From the prompt: Bandit Regina + Evil Snow backstory.
(plus, I've added heavy doses of Regal Believer and Outlaw Queen)
Happy Birthday, Sarah!

All hail the underdogs
All hail the new kids
All hail the outlaws

.

.

Let me tell you something about Regina.

She didn't ask for this life. Life on the run, sore feet and worn out boots, hand-made bows and, sometimes – well, quite often, now that you ask – an empty stomach.
She has been chosen for this life. She has tried to escape it with every mean, always failed.

Let me tell you something about her son.

Because there is a boy, a little obsessed with her, if you ask me, but brave – and he calls her Mom – he calls her Mom, and it's an opened wound that bleeds again. Mom.
He follows her, he wants her to find happiness – she scoffs at that, she laughs at him, she tells him he's crazy. Poor boy has lost track of sanity, he tells her absurdities, that Robin Hood is her True Love, that she has a sister, that she is a queen.

Ha! The only queen she knows is Snow, thank you very much.

Okay, so this boy – this boy wants to help, good for her, he comes back with a blonde, his other mom – seriously, he's insane, two moms? This has to be a joke – and the blonde cries – the blonde seems to be quite reserved, but she's shocked, she says she has just seen her man die. Pity, Regina doesn't have time for them, she doesn't have time to crash a wedding – anyway, it's her supposed-sister's wedding, her True Love's wedding, and this world Henry babbles about seems to be even more fucked up than her own.

.

Let me tell you something about her impulses.

She has been rejected for all her life. So he sees her – and it's his wedding, for crying out loud, what on earth is she doing here – she sees him – and is so difficult to just push that door and enter – and it's wonderful and beautiful and all morning dusty light and holy peace and perfection, but then she sees the boy with a sword in his hand, and damn it, she runs. To hell with the wedding, to hell with everything, there's an instinct that pulls her towards him – and the sword, the important thing is to save him.

Let me tell you something about her pain.

It hurts like a bitch. It hurts more than that time when she fell from her horse and broke an ankle.
Her back slams onto the ground, between the crispy leaves, her head spins, smell of blood, the boy's tears. Screams, and a warm hand under her head.

.

Let me tell you something about her death.

She waits. It hurts, she waits, she focuses on blue eyes and sharp pain, his hand above hers, vaguely aware of cries and commotions, of something tickling her skin – a knife? A pen? – and the boy's voice, and her eyelids fall, it's black.

.

.

Thanks to the hero Regina's sacrifice, Isaac's villainous work was undone.

.

.

Light.

.

.

She blinks, opens her eyes – the sky is all wrong. Not the cloudy sunny mess of the forest, with rays of light and leaves falling and mud on the ground. Where's the forest?

She blinks, and one thing hits. The pain is gone. Her stomach is as good as new, no blood, she looks down, okay, maybe in a bit of rush, but hey, she has just been stabbed – how can you blame her?

She blinks, a cold shiver goes down her spine.

"Mom?"

It's the boy, and now that she's paying attention, she looks at her left – he's standing, looking down.

"Mom? Why are you still a bandit?"

What?

– § –

Let me tell you something about Henry.

He has always wanted to be a hero. He has the right gene pool, after all. He knows how to do it.
Be brave. Be audacious. Take risks. Choose what is right, not what is easy. Help. Save. Fight. Never give up. Save.

But when he thinks he did it – he did it, he saved everyone – his mom has saved him, he has saved her, that's what they do, they save each other, always, always – when he thinks he did it, he didn't.

She was supposed to be okay. To be herself again.

He watches the bandit, still lying on the ground, she's confused. She's looking at him, then at the street, she's taking in this world – like she has never seen it before.

You created this word, Mom, he wants to scream. You molded this world from your magic, and you raised me here – but his mom is now sitting, lightly touching her own stomach, to make sure she is really okay. She looks at him again, questioning.

"What do you mean, still a bandit? Where are we?"

He doesn't answer, because he has tears burning at the corners of his eyes, and he doesn't want to cry. Panic, all of a sudden. What if he has failed, if he has left everyone there and saved his mom only?

.

A noise, from his left.

Oh, it's Emma.

