#I'm watching The Forest of the Nightmare King and it would hurt so fucking much if Baby Fig could leverage Fig lashing out at Gorgug

[lovingmyselfcore]

i can go anywhere i want just not home

A fic based on My Tears Ricochet!! Highly recommend listening to the song while reading. Very angsty, it's if something happened and Aelin was forced out of Terrasen and had to fake her death. So yeah. I'm working on my Illicit Affairs one so that should be soon? No promises

**Not beta-read or anything we die like men here and I think I'm allergic to editing after 8pm so I can't be blamed if it's really bad

“Do it,” She spat, staring up at him - at all of them. Rowan was the only one who met her eyes, he didn’t flinch away from her, he never flinched away from her. Until recently, at least. There was a sort of comfort in knowing that she was horrible enough that Rowan Whitethorn had finally flinched.

She felt that achingly familiar lick of flame, starting at the base of her spine slowly curling up, lighting the hollows in her spine and bones, in her soul.

Something must be smoldering in her eyes because Rowan shifted, almost imperceptibly. Only being his mate and carranam did she recognize it for what it was. He’d shifted enough to have placed himself between them. Between her, Chaol, and Dorian.

With a bitter laugh, she spat again, “It’s come to this? You’re protecting them from me!” Her voice got shrill.

“Fireheart,” Rowan started but she cut him off.

“No. No. Don’t. You. Dare. Call me that.” It took all her years of training in hiding herself, of becoming other people, that allowed her to keep her voice steady.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in her massive bed, half sprawled against the comforting warmth of her husband, with Fleetfoot resting in her lap and a good book in one hand, the delicious chocolate hazelnut cake an elderly woman in town had learned to make just for her in the other. She wanted to go home.

But home was a long way from here.

Dorian shoved forward, elbowing past Rowan, ignoring Chaol’s muttered warning, and stopped once he and Aelin were nose-to-nose.

“We didn’t want to do this.”

She just hummed, not backing away from him.

Those flames still curled, ready for her to wield.

“This is better than the alternative,” Chaol spoke up and she and Dorian both moved to look at him.

She arched a brow and schooled her face into that indifferent arrogance she knew made nearly everyone see red. “The alternative? What was the alternative to forcing me to flee my kingdom I have fought so hard to keep and fake my own death with only,” She jabbed a finger at each of them, “You three knowing the details of what happened.”

“The alternative was taking away the fake part,” Dorian said, cold water to match her own burning flame.

She started, and against her better judgment, looked at Rowan. “You were going to,” She swallowed and tried very hard to ignore the agony in his gorgeous eyes. “Kill me?”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anybody voted for that.” Dorian offered.

“Voted?” Her voice went shrill again and she saw Rowan twitch. “You all voted on what to do with me?”

“You couldn’t stay in Terrasen anymore, not after what you did, so yes. We voted.”

“And you three are the lucky bastards who have to force me out.”

“Force is only needed if you decide to fight us, Aelin,” Chaol said.

She ignored how pointed the words were, how they angered those festering embers.

“So Lorcan didn’t volunteer? I was sure he’d be the first to want to force me out of my own home and fake my death.”

“Nobody volunteered, Aelin. Nobody wanted this to be the way it went.”

“Hmm, well it seems someone did. Since we’re here, and all.” Her voice dropped low and she was suddenly talking only to Rowan. “Was what I did so unforgivable that you don’t love me anymore?”

He couldn’t look at her, this man, who used to look at her like the stars were born in her eyes, now couldn’t look her in the face. “I’ll always love you, Fi-” He cleared his throat, “Aelin. Don’t ever think I stopped but-” He looked like words had become too hard and merely stared at whatever his eyes were fixed on, somewhere behind her left ear.

Chaol and Dorian were both looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Looking at him in the dying sunlight filtering through the web of branches formed from ancient oak trees, the way his eyes glittered, the hard lines of him all highlighted, and his hair ruffled from the autumn wind, her resolve broke. She took a step, then another, then she was running. He caught her, swept her up, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

It was oddly reminiscent of a time long ago, in Adarlan. That, however, was a reunion. This was a goodbye.

Tears streaked down her face and he held her closer; as if trying to further commit all of her to memory. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whispered.

“I know. I am too.”

