Hello you all - first, the most pressing matter: now that I've almost stopped grieving (you all know why), I've finally re-started with this story, and I'm not abandoning it - if there's a delay, that's because of uni or life or life and uni or simply because I'm lazy. Huge thanks to Alexia, Sarah, Sasha, Lisa and Anastasia for kicking me into this - I was very stressed about this chapter, so I've decided to split it. That's the first part of the ball - I hope to be able to upload the second soon :)
One last thing, raise your glasses one last time for Robin, because I could write 10k words about unfairness and rage and tears, but the most beautiful way to honor their story is being able to write and read them even after what happened.
Now, shall we dance?

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Wild nights - Wild nights!
Were I with thee
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile - the winds -
To a Heart in port -
Done with the Compass -
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -
Ah - the Sea!
Might I but moor - tonight -
In thee!

Robin's arm was firm under hers, as they advanced towards the main gate. Maybe he was talking to her – a corner of her mind listened to him, but her attention was almost completely taken by her surroundings. The guests had clearly displayed their best outfits for the evening, and all she could see were masks, glimmering gowns, half-arm gloves and rustling dresses. She could hear the music, still muffled by the loud chattering of the people standing outside, the sound of – violins? She couldn't tell, but it was soft, with occasional crescendos.

Five or six queues were unfurling in front of the door – she saw three tall valets checking the invitations, a young woman was shivering and clinging to her chaperon, another man was laughing as a lady with curly hair smacked playfully his arm with her lacey fan.

"Regina?"

His voice startled her slightly, and she turned her head towards him, guilt washing over her face.

"Mmm?"

"Were you listening?" he asked her with an amused smile.

"Oh, yes – no, sorry," she admitted. "Sorry, it's just… a lot to take in, all at once," she tried to explain. He nodded, and slid his arm to lace their fingers. His hand was warm, and she focused on that, rather than on the brisk whispers of the wind on her shoulders.

"Yes, I imagine," he agreed, leaning on to take her white rose. He left her held for a moment, lifted the blossom to her hair and secured it under one of her pins, so it would stand out against her dark hair. The queue was moving quickly – only one or two couples left, and then it was their turn. She let him fumble with the invitations, trying to catch a glimpse of the inside. There was a darkened foyer, between the door and the dance hall, and when – finally – the valet let them pass, she just strengthened her held on his hand and let him guide her in the main room.

Now, the music was louder – definitely violins, and she lifted carefully her dress, her heels ticking on the marble of the floor.

"Well?" Robin asked her, smiling, and a random thought faded away in her mind – he must have already been here – but she paid it no attention, too busy observing the room.

At the other end of the room, at the same level of the first floor, there was a corridor, and she had to lift her eyes up - two majestic staircases started from the ends of the corridor and formed a round-shaped frame, flowers adorning the balustrade all the way down to the ground: green ivy ribbons, white and red and blue roses, yellow spots of wild dandelions, pink tulips.

The source of the music was sitting under the stairs – violins, a piano in a corner, an harp and some flutes, the musicians where in all black, and probably still rehearsing. She had always loved this part, when the music wasn't quite music yet, but rather a delicate dusting of the instruments, trying a few notes, sometimes out of tune.

Her gaze flew to the ceiling – high and painted, of ancient marble and frescos, the walls of the same style with clean large windows on both sides, the moon shining through one of them. Three crystal chandeliers, the one in the middle much larger than the others. The windows started from the ceiling down towards the floor, stopping just before the tables that had been pushed against the walls. Covered in white linen, with silver candelabras throwing shadows on the plates, they had been settled with trays of food and carafes and bowls of punch and chocolate desserts.

The room was already half-crowded – she was feeling as if she was time-traveling, in a land of beautiful and mysterious ladies and spies, and hidden secrets, night lovers, forbidden dreams. A long forgotten tale rose again in her heart, and she was vaguely aware of Robin's hand around hers, her eyes probably shining behind her mask.

"How…" the words caught in her throat, and she gulped before trying again. "How much rich is your boss, exactly?"

Robin let out a heartfelt laugh, looking at her amazed face. "Grossly rich, milady," he answered. "Now that you mention it, I should probably go and find her before it's too la –"

"There you are, Locksley!" a crystalline voice interrupted him, and they both turned at the sound. The woman sliding towards them was tall and blonde – not a honey blonde like Mal, but rather a silver-platinum shade, hair twisted in an elegant bun. Her dress was also silver, icy white, simple and fitting, with only a crystal necklace as a jewel, and a pearly mask.

Robin ducked his head cheekily, and answered with a simple "Good evening, boss," which had her scoff and smile at him.

