So, I always do this. I write a one shot and then immediately want to add to it. I've never written a Once story before, so I was a little nervous, but everyone is so unbelievably sweet and I just read the comments and seen how many people followed it... so I mean, I guess this is sort of touch and go.. There are so many brilliant Outlaw Queen stories and I don't know how I'd compete, but well, why not try lol. Thank you all again, it seriously means the world to me. :)
Several days had past, Regina wasn't counting. Counting would imply that she cared, and though the reformed queen wasn't living up to the evil aspect any longer, she sure as hell wasn't going to spend her time pining away over some thief that lived in the forest.
Robin's laugh was heard, followed by the piercing giggle that was Roland.
Regina gritted her teeth to suppress her blooming smile, yet her eyes couldn't be as controlled. Her mother always did warn her about that. Like she told Tinkerbell just the other morning: she wasn't pining after Robin Hood, she was keeping an eye on him.
She cared about him, his well being and that of his son's. Tinkerbell had rolled her eyes in typical fashion. Her bright face full of hopelessly relentless fascination in Regina's love life. With her jaw firmly locked, and her chin pinched between two fingers, Regina let herself gawk at the scene unfolding in front of her.
They were so happy together.
All of them – Robin's band of babbling, rugged fools laughing and drinking. Little Roland ducking behind tree trunks, his bliss remarkably infectious. Robin, chasing the toddler around the snowy forest floor, his smile bright, cheeks flushed. And Marian, graceful and perfectly in place. Like the piece Regina didn't realize was missing. She was tucked between two Merry Men, welcomed and loved. She watched her men carefully, radiating a warmth that even touched Regina's bitter soul.
The large mirror she was peering into was a bit gaudy. But, Regina had adopted a habit of turning any tangible glass into liquid blue fire – so her options were limited. With a flick of her wrist, the image was gone, replaced with the blonde savior down at the police station.
Regina was doing her best not to repeat the past, like those Charming's loved to do.
Like she told Henry the past evening, when they shared a lovely dinner together at Granny's, – his idea. Regina wasn't feeling much like putting on a show – She couldn't fault Emma for saving a life. It was in her nature. Being who she was, having the parents that she did. – And, if what Emma said was true, Regina would've been responsible for Robin's wife's death.
The thought alone washed away any warmth she felt. Not that it was hard. Storybrooke was currently under a severe weather watch. Snow, feet of it, pounded down softly, transforming the usual chilly town overnight into a winter wonderland. Though unseasonably cold, it wasn't unusual.
Besides, Regina enjoyed a good excuse to use her fireplace.
Ms. Swan wasn't alone. Much like it had been for some time, the doting one-hand-wonder was a permanent fixture. He shadowed Emma. It was clear to anyone that they cared for each other. And that knowledge could push Regina over the edge if she wasn't careful.
To hold Hook's heart in her hand, to feel the gritty black sand slip through her fingers as she crushed the thing Emma desired – it was almost too enticing to bear. And Regina needed to stay in control.
Vengeance, anger – for too long it consumed her. It wasn't Emma's fault and it wasn't Maid Marian's. This was life, and Regina needed to move on.
Not to risk anymore temptation, Regina raised both palms flat to face the opulent mirror, and the image vanished. Now, in the company of her own reflection, the raven haired woman could see just what her mother was talking about all those years ago.
Regina scowled at the mirror darkly – her eyes igniting into an infinite black abyss. Though it wasn't the look she was aiming for, the grimness was preferred to the weak, zealous sorrow it replaced.
What bothered her still, was that Regina couldn't remember Marian's face from her dangerous past. Walking back into the kitchen, her pie nearly ready, she thought back to all the poor souls she tortured. One of the most overwhelming things about who she was, remorse or not – she never forgot a face.
Believing it was just in her cards, that for the rest of her life, Regina was to serve her penance, relive the destruction and heartbreak she caused; Marian's face wasn't one of them.
Yes, she remembered making a spectacle. Her black knights parading the woman she captured around as a statement to warn others. But, killing her? That she didn't remember.
The timer on the oven went off with a soft ding to fill the empty house. As did the savory smell of crisp apples and warm, sugary-cinnamon.
Regina was never one of those women. Baking didn't solve the world's problems, and she sure had her own share, – but it was something to do, and Regina was alone a lot more than not.
She had placed the pie on a plate to cool, moving it to the counter when the doorbell rang. Smiling wanly, Regina went to welcome her guests.
