A/N: This is for #OQFixitWeek: using my freebie :) This is your standard "Regina flees after banishing Cora to Wonderland" fic.

It's oddly freeing, realizing that it's not too late to change her fate.

Rumpelstiltskin told Regina she had no choice, that her fate was sealed. That she had said the words at the ceremony, had made a pact with herself and the gods and the entire kingdom that she would stay and be their queen. It was too late now, too late to run away.

She had promised the heavens and earth to forever be the king's doll, whore, show-thing, slut. At least, that is the reality of her position, though she may be called "queen", she was under no illusion of how the people really saw her.

But when she finally had the strength to get rid of her mother — to banish her to Wonderland— that protective forcefield fell, and she was no longer imprisoned in the castle.

So run she does, the hell with her oath, the hell with the voice in her head (the voice that sounds like the Imp) hat tells her she has to stay. She takes what she can, including some old linens of her handmaiden, something simple to wear hoping to blend in with the peasants. She takes her jewels to pawn as quickly as she could… a small knapsack with a few days' worth of food, and then she and Rocinante are off.

Regina is young, wild and impulsive, and more than ready for an adventure.

She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

She figured there would be a hunt for her for a few days before she was declared dead and everyone moved on. Leopold does not love her, and it will be easy to find a new pretty young plaything.

She's no longer just a betrothed woman, though. She's the Queen. And Leopold, well, he's a prideful man. He offers a reward for his "kidnapped Queen" and her "beloved mother". The Imp is the suspect, the slimy creature seen wandering around the castle just before their disappearance.

The search is so extensive, so thorough, that even in the depths of the forest she is not safe. She cannot trade jewels for food, she cannot go into town during daylight at all.

She steals hay, turnips, carrots, apples and eggs from a farmer. She leaves a ruby behind, hoping he will see it on the high windowsill of the barn. It is more payment than the items are worth, but well, who has change for a ruby?

Reginafinds a nearby tree with a thick nest of branches that she can sleep on. She longs for a fire, but she cannot risk it, so she relies on the thick fur she travelled with, and a cloak to keep her warm. It doesn't work, not always, but there's a clearing in the woods where the sun shines bright in the morning, and she soaks up all the warmth she can then.

Guards are trekking through the woods, and thank god for Daniel, may he rest in peace, he taught her how to evade pursuit, how to avoid a predator, how to hide in the woods. And so she does. The guards never go deep into the it, they don't go off trail, so she's fine. She's hungry, tired, isolated and often lost, but she's alive, and that's what counts.

She's trying to find her way back to the river when she feels something whizz by her ear. And then she sees the arrow fly in front of her hitting the far tree.

"Stop, milady!"

She turns to find the archer running towards her.

Shit. He's after the reward.

So she kicks Rocinante and sets him to a gallop… except it's hard, in the woods, with no trail. the horse can't really travel too fast, amongst the trees and the slippery rocks. He's doing quite well until she feels the beast slide, and then he bucks wildly but does not move, and she notices the poor creature has his hoof caught in a tangle of vines.

She grabs her pocket knife and intends to make quick work of freeing Rocinante, but he's spooked and jerking in the shrubbery, getting even more tangled as he fights.

She just has to set him free and they will be off.

"That won't help. Your horse is injured, not stuck," a voice calls out.

Double Shit.

She's caught for sure now, by this man, this archer. She looks up assuming she will be facing the pointed side of an arrow... but no. The man is hurrying to help her with her horse.

He's right. Rocinante isn't stuck. He's in pain. The shrubbery might have caused him to sprain or twist something,

She's in shock as the man gently guides her steed onto safer ground. The horse is favoring that leg. He can't run, can't ride. Fuck, they are exposed. She follows, unable to think of any better plan.

"He's dehydrated," he mutters, "You and he will come to my camp, and you both will recover there."

God the sound of a camp, of human contact, it sounds so nice. But she can't let herself even dream of warm meals and conversation around a fire (god a fire) , because she can't trust anyone. So she screws her face into a proud scowl and asks, "I don't even know who you are, why would I go with you?"

"Do you have any better options?" The man asks, amused. "And my name is Robin, Robin of Locksley, but you may know me as Robin Hood."

"I don't know you at all," she says with a sigh. To be true, it sounds familiar, but she never cared for learning the names of outlaws in the kingdom. She didn't share Mother's disdain or fear of them, and never heard anything particularly interesting about any of them.

"So will you come with me to camp, or are you going to run this poor creature down until he breaks that leg?" Robin asks.

"And if I go to camp with you what will become of me?" Regina asks, "What is your plan?"

"My plan, milady, is to let you stay with us at camp until your horse is healthy and healed."

He keeps calling her that. "Milady". He doesn't recognize her as the queen, she thinks. Doesn't even recognize her as a noble. And that's good, perhaps she's not as recognizable as she thinks.

"And then what?" Regina asks sarcastically, "What will become of me when Rocinante is healed?"

"Well, milady, that's not up to me, or anyone. That's up to you. There are no slaves in the forest. Your fate is your own. Always."

It's then that she sees him, truly sees him. He's… very good looking. A nice smile. White teeth, unusual for a forest bandit. Something about him looks regal, but he smells of forest and campfire, not of incense and fine clothes. She believes that he's safe. And hell, her gut has gotten her this far, why not rely on it just this once?

.::.

His camp is nice enough. It's all men, dirty, smelly lawless outlaws, but they welcome her and respect her and refrain from making lewd comments or grabbing at her, and hell, that's more than she can say for her husband, isn't it?

Robin does not leave her side for that first day and night in camp. it feels… stifling. So she says so, over stew and by the fire as they sit against a tree, just a bit removed from the rest of the men.

"Am I not free to leave?"

"Of course you are," Robin counters, "why do you say that?"

"Because you've barely let me go further than an arm's length since we got here," she reminds "and if I am a prisoner here, I think I should know."

"I'd never hold you against your will, milady. But I just need to make it clear to my men that you are important to me. And then I'll give you your space. My point has been made, I believe."

"Why do you need them to think I am important to you?" Regina asks softly, "I'm not, I'm no one, I'm just—"

"You're just the Queen," Robin says gently, leaning over to tuck that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. The one that always hides part of her face, but apparently not her identity.

She freezes. She didn't think… she thought he didn't know. Why else would he treat her the way he does? So ordinary, so normal. As if she weren't royalty, as if she weren't a prize to cash in for a reward. It's curious, how he looks at her, in light of what she is. He should despise her. She's royalty, part of the establishment hell bent on destroying him.