His mom, Emma, she's here, and he hasn't failed. He takes a step towards Emma, then glances at the bandit – she's lifting up, to stand, and okay – maybe he has messed up a bit, but Emma is in her leather jacket and she's Emma, she's mom, she's not a mad witch or a lost princess or a blue knight, she's just Emma.

Okay, his genetic tendencies that always hope, they are back. He can do this. He will save his Mom, his other Mom will help, and – oh, what if Snow is back as the Evil Queen? His heart is pounding again, Emma is covering the distance, rapid, she's already next to them.

"Henry? What happened?"

He glares, dumbfounded, glares at Emma and at Regina, he can't speak.

Another voice, from behind Emma. The voice of someone who has run, he has run like his life was depending on it, and then – the shock.

"Regina?"

– § –

Let me tell you something about Robin.

When he wakes up, in the streets, it's like when you wake up from a nightmare, you know? That moment when you know it was a dream, and it was not real, and all that bullshit, but it feels so real, so damn real you have to scream because you're still there – with your soul, you're still there in the middle, you know?

He has watched her die.

She died in his arms, and she – he barely spares his clothes a glance, because his this-world-clothes are back together with his memories and he has to, he runs, he has to find her, to make sure, that he's not alone here, that Henry has succeeded –

Okay, so he rounds the corner, because she was there, and honestly he wouldn't know where else to find her. She was there with Emma and the Apprentice and they were going towards Gold's shop – he runs, until he stops, because he sees Emma, Henry, they're back, with their this-world-clothes – and he sees her, exhales.

She's a bandit.

She's alive.

.

.

.

Let me tell you something about relief.

When relief hits, it feels like a wave, doesn't it? It's good, and pure, and you feel like flying and swimming all at once, don't you?

So who cares about her clothes, he runs, he runs towards the three people, still frozen after his voice has reached them – he runs, and crashes on her body, holding on to her as if he was a man drowning and she was the last mermaid who could save him.

Something is not right.

His Regina would have pressed her hands on his back and her head would have fallen into the crook of his neck and she would have breathed a You're here against his skin. His Regina is fire – she's wind and she's apple scent and shoulder-length hair.

This Regina tenses in his arms, she is pine and leaves and flowers and long hair, she pulls back from him.

And relief doesn't last for long.

"Do I know you?" she says. He doesn't answer.

Something lightens up in her eyes – they widen, yes, she tilts her head. "Robin?"

– § –

Let me tell you something about Snow.

Snow is, normally, quite happy. I mean, bad days, good days, the-town-is-in-mortal-danger days. She's had a weirdly rough life – spoiled princess, bandit, mother-for-a-minute, twenty-something years of Mary Margaret, mother again and – maybe now she can be happy with her family.

Sure.

Snow is a royal – she has this duty of checking on her people – the best place is Granny's – they all go there, after a nearly disaster, but hell, knowing that you were responsible for said disaster, oh, that's new.

Let's add Evil Queen to her list.

She has this whole set of memories now – she sits on a bench, at Granny's, asks for something strong, please. David is somewhere, with Neal, oh, god, what kind of mother is she?

Okay, she needs a moment. She needs to take a moment and make it clear – that they were fake memories, that she didn't do that, she didn't – nearly imprisoned and killed her own daughter, and set her own grandson on fire, and she didn't tell Charming to kill Hook, and persecuted Regina for years, she didn't.

But the guilt swirls in her glass, along with her drink.

.

.

.

Let me tell you a story about the Evil Queen and her bandit.
And no, the queen isn't Regina, the bandit isn't Snow.
It's the other way around.

.

.

Once upon a time,

A fairy opened a door with a creaking sound. It was almost the end of winter, but that night it was freezing and the basket she found on the steps was already covered of snow. She folded on a side the blue blanket, and revealed a tiny, trembling baby.

The baby wasn't crying. She was staring at the fairy, her big hazel eyes opened and quiet, and the fairy's heart skipped a beat – the baby wasn't crying, she was just staring, with this impossible serious look. She lowered herself to collect the baby, and brought her to her chest.