When Henry called that morning, it was hard to even think of saying no to him. Regina was accustomed to being alone. She was tailored that way. But she couldn't deny Henry anything. So, as she stepped aside to let her son and his grandmother inside, she bit back a scoff that was sure to escape if Snow continued to show that pity in her sparkling eyes.
"Henry," Regina began reproachfully, "if your ears were any redder, they'd fall off."
She shifted her disapproval to Snow who was still smiling ruefully while cradling a bulky bundle in her arms.
Placing down the carrying seat, Henry rolled his eyes at his mother. "I'm fine. I was making a snow fort with David."
"Why am I not surprised?" she sighed while rubbing her palms down the length of Henry's arms.
Snow laughed breezily while placing Neal in the cradle, turning it to face them. The infant slept soundly, his little nose wrinkled. Regina felt her eyes soften, the coolly front she was desperate to retain faltering at the sight of the child.
"Adorable, isn't he?" Snow cooed beside her.
Regina nodded. She missed when Henry was that small. Sure they had a rough go, but she would never trade it.
"So," the woman began in her gentle and knowing voice, "Emma told me what happened."
Moving to the counter, where Regina had already placed two mugs, the mayor chose to ignore Snow, concentrating on pouring coffee and listened as Henry rushed up the front stairs with heavy steps.
"You know I don't want to talk about it." Regina answered, turning back with a dark look.
Snow smiled, vexatiously, while taking a seat at the nook to stare at the white fluffs falling from the sky. "And you know that I can't just leave it alone."
Her smile dropped, "Listen, I don't want you to think she did it knowingly. Emma feels horrible, honest, Regina."
Regina didn't let slip that she had been keeping a close eye on Emma Swan, and from what she gathered, the woman didn't have a spare thought for Regina's well being. But, she was sure that Snow White did.
So, swallowing down crude words that she knew she only half meant, Regina put on a brave smile and shrugged her tense shoulders.
"I know she didn't. And don't worry. I'm not going to go and create a whole new curse or whatever Charming thinks I'm going to do."
"He's not thinking that," Snow frowned. She hugged the warm cup Regina gave her close, sniffing approvingly.
"I'm sure everyone's thinking the same thing. The Evil Queen is hauled up in her house pondering how best to damn everyone to hell," the words were dry and deadly.
Snow sighed, placing down the mug and took Regina's hand before she could move it. "That's just your anger talking. If you wanted to do something, it would've happened that night. Not a week later, Regina."
Nodding, the older woman gave Snow's hand a light squeeze before removing her own. She glanced out the window at the white swirls that pelted the glass.
"This weather," Snow sighed, doing the same, "Gold doesn't like it."
Snorting, Regina took a deep sip of coffee. She still had her suspicions about him. It had taken a lot of solitude, and a very clear goal of not thinking about a certain outlaw, but the more she thought, the less sure she became. Gold was hiding something, that much was clear. But she couldn't think of a why and a what to follow up with.
"I'm enjoying it," Regina sighed, "It's calming."
Snow's lip quirked, "it is," she agreed.
Henry came clambering down the stairs some time after, excited for apple pie and hot chocolate. Regina's mind was completely off of Emma and Robin Hood, as she sat and laughed at Henry's retelling of how he attacked David with snowball after snowball, pride radiated off of her. She smiled when Snow asked if she'd like to hold Neal, and couldn't think of a single worry once he was safely in her arms.
The longer she cradled Neal, the more glances she stole of his precious, peaceful face, she grew sad. Regina also knew Snow saw the change in her. It wasn't an immediate thought, but once she realized she might never get a chance at that, a darkness clouded her mind.
Having a baby wasn't ever important to her, because she had Henry and he was always more than enough. But, as she stared at her son, his voice cracking and his shirt a little snug, she knew he was growing up.
After he went upstairs to play video games, Snow approached the topic.
"I know it's none of my business, but have you thought of what's next?"
"Excuse me?" Regina asked through pursed lips.
Her sister wasn't dead a month. The town was finally at peace. What more could Snow want than for everyone to relax and live mundanely?
Snow smiled now, "You know. So Robin isn't the one. There must be another out there that you could – Regina? What's wrong? – What did I say?" The younger woman grew more worried as she focused on the queen's face.
Regina cursed herself for being so open. She blamed Robin for that mostly. She accepted that she could love again, that she could trust and let down her guard. It was taking a bit longer to build the walls back up.