"What are you—" she starts to deny it, but looking in his eyes, she realizes it's fruitless. He looks at her with... pity, almost. She takes a deep breath and draws it out slowly. "When did you find that out?"

"The moment I first saw you," he chuckles. "Your poster is all over the forest. And it's not an easy face to forget."

The way he says that, it's... meant as a compliment, she thinks. Something in his expression looks heated and, the way his eyes wander over the features of her face, down her body.

She mimics the motion, and decides that his is also not an easy face to forget.

"Oh." She loses the ability to speak for a moment, staring into those eyes. It feels like minutes pass before she takes a deep breath and finds her voice. "Why haven't you turned me in for your reward yet?"

"I wouldn't turn you back there for all the gold in the kingdom," he says earnestly. "I may be a thief, but I live by a code. And my code would never allow for returning a lady to be unjustly imprisoned. Even if that prison is a palace, and her prison guard a king."

She swallows heavily. How does he know these things?

"The posters say I've been kidnapped," she reminds. "Aren't you wondering how I escaped them, and why I haven't returned to my castle?"

He chuckles. "It's true that the posters say that. But a teenager and her mother are missing and no guard or servant has seen a thing, and here in the villages there's never been whisper of a single plot to kidnap the new queen. Plus those who attended the royal wedding... they saw the sadness in your eyes." He pauses and places his hand on hers, gives a gentle squeeze, before taking that warmth away from her. "Regina… though it may be considered treason in your kingdom to ever speak of this, I dare say it's the common belief that you were married against your will, and you and your mother ran away."

"Not my mother…" she murmurs. "She wanted me to marry the king, desperately. I-I had to escape her first. Before I could—"

"Ah so the rumors of Cora are true," Robin says with a sly smile, "You'll have to forgive me, but there's a sizeable reward for you, and your story is the talk of the town. Most believe your mother helped you escape, but a few who claim to know of your mother say she'd never help her daughter escape the throne, since she so desperately craved it for herself."

"Those words are true," Regina gives, looking into his eyes shyly. "If she finds me, it's as good as the King's own men finding me."

Robin nods, then add thoughtfully. "Overall, though, the fact you are traveling without your mother is to your advantage. Most of the kingdom is looking for two women together. And I don't believe anyone heard word that you escaped with your horse so... another victory."

"I suppose I should celebrate small victories where I find them" she says wryly. She looks up at the moon, at the smoke billowing from the campfire. At the simple freedom that's here in the forest, where no beast has a master, where nature is able to web and weave itself as it sees fit.

"Why can't they just let me be free?" she asks to no one in particular. To the sky, the fire, the creatures of the woods, the gods... to anyone.

Robin grabs her hand again and moves it to his lap. But instead of just giving it a squeeze he's caressing her palm with calloused fingers while his other hand gently holds it, the action is... probably less intimate than when he went so far as to wipe away a strand of hair, but this means more. This is a touch to comfort. Her body goes warm and liquid, a tingle appears at the back of her neck at the thought of someone caring about her this much.

"I meant what I said," he soothes. "In my eyes you belong to no one but yourself."

They say nothing, just sit and listen to the crackling of the fire. She feels her body go heavy, feels herself sagging into him.

He is warm and smells of pine and mint leaves, his body is hard and chilled but he feels soft at the same time. She could rest against him forever.

"Where do I sleep?" she asks, fighting a yawn.

"My tent. I'll sleep outside it for the night." She begins to protest that she won't take his tent, but he will hear nothing of it. "I should let you know that I am certain that at least one of my men recognizes you. There's a sizeable reward for you, and I need to make certain that none of them even entertain the idea of taking you."

She's too tired to argue and pretend she doesn't need protecting. So she lets herself take the act of kindness.

Regina hasn't known kindness from anyone except her father and Daniel, and it's difficult to see that kind people actually have existed all along. Cora surrounded her with so many vile people, she had thought the world was made up of them, with only small unusual exceptions. But here is a stranger, being kind for no reason, and it almost restores her faith in mankind.

She sleeps well that night, in a man's tent that smells of pine and earth, the scent and warmth of the campfire wafting gently in. She feels safe for the first time she can remember. As silly as it sounds.

.::.

In two weeks time, Rocinante's leg is still not healed.

Regina, however, is healing quite nicely. She's well fed, well hydrated, and finally warm.

She has her own tent now. Robin had showed up with a canvas tarp and some thick wool blankets one day, and had set up camp for her right next to his without saying a word.

She tries to contribute, to help, and hell, learn something about hunting for herself. Robin helps her with the bow and arrow, but early on he realizes it's pointless.

"You have a soft spot for animals," he chuckles, as she yet again fails to shoot at a rabbit scurrying in the wilderness.

"No, I just lack the skill to kill them," Regina groans, "There's an important difference."

But he's just smiling at her affectionately. "You always hit the bullseye now, but when it comes to shooting an animal, you hesitate, catch your breath, and close your eyes. It's actually quite adorable."

She frowns, embarrassed. Her secret seems to have gotten out. And what will become of her if she is to be a solitary bandit? How will that work if she cannot kill her own dinner? She has to get better.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Robin soothes. "Tuck cannot kill either. But he did learn how to fish. Can we try that?"

Robin teaches her how to fish in the river, the best place to wait, how to capture crayfish with her hands, how to debone and skin the fish.

Fish lack the warmth of the animals of the forest. Though she does not revel in watching them flop and spasm outside of the water, she can bare this.

She can fish.

And what's more, she's quite skilled at de-scaling and de-boning. Nearly no meat is wasted, every tender piece saved under her careful attentions.

Regina thinks that is how Robin first decides she would make a good healer.

It could also be that he's seen the attention she pays to her wounds. It's not much, just how to disinfect with alcohol, and how to carefully clean and cover open cuts, but he seems impressed, watching over her with a sort of reverence she enjoys.

"Come here," he says to her one night, after seeing her clean the wound on Alan a Dale's finger ("even a small cut can fester" she had said, insisting on tending to it.

He takes her to Tuck's tent, where a series of books are stacked against the sides.

Before she can even begin to ask what they are doing he's shoving books in her hand.

"These are for you. Textbooks and study material for healers. We were always supposed to have someone train in this field but...well, none of the men had the patience. Or the inclination. But something tells me you..." He pauses, staring at her in that way that makes her feel so...cherished. "You seem to be a natural."

