She curled up like a cat on her sofa, her red velvet nightdress almost merging with the red, plush velvet and cushions upon her bed. It was past midnight, but even years after the king was dead and gone, he still plagued her at night. She'd never admit it to anyone, had silenced every guard who had answered her nightly pleadings for mercy and never, ever let the huntsman stay the night. They may look at her as the evil queen, but they would ever look at her as being weak.

It was a cold night, a bitter cold washing over the land that had been rarely known in the enchanted forest. The townsfolk would no doubt blame her, stories of winters at the hand of queens reaching her kingdom from lands far away. Still, there was little she could do about it. As she created another thick blanket out of thin air she felt a tingle of mercy in her heart for the peasants trying to sleep in the bitter cold and made a mental note to herself to have her black knights hand out some blankets to those in need. They'd still call her the evil queen, but at least they would live to do so. She had resolved herself some time ago to show her people that she could rule better than her insipid husband. Her people wouldn't notice it, too blinded by the words of precious snow white, but stupid as it was: she had to fulfill her promise to herself.

Besides, there were people in her kingdom that had done far worse than blame her for the weather and calling her the evil queen. She sighed as she dropped her head in the pillows, dreading another execution to attend. Ending a life didn't bother her, but somehow she had started making a show of every single one and suddenly pulling away from that would make her look like she'd lost her power and determination. She pursed her lips as she cocked her head to the side, making out the cover of the book on her nightstand: The Hunger Games.

It had been a gift from Jefferson. He'd brought it back after one of his travels she'd send him out on. The hatter didn't know why he was send out to search out and report about different lands and he wouldn't have to. Jefferson had moaned about the world he had gotten the book from, complaining the complete lack of magic in the air and the lack of imagination in people's minds. Still, he'd brought her the book and she had rewarded him with an evening in her bed, as it always happened.

She reached for the book, opening it on the page she had left it on. The paper felt different somehow, smoother and foreign with strange, blocky letters instead of wavy writing. The cover was strange as well; no leather, but a material that was foreign to her. It seemed completely out of place in the halls of her palace. Then again, so did the raggedy hatter. So did she herself, at times.

Regina was a quick reader, pleasantly surprised at the ease with which the strange letters were readable. Though the story was compelling and she actually found herself standing in the arena with Katniss, it was the games themselves that fascinated her. It was president Snow (she had snorted at that, she didn't know what a president was, but the idea of Snow holding any power over anyone was laugh worthy enough) –who truly fascinated her. When she finished the book early in the morning and let it drop next to her on the bed, she closed her eyes and found herself musing about the games. About how hope is the only thing stronger than fear, about the games and the power they granted a man.

Suddenly she knew what to do with her criminals problem.

He got caught.

He was sitting on the cold, dark floor of a cell in the Evil Queen's castle because he was actually stupid enough to try to steal from her and get caught. Robin smashed his fist against the wall, letting out an angry growl at himself, at the guards who had been faster than he'd known any guard to be and at that smirk she had given him before ordering him to his death cell. He'd known the queen was beautiful, but somehow that beauty did nothing but enrage him, because she was lying in those silken sheets somewhere above him, while he was sleeping in the mud with the rats. She hadn't even put a guard in front of his cell, arrogant enough to believe that the crude bars were enough to keep him in.

Infuriatingly enough, they were.

It didn't keep him from pacing to the back of the cell and running his body into the bars again. A deafening clang rang through the cells, a blunt pain in his shoulder making him grunt at the contact. He only just managed to keep himself from slipping on a wed patch of mud (his cell was leaking, wonderful) and instead grasped the bars, rattling them angrily, getting nowhere.

"You're not getting out of that, so just stop it." The girl from the cell next to him snapped at him. She was a beautiful girl, but rarely showed her face to him. Now, however, she was looking at him. A small strip of moonlight illuminating her bleak face, showing a pair of green eyes amidst dark lashes. The cape she wore was almost too muddy for him to make it had once been red, but oddly seemed in mint condition, not a single tear. It always seemed strapped to her body, even the hood laced in place, as if she was somehow not allowed to take it off.
"Well excuse me if I want to get out before the queen kills me." He spat her name, turning back towards the bars and bringing his hands back on them, ratting them again. They rattled and they did little else. He wondered if the queen made them like this on purpose to drive her prisoners mad with just a bit of hope. He feared it was working. Still, he kept kicking, rattling until-

"STOP IT!" He heard another set of bars complain as they were yanked on violently, to his left side, his time. He turned to his left and jumped back slightly at the sight there: the woman was clenching the bars in her hands, her eyes dark now and he could swear she was almost growling at him. Her voice was not pleasant as it had been on the rare occasions she had spoken to him before; it was low, growling, wolf-like. Suddenly Robin could see why this girl had somehow landed herself in here.

He sighed and pouted a bit, but held up his hands and walked towards the back of his cell. "How can you just give up?"
The woman didn't answer for a while, but finally her voice came from the cell next to him. Soft again, the girl and not the wolf present in her voice. "Some things you can't escape from, it's the first lesson."

Robin would never learn what the girl meant by that, because before he could ask the door to their cell was blowing open wide, light streaming into the almost complete darkness, blinding both the prisoners. He didn't even need to see her to know it was the queen striding into the dungeon, hearing it by the sound of her feet on the ground, by the air surrounding her figure, by the disdain that her breath seemed to paint the very air with. And she was breathtaking, in a way that he'd never really understand.

"The fox and the hound." The queen drawled, letting out a chuckle. "Well, you are such an odd couple I'd just be tempted to see how this would work out."
Robin shifted his gaze to the woman next to him, noticing the clenching in her jaw, the way she was balling her fists. Whatever Robin disliked about the queen, the woman in the red hood felt something stronger, something that burned stronger. The queen met the woman's look with a reproachful eye, a slight smirk appearing on her face as she sauntered to Robin's cell.
"Although, I must warn you, I have heard there's something dangerous behind that pretty face, something dangerous." Her voice dropped low, predatory, dark eyes piercing his as she grinned wickedly at him. Robin swallowed, unable to shift his attention from her dark, dark eyes. A thick silence fell between them, but then the queen's grin turned into a smirk as she lifted her eyebrow.
"Just a little warning Hood, I would hate to see her tear you apart as she did her … boyfriend?"

A growl from the cage next to him.

"Don't make me muzzle you, wolf!" The queen snapped, then turning to him, that predatory pleasantness on her face again. "As much as I enjoy watching you here receiving your rightful punishment, I did come here for something else and believe it or not, this news may actually be good for you." She turned to the girl in the hood. "So no growling or I will tear your heart out and feed it to the very wolves you run with."
The girl turned quiet and Robin narrowed his eyes, already mistrusting the queen's words before she had spoken them. Yet he was intrigued and he would not pass up hope at getting out alive, how small it might be.

The queen smirked. "Now that's better. You should be thankful to me, because I am offering you a chance to get out." She procured a scroll of parchment as easily as he'd seen Rumpelstiltskin do. It was clear at first sight that half a dozen names were already scribbled on it. Regina stalked towards his cell, holding up the scroll.

"A game. The prize is your freedom, but the stake is your lives."

With an effortless gesture she procured a pen, temping him to take it.

"Sign on the dotted line, please."