She pulled away first. He wiped her tears away with painstaking gentleness and kissed her forehead, “This may not be the end.” From his tone and the way he was looking at her, he believed it as much as she did. Which is to say, this is the end. “Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Take care of Terrasen for me. They need you.”

He nodded, his hands still resting on her face, making no move to leave. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged helplessly, “Maybe I’ll bring Lillian back. I don’t know. I’ll just stay in the shadows for a few centuries, try and build a life where nobody knows me, nobody knows Terrasen.”

He nodded again and slowly dragged his hands from her face. She was the one that was ‘dying’ but he looked ready to keel over himself. He took a few unsteady steps backward and stooped to pick up a backpack they’d brought. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily, slinging it along her back.

She turned and looked at Dorian and Chaol, biting her lip. She wanted them to hurt, she wanted them to feel the betrayal she felt. Not a sting, no, she felt like she’d been stabbed. And as someone who had been stabbed many times before, she felt confident in her analogy. But they were her friends, once.

Make them hurt a voice whispered deep from inside her. She clenched her fists and felt the flames bubbling up.

Aelin. Rowan. In her head.

She breathed in deeply and nodded to them once, they nodded back. She acknowledged the pain in their eyes with not a small amount of satisfaction.

She took off sprinting into the forest and didn’t look back.

~~~~~~

They were walking back to Terrasen, they’d let Aelin off at the border.

“Rowan,” Dorian laid a hand on his arm, “Are you-”

He shrugged the young king off and shifted, taking to the skies, as far from them, from anyone, as he could get.

“We made the right decision, right?” Dorian’s voice was so strained it cut at Chaol’s heart.

“Yeah, yes. This was the right choice. The only choice.”

He nodded, but Chaol could tell the doubts lingered. As long as Aelin was out there, on her own, free but never allowed to return home, the doubts would always linger.

~~~~~~

Her knees buckled not far from where she’d taken off running from the three of them. She flew forward, throwing her hands out and scraping her palms along the rocks as slid to a stop. She tried to breathe, ragged, shaking breaths, as she tried to calm her mind. The world blacked-out around the edges and a whimper fell from her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t fucking do this.

A weak scream ripped from her throat and she dug her hands harder into the rocks, they sliced her palms open, warm blood trickling into the grass.

She tried to wrangle the fire, she tried to use the tactics Rowan had taught her what felt like lifetimes ago, but just like it had which led to her being here, she couldn’t control it.

It didn’t explode like she thought it would, it bubbled. Like lava in a volcano, it bubbled out of her, hot smoldering fire, trickling down her face like tears, tracing lines along her body like blood. It covered the grass around her and spread, her cry was futile. It burnt straight through some of the ancient oak trees, bringing them down and melting them entirely into the earth.

Despite the chaos around her, despite that first anguished cry, she knelt in the dirt. Wind ripped her hair away from her face as she burned the world around her, nobody could say Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius went out gracefully.

~~~~~~

Despite the initial burning at the border, no sign of Aelin had surfaced. He had to give her credit, the woman knew how to disappear. The thought sent an ache through him, intensifying what was already there.

He’d been like some kind of ghoul, Lorcan and Fenrys traded shifts watching over him, making sure he bathed and ate. Someone always sat at his bedside with him, waking him when the nightmares took him. Nightmares that Aelin was still held captive by Maeve. When they resurfaced, the first night his hand had shot out, seeking a warm body that wasn’t there. He’d flown into a fit of panic until someone had brought someone in. One of the women, Elide, maybe? They had calmed him enough to tell him Aelin wasn’t with Maeve. They weren’t in the war anymore. He remembered where Aelin was. That he didn’t know where Aelin was, only that he had sent her away. In some ways, that hurt worse.

Most of them had moved into the castle and would stay until most of Terrasen, until Rowan, settled enough to be left. Most of them were Lords and Ladies, however, so they alternated. One week Elide would stay at the castle, the next week Lorcan would. The same went for Aedion and Lysandra. He knew it hurt them, being separated like that, but they never once complained. Rowan hadn’t entirely been paying attention when they had decided how Aelin’s ‘death’ had happened, but they’d fabricated a story and spread it. Today was her funeral, nearly a month after she had left - since they’d made her leave - and Terrasen’s people had been in mourning ever since. They would be for a long while, but not nearly as long as Rowan would be.

He wasn’t sure what woke up, it wasn’t even dawn, but his eyes fluttered open. He oriented himself with what - who - surrounded him. Fleetfoot, that damned dog, was at his feet. She hadn’t taken Aelin’s spot, as if hoping she would be back. There was another animal asleep near the foot of the bed, on the floor, Lysandra or Fenrys, and he watched their chest slowly rise and fall and matched his own to it. His heart had been racing. Maybe that’s what woke him, an unseen nightmare.

He crept past the sleeping figure, probably Lysandra then, not as attuned to his every move like he knew Fenrys was.

He slipped out onto the balcony and was struck with the memory of the time Aelin had woken him and he had found her staring with tear-filled eyes at the Kingsflame blooming across those rolling hills.

He surveyed those same hills, the sleeping town below, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the railing until he was close to tumbling off the edge and stayed there in silence for a long while before speaking. “Damn it Aelin!” He was nearly sobbing, he had no idea when the tears had started. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight harder? Gods,” He broke off and slumped down, unable to speak thanks to the sobs wracking through him. “Please stay,” He nearly whimpered. “I know it’s too late but please, Fireheart, I need you. I need you.”

He fell asleep there, on the balcony, soothed by the beat of his heart. A beat that sounded suspiciously like an echo of Aelin’s fingers dancing along the pianoforte, drawing out a sound she commanded while quietly singing a lullaby she had told him her mother sang to her when she couldn’t sleep.

His eyes closed and he could’ve sworn her voice carried on the wind, that lullaby, followed by a nearly inaudible, “I love you, Rowan. I love you.”