"I won't be here for much longer," she reminds him. "I won't be able to learn much in the next few weeks."

He smiles at her sadly, the way he always does when she reminds him she will leave.

"Study what you can while you are here. Then take the books and the knowledge with you to wherever you may go. My gift to you."

She likes studying about this. It's sort of like magic, like the Dark One's potions, but instead of causing destruction and death and pain, she can soothe aches, heal wounds, maybe even save lives.

She likes feeling useful and good. She likes spending her day making others feel better, then spending her nights beside a fire with Robin, trading stories over a hearty stew.

Sometimes he touches her, just an arm around her back, or a hand on her thigh. It's natural to him, he probably doesn't even notice he's done it. But for her the touch is a welcome, loving surprise. It makes her warm inside, makes her head rush with a tingly lightness she's only experienced while riding Rocinante at full speed.

He's so wonderful to look at. She wishes she had the pleasure of looking at him every day.

That could be a good life, she supposes.

Most nights they talk until her eyes are blurry with sleep. On those night, he walks her back to her tent. He whispers, "Goodnight, Regina," and it makes her blush, every time.

Robin checks in on her, late one evening when she doesn't expect him. She'd been fastening her own pallet out of straw and some blankets, and the sight makes him smile broadly.

Silly, she won't be able to take this with her when she leaves, which is any day now. And his smile is so warm and happy that she knows he's hoping this means that she will stay.

And she doesn't want to leave, but she can't stay.

One day she notices Rocinante no longer hesitates during exercise. She thinks he still needs more help, that she still has some days left. But then she overhears Friar Tuck talking to Will, saying that he doesn't have the heart to tell Regina that the horse has fully healed and the conditioning is no longer necessary.

She weeps.

She continues to sob all night and into the morning because she knows what she has to do.

And she can't say goodbye, absolutely cannot, so she does not.

She leaves, early in the morning before anyone wakes. Takes Rocinante and the supplies she came in with (the bow and arrow and woolen blanket she keeps, too, she figures it's not stealing if she's been given it), leaves a jewel for their troubles, and rides off into the sunrise.

.::.

The next few days are cold. There are blankets to warm her, and a fire she thinks is safe to make now, but she's lacking the warmth of conversation she is grown accustomed to over the last few weeks. Companionship is not what she is built for. She's known that she would live her life in isolation, has resigned herself to this since Daniel left this earth. She hates herself for missing those loud, brash men. One loud, brash man in particular.

She can fish now, and knows what berries are edible and which are poisonous. She knows where some of the fruit bearing trees are, and collects from them, careful to listen for others before she robs the trees of everything nutritious and edible she can carry.

Soon, hopefully, the kingdom will move on to other things, and she can sneak into town and sell the jewels she has. Enough to get her a small room somewhere, while she gets on her feet.

She can train with a healer, perhaps. She feels she has a natural skill in that.

But for now, she can only focus on surviving.

Robin had taught her a bit on tracking. It wouldn't work for hunting, since she could never bring herself to kill them. But it did work for tracking people. She spots broken branches and stomped earth, wagon wheel marks and is cautious to avoid whoever lies in the path ahead of her. She listens carefully for sounds of men approaching, always finding a place to hide or run well before they ever get close.

Except, well, this time.

She's at her makeshift camp, just far enough from the trail and the river to avoid being happened across. She's eating figs and pecans, while her stomach rumbles and she wishes she could go back to the palace just for a day and partake in the decadent food of the Kingdom. She's daydreaming about that, when she hears the ruffling of leaves close by.

How has she not heard them sooner?

"Stop!" she cries into the brush. "I am armed, I won't hesitate to use this!"

The rustling gets closer.

"Stand back! Reveal yourself and tell me what brings you here."

Still the person silently walks towards her. He's close, but hidden in thick bushes. She can't see him? but she can guess where his head is, from the shadows around him and the swaying of branches nearby.

She shoots her arrow then, and hopes for the best.

"Aye!" a familiar voice cries, more annoyed than angry or

scared.

The he approaches. He's carrying her arrow in one hand, wearing the biggest smile she ever did see.

"That arrow nearly took off my head," he quips, and then winks at her. "It seems you have no hesitation when it comes to shooting men, I should probably ask the good witch to transform me into a stag. I'd have better luck with you."

She rolls her eyes and bites hard at her bottom lip. Don't smile. Don't laugh. Don't let that blush creep up on your cheeks. Stay away from him . "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"Looking for you," he admits with a shrug. He walks right up to her, close, so close, and touches her cheek. It feels right, feels wonderful, but she turns from the touch, denying herself the pleasure of his comfort. "Why did you sneak off, Regina?"

She scowls and walks away, putting distance between them. "I didn't sneak off, I left. I was always going to leave, that was always the plan. Don't act so surprised."

"Oh, Regina, not like that. You didn't even say goodbye. You just…"

"I noticed Rocinante had healed, and I saw no reason to stay," she maintains. "Was I not allowed to leave?"

"Of course you could leave at any time," Robin says softly, "but to go without even giving me a chance to see you one last time…"

She softens for a minute, lets him walk towards her, and stroke her arms tenderly.

And then her crumbling resolve rebuilds, and she snaps away from him.

"Stop it! I don't know what you've come up in your head, but believe me, I'm not interested. There's nothing between us, and there never will be. Quit your delusions and go back to your camp with your men!" She waves him off, ignores the fact that he words taste sour in his mouth.

He looks like she actually had shot him with that arrow, face screwed in pain. He doesn't hide it, not one bit, and all that sorrow, all that hurt, spills out of him and splashes on to her.

She doesn't like seeing him unhappy, it turns out.

"Yes well, I suppose I deluded myself into believing you actually cared for me, or any of us." He rolls his eyes bitterly. "You are such a good actress, your Majesty."

"Don't call me that!" She's angry, hands balled into fists at her side. "You know how much I hate that title."

"I don't know much if anything about you anymore, my Queen. " he turns around, ready to leave, and then adds, "I'm glad to see your horse well. Be careful with him. I wouldn't want you to hurteveryone who cares for you."

.::.

The guards search for her everywhere.

There is a rumor that she had been spotted on the edge of the woods, tied up and in the arms of two bandits. It's a false rumor of course but it drew attention to the area, and now hiding has become… difficult. Especially with Rocinante, who is not the most quiet of animals.

She's evading one group of guards when another group approaches from the opposite direction.

