was keenly noticed. Snow's arms were still bent as they had been over her stepmother's back, but now they were empty.
"What the hell — where is she?!" Emma asked frantically, turning from one direction to the other. This was one scenario she hadn't imagined. But the outcome was the same — danger.
Regina and Robin appeared in the Mayor's office, and Regina let out a sigh of relief at the familiarity. At least she could ensure this place was clean — immaculate, even. Reaching forward to hold to the back of a chair at the long table, Regina let out a breath, letting Robin's hand move to her lower back, pressing in, kneading against the pain. Only then did she notice that Snow was no longer with her, no longer offering her the comfort of having gone through this twice — and successfully. And as Regina began to grow more and more aware of her surroundings, she realized they were not alone in her office.
"Welcome back," Hades said with a grin. "Didn't think you'd make it. You heroes are so annoying that way," he whispered angrily. "Can't seem to keep you down."
Robin grew tense, turning to face the god, ready and rearing to charge with everything he had. But he felt Regina shift, turning back to watch as she sunk down slowly, moving to her hands and knees as she let out a long and desperate cry.
"You stay away from her," Robin growled, putting himself in front of Regina where she was now crouched on the ground.
"Mmm…I don't think I can do that. You see — she has something that doesn't belong to her…" Hades countered, slowly stepping forward. And there was something in his hand.
A long, double edged wand of crystal was held firmly in the god's right hand, and as he stepped closer, he was already raising it up.
"Hades, stop. This isn't worth it," Robin tried to negotiate. "If you do this, you will lose Zelena. You will lose her trust. This is her sister," he reminded the god angrily.
"Shhhh…." Hades whispered, his smile only growing. "Only if she knows about it. And this," he hummed, lifting the crystal just a bit higher. "This will make sure that she doesn't. This will remove all memory of Regina — from everyone's mind. It will be as if she never existed. She won't even been a faint flicker," he laughed. "And Zelena — Zelena will inherit this town. And we will rule, side by side…with our child, together."
"I won't let you touch her," Robin gritted, his heart sinking when he heard Regina cry out again, her breaths growing deep and desperate.
"This is what you get for trying to turn Zelena against me," Hades roared, and the crystal was charged with crackling blue magic, the look in his eyes wild, deranged.
"What are you doing!?" Zelena asked, bursting suddenly into the room. She glanced quickly from Hades to the weapon he was wielding — to her sister, writhing in pain. "What's going on? What are you doing to her?" she plead desperately.
Hades was caught. And he knew it. And short of erasing Zelena's memory, there was no way out of this but to try and explain it away.
"She was going to keep your child from you," he argued, hoping that it would be enough.
It wasn't.
"No. No, you're wrong….she wouldn't," Zelena said softly, shaking her head.
"She was going to take your child, and send you back to OZ alone, banishing you from this place forever. I'm going to make sure she can never hurt us again — I'm going to make sure this town belongs to us, forever."
Zelena flinched at that.
"Us. I thought you wanted this for me. What use do you have for power here?" Zelena asked, although his motives were beginning to shine through clearly.
"You, Zelena. For you. All of this is for you."
"If it was for me, you wouldn't be doing this," she argued — and she could see the god for who we was now.
With the wave of her hand, Zelena sent Regina and Robin out of the room, leaving her and Hades to end this war once and for all.
Appearing in her vault, Regina felt her stomach turn at the transportation — too much in too little space of time. But nausea was the least of her woes.
Robin moved beside her where she was crouched on hands and knees on the ground, his hands moving over her, trying desperately to soothe her. Regina blanched and shook her head, pushing him away.
"Get…get these off," she grunted softly, gesturing to Snow's riding pants. "She's right there…" They were damp from her water, and too tight and clinging too close — and even as Robin began to help remove them, he could see through the thin fabric that there was a distinct bulge between her thighs.
"Gods," Robin breathed out, his eyes wide as he rolled her pants down, the top of the head clearly visible. His hand instinctively moving to cup against the emerging crown — but Regina hissed and pulled back from his touch, and he recoiled quickly.
She was a Queen, and she was on her knees, bare from the waist down, panting and whimpering like a wounded animal. And a year ago, she would have hated herself for being so weak. But in this moment, she was sure she had never felt stronger.
"I feel like I'm splitting apart!" Regina screeched, her whole body succumbing to tremors as she struggled to breathe through the pain — the sudden feel of being on fire, of burning from the inside out was overwhelming her.
"It's her head —" Robin promised, kneeling behind her, his hand hovering just below the emerging dome. "It's alright, Regina," he promised — and he hoped that was true. "Breathe. Breathe."
Regina closed her eyes and began to pant. Tears fell as she immediately thought of Snow White — in the Library — of her face, and of the way she'd instructed her to pant. And Regina was mimicking her again, keeping her eyes closed — because as long as they remained shut, she could see Snow clearly.
"Good! Good!" Robin cheered with a breathy laugh, watching as the orb grew larger and larger, slowly blooming between Regina's legs — a wrinkled forehead, then a nose, lips, and then a chin.