"Don't call me that, please," she scolded with a low voice. "I didn't think you'd come to this little party of ours, Robin," she added, eyeing Regina with a curious glance.

"Couldn't let you steal all the fun, right?" he said. "Oh, right. Introductions first – this is Ingrid Fisher," he told Regina, motioning towards the woman, "the bossy woman who makes me, and I quote, work so much," he smiled, and she felt her cheeks flush in a split second.

"And Ingrid, this is my queen of feathers, and partner in crime, Regina Mills" he added, and Ingrid extended a hand towards her with a lazy smile. She shook it – almost shivering, because her hands were cold – and exchanged the smile.

"It's nice to meet you," she told her kindly. "This place is amazing, by the way."

"Oh, thank you," she said. "We don't usually come in Venice often, but the Carnival Dance it's been a tradition since my grandfather lived here, so…"

"So you combined business with pleasure and dragged all us here," Robin ended, and Ingrid glared at him with fake annoyance.

"Oh, stop complaining, Locksley, or your lady here will think you don't enjoy her company."

Regina felt Robin's hand move – he placed it on the small of her back, under the ribbons of her corset. He rubbed soothingly for a second, and she exchanged a quick glance with him before answering.

"No, I think his lady here is rather impatient to start dancing, if I have to be honest," she beamed at Ingrid, and the woman narrowed her eyes. Regina thought she probably wasn't used to someone contradicting her.

"Ah, I think that can be arranged, in a matter of minutes," she answered diplomatically. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go and talk to that annoying Duke, before of my speech," and she cocked her head, as Robin murmured a Sure.

Once she had faded away, Regina bit her lip, throwing him a worried look. "Too much?"

He shook his head, with the ghost of a smile, and kissed her temple behind the feathers of the mask. "Don't worry, she can take some of your sarcasm every now and then," he whispered. "So, what do you think?"

She hummed, because she could still feel his breath on her hair. "Well, she's… interesting," she said, a pleasant thrill going through her spine, because now he had his lips pressed just near her ear. "My… father… said we shouldn't judge someone without knowing the whole story… and I… ah… I think he's right," she added, only slightly distracted by his hands circling her waist.

"I'd like to meet him someday, I bet he's a wise man," he answered, and she smiled fondly, parting their contact to look at him.

"I'm afraid you're too late, thief," she told him. "He died four years ago…"

She watched as his face fell, guilt and sorrow painted clearly on his face, and she shook her head before he could even open his mouth to apologize. "Don't worry," she rushed to tell him. "It's okay, I've made peace with that – it was four years ago, I was with him and he didn't suffer, so…"

"I'm sorry," he said, regardless of her efforts. "I shouldn't have…"

"You didn't know, don't worry," she felt a sudden wave of affection, she didn't know if it was for how he cared for her feelings – or for how he was currently looking at her. "Besides, I have another Henry in my life now," she smiled, and he took a puzzled frown.

"Your father had the same name as your godson?"

"Emma named him after my father, yes," she answered – he had his hand intertwined with hers again, and she passed her thumb over his knuckles. "He was born one month after his death, but that is a long story for another time," she smiled, and he nodded, squeezing her hand.

"You certainly have a curious past, Regina," he said, and she laughed, then, because he hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of her past, and yet she was already feeling so lured by him…

The rough attempts of music suddenly stopped, and they turned at the same time towards the stairs – Ingrid had climbed two steps, and was taking a microphone from an attendant.

"Good evening," she whispered, and yet her words resounded clearly and perfectly in every corner. Robin shifted, as he had already done before, to move behind her, and she leaned on his body, his hands crossed above her stomach, and they settled themselves to listen to the speech.

"As you all can see, even this year we maintain the ancient tradition of the Carnival Dance, as was started by my grandfather more than one century ago," Ingrid began, all eyes oriented towards her. "My sisters and I, however, have decided for a change, this year. For the 100th anniversary of my grandfather's marriage, which happens to coincide with another joyful circumstance for my family, all the revenues from this evening shall be invested in research.

It is our desire to draw attention upon a particular disease. For this reason, and for the first time since this ball was held, this evening we have allowed to the press to be here – I have to thank my sisters about this, because I admit that without their strength and work of persuasion I would have never agreed.

I am sure all of you are well aware of the worrying increase of health issues such as breast cancer or sexually transmitted diseases. However, we have decided to address your attention to other health issues, which are often concealed and satirized."

Regina lifted a hand to cover Robin's arm, and he squeezed a little, his breath moving softly her feathers. Ingrid, in the meanwhile, had stopped talking for a moment, and she took a deep breath before going on.