"Hault!" A guard yells from behind her. He doesn't know who she is, not with her cloak up and riding as fast, but he certainly wants to question her, and that will be the end of it.

She rides fast, weaving through the woods to try to avoid the two groups of guards from catching her, but she cannot run forever, it's only a matter of time, its…

A third group meets her eye, has her spinning the horse around and bucking wildly as they shout for her to stop. they shoot arrows at her, and Rocinante cannot go up the steep rocky mountains, so that area is off, so she's gotta...she must take the path to the right...

"Quickly, this way!"

Robin. He's on horseback (rare for him) and he's leading her near his camp. She has no time to second guess his decision to do this, but it occurs they are leading guards into a camp of wanted bandits. She's dangerous, too dangerous for them.

"Here," he says, "stop here."

A few of the men are on horsebacks, wearing cloaks, just as she is.

"You are safe," Tuck says, looking at her warmly.

She is looking for the rest of his men when she hears the steady thwack of fallen arrows.

"On behalf of the King, stand down!" A guard cries. Regina sees the rest of the merrie men hiding in trees and crouching behind bushes.

They are protecting her. Fighting for her.

After everything.

And she could just about cry.

"This is Sherwood, land of King Richard!" shouts Robin, "you guards are outside of your jurisdiction. Turn around, if you want to spare your lives. We will attack, on behalf of our King, and we will be victorious."

She laughs, and shares a look with Tuck. On behalf of our King. Robin is just as despised by King Richard as he is by King Leopold.

The guards are not persuaded, however. And they approach.

Robins men slaughter them in a matter of minutes. The men set traps, poisoned darts that are aimed at those who approach from the sides. There are the skilled archers hiding in the trees, taking the guards down easily.

The men cheer.

"Now, milady, Tuck whispers, "will you stay us for dinner, or will you break all our hearts and run away again?"

She pushes tears back and nods.

She will stay for dinner. Just for dinner.

.::.

It's similar to before, sitting around the fireplace and eating stew with the men. But oh, so different.

For one thing, she has not shared a word with Robin all night, whereas before she spent every moment of dinner as close to him as she would let herself.

Tuck and Will keep her laughing, catch her up on antics she'd missed. She shares a bit about her life since she left them, though there's not much to tell, she says.

It's just been a lot of surviving alone in the woods, for her.

She leaves the fire, telling the men she is off to feed Rocinante an apple. And she is, but she also has to leave. And she's not good with goodbyes, so she will skip them entirely.

She's stroking Rocinante when he approaches.

"Off so soon?" he asks softly. She turns and scowls. No sense in denying it.

"I said I'd stay for dinner. Dinners over."

"You really like making a dramatic exit, don't you?" His voice isn't angry or judgmental, just soft and amused.

"I don't like saying goodbye," Regina admits, ducking from his eyes. "Formalities are… annoying."

"Mmm," Robin says, leaning against a nearby tree, still looking at her with that infuriating expression. So, soft, so sweet.

"You saved my life. You put your men at risk for me. I do want you to know... well, I'm grateful, thank you."

He chuckles. "I'd do it a hundred times over, you know."

He doesn't see her blush, he can't. Not in the moonlight.

"I want to apologize," he says, stepping closer to her.

But why should he apologize to her?

"I was angry. And hurt, and I… I shouldn't have called you that—"

She shrugs. "Called me what?"

He shakes his head. He seems to know it cut her deep, having the man who cares so much about her calling her queen. "My feelings were no excuse to taunt you about the marriage that was arranged against your will. Forgive me."

She nods, but says nothing. He tentatively opens his arms to her, and she walks into them, welcomes the embrace. She even places her arms on his back as he holds her.

"This can't happen," she finally says, voice still cracking from tears.

"What can't happen?" Robin asks, "You can't stay with men who adore you, who can help keep you safe, who need you?"

She doesn't answer, but doesn't leave his arms.

"Why did you leave?" he asks softly

She rips herself from his arms, and takes a step back, trying to remember the reasons she must be alone. But it's been a long day, and she's so tired of fighting the truth, and hell, he doesn't deserve it.

"I was scared."

"Of what?" he asks curiously.

She shrugs. "Everyone I care about tends to be taken from me. So I— I didn't want it to happen again."

"You care for me?" He is playing a dangerous game, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, touching her in ways she should not allow.

"I care for all of you," she says pointedly. "You helped me and my horse recover, you taught me how to fend for myself, I'm grateful. Of course I care about Will, and Tuck, and Alan, and—"

"And also for me." He's got that shit eating grin and rolls her eyes.

"You just saved my life, don't pretend you don't care for me, either."

"Oh, I won't pretend. And I do. Care for you. Quite a bit." She didn't expect the honesty. It catches her off guard, has her softening him. "I missed you, Regina. I shouldn't say this, and I know you don't want to hear it, but…" he places a hand on her cheek, rubbing thumbs on the apples of them. "I would gladly spend my life dodging your arrows if it meant I got to see you everyday."

She's tired of running. Tired of feeling guilty. Tired of everything, and that's why she kisses him, finally.

He is surprised, she can feel the little jolt that goes through his body, the way he jumps before he reciprocates the kiss, and that's good, she supposes, that she was able to conceal what she was feeling from him, should she ever want to hide anything from him in the future.

.::.

She doesn't want to hide things from him anymore. He is soft, and gentle with her, and very patient. They kiss, quite a bit, but it's in secret, under the stars and away from camp, under the hot sun when they are supposed to be fishing, inside his tent when they are supposed to be planning the next heist. They never intend to kiss, but it just keeps happening.

Robin never tries for more. Never. And she wonders about that. Her insecurities get her, eat away at her. Robin may live in a forest now but he grew up a nobleman, and she knows what he expects of his ladies.

He's kissed her goodnight tonight, for far longer than she'd expected. But not once did his hand ever slide to an area that was inappropriate, not once did he ever pull her against him (she had moved close to him in her own, thank you very much). He did not even attempt to give her anything more than sweet pecks on her cheek, neck and lips, it was she who deepened it, added her tongue, made it more passionate.

She feels him, hard against her hip as she presses close against him. It's then that he pulls away and breaks the kiss. "I should get back to my tent." He gives her this apologetic look that screams awkward, given the situation. "It's… uh… late."

He doesn't want more from her. And it kills her that he doesn't. And she thinks she knows why.

He turns from her, and is nearly out of her tent when she when she blurts it out.