Regina let out a cry, then a heavy sigh of relief as she felt the head slip out — and instinctively, she was looking over her shoulder, frightened eyes searching Robin's face. "She okay?" she asked breathily.
Robin reached forward, fingertips delicately moving over the baby's head, searching for any sign that it was — or was not — safe to proceed.
"She's good….she's…she's perfect," he laughed, sniffling unashamedly, blinking away his falling tears.
Snow was running ahead, leading the way, her heart pounding — Regina needed her, and she would not let her down — but as soon as Town Hall was in view, Snow knew that something was terribly wrong. There was a bright flash of blue seen easily from the upper story, and she stopped in her tracks. "Regina's office," she breathed out, feeling sick to her stomach.
Emma was right behind her, her eyes flicking up to Regina's office windows. David and Henry were already charging ahead, ready to take on whatever force wished harm on one of their own — because Regina was one of their own. She was family.
Snow lurched forward, ready to rush in behind them — but Emma was holding her arm, holding her back. "Emma, she needs us!" Snow demanded, turning over her shoulder. But Emma was already using her magic, bringing them to Regina's vault — because when there was danger, Regina would always feel protected there.
Regina's cries could be heard even outside the vault's doors, and Emma and Snow took off, rushing to push the sarcophagus aside, descending quickly, Regina's voice growing louder, still.
"Regina!?" Snow called out, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of her stepmother — a woman she had only known to be strong and powerful, a force to be reckoned with — shivering, shaking, her skin pale and eyes dark and sunken. Her hair was matted against her temples, sticking to the sides of her neck.
"Snow," Regina croaked out weakly, her eyes lifting to watch the younger woman cross the room — but even in her obvious distress, Snow's presence was giving her hope.
"She's stuck," she whimpered, Regina's eyes brimming with tears, her body already tensing, another contraction pulsing through her.
Still on her hands and knees, Robin crouched behind her, cradling the baby's head, the distress in both their faces was obvious. As Regina lowered her head again, muscles braced and limbs shaking as she cried out — pushing down hard against the pressure — Robin's eyes were on Snow, begging her to help — to save them both.
"The head's out," Robin explained nervously. "She's just not coming down…"
Snow nodded, and moved her hand to Regina's back, resting between her shoulders. Regina whimpered at the touch. Snow's hand was warm and soft and in stark contrast against her cold, clammy skin.
"Alright. Regina — we're going to try a different position," Snow cooed, and she was looking over at Robin, gesturing for him to move to the front of her. "You let me know when the contraction ends," she hummed, her voice low and soothing.
Regina nodded, humming through the deep, pulsing pain, her throat raw as she growled through the worst of it, her body bearing down hard. When it ended, Regina let out a breath, her head rolling forward on her shoulders, weary arms bending to rest.
"Okay. Ready?" Snow asked — and she didn't wait for an answer. In one motion, though it was slow and careful, Snow was guiding Regina off of her knees, pulling her back against her own chest. Snow's arms hooked under Regina's, holding her steady as she relaxed into a squat, while Robin knelt between Regina's open knees.
"Good. Good job. Just catch your breath. Just rest a moment. We'll push when the next one comes….together," Snow cooed.
Regina groaned as she was moved, despising the younger woman and regretting ever having wished she was here. But as soon as she was settled into position, Regina let out a deep sigh, her eyes rolling back until they closed, sinking back heavily against Snow's chest. Her hands moved to rest back against Snow's upper arms, and Regina finally allowed her tears to fall — slow and quiet, rolling against her cheeks. Snow was soft behind her, and Regina found comfort in the tender, maternal embrace she found herself in.
The Queen smiled weakly, imagining what her reaction would be, if she could tell her younger self about this moment.
The peace that had settled deep in Regina's core remained, even when the next contraction began. She was lifting herself slightly, pressing into the effort — and Snow was with her, holding her up, giving her strength.
"She's…she's turning!" Robin shouted happily, beaming as the small head began to rotate between Regina's legs.
Regina let out a breathy laugh then, and leaned further into the push, gritting her teeth and growling low in her throat, letting the air out of her lungs in a roar as the shoulders emerged.
"Shoulders! Shoulders are out," Robin said with elation and relief, his eyes flicking up to take in the sight of his love, of the strength she had, of the impossible beauty of her.
"Okay, Regina… just a little more," Snow cooed, encouraging her to remain strong. "You're almost there. She's almost here," she hummed.
But Regina was already leaning in, already bearing down, the veins in her neck and forehead plumping outward as she cried out for the last time — then fell back heavily against Snow's chest, her breaths deep and desperate.
Robin caught the baby in eagerly waiting arms, letting out the happy laugh of a proud papa. He quickly brought his discarded jacked up and over the baby, pushing her up and onto Regina's chest.
Regina was shaking, her body exhausted, drained. Snow was slowly guiding her down until she was sitting, wrapping her own coat around Regina's shoulders. But despite the flurry of activity — there was an eerie silence in the room.