"You really are the most resilient, aren't you?" she smiled. Her dark heart swirled of red for a moment. She looked at the baby, and at the outside – the snow was still falling, slowly. With one last worried look at the night, she closed the door.

.

Regina grew in the orphanage until the sweet age of twelve. It was not a happy place. Peculiar, under some aspects, and special, under other aspects. The fairies were harsh on the good days, and cruel on the bad days. Still, the baby grew to be a beautiful young woman, who liked to ride horses, to escape from the stables every time she had the chance, and come back with muddy boots and stained cheeks. A tomboy, they called her, a lost cause. You'll never be important, Regina, you are a delusion. Look at you, no wonder your mother gave you up. Don't you feel ashamed?

And it was hard. It was sad, and yet she had that special kindness in her heart, that never-ending flame that comes from years of cruelty and wickedness, the burning hope – if you're kind, if you keep believing, something good will come your way.

She thought that was it, when the princess came along.

Princess Snow, with her beautiful carriage and magnificent dress, with her shining tiara and smiling handmaidens, the princess from far away. Princess Snow was almost eighteen, and soon-to-be bride to a Prince James, and they came together, hand in hand, waltzing their way between the orphans. Snow's smile was enlightening the world, and she kneeled there, in the mud, amidst the children – letting little Kat touch the soft vison laced around her shoulders, not caring about dirty and unwashed hands.

.

"And what's your name, little one?"

Regina turned at the sound of her voice, her eyes widening in a special – new – kind of amazement. "Me?" she asked, shyly, not quite believing it was her of all children the princess was speaking to.

"Why yes, you," Snow White smiled, so gently.

"It's Regina, your ma – your highness," she answered, stumbling in her words, an old lesson from Miss Blue yelling its way in her head – it's your highness for princes and princesses, it's your majesty for kings and queens – but Snow smiled, again, and nodded.

"It's a very beautiful name," she complimented.

.

Regina knew it was wrong, she knew it, but was it her fault if she just happened to hear her name, passing by the door of Miss Blue's office? It wasn't her fault, she repeated herself. She was just checking. Just to be sure – to be sure she wasn't in trouble, and she pressed her ear on the wooden surface, catching the Princess' voice.

"… so, if you suggest Regina, Blue – do you think she might have the gift?"

Miss Blue's voice answered, more muffled, but still audible.

"She might. It is yours to discovered, Snow, and I think one month will be more than enough – it is a test, for you. Try not to disappoint me."

.

They didn't warn her. They didn't even let her say goodbye to Kat, and shoved her in the carriage. James' smile didn't quite reach his eyes. They left at dawn, the chilly air of the morning fluttering around them, and a subtle, tickling rain starting to fall.

"Don't worry, Regina," Snow told her. "We'll take care of you for a while."

.

It wasn't so awful, staying at the castle. She had the permission to eat in the kitchens, to ride Snow's old pony, and climb trees, and in the evening she would go to sleep lulled by the princess' voice. Snow's father, the King, was mostly kind to her. Frightful, one day, yelling in the Throne Room – Snow had hushed her away with the shadow of an apology on her lips, whispering don't worry. But she had seen the gallows in the courtyard, and suddenly she was scared of these people who seemed to be gentle and were cruel.

.

One night, Snow woke her with a cold hand on her arm, and led her outside of the castle. The stable, she realized, once they were long gone, and the princess was carrying a bag, soft whinnies of horses from far away, the shaking jingles of the harnesses.
The road turned suddenly, and right after the corner – the stables, and Prince James there, with Snow's horse and his own – cold eyes, the corner of his lips lifting slightly when he spotted them. Snow threw a worried look over her shoulder, then passed the bag to her fiancé, then turned towards Regina.

"Listen to me, darling," she started, kneeling in front of her so that her features were now shadowy in the dark. "Do you know – can you imagine why I have brought you here?"

Regina frowned, staring at her. "No, your highness."

Snow sighed, taking her hand. "I need you to promise me something, dear," she said. "Prince James and I – we are going away for a while, alright? And I need you to bring a message to Miss Blue. Right now, you will take that horse and never turn back, you won't return to the castle – you will go straight in that direction, and deliver my envelope, and never tell anyone what you saw. Do you know what a secret is, Regina?"