"I left before my wedding night, you know." Her cheeks at hot, her eyes watery, and she cursed herself for her emotions getting the best out of her.

"I remember, you left on your wedding night, the palace was—"

"No, before my wedding night. Before he— before the King—"

She fights every instinct to look down, sticks her chin upwards instead. She tries to get this out without getting upset.

"I'm unsullied. So—"

He grimaces. "Don't use that word. Sex does not sully a woman. He couldn't sully you, even if..."

She rolls her eyes. "Those are pretty words. If only they were true."

"They are," he insists, searching for her eyes. She focuses on the pallet below her. She won't look at him.

"Regina...what do you think of me? Do you think it would make a difference in how I feel about you?"

She looks up at him now, and bites "Hasn't it? You can kiss me when you're bored or the mood strikes, but you wouldn't dream of—"

"Oh I dream of, all the time," he quips, "I dream of ravaging you, and only you, every night. And not one of those nights do I worry about whether you are a virgin, by the way." He slides next to her in the tent. "You are high born. I know, absent a marriage, these are things I want that you cannot give. I want you to know I will always treat you as you deserve. Anything we do must be your choice."

That's… oh.

Oh.

If he didn't sound so sincere, she'd swear he was lying. Never in her life has she felt the way he makes her feel. Like she's worth sacrificing for. Like she's worth anything at all.

She wants to wrap her arms tightly around him and tell him she never wants to let him go, but it's still hard for her, being open.

She she opts for teasing him, something she feels safe, and skilled at, if she does say so herself. "And what would your choice be?"

He chuckles. "You're a lady. I'm not going to share such thoughts with you."

Her lips curve into a sly grin. "I'm a lady. And I'm asking you."

He laughs, and urges her lay down on her pallet. he joins her, laying on his side facing her. "I dream of stripping you of every inch of clothing, everything, and kissing every inch of you. That would be one of my more… polite thoughts, if you'll believe it."

He's touching her now, over clothes, with the back of his hand. It's so light, so innocent, but it feels so good to finally feel his hands wander over her, to touch her neck, her chest, her hips, her ass, her thighs.

"Gods, do you even know how gorgeous you are? How tempted I am by you, everyday?"

He kisses her then, but not the chaste kisses he always starts with, not those gentle kisses he waits for her to deepen. This time he kisses her with passion and heat and sets her aflame.

"Is this alright?" he asks, cupping her ass tightly, and yes, it's more than alright, it feels wonderful.

She shifts in her night clothes, bunches up the slip she sleeps in so he's touching her underclothes.

"This is alright."

"Oh gods, Regina."

He seems to respond to the way she moans and arches into his hand, his touches becoming firmer with every breathy little sound she makes, until he is kneading and groping at her with such vigor she can barely breathe.

"Robin!" she moans against his cheek.

"Tell me what you want," he begs, kissing at her neck and shoulders. "You have to lead, you have to be sure."

But she truly is pure, shockingly so when it comes to these matters. And as such, she doesn't know what she wants.

So she does the only thing she knows she wants, and works on ridding them of clothes. She fumbles with buttons and light fabric, until he is shirtless and she is without her slip, naked save for her underwear.

There's a hunger in his gaze that surprises her.

He spends time on her breasts first, sucking and licking and whispering how gorgeous she is, how her much he's craved seeing her bare like this, how long he's thought about this very moment… pHe makes her feel so precious and desired in a way she is not quite prepared for.

He makes good on his word, kissing every inch of exposed flesh. His kisses are electrifying, spark such a desire within her she feels she will burst if he doesn't stop.

When Robin reached the scrap of fabric between her legs, he's careful not to move it, to leave it in place. And for once Regina is grateful he's such a gentleman, because she's not sure she's ready to be that exposed. But as he continues to kiss her thighs, a warm hand settles over her sex and slowly adds pressure. She finds herself pushing against that hand, gasping for the small relief it provides with each thrust.

His lips graze over her, and he begins to kiss her there, right over the cotton she wears, gentle sucking pressure spreading warmth over her body, pooling in her belly.

"Mmm, oh! Robin don't, don't stop." she thrashes her head back, surprised at the feel of him.

"Love when you curse," Robin chuckles, looking up at her as if she had just said something poetic and beautiful. "And when you say my name, gods, how it makes me feel— you've no idea, love."

Even through the fabric, his mouth is amazing, has her panting and biting her lip hard to keep from being too loud (the men will not hear her, she would die of embarrassment if they did).

Her fingernails scrape at his scalp as he works over her. She's wet, so wet, between her legs, it soaks through, so he must be able to feel it, must know it is not just his own spit that's dampened the clothing between her legs. She'd be embarrassed except he's making these little moans into her sex with every slow pass of his tongue, and she feels pleasure building inside of her, until she feels like she is soaring.

He doesn't let up, until the feeling spins out and spills over, has her quaking and shaking as she falls over that edge, hands now tugging at his hair as she comes and comes.

When she eventually falls back to earth,embarrassment settles within her, her sodden panties and Robin's smug little smile evidence of what had transpired. He didn't even need to touch her bare skin, and she was still a stammering mess.

"Beautiful," he assures, kissing her deeply. "I want to be with you in every way you'll let me. There's no one else I want. I just.. I need to know this is what you want, too."

Of course it is. But she warns him she's not ready to share their relationship openly with the other men.

And he assures her it is nothing they need advertise.

So Robin does not kiss her by the campfire. Regina does not spend the night in his tent. They do not call each other pet names, or stare longingly at one another (at least, she hopes they do not. He's nice to stare at, and it takes work to avoid doing so).

But in private, oh, in private they become increasingly more intimate. Robin continues to explore her body, sending her over that peak through her clothes, always careful to give her what she wants by respecting a boundary she's not set herself, but hasn't exactly torn down yet either.

She reaches for him one night, grabbing his erection through pants while she is still coming down from her high, all smiling and serene.

"Woah…" he says, placing his hand over hers. "You… you sure?"

"Yes," she answers, lips curving into a smile. "Teach me how."

She's never seen him more nervous, and she's even more endeared to him. This confident smug man she's quickly caring about more than she thought possible is nearly shaking as he removes his trousers. She touches him, grips him, and his hands fall over hers and guide them the way he needs.

She likes this, being able to work him up, see him chase his release. It's a different type of pleasure, watching as he moans and writhes under her touch, begging for her to slow down, so he can make this last just a bit longer. He bites at the bedding to tamp down his moans, until he finally begs her to go faster , because he has to come, gods he has to come.