"I am talking of a mental disease called anxiety. I know it won't seem so worrying, form its name, I know most of you are thinking that you are often anxious or worried, but believe me if I tell you, it's absolutely and deeply different. Maybe you are suffering of a serious manifestation of anxiety and you don't even know it.

I am here right now, because I believe it is important to have a true representation of this problem. Because – because I have tried it on my skin. Yes," she nodded, well aware of the complete silence in the room. "It was a real hold-back in many situations, and it still is. My current job forces me to put it aside, but it's always there. If it wasn't for my family, the little girl I was would have never gone outside of her bedroom. I lost many of these balls – my sisters getting ready, and I would prefer a quiet evening in my room," she smiled fondly towards two women, one in pink, the other in light blue.

"In my mind, I like to call it my ice monster. That's my sensation when I feel it. Because I feel paralyzed and frozen, and I know some of you already fight this, and it's not always easy to explain. But I'm firmly convinced we can fight it. With helps, therapy and research. With the closeness of our beloved ones. So, if you can help, if you want information, we'll be more than happy to provide it."

She stopped, but before she could speak again, from the first rows had started an applause, and Robin had to leave his comforting position to join it – she felt the sudden loss of his hands, and his chuckle against her hair. "I had no idea of this," he murmured, "she is very good at concealing it,"

"Or maybe you simply don't make her feel anxious," she suggested, and he nodded.

The applause calmed down, and Ingrid could start to speak again.

"As for less serious and happier news, we are also here tonight to celebrate, and to make an announcement," she said. "My niece Anna and her husband, Kristoff, have just informed us that during this summer there will be a new addiction to our family, because they are expecting a baby. Please, join me in wishing them all our love and happiness, and joy for this young and wonderful little one."

Again, a new rush of applauses started, and Regina watched as a young girl in green with a tall, handsome man reached Ingrid and embraced her, and Ingrid smiled against Anna's shoulder. Her heart clenched at the sight – a new baby, she thought, aware that Robin had took her hand after his cheers, and she couldn't help but feel a long-forgotten discomfort, and Henry's face flashed in her mind, Emma's face, Daniel, – but then she had spotted a familiar face near Ingrid's sisters, and her mouth opened for the surprise.

"What is it?" Robin asked her, concerned.

"Do you see that girl, blonde, pale blue dress, next to Ingrid?"

"Yes?"

"She works with me," Regina told him. She couldn't be mistaken; it really was Elsa, up there with her – her family? Now that she was thinking about it, Elsa had mentioned a sister once or twice, but she was way too shy to open up more, and anyway, she had only worked for Gold since September by then. So, sweet little Elsa has quite the royal family, she smiled inwardly.

"Well that's an interesting coincidence," he said. "You didn't know?"

"I wouldn't have dropped my jaw if I did, would I?" she answered, and he smiled – he did never flinch to her attempts to sass him, just throw at her that infuriating smile, a you're-so-cute-and-funny grin painted on his face.

She shook her head, smiling fondly, and nearly missed Ingrid's new announcement, something that sounded a lot like Let the dances begin.

"It seems to me you were impatient for this moment, do I remember well?" he turned towards her, the music was starting to rise, and the lights of the ceiling were being dulled until there was only the golden glow of the candles left – and flames were trembling everywhere, and suddenly the world was made of shadows and flickers of light.

The new melody rolled around them, and Regina took him by the arm. "Yes, you do," she whispered, because the ambiance had shifted from laughs and noise to music and shining spots.

It was a waltz – memories of her youth, and all the dance lessons her mother had forced her to take, flooded through her mind, but she pushed those thoughts aside, and focused on Robin's arm that had shifted towards her hip. He was now facing her, and she met his eyes.

"Who told you I'll let you lead, thief?" she asked playfully, biting her lower lip. He glanced at her, and laced their fingers, lifting her hand.

"Chivalry code?" he tempted, and she shook her head, the other couples were already starting to move.

"Fine, but don't get used to it," she warned, and he cocked his head in a semi-bow. Then, he pulled her closer, and probably, her dress was like a spot of crimson red against a black shadow. They started to move slowly – the notes were still building up a rhythm, and she neared her head to his shoulder.

Steps came easily, and he led her just as easily, one, two, three, she counted in her head, but then, the waltz increased its volume, and she simply let herself go in his arms. It was stunning, how effortlessly they'd found a common pace, and all she could see was his eyes, bright behind the mask.

Daniel was terrible at this, she thought with a fond smile, as he made her swirl, her head spinning after two turns, and she closed her eyes, feeling his breath against her ear when she returned close.