~~~~~~

Half the time she slept in the forest like some kind of wild animal, the other half of the time she disguised herself and found some disgusting tavern to sleep in. She had no idea where she was anymore, she was just wandering aimlessly. She was currently sitting on the roof of one of said taverns. It reminded her painfully of her days as an assassin. She stared up at the stars, unblinking, the night wind was cold and stung her face but she was past caring. Up here, she took off the glamour, becoming Aelin again.

“Do you miss me, buzzard?” She asked the stars. “I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.” She shook her head and laughed angrily. “You became everything you didn’t want to, didn’t you? You bastard.” Her voice was getting louder with each word. “To whatever end? Right.” Angry tears streaked her face for what was definitely not the first time. “I’ve listened around enough that I learned my funeral is tomorrow.” She didn’t even know what she was doing anymore, besides pacing on a roof and shrieking at the sky. “Maybe I’ll stop in, I’ve always wanted to see my own funeral.” She jabbed an angry finger at a star she had deemed was Rowan’s stand-in. “I hope you make it worthy of me, you bastard. Gods, I hope you know me enough to make it as me as you can.” She blew a kiss at that star and something in her cracked, “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn. I shouldn’t, not anymore, but I do.”

She pulled her glamor back on and jumped down from the roof, landing on her feet with practiced ease. “Let’s see if I can make my own funeral, hmm?”

~~~~~~

It was as outrageous as Aelin would have wanted. Everyone was miserable, even those within the inner circle who knew what had really happened. Most everyone was here, except for all the royals within Erilea, and every other land Aelin had touched.

Music flourished from every corner, musicians from all over had come to play pieces for her, in honor of her. It was like some kind of twisted wedding, the way everyone turned when the royals entered. The leaders that Aelin had not known as personally entered first, stopping individually to give impersonal speeches about her. Then Galan entered. He knelt before the basically-shrine honoring her. “You were one of the greatest Queens this world has ever seen, cousin.” He cleared his throat, “You were so much more than all your titles give you credit for, and that’s saying a lot. You were so full of life and energy and,” A broken laugh. “Fire. You burned bright, Aelin. And now that you’re ash, we’re ash too.” He cleared his throat again and stayed kneeling next to the other leaders, murmuring words meant only for him and his cousin.

Manon entered next, she knew the truth but despite that, her eyes were rimmed an angry red. She stood next to Galan, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.” She went silent for a moment before sinking to her knees. Everyone gasped. Family knelt, but other than that no leader, especially not a witch, knelt. “You-” She broke off and bowed her head, curling her hands into fists at her side.

When it was clear Manon wasn’t going to finish, Dorian entered. He knelt beside Manon (cue another gasp) his mouth moved, but it was only for him and Aelin. The goodbye he hadn’t had the chance to say in that forest.

Nesryn and Sartaq strode in, Sartaq didn’t speak, but Nesryn did. Her voice carried, unwavering. “No King or Queen is perfect, but Aelin was pretty damn close. She and I were never the closest but,” She hesitated and Sartaq reached for her hand, “She believed in me. She never looked down on me because I was human, and wasn’t in any huge position of power, and that faith in me never changed even when I became,” She gestured at her and Sartaq, at her dress, “Aelin mattered in a way that not many people have ever mattered. She will be remembered, for her fire and power, for what she’s done, but also how she has a soft spot for dogs and chocolate,” A few wet laughs, “How she loves music and theater, how kind she is to everyone.” The crowd nodded their agreement, there wasn’t a soul that wasn’t crying. “You did it. You made your mark.” She bowed her head and it was clear she was done.

Rowan was last, Goldryn in his hands. He laid in with pain-staking gentleness at her shrine. He stepped back and opened his mouth as if about to speak. His fingers fiddled with the ring on one finger. The ring Aelin had given him that he hadn’t taken off. That he would never take off. “Damn you,” He said finally. “Damn you, Aelin.” He bowed his head to hide from the crowd and someone moved, Elide. She came up to him, murmured a few quiet words, and led him to kneel next to Sartaq. She waited a few moments before returning to her spot.