It's warm and wet in her palm, and while she should think of it as dirty, it somehow makes her crave him even more.

That's the first night she guides his hand underneath the hem of her panties and asks that he touch her for real now.

They grow ever closer during the day. She likes so much about him. His sense of humor, his snarky wit, his caring nature. He courage, storytelling ability, the way he respects her. She really, really like likes him. More than likes.

But still, she resists so much as holding his hand in front of his men, keeping their relationship a secret. She doesn't think of it as hiding, not really, but Robin seems to see it that way. When she moves away from him as his men approach, she catches that sad little pout fall over his face.

She tells herself it's to avoid the teasing of his men, but deep down she knows that if they knew, it would make all of this real. And then she'd have to admit her feelings for Robin are more than justliking him.

Instead she focuses on releasing that emotion into their evening activities.

One night she pushes his head down and asks that there be nothing between her and his tongue. In another week, he shyly asks if she would like to try something. It won't defile her, will still leave her in tact if it's just one finger, he explains.

She nods her head desperately, and asks for it in a way that has him moaning.

And gods, it's amazing. She feels dizzy with arousal and need that builds until it overflows over her in deep rushing waves. If it feels like this with just one finger, she can only imagine what his cock feels like.

She asks for it, one night, emboldened by ale and orgasms. SHe grabs him, gives him a firm stroke, and then tugs him towards the apex of her thighs with a little desperate moan of desire. She wants him, all of him. She wants to finally feel him inside her, to come together. He groans, clenches his eyes tight and throws his head back, whispering I can't.

"I want to, fuck , Regina how I want to, but I cannot. Not when we aren't truly together. I don't want your first time to be a quiet fuck in a tent where we must pretend nothing has happened the next night. And I don't want to leave you for the night after you give yourself to me. I don't want you to ever regret this."

She's touched, truly, and the words have tears welling inside her. So she forces them down, and opts for sarcasm. " Are you saying you oppose premarital sex ?" She asks, through a smile, though her eyes shine with tears she won't let fall.

She knows Robin has been with others. Has no delusions over this.

He chuckles, but does not answer her question. "I'm not beyond compromise. I'd settle for love. So you tell me when you feel the same as I do, and then I'll put out," he quips back. It happens so fast it barely registers, has he just told her he loves her?

Her face screws in surprise, but before she can say anything, he's kissing her. "Sorry. It wasn't exactly how I planned on telling you how I feel," he chuckles, "Tomorrow I shall give you a list of the thousand reasons why I love you, but tonight..." He moves her til she is laying in her back, planting kisses along her shoulder, "I plan on ravaging you until sunrise."

.::.

Will gallops into camp one Thursday afternoon with a proud smile that usually indicates he had been able to trade well with the other villagers, or he had been able to steal a significant amount from the ruling class.

But it seems he has another obtained a different kind of gem.

"You've been found, your majesty," Will tells her, eyes full of mischief.

Her blood rushes cold. "What?" She looks around for signs of guards approaching but hears nothing.

"Yes, you were found last night. Sadly, you'd been beaten to death. Your funeral will be in three days time." Will smiles warmly. "They have given up finding you, milady. They have faked your death so the kingdom can move on."

She's never been happier to hear news of a funeral in all her life.

They celebrate that night, for it truly is a blessing to all of them. She knows their lives were complicated by harboring a fugitive, though they never once complained or showed her anything but comfort, and for that she's forever grateful.

Robin stands up by the fire and raises a glass of whiskey in the air. "The Queen is dead. Long live Regina!"

"Long live the Princess of Thieves!" Will returns, and the men laugh.

"They say until death do you part , so she's right single now, given that she's technically dead!" Alan shouts back.

"Does that mean Robin can take her on a proper date?" John quips, "I'm getting tired of pretending I don't know why he has suddenly taken an interest in fishing and berry picking."

Her cheeks heat. Apparently their relationship isn't the well-kept secret she thought it was.

But truly, it's not as terrifying as it once was. In fact, it warms her heart, has her excited and happy .

She's not the queen anymore. And no one is coming to take her away from him.

She can let herself be.

Robin looks at her sheepishly as the men trade more jokes. "Sorry" he whispers to her, "I didn't know."

"It's okay," Regina assures. She takes his hand in hers, as everyone stares at them. They hoot and holler at the small act of affection, and she smiles at her little audience gratefully. "Can't determine when the next shipment of gold is coming into the kingdom to save your lives, but this, this you uncover quite easily. To your priorities!" She winks at them playfully, and they raise a glass to the mock toast with pride.

And after taking another sip of whiskey, she steals her first public kiss from the thief beside her, and whispers "I love you," in his ear. He returns the words (and the kiss) with this passionate sincerity that takes her breath away.

.::.

They don't sleep together that night. There's too much mead and whiskey, too much celebration and laughter. By the time it all dies down, she is bone-tired and dragging. He walks her to her tent, intent on dropping her off, she supposes, but she has another idea.

"Your tent is bigger," she whispers, voice slurred and whiskey laced, "can we just go there?"

She doesn't realize til she catches that smug smile that she's asking to sleep with him — actually sleep — for the first time.

She feels safe and small and loved in his arms, and gets a better night's rest than she has since she can remember.

.::.

A few days after "The Queen's" funeral, Robin declares it safe for Regina to venture into town.

It's been nearly two months since she has sat on a chair indoors, and she's missed it more than she can imagine. It's warm and dry in this tavern, and the food and drink is plentiful that night. She indulges in all of it, along with plenty of kisses from Robin as the night grows late and she loses her shyness amidst the feeling of a warm belly and a fuzzy, alcohol clouded head.

She's not drunk, just delightfully buzzed as she reminds Robin of the jewels she stole from the palace when she escaped, and how one pearl could buy them a room and a bath, easily.

She expects him to argue, but he does not, only extracts himself from men after whispering something to Little John. John pats him on the back and chuckles before pressing a finger to his lips, an unspoken agreement to keep whatever he's been told a secret.

Robin speaks to the tavern owner and collects a room key before he slinks away with her up the stairs to their room.

He never pushes, takes his time with her, focuses his energy on pleasing her, kissing her in the places where she's sensitive, working her up, until they are both dizzy with need.

She grabs at his trousers, unlacing them frantically. She's just come down from a mind blowing orgasm, but she wants more, wants to feel it with him.