She nodded, too confused to speak.

Snow's face, serious and grave until that moment, opened into a smile. "Good. Promise me you will keep the secret, dear."

"I promise, your highness," she rushed to answer, and the other woman squeezed her hands.

"Thank you. Now go. Don't turn back."

.

She had never been afraid of storms. Never, but little Kat had been, and she would often come and crawl into her bed with her, and Regina would whisper her stories until she fell asleep. So, this shaking tremendous gleam of lightings shouldn't have frightened her, but it did, and her horse reared up and she fell.

She fell with an anguishing cry, and all the air in her lungs was snuffed out, her ankle twisted in a strange angle.

She stayed there, grimacing in pain, for what felt like hours – days, months, because she was little and scared and all alone, with a soaked cloak and a crucial letter next to her heart.

.

She heard him before she saw him. The knight.

"And who are you, little one?"

.

Next thing she knew, she was blinking into the light of morning, a familiar smell around her – herbs, and fire, and the comforting perfume of clean sheets. The castle. She was back at the castle. For a moment, she relished the warm cocoon, then slammed her eyes open.

The letter.

Her hand flew up to her chest, but her cloak was gone – gone were her clothes from the previous night, panic surging in her heart, the letter, Snow's letter, where was it?

.

The King came to see her the minute he knew she was awake. He stormed in, ordered the handmaidens to wait outside, and slammed the door close.

"Where's my daughter, child?"

Regina stood silent, because she had promised.

He neared her bed, not caring, unforgiving, and grabbed her wrist. "Listen to me, you filthy girl," he whispered, "you were found with a letter from my daughter, and I know you were with her. She is gone. Who's with her? Answer me, or I swear on all the gods I'll have your head on a plate!"

He tightened his hold, and it hurt – tears pooled into Regina's eyes, because he was hurting her, and she was afraid. For herself, for Snow – the storm had been terrible, what if she was hurt? What if they needed help? The King already knew Snow was gone, she reasoned. Maybe he would have been less worried, knowing that his daughter was with her fiancé. Maybe he would have sent help, some knights, or a rescue party.

Biting her lip, she finally answered.

"She's with… Prince James."

.

They brought her to the orphanage, the following day. She never heard of Snow again, until that day.
That day when Blue came to find her in her room, with the smile of satisfaction on her lips, and a yellow, tattered paper in her hand.

"Seventeen years ago today, I've found you on my doorstep. Now, my custody of you has officially ended, for you have reached majority, and you will leave this orphanage before midnight strikes. This letter is the only thing I want you to have, so that you can comprehend that it is the main cause of the troubles awaiting for you."

.

*.*.*

Dear Blue,
I'm sorry, so sorry, but I can't be the pupil you need for your purposes. By the time you'll read this letter, I'll be long gone. I plan on travelling to the western border, and seek guidance from the Dark Fairy. I'm sorry, Blue, but light magic isn't for me. Light magic is for the weak, and I seek power.
Regina has not the gift. She's brilliant and kind, but she has not the magic you need.
I expect us to become enemies, now. So be it.

May our roads cross when I'll be powerful enough to defeat you, to destroy the Light One and to dethrone my father.

Snow

*.*.*

.

She left at twilight, with an old letter and warm clothes, she left with an empty stomach and the urge to fill it. She left, and she learned. She befriended a huntsman, in the woods, who taught her how to use a bow, how to hunt her own food. He was killed by the Black Guards, and it was the beginning of terror and despair.

Snow White was ruthless and merciless. Snow White was now the Evil Queen, after the famous murder of her own father, after multiple attempts to tame the Light One at her will. After five years of hide-and-seek with the fairies of the orphanage, she'd finally given up, waiting for Regina to get out – waiting for her prey to exit from her hideout.

.

Thief, they called her. Bandit.
They were kind, but frightened. They feared the Queen's wrath, and so she started avoiding people. She didn't want to be responsible for more deaths on her behalf.
Sometimes, Snow entered her nightmares.

"I can see you. I'm always watching."
"I want you to find peace, so I can rip it out from you."
"I will make you pay, Regina, by destroying everything you hold dear."