The music rose as everyone knelt, heads bowed, before their dead Queen. It was ghostly, the way they knelt in total silence, besides their tears. Aelin was going to haunt everyone, for a very, very long time.

If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a female figure in the trees, slipping away as quietly and quickly as she could, tears flowing freely at the love everyone held for her.

“Goodbye,” She whispered. Well, looks like she could make a graceful disappearance after all.

[audreysl0ve]

Dark OQ: Days 2-3

This covers Getting Acquainted with the Wish Realm and First Fight.  Enjoy :)

Her magic does not work well in the wish realm, it turns out. She had thought that a fresh start meant no one would recognize her, that she could finally be free of the reputation of the Evil Queen. So when magic did not come to her that first night in the tavern, she paid it no mind. It would come back, she had mused, at some point. But for now she could just enjoy life as Regina.

There are drawbacks, of course, to having no magic. Getting in and out of her dress without help is a nightmare, it turns out (she won't let Robin help her put her dress back on, it's a level of intimacy they both haven't reached). Robin insists she let him steal her something more sensible to wear, but she will have none of it. Everything in this realm is different and she needs her own clothes, just her one source of comfort to feel herself .

For three days, other than the discomfort of dressing herself and the need to reuse the same dress, she finds the realm... easy to enjoy, even without magic. And what's not to enjoy, when your Not Soulmate is there to kiss and touch at night, and there's a whole new world to explore in the daytime?

But on their fourth day in the realm something changes. She strolls through the village as she has done everyday before, but on this day, peasants shriek and run from her as if she were the most frightening monster they had ever seen.

"What's happening?" she whispers to Robin. He looks just as confused as she does, though he doesn't look the least bit concerned.

"I'm not sure. This is a fictional wish realm, yeah? Maybe someone made a new wish and it... changed things? People cared fuck all about you before but they certainly seem to care now."

People abandon their carts of fruit at the market, running and ducking for cover, and Robin looks at her, pleased as punch as he hands her an apple off the cart. "You make my job easy," he says. "Thievery requires no skill when people leave their valuables and run away. Do you think you could do me a favor and walk into that shoe store? I need some new boots."

She rolls her eyes. It's not funny. People are running away because they think she has magic, but if they find out she does not... they will run toward her. They will run toward her with hot tar that will burn her flesh, they will either burn her alive or string her up by a tree and stone her slowly until she dies. That's the punishment for killing royalty, after all.

They journey back to Robin's camp that night, Regina aware she can no longer stay in the inn that she had called home since moving to this realm. She knew she'd end up here eventually (she was kidding herself for ever thinking otherwise), but it does seem a bit... soon.

"They are terrified of you, I can't imagine why you are afraid," Robin muses.

"I'm not afraid, I'm concerned." Regina corrects, for god's sake she is not scared, does not scare, is certainly not scared of a bunch of peasants .

Robin raises a skeptical eyebrow before reminding her, "They don't know you don't have magic. No one's going to risk confronting you given all the stories of those who tried and failed. Relax."

He's an idiot.

As if to prove him wrong, they hear the noise of an angry mob moving through the forest that night. It's mostly villagers with pitchforks and pointed sticks, some set aflame, but they are directed by... others... on horseback. Regina urges Robin to hide with her, behind a tree at the top of a hill while they watch the crowd in the valley below.

"The Evil Queen killed your King, Queen and Princess. She must be destroyed. Scour every thicket in the forest, search every home or hobble you can find... bring her body to me, along with the one who is harboring her, bring them to me dead or alive, and you shall have your reward - all the riches you can carry on horseback!"

It's Henry, and it kills her, hearing his sweet voice demanding her death.

It's not really Henry she reminds herself. Her Henry would never. But still….