"I want you," she breathes between kisses. She grabs him by the cock and adds, "I want to feel you ."

He loves when she talks this way to him, she knows it from the way his jaw drops, his adam apple trembles, and how he always swallows heavy.

"Are you sure?" He pants, but he's thrusting into her palm as she strokes him and she knows he won't take much convincing.

"I am very sure." She lays down on the bed and waits for him to slip out of his trousers himself.

He crawls back over her and kisses her. His fingers test her, just dip inside her for a few precious milliseconds. He must know how slick she is, how utterly soaked he's made her, but he still lets out a shaky exhale at the feel of her.

"Fuck, so wet, so warm…so perfect."

He guides himself to her entrance, holding his cock in place before searching her eyes for permission.

"Please, Robin."

He bites his lip hard as he begins to enter her, but he still lets out this little whimper at the feeling.

He's thick, and it stretches her...quite a bit. It's not… painful, not at all. It's just… a lot. It has her gasping and widening her legs, begging muscles inside her to loosen as he slowly buries himself to the hilt.

He just stays there, unmoving, kissing her, waiting for her relax, for the tension to slip from her body. She adjusts to the feeling of him, little by little, until she draws her own hips back, drawing him out, and then thrusting him back in.

It's… good. Different, but with each slow pass, she feels more and more confident.

"Feels good," she gasps, wrapping her hands around his neck and urging him to take the lead. He does, slowly at first, with a gentle care that has her heart swell up with love. But she begs him to take her faster, as she chases the feeling of coming apart once more.

"Robin, please don't stop," she begs when she feels his pace slow, and no, no no, it was so good, he can't slow down, not yet.

"S'been awhile," he moans, "I haven't done this in months… used to, you know, quite a bit, but since I met you, I haven't… and i'm too worked up…" He slows to a stop and gives her a sheepish grin. "I need a moment, just a moment."

She nods, pleased as punch over the effect she has on him, and thoroughly touched to hear what she had already hoped to be true. He stopped frequenting the barmaids and village women the second he met her, despite her showing him no interest, despite how she pushed him away.

He fell for her hard, and right away.

And the feeling is mutual.

They trade chaste kisses and she smiles devilishly as he bites his lip and closes his eyes, panting heavily and groaning when her hands grip his ass, or when she cannot resist kissing and licking that spot on his neck. But despite these minor teasing touches, he seems to work himself down enough to resume.

He fuck her slowly at first, then gains speed as she asks for more, responds to every moan, shifting and adjusting in her until he finds an angle that has her feeling so good she could to climb the god damned walls. It's sharp, punches of pleasure that buld and bloom until and burst inside of her, ripple out from her core and spread over her body.

She cries out his name, whispering an I love you as she rides the orgasm out, and then he is following her, jerking wildly within her, making promises of faith and undying love like the sappy gentleman he is.

He pulls out rapidly and comes on her stomach, before collapsing next to her. She feels warm and satiated, and oddly sexy, here, with the evidence of what they did pooling at her belly button. It should bother her but…. in this moment, she rather likes it.

They lay on the soft sheets, wrapped within each other, and she is so utterly happy. She's grateful, so damn grateful, for whatever glorious being that saw fit to put this man in her path, making what should have been a sad, miserable existence into one full of adventure and love.

"You're stuck with me, now, I hope you know," Robin whispers before sleep overwhelms them. "I won't let go of you, not without a fight."

.::.

It happens quicker than she would have expected.

She knows how it happened, of course. She's not ignorant to such things. And she knows she and Robin aren't always as careful as they should be, but hell, they are both in love, desperately, and both want a family, so the prospect of a child is not entirely a bad one.

She might have preferred to be more settled, to have four walls and a home instead of being bandits of the forest, but when the village midwife confirms her pregnancy, she is nothing short of ecstatic.

Robin had been so worried about her when the symptoms flared up, the nausea, the vomiting and dizzy spells had him panicking and begging her to seek a doctor. So now, knowing that she is pregnant, not ill, has him thrilled beyond words.

"I suppose it's time for us to grow up," he says, linking her hand in his.

They sell the last of the jewels she stole from the palace. It's enough to purchase a small cottage in the woods from a recent widow who is off to spend the rest of her days with her daughters family.

It's a simple cottage, rather bare, and somehow both cramped and drafty at the same time, but Regina would take their little two room home over the palace in an instant.

She worries though, that her adventurous outlaw is unhappy with his life. So she asks him one night, simply asks, if he misses his life as a bandit.

"Not one bit," He assures, kissing her hand. "This is the life I've always hoped for. A strong stubborn woman, a child on the way, a simple home, friends all around us."

"You wished for a stubborn woman?" she laughs, "I highly doubt that."

"Oh, but I did. I like my women to be bossy," he reveals, before going soft. "I never wanted a wife who would obey and serve. I always wanted someone who would challenge me, and fight with me and against me. You're everything I wanted. I'd be bored to death without you. But being with you each day is an adventure. I don't need anything else."

She smiles, eyes filled with tears, and says something sarcastic back to him about his need for self punishment, but he still looks at her like she owns his heart, and she loves him for it.

Of course he has not had to give up everything in their new life.

His men still live in the forest around him, still frequent by to tell tales of thievery, or seek Robins advice on planning a heist, heists he invariably participates in. He hasn't fully retired from that life, not at all. But now he has a day job, something honest, some pretense to keep his family safe. He works as a carpenter, helps villagers construct and repair their homes, their wagons, their shops.

Regina trains with a healer like she's always wanted to.

Everything is delightfully ordinary until the child's quickening.

That moment when she first feels her baby stir inside her, she feels a release of something gentle yet powerful, shooting out from her stomach up her spine.

It's the magic. Her child has it, and he (the magic feels masculine, feels like earth and smells like musk) is already using it.

Whether it's a blessing or a curse, she does not know.

But it's a delightful feeling during the pregnancy, a soothing, sweet prickle that reminds her of what it is to come.

Labor, well, that is not a good feeling at all.

She's a healer, so she's studied childbirth extensively. She's even assisted in some labors of her own. But she's still not properly prepared for the fear and panic surrounding the labor process.

The pain is a gut wrenching, vomit inducing, back breaking kind that has her clenching teeth and digging fingernails into the bedding.

But she's used to pain, so she can bear that.

What she cannot bear is the terror of that comes after each contraction, when the faint pulse of her child's magic disappears.