.

One day, she finally heard the stories.
She was in a tavern, her features carefully covered with a hood, sipping oily broth, listening carefully to a man who was sitting not too far.

"Aye, lad," the man said, patting gleefully his companion's shoulder. "Ya know, that lass the Queen is after, Regina? Well, old Peter finally told me why the Queen is so mad with her, I'm telling ya."

The man lowered his voice, and she subconsciously leaned towards him.

"Apparently, Peter heard one of the Queen's maids – ya know women like him, and this maid told him… oh, you're going to like this story, man… she told him, the Queen was engaged, and she was about to run away with her fiancé!"

Regina narrowed her eyes – she knew of this, but still didn't see how…

"So Regina, she was a kid at that time – she was at the castle when it happened, and nobody knows how, but James was killed – the Queen's fiancé, and the Queen managed to run away – " he lowered his voice even more, " – spent years with the Dark Fairy, aye, and now… well, you know," he ended, and maybe he was saying something else but she wasn't listening.

James had been killed because of her.

"You broke a promise," Snow's voice said. It was clear now – the Queen's cruelty had been amplified by the tragedy, and Regina knew all too well who was responsible – the King himself…

.

.

.

Let me tell you how the tables have turned.

Because when Snow knocks out her second whisky, glass slamming on the table, the bell above the door at Granny's jingles – Emma, Henry, Robin – and Regina; Snow motions a movement, like when you want to get up but at the same time you don't – and Regina freezes.

She is literally frozen on the spot, okay, maybe's a bit weird, to be looked by your old nemesis as if she is afraid of you, isn't it?

She's still dressed as bandit, how weird, everyone else's back in their clothes.

Emma opens her mouth, as if she has to speak fast before something bad happens – Henry too, he tries to speak, but Regina beats them all – with a hard and yet small voice Snow hasn't ever heard from her, not ever.

"What's the Queen doing here?"

– § –

Let me tell you something about helplessness.

Regina backs off, ready to run away, and he's quick – sort of – because he bursts out words, Regina, wait, she's – she's not –

His love shakes her head, escapes his touch. Henry adds his voice, Mom, wait!

Ah, to hell, she turns on her heels, but Robin grabs her arm – her long braid flies back with a jerk, "Leave me," she hisses, it's like all that trust they've built in the book is now gone.

"Regina."

A new voice, who has not spoken yet. Snow.

They still where they stand, his hand around her arm, in her useless and completely understandable attempt to run. Snow lifts her hands, and Regina takes one step backwards. She's unarmed, he thinks, that's why, she must be scared, because she's normally not so scared – she must think –

"Regina, I don't have magic, I mean you no harm."

Too weak, he thinks, nobody's gonna be convinced by this sentence.

Henry gets it. The kid looks at him, motions towards the door.

"Mom, come on," he says. "Let's go out and explain some things."

Regina stiffens, but nods slowly, her eyes won't leave Snow, even when she walks towards the door. Henry takes the lead, he gently tugs her arm towards her son, and they go. The bell jingles again.
So much for a smooth homecoming.

– § –

Let me say something about time.

Time heals everything, they've always told him.

Henry thinks it's crap.

Because you just get used to the pain. Because there's nothing to heal here. Because they've been back home for two months – even managed to restore the darkness inside of Mister Gold, saved his heart, all would be great, well, great for Storybrooke's standards, but his mom doesn't remember.

She's staying in the woods with Robin – the white mansion has been rejected, his grandma's flat is out of the question for obvious reasons – he's figured she'd be okay in the woods, she's used to it.

He goes to see her every day.

He bring the book, the real book, he had all the good intentions – because you know, Henry's fundamentally good, but his plans tend to become catastrophes, he repeats inwardly, kicking himself – he has spied a tear, today, rolling down his mom's cheek.

What an idiot, he tells himself. Wasn't it enough to have the awful memories of a freaking lifetime spent like a bandit, feeling unwanted, unsafe, always on the run?

What an idiot.

Now he has added the guilt of a past she doesn't recall, the damned past of the Evil Queen. He has shown her she is the true Queen, she has done all the things that in her universe are Snow's burden to carry.