"Ah, a reward!" Robin says with a chuckle. "Forgot about that. Nothing gives a man brass balls like the promise of opulence. Well, off we go, then." He urges her up, that amused smirk on his face. He's not scared, he's not panicked. He looks like he's tickled pink about this grand new adventure.

What an idiot.

"This is serious," she says through clenched teeth. "They are going to kill us and you're acting as if we are plotting to avoid a surprise party."

"And you act as if this is my first time escaping an angry mob," he chides, "come now, follow along, I know the drill."

For days, for weeks, they live like outlaws. Robin wins the argument over her clothing, and that seems to please him. She doesn't wear a frilly cotton dress, though, he steals her some leather britches and a couple of white thermal shirts she quite likes. When he finds her a fur vest it hits her - she's worn this outfit before. She's reliving Isaac's heroes and villains universe, this time with a dramatic twist, and it would be funny, if she didn't have to see evidence of how much her Not Son hates her every minute of the day.

She enjoys this Robin. Enjoys him more than she thought possible. They live in the woods, it's cold and dirty and wet, but she feels warm and safe with him. But there's a problem. She's distanced herself from him emotionally since they took flight.

She has no power. She's too reliant on him and she can't stand it. She doesn't want him to see her as a burden, or as weak. And it's hard to imagine he wouldn't see her as both of those things when she so clearly does.

She's never been the weak one in the relationship, but she is now.

Robin steals for her. Robin finds them food. Robin always has an escape route — a way to take out a wandering guard, a way to hide in the forest without being noticed.

The only thing she can do is cook, and even that is difficult, given that they are in a forest with meager supplies. Still, she wants to contribute, so she makes the most of little ingredients that grow in the forest, grateful for the time when she had easy access to cookbooks and 28 years to learn how flavors compliment each other. Robin is appreciative, it seems, though he disapproves of her cooking methods because, admittedly, they are dangerous. He tells her he is fine with charred unseasoned meat and overripe fruit, because they are safe.

"You keep spoiling me and I may become picky," he laments as he moans into a well seasoned, perfectly cooked stew. "Besides, we both know that cooking like you do is risky. Hours with a burning flame? You know the smoke gives our location to anyone nearby. No more of this, yeah?"

"No. Just because we live like animals doesn't mean we have to eat like animals," she argues.

She works on her magic every night. Spends every hour until she falls asleep trying, until tears of frustration and worry (and yes, of fear) fall quietly while Robin sleeps.

And then in the morning she throws on her simple garments and cooks.

He's right, though. She's making another complicated stew that she's been brewing since dawn when she hears the mob approach. Robin curses and gives her a look, that look, the look that says he was right and she was wrong. The look that says this all her fault, that she's ruined his life, that she's a burden, that she's…

He throws dirt on the fire and snuffs it out hissing "Come on," to her, motioning to a nearby tree.

He makes it there first despite the fact he's carrying a small bag of their supplies. This particular tree is big and tall, without branches until several feet in the air, not climbable, if not for the rope he's wound around the thick branch high above them.

"You first, now."

It's not the first time they've used a tall tree as a hiding place, but this is so close to camp…

"Here? Shouldn't we... put some distance between us and camp?"

"Do we have time to argue?" Robin asks in an angry whisper. "They could be coming from different angles, this is safest. And besides, they won't look for us here, so close to camp."

He's an idiot. Such an idiot. But he's right; they do not have time to argue. So she shimmies up the rope and he follows. He's barely had time to pull the rope back up when the guards come, inspecting the campsite.

"Fire was just put out, they didn't go far," says a guard. "Search every direction, they left in a hurry so it must be someone with something to hide.

"Someone should stay here, in case they return," says a guard, peering into the stew.

Regina elbows Robin in the ribs and hisses "You see? Bad idea, they are going to wait on us all night."