Oh, it's terrible, with every push she holds her breath waiting for some sign that the life inside her is still going.

She screams to the midwife that something is wrong, and sure enough, the woman inspects her and nods.

"I can feel the cord," she whispers, "around the neck."

It's hours of coaxing the child to twist out of the tangled mess she's put him in, but it works, eventually. Pushing comes easy then, without fear, when there's only the pain to handle.

The child is beautiful.

He is beautiful.

"What should we name him?" Robin asks.

"If… if it's okay I'd like Henry," Regina murmurs. "It's after my—"

Robin smiles "Darling of course I know. Your father. And I couldn't be happier with your choice. Henry is a perfect name. Perfect, just like him. And his middle name?"

She swallows heavy, attempting to lose the lump in her throat, for this is a delicate issue.

"I know what I would like…." she starts, trailing off into a panic. "But it would be… inappropriate."

"What?" he urges, "you've given birth to my child, Regina. Anything you request of me, I'm going to at least give it consideration."

She bites her lip. "You know how much I love you," she starts, and Robin scowls comically.

"Why do I think there's a but involved?" he asks, and then a follow-up with, "yes, of course I know you love me."

"I wanted to honor the boy… the man who taught me about love. The man who died because of me." She sees him flinch, and fears the worst — that he thinks she doesn't love him as much as she loved her stable boy. But that's not it, not at all. "I don't….I don't have any feelings for him anymore," she assures, grabbing his hand. And that flicker of uncertainty leaves his face, he nods, grabs her hand and kisses it. "It's just that, My father suffered so much for me all his life as well, put up with so much abuse from Cora. and I know it was because of me. To protect me in his own way, the best he could. And Daniel, he did that too. Without either of the sacrifices they made… we wouldn't have this. " She squeezes his hand, and looks down at their perfect child. "I ask not because I loved him, I ask because I want to honor him… in some way. He lost his life, and I thought I'd be miserable forever, but everything that he gave me led me to you. He taught me to love, and trust, and believe in myself when no one else could."

"Henry Daniel is a strong name," Robin says, and there seems to be no hurt in his eyes, in his voice. Sometimes she can't believe her luck.

"Henry Daniel Locksley," she whispers.

And that's when tears form in his eyes, shining bright before they spill onto his cheeks.

It's a blissful moment, a rare few minutes of pure joy. She tries to memorize the feeling of it, the words he whispers in her ear, the feeling of his hot breath on her skin, drawing out goosebumps as he whispers words she tries to memorize forever, the steady crackling of the fire, the smell of burning wood, and the fresh, sweet scent of her precious newborn, sucking at her breast, the feeling of giving life and sustenance to the warm baby boy in her arms.

She tries to bottle up that memory, to save it for a rainy day. It's ridiculous to even think of bad times to come at a time like this, but Regina has known so much suffering in her life, that she cannot help but prepare for a return to the bad times.

.::.

For a few blissful weeks, Regina's energy is entirely spent on caring for Henry.

There's no sign of magic in Henry, now, oddly. And good — she hasn't told Robin (she's terrified to tell him that his son may be a sorcerer, and that he inherited from Regina's cruel family) and she's not quite what magical things a newborn infant might do.

But as her strength improves, Regina starts feeling the gentle pulse of power through her again.

Magic.

All these years she had been told it was inside her, that if she were not so weak she would know how to use it. And here it is, finally inside of her and ready to use.

She shouldn't use it, but it is right there… One night, when the logs are wet and starting a fire is proves difficult, her fingers itch and throb, the magic threatening to burst through her. She looks at Robin and tells him to stand back. And then she stops fighting the power inside her.

Fire blooms in her hand like a tulip, white hot flames growing and spreading.

It is beautiful.

She concentrates and throws this little bud of fire into the hearth. There home is warm and happy then.

Robin does not trust magic. He fears the price of using it may ultimately hurt her. There is that rumor, that magic always comes with a price.

But Regina doesn't know what the cost may be. She never learned the specifics of magic. Cora would not want her to know about the negative consequences of it, after all.

And Cora definitely did not want her knowing that magic can be tracked, that a person with magic can sense when a blood relative starts to use magic of their own.

Perhaps if she had known, she could have prepared herself.

.::.

Regina, Robin and Henry are on their way home from a trip to the town when Robin notices her.

"Who is that?" Robin asks, pointing to the silhouette in the distance.

And somehow, Regina just knows.

"Run!" Regina screams, throwing herself in front of Robin and the baby, between him and the silhouette that is now definitely not a random strange woman.

No, it's her mother.

"Regina, what is going on? Please be calm, for Henry—"

But then he sees her too. He must recognize her, from those wanted posters all those years ago.

"Run," she says sternly, still trying to shield him from her mother with her little body.

"I won't leave—"

"You need to do what is best for Henry," she reminds, but it is too late.

Cora poofs right next to her, looking every bit the disappointed mother.

Regina tries to conjure a fireball, something to defend herself, but her magic is new, and weak, and under the pressure and fear of the moment, the fire spurts and dies in her palm.

"Oh, my foolish girl," Cora bemoans, flicking her wrists. Robin freezes in place, and magic spurts out in vines that wrap around Regina's body and raise her into the air. "this simply will not do. I can fix a lot, my dear girl. But with a child? I fear you may be irreparably damaged, insofar as royalty is concerned."

"Do not hurt my child!" Regina begs, "he's my child. You can't take him from me."

"Named him after your miserable father did you?" Cora murmurs. "But the child has magic, Regina, and your worthless father has none of that. I would have hoped for a better name. And the father of your child? Oh Regina, how far you've fallen. A pity, I'm not sure I can let the unfortunate product of a common thief and my daughter stay on this earth. We must erase these mistakes immediately."

Regina gulps and shakes her head. "No, mother, please, leave my son and Robin alive, and I'll do anything, I swear."

Cora smiles like a cheshire cat, as if she's fallen into her trap. "Such a good girl. I was hoping you'd say that. The vines carry her over and deposit her a mere arm's length from her mother.

Coras hand is raised in the air, while another holds a vial. "This potion will erase the past mistakes, and give you a new life, where you have another chance to marry a real royal. Drink it, and I will spare Robin and that little accident. On my honor, may the gods strike me down if I lie. But if you don't accept… i'll break their necks with one flick of the wrist.

She guzzles the contents of the vial willingly.

The last thing she sees is Henry disappearing before her eyes, as she thinks that perhaps Cora had broken that oath after all.