.

.

.

He doesn't bring her the book anymore.

From that day on, he just goes there. He has already made Emma believe, he will make Regina remember.

Sure, there's that tiny detail, maybe she doesn't want to.

Sure, it's cool to have mom that teaches you how to use a bow, it's cool to have mom letting you stay up around the campfire – it's heartbreakingly painful to watch her read a story to Roland, because that was life before. Before of the mess.

Henry does what his family does best. He hopes.

– § –

Let me tell you a story about love.

Regina isn't so sure she can have it.

They've always told her she's not worthy, she's stubborn and hopeless and useless and a bunch of other flattering adjectives.

And yet, now life is… good. Well, as good as it can be when you have fake memories, you don't understand who you are, and you live in the woods and you're forced to see the Evil Queen on a regular – almost daily – basis.

There's the kid, Henry, who tells her stories and likes to go for strolls with her, around the town. There's the other kid, that precious sunshine of brown eyes and curls, Roland, who has keenly introduced her to ice cream.

There's the blonde, Emma, a bit weird when she looks at her with those eyes – like someone who feels so guilty, a kicked puppy, and she doesn't know why.

There's that nice woman, Belle, who has taught her things of the town, like how to use a toaster and stuff like that, and she likes books.

And there's him.

Robin.

.

.

.

Robin, who is her supposed soulmate. Sometimes she catches him looking at her – she has to divert her eyes, because it's so intense – she can't bear his gaze, because it breaks her heart, he's looking at her, but at the same time he isn't – because he wants his Regina, not her, never her, he just misses the real Regina.

.

She keeps her hair long.
She doesn't wear the-other-Regina's dresses, that's not who she is. (And seriously, her alter ego could use some restraint about high heels.)

She has her own tent in the woods, finally amidst the Merry Men, and she avoids Robin – as long as you can avoid someone who lives and sleeps five feet from you.

.

.

One night, he comes to her, with the face men make when they've gotta talk with you.

She likes to stay up, in the woods – poking the fire with a stick, observing the flames dance, the smoke curl up in spirals, the wood burns.

He comes to her, and she's not ready.

"Milady."

He always calls her that, now. Keeps a distance, and she thinks sadly of when she's let the Light One slice her stomach open and fell onto the ground and Robin was holding her hand while she died, you won't die alone, and now it's so cold between them.

.

"Yes?" she answers.

"Can we talk?"

Silence, a curt nod.

"Regina, look at me."

Damn him.

She does – she looks at him, he's still standing, so she stands up too. He holds her gaze, then speaks again.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

She nearly scoffs a laugh. "Me? I'm not."

"Then why can you barely look at me?"

Barely? She is not the one who can barely look at him. He is, he is the one – and she loses it.

"Me? Are you serious? I think the problem is yours."

He doesn't speak, so she goes on. "How do you think I feel, seeing you watching me as if I am someone you miss? You see me, but you look right through me. I am not the one you want, you want her, and I can't give her to you –" her voice breaks, she hates it, hates the sting of tears in her eyes, "– and – Henry said I can remember, but we tried everything, and we don't know why but this time True Love's kiss doesn't work for us, for me and Henry, and he says I made him remember with that once, and it should work, and now everyone just wants me to remember, and I – I can't –" it's a broken sob that escapes her, she can't talk anymore. Her eyes close, with a deep breath to steady herself.

"Regina," he simply says. "Calm down, love."

She reopens her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry." He pulls her in a hug, and it's nice, it's so him, so comforting, she finds a tiny something of that bond they had in the book. They hold on together for a while, she inhales deeply, her heart racing fast, hot blood and adrenaline, and when they part – she looks at him, he looks at her, and it's mere impulse – she grabs his jacket, and kisses him.

.

.

Let me tell you something about memories.

.

She remembers.

As their lips are locked together, a fresh wave of everything – it all comes back – pain, memories, Henry, Snow, hearts, her sister, horses, joy, despair – love – she exhales – she's back.

He must have felt the air moving around them – because he opens his eyes, one last peck, he leaves her lips.

"Regina?"

She doesn't answer – instead, she kisses him again.

She's back.