"Didn't think you were this good," he told her, she could see he had lifted an eyebrow, even in the dull light of the candles.

"I have many hidden talents, I'll have you know, thank you," she answered then, pretending to be offended.

"Well, The Blue Danube is quite the easy song to dance, don't you think?"

"Just take me to the club, and I'll show you the easy songs to dance," she said after a particularly dangerous rotation, that had her almost hit an elderly lady. She had noticed how, when they passed, the other couples tended to make space for them, but she blamed the volume of her gown rather than their eagerness.

Robin laughed, apparently finding her answer very funny, and tightened his grip on her hand, their bodies now close and then apart, and then close again. She smiled, gaze fixated on a point behind his shoulder – then the song was over, and everybody was slowing down, and politely clapping to the musicians.

They stopped too, and he motioned a slight bow in her direction. "Shall we go and drink something?"

Regina was about to nod, when she heard the new notes rising from the violin strings, and her head turned towards the source of the music – she'd recognized the song immediately, like a motive from her past, and looked at Robin with a wide smile spreading over her lips.

"Not yet," she decided, "we must dance this one," she took his hand, as he had done before, and he inclined his head with a questioning look. He followed her movements, though, and this time she guided him, faithful to her word about the one-time-leading discussion.

He made her spin, and then his eyes brightened in understanding, "Now I remember this song," he told her, and his hand circled her hip, and left it after a second, Regina getting further from him and lifting an arm in sync with the tune.

Shall we dance?
On a bright cloud of music, shall we fly?
Shall we dance?
Shall we then say goodnight and mean goodbye?

Or perchance,
When the last little star has left the sky,
Shall we still be together
With our arms around each other

And shall you be my new romance?

She was back in his arms, melody slowing down, and she neared herself to his cheek. He chuckled, ruffling her hair. "The Queen and I," he whispered, adapting the title to their situation, and she laughed against his shoulder.

"Careful," she told him, "the night is not over yet."

He didn't answer, but pulled her closer, and finally meeting her lips with his, and she leaned on him – they'd stopped moving, the darkness of the room conspiring with them, she tasted his savor, deepening the kiss. He flickered his tongue and an electric shiver ran through her, and too soon it was over.

"Maybe I'll steal something else from you, before the night is over," he murmured, and she bit her lip again.

"You're way too confident in your stealing skills," she answered cheekily, then motioned towards the tables – the song was not over yet, but she needed a quiet moment to calm down the ever-growing heat that was making her heart beat faster.

He nodded, and soon they were lifting two glasses of red wine. She kept it near her lips, glancing at him, and he titled his head, as if he was well aware of what she was doing. They stood silent, battling with their eyes, until she looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. She heard him chuckle softly, then felt the light touch of his hand on her skin – he brought her chin up, staring in her eyes.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked earnestly, as if her wellbeing was his only concern. Regina tempted a smile, pushing back the thoughts that had begun swirling in her mind.

You always think it's going to last, what if this ends badly, what if it's like with Da –

"Very much," she chose to answer, instead of listening to her mind – she prayed that the Emma-part of her brain could take control over the pessimism, and push her towards a few hours of happiness. Damn, she would have taken even the Mary Margaret part, at this point. "Shall we go dance again?"

He probably noticed her change of subject – but still, he wordlessly took her hand, and started to guide her towards the dancefloor, but they were once again interrupted.

"Look at the foxy man here," a deep voice called, and they both turned. A handsome man in white was standing in front of them, accompanied by a woman in black.

"Look at the tormented one," Robin answered, then left her hand to go and hug his friend. "I didn't know you were in Venice!"

"Well, you know Ingrid can't work without me," he said, flashing his blue eyes towards Regina. Robin, in the meanwhile, was greeting the woman with another hug. When he released her, he straightened and took her hand again, starting to make presentations.

"This is August Booth, our irreplaceable responsible for the press – who shouldn't be drinking on the job, but nobody is watching, so… and this is Mulan Fa, my fellow designer," he pointed at the woman. Regina smiled at her, and the woman answered with the same polite smile. "And this is Regina Mills, no presentation needed, right?"

"Ah, finally, the infamous Regina," Mulan offered her a hand, which she shook firmly. "I've heard of you for the past two days, and I'm alive to tell the tale."

"Oh, shut up," Robin glanced at her, slightly embarrassed. "We had got work to do, I haven't talked all the time..."

Regina glanced at him, deeply amused by this exchange, and he couldn't hide the secret smile he reserved just for her. "It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said. "So, he did really work this weekend?"