"Regina?" Snow whispered, her face pale and full of concern.
Clearing her already dry throat, Regina looked out the window with a sad, almost thoughtful smile.
"He was, actually." she whispered back, her voice heavy. "Robin was the one."
Snow's eyes grew large, "Are – are you sure?"
Regina nodded grimly. "Very. Tinkerbell confirmed it years ago. I just, never... listened."
"Oh, Regina," Snow's tone took that of pity and the cold glare Regina threw at her had no effect.
"We're not getting into that," her dark eyes were pleading.
Snow recovered, nodded and busied herself with taking a sip of coffee. She then used her free hand to rub soothing little circles on baby Neal's tiny hand.
"There must be something we can do." she mumbled, mostly to herself.
"We?" Regina asked, amused.
Snow looked sheepishly up at her friend. "There's always a way. You're a hero now. Hero's get happy endings."
Her lithe words were so kind, so unabashed and sure. Having spent as much time around Snow White and Prince Charming as Regina had, she almost believed in what the woman was saying. It was so hard to not accept the magical capacity of true love when living proof sat before her.
"Robin is happy now. Roland is happy, too. Emma gave them the most impossible gift and as miserable as it makes me, I'm grateful for that. They're grateful."
Snow smiled, her eyes shinning with tears, much like Regina's did as she explained all this to Robin nights before. She hadn't seen him since, if she didn't count the magical mirror gazing. She sensed he was keeping as much distance as she was. That was for the best, she knew.
Snow began shaking her head, much like Tinkerbell had after Regina finished telling her the same thing. Their complete faith in love was insufferable.
Part of her wanted to confess to Snow all her impossible ideas. About Rumpelstiltskin, about not remembering putting Robin's wife to death, about the pull she still felt towards him and he her.
But, this was an impossible situation. There was no other option but the one Regina took. She knew she did the right thing. Though, it didn't make her feel better. Nor did it help when she recited the tragic story to everyone she saw.
Henry wanted to ice skate. The weather so frigid the lake in the park froze solid and many townsfolk were taking advantage of the perks. Snow left shortly after, needing to get home to David, and Henry stood by the door bouncing on his heels waiting impatiently for Regina to say goodbye.
As the pair headed towards the park, – Regina clearing an easy path for the two – she realized how many people were out. It seemed as if the entire town was enjoying the snow, wrapped in scarves and warm coats, laughing together.
The atmosphere, the palpable buzzing energy that surrounded Regina eased some of the tension in her bones. She was hurting, of course; a complete wreck with a misguided future ahead of her. But, as Henry squeezed her glove-covered hand, his warmth and excitement engulfing her wary heart, she couldn't keep thinking the way she had. It would do no one good.
Henry rushed off to lace up his skates, and with Regina's blessing, greet his mother. Regina would never make him chose again. Emma's bright stare found her dark one, and Regina felt herself nodding her own greeting, surprised that it wasn't as stoic and sharp as she thought.
It was as she watched Henry skate around the frozen lake with the other children, still in awe over the beautiful snowflakes that cascaded around the lot, all her previous ideas of happiness and positivity crashed like a branch giving way for a snow drift.
Roland was hugging her leg, the infectious giggle that she heard many times over in the enchanted mirror alone reaching her ears. She glanced down with a tentative smile, gingerly removing the child and placing him on her hip.
"Good evening, Roland." she grinned, spotting the damn dimples.
"''Ello." he could barely speak from laughing. "Where've you been?" his tiny face grew serious.
Regina swallowed, "Busy, dear." then she tore her eyes away from him, "Where are your parents?"
A thickly bundled arm shot out, his little gloved finger pointing towards a thicket of trees, Robin and Marian close together, grim lines on their faces.
But, – and Regina tried to ignore it, even if Roland hadn't guided her in the right direction, she had the unearthly sense of where Robin Hood was anyhow. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood, though protected from the cold by a thick mauve scarf. Her boots wanted to cut through the tampered snow, turn sharply and never look back. She was acutely aware of him, and it almost sickened her.
"Let's give you back," she forced her voice to remain light. Roland was but a child, he was not to blame for her heartache.
Walking towards the couple, Regina cleared her throat, Marian was in clear sight of her, and Regina tried not to find it amusing how her eyes morphed from fearful to complete loathing once she saw her son in Regina's arms.