"Robin…Robin," Regina whimpered frantically, rubbing the baby's back. "Robin, she's not — she's not crying…"
In a single moment, Regina's world was crashing down around her. She felt her heart break, and wondered why she ever imagined this would go any differently. Her life knew little happiness — everything she had ever loved had been ripped from her eventually. And perhaps she had spent too long in the Underworld after all. Hades had called it a place of decay. Nothing grew there, nothing thrived. And maybe this little girl never really stood a chance. Maybe none of them did.
Sobbing, Regina kept her eyes on the small babe against her chest, everything else around her melting away, wondering how she would ever be able to face Robin again — because this child was his, and she had lost it.
Snow reached over around Regina's shoulder and began rubbing the baby's back in quick, rapid successions, pinching gently along tiny thighs. Then a little harder — and harder still — and —
And then a long, loud, healthy wail. The little girl went red in the face, squealing, fingers and toes splaying, flailing.
And then Regina and Robin were crying. And then Snow was, too.
The cord had been cut, and both Regina and the baby were wrapped snugly in blankets and offered coats — most obviously, the hint of red leather peeking out in between layers of Robin's deep green tweeds. Emma had left to share the news with her father and Henry, and Robin had stepped out to source more blankets and a handful of diapers to get them through until they could be moved — magically or otherwise.
Alone in the vault with Snow, Regina was delirious with love, her dark eyes fixed on the pink bundle in her arms. When the baby began to stir, clearly rooting for its first meal, it was Snow who gently encouraged Regina, offering help — and then backed off to allow Regina to cling to what modesty she needed to remain between them. With the exception of the quiet suckling at Regina's breast, the Vault was still, and silent — and peaceful.
Looking up when Snow moved close once more, laying a third blanket over Regina's legs without waiting to be asked, Regina smiled fully, tenderly.
"How did you know what to do," Regina asked, her voice still quite hoarse.
Snow let out a sigh, and crossed her legs, sitting tucked close to Regina and her daughter. "Actually…we have Zelena to thank for that," she explained with a knowing smile.
"Zelena," Regina asked, her brow lifting quizzically.
"She…" Snow began, clearing her throat and fighting the blush she knew was filling her cheeks. "Well. She…had me watch quite a few videos when…. when she was my…. midwife."
Regina laughed through her nose, letting it crinkle as she fell into a fit of soft giggles, grinning when she heard Snow's laughter joining her.
Robin and Regina took the next several days to close themselves away from the goings-on in Storybrooke, quite content to simply be with each other and their children, to learn the new ins and outs of family life with a newborn in the home. Snow visited in the afternoons, allowing Regina and Robin the opportunity to sleep, while letting David take Henry and Roland out for long lunches. And it was Snow who informed them that Zelena had killed Hades, that his threats were ended once and for all. They were grateful that those horrors were behind them, but if they were at all honest with themselves, they would admit they were hard pressed to care for anything but the beautiful bright life that had come from so much darkness.
Standing by the window, sunlight pooling into the room, Regina swayed gently, rocking her daughter against her shoulder. Her own mother had never sung much to her as an infant, so she had resolved to use one of Henry's current favorites as a lullaby — "Only You."
The familiar creak in the floorboard by the door alerted her to his presence — but she did not stop singing, nor swaying, her lips brushing gently over the top of their daughter's head, grinning against the dark, downy hairs. Her smile only grew when she felt his arms move around her, pulling her in against himself. His rhythm joined hers, and together they rocked gently, stopping only when Regina heard the tell-tale deep exhales of her infant daughter — she was fast asleep.
Pulling back tenderly from Robin's embrace, she waltzed towards the cradle he had carved and carefully laid the baby girl on her back, stepping away quietly, but never taking her eyes away from the perfect sight.
His arms were moving around her again, but this time, he was spinning her in his embrace until they were face to face. His hands planted themselves lovingly against her lower back, while Regina's were slinking around to his shoulders — and they were both still swaying.
Leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Regina's dark hair, Robin tucked his chin over top of her head, holding her tenderly as they danced to the music in their hearts. "We've literally been to hell and back," he hummed.
Regina laughed — because he was correct, in more ways than one, and because when he made jokes like that, Henry would often roll his eyes and call it "dad humor".
"We have," Regina hummed in agreement.
"I don't think I would change a thing," Robin cooed in confession after several minutes of silence passed between them.
"Laurel is lucky to have a mother as strong as you," he promised, and the baby stirred in her cradle at the mention of her name.
Regina was silent — because she had never really been able to accept strength in herself. Stubbornness, yes. Resilience, yes. But strength had always seemed too positive a quality for her — until her family had shown her otherwise.
"We've been to hell and back," Robin said again — and Regina was about to pull back, to tease him for growing repetitive after only a few days of sleep deprivation. But before she could speak — "and I can't think of anyone I would rather have gone with. Marry me, Regina," he whispered softly against the top of her head. "My Queen."
And he was pulling back, and looking into her eyes, his smile growing.