Mulan shrugged, throwing a cunning smile towards Robin. "Well, the boss is demanding, and we had to… otherwise he would have never dumped you," she finished, unfazed by his meaningful looks.

"Yes, he can be hard-working if he wants," August intervened. "But most of the time he's just a lazy butt…"

"Okay, enough, you've humiliated me enough," Robin interrupted. "That's unfair; I'd never speak of you with such terms…"

"Because you're a gentleman," Mulan stressed the term, and Regina could only laugh – apparently, his romantic attitude wasn't limited to their meetings.

"That's wonderful, getting to know a new side of you," she told him, and he shot her a Not-you-too kind of glance – but the orchestra decided to have pity of him, because a new song had just started, and Mulan snapped her head up.

"Oh, I have to go dance this one," she decided, and offered her arm to August. "Will my plus-one join me?"

"I thought we had agreed that you are my plus-one, because you're prettier than me," he answered, offended. "What kind of song is this, anyway?"

"Come on! The Sleeping Beauty waltz by Tchaikovsky – and you're supposed to be the cultivated one…"

"I am. Concerning books and writers, I am, far more than you…" they went away, still bickering, but starting to dance – evidently Mulan had convinced him.

Regina turned towards Robin, lifting a single eyebrow. "The infamous Regina, huh?"

He laughed, only slightly embarrassed now that they were alone, and shook his head. "Mulan has been dying for me to spill my secrets, those days," he said. "She even proposed to accompany me at the ball, to push me out of the study, as she said."

Regina frowned questioningly, "Wait. Aren't they together?"

"No," he smiled, "I can see why you have thought that – but no, August is… a lone wolf, let's put it this way… and Mulan has a girlfriend waiting for her in America, so no, they're here as friends, I suppose…"

She nodded, and then leaned on to kiss his cheek – the light touch of his beard brushed her skin, and she whispered under the music, "I'm glad to have pushed you out of the study, then," and felt him laugh softly.

"Thank you," he said, face staying near to hers, and how on hell did he manage to make her heart flutter like that? But Mulan and August were coming back, cheeks flushed, and they had to part, still smiling.

"How was the Sleeping Beauty, August?" Robin said, passing an arm behind her back.

"Asleep," he answered, rewarded by a smack on his arm by Mulan. Regina scoffed a laugh – she could see why Robin was fond of them, they had his same sense of humor. She decided to leave him with his friends for some time – after all, she had stayed with him all the evening, so she cleared her throat.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll need the toilet," she said, and Mulan laid down her glass of wine.

"Oh, I'll join you," she proposed. "I've been dying to get my mask off for a little while."

Regina nodded, "That's one of my goals too," she agreed, and then moved to follow her, throwing one last glance to Robin – he had just passed August some wine.

"We'll wait here," he told her, and she nodded again, and turned towards the exit.

§§§

"So, isn't your lady an angel?" August told him – the wine in his glass was rotating slowly, and he stretched a hand towards the buffet, taking a canapé. "How did you meet her?"

"That's a story you'll be stealing for one of your books, isn't it?" he mocked him. He knew August wasn't quite satisfied with his job for Ingrid. Responsible for the press – it was interesting, and challenging, and it certainly kept him busy and it made him run around the city, but he wasn't like that. He was good, no use at denying it, but he had told Robin that he loved the quiet evenings when he could sit at his desk with a pen and some white sheets of paper or a notebook, with a glass of whiskey, and write until his hand was sore.

August threw him a knowing smile, and leaned on to smack his forearm. "If you have secrets worthy of my time, buddy, I could even give to one of my characters your name."

"Let me guess, to the bad one?"

"To the helpless lovesick idiot," August answered, lifting his glass, and he mirrored him, scoffing a laugh.

"To the lovesick idiots, then," he repeated the toast, and they gulped down a sip, and kept talking for a few minutes. He told him a brief summary of the suitcases story – leaving out the details, just emphasizing the mind-blowing coincidences of that night.

Then, Robin spotted Regina, obviously back from the bathroom, and her expression was stressed. It stirred something deep inside him – this was a new version of her, anxiety painted on her face. His mind quickly compared her with his other memories – their dates, when she had been calm and relaxed and beautiful – and he reached her in two steps, placing his hands on her hips.

"What is it?" he asked her, without bothering to hide his concern, and she took a breath, putting up a smile for his sake.

"It's not important, don't worry."

"Regina," he simply said, implying a hundred things in a word – don't lie to me, please tell me what's wrong, you're scaring me, you know better than to tell me it's not important – and she finally looked up at him, then diverted her eyes – she was worried.

"Gold is here."