Good. Regina thought darkly, it wouldn't be fun if the woman had no fight.
Robin turned once seeing the shift in Marian, though, if Regina was being observant, his shoulders tensed before his wife's eye found her.
"Regina," he whispered, a softness that the queen never knew she missed lacing her name like a warm caress.
"I think this belongs to you," she didn't dare look at him, but at Roland. She tickled his heavily covered side once, but he laughed regardless of feeling, and walked further, towards Maid Marian to hand him back.
Her eyes weren't as sharp once Roland was given to her. She seemed surprised, her anger broken for a moment. Regina smiled kindly at the family.
"Well, I must go. Henry should nearly be finished." she nodded and went to turn away.
"Wait!" a small voice yelled. Roland was pouting, eyes only for Regina. "Stay," he demanded.
This was dangerous, Regina knew. She cared for Roland. One look into his dark, innocent eyes and the strongest knight was sure to be disarmed. She opened her mouth to protest, – it was clear from Marian's gaping mouth that she was outraged.
She peeked a glance at Robin, who ducked his head in lieu of a response. Regina knew, as did the insult on Marian's face confirm, that it was the wrong thing to do.
"No, Roland. I'm sorry. Henry will be looking for me." she smiled again, more sure this time and turned before anyone else could respond.
She found a bench to rest at. Her son still skating around the lake, nose red and smile bright. It wasn't as hard to see Robin as she thought. Of course, the queen was cheating. She watched him every day, Roland, too. The protective, territorial part of her might never dim, she feared. And it was horrible to be territorial about a man who was bound to someone else.
So she'd swallow it down and be happy for them. She had no other choice. Regina would ignore her smart, quick eyes finding everything wrong with the pair, burn the mental list of why they weren't in bliss, as they should be. It would only hurt her.
It was all Tinkerbell's fault, after all. Snow, too. They ignored her logic and committed tenaciously to true love and all its nonsense. Robin belonged to Marian, not Regina. No magnetic pull or fire in her belly would make her think twice.
"He looks happy," that voice with it's deep, charming accent and smoldering tone commented.
Regina sat ridged, through she attempted to appear aloof.
"He is," she assured, dark eyes finding Robin as he claimed the seat next to her.
He smiled kindly, his blue eyes magnificent by the blank white canvas surrounding them.
"How are you?" he asked genuinely. His eyes were so, so blue.
Regina turned away, averting her own. She couldn't lose her flimsy control.
"Fine. You and Marian?" the coldness was evident.
"I don't want to fight, Regina." his voice was so earnestly tired.
"And I don't want to make small talk with you. Act like this is all normal." she spat.
He sighed, but it could have been the breeze. Regina still wouldn't look at him. Then, when she was sure he'd just walk away, Robin seemed to move closer. His larger, warmer hand covered hers on the bench. The contact was light and more importantly, invisible to others.
A shudder went through her. The force too achingly strong. Robin seemed almost powerless to it as well.
"I want you in my life, Regina." he began slowly. All the patients in the world.
Though both their hands were protected, his skin seemed to seep into hers, his warmth melting into her bones and scurried straight to her heart.
"That's not a good idea." she warned, staring at their hands.
"No. It's probably not." he agreed with an easy laugh.
His lightness made her glance up at him. His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and it all felt right.
"I can't explain it," he whispered, as if reading her thoughts. "I love Marian, I will always love her – " Regina ignored how his voice shifted, grew deeper, like he was proving something to himself and not her.
"Robin," she sighed, clearly seeing where this was going.
"No, don't shut me out. You've come too far. We've come too far." he insisted.
"I'm doing what's right." she muttered between clenched teeth.
His long fingers slipped through the gaps of hers. The sensation criminal.
"I just – " he sighed, real sorrow to his words, his whole face. He seemed older than a week ago. If it made any sense. She wondered if she did, too.
But the outlaw never finished his thought. His wife yelled his name over the laughter and the snow. Both sat straighter, Robin pushed himself away, their hands finally losing contact. It seemed to give Regina the clarity she needed.
"Robin, Roland should be asleep by now," Marian said sternly, her dark glare fixed on Regina.
"How the time flies," he called back cheerily. Only Regina could see the way his eyes hardened and his scruffy jaw locked.
"Good night, Regina." he whispered, hovering his hand over hers before thinking against it and walked off to join his wife.
When Robin said good night, it never sounded like goodbye. It was more of, until then.