Robin whimpers in pain and rubs his ribs tenderly. "Ow. Why are you blaming me? That guard only suggested that because of your stew. Look at him, the fat bastard, I guarantee he'll eat the whole pot while everyone else is off looking for us."

He's right, unfortunately. This Robin is good at reading people, he may be crap at everything else, but... he can sense a person's motivations like none other.

And as he man helps himself to Regina's meal (it wasn't even finished, it had to to simmer for a few more hours, dammit), Robin shoots her another I told you so glance.

"Your need to play culinary queen of the forest strikes again," he mutters, "Now we are feeding the people who want to kill us, wonderful…"

He's right, and it hurts, but she's the Queen, and he should not talk to her that way. "Oh shut up," she hisses back, "you kept saying you didn't even like that stew, what are you so upset about?"

"Oh, of course I liked the stew, it is bloody amazing!" he argues, "I don't like that we need to luxurious meals, when we are running for our lives, but I guess I should have expected this while traveling with a queen. The next time I enter the outlaw life it won't be with royalty, I can tell you that."

Her face flushes red, and her heart sinks. He resents her already, it seems. So now she will go. "Well, good news, we will stay up here until the man falls asleep and then we can climb down from here, and it's the last you'll ever have to see of me."

He looks perplexed. "What does that mean?" he asks, "Where do you plan to go?"

She shrugs. "Anywhere is better than here. I'll figure it out. On my own. I'm best on my own."

Robin rolls his eyes. "Yes, you'll be better off without me, because I've been such a terror to you. Remind me again, whose fault is it that we are up in a tree?"

"Mine!" she nearly shouts, remembering just in time that she must whisper. "It's my fault, this whole thing is my fault. I've been nothing but a burden since I arrived. I'm utterly useless without my magic. I won't stay that way. I'll make it on my own. You're free of me, Locksley."

She crosses her arms and moves as far away from him as she can, but they are in a tree together, and unless she's climbing up or down, they are stuck, right against one another. She hates this.

"You're not a burden, Regina," Robin says softly, after a few minutes of silence. "And you're certainly not useless. I get it, you can't use your magic, and it's a struggle to not have such power…"

"It's not just that—" she protests, but he brings a finger to his lips, and she finds herself obeying, letting him say his peace.

"I've had… partners over the years. No one can climb a rope quite like you. No one has taken to tracking quite as fast. And when I distracted that merchant, the way you pilfered those goods without him ever noticing, I could not have done that alone, and it is not something just anyone could do. So give yourself some credit, okay?"

She hadn't... she really hadn't thought of those things as a skill. But he seems so sincere. She's used to offering so much more, it seems impossible that only contributing this much would mean anything… It doesn't feed them or clothe them or protect them as much as he….

"I can cook," she finally says meekly, and he chuckles and nods, mutters a You certainly can , but he doesn't get it, so she elaborates. "I can't do much, but I can cook. That's why… I keep insisting. It's all I feel I can offer."

"Bollocks, you offer loads more than that," Robin scoffs. "I wouldn't pick anyone else to stay by my side. To be quite honest, I highly doubt anyone could take my company for this long uninterrupted. That's why I'm usually alone." He cups her chin tenderly and looks her in the eye. "I much prefer it this way. I'll take living in trees and hiding in bushes for the rest of our lives over living my old life. So don't leave me alone again."

She blinks back tears, contemplating his words. She wants so desperately to tell him that she doesn't want to leave, that this is the closest she's been to happy since the brief time she had the old Robin in her life, when she let herself dream she'd have a family. But she still feels so vulnerable, so easily broken that sharing this with him seems too dangerous for her poor heart. So she nods, and says nothing.

Robin, however, has more to say. "I hear you at night." he says softly. He looks down as if ashamed of himself. And he should be, that's spying, he's been pretending to be asleep when…

"I didn't know how to bring it up," he explains, "you work yourself to the bone trying to bring your magic back. You don't have to. Let it come, or hell, let it stay away. We don't need it. We have each other. We're a good team without the magic, yeah? So stop beating yourself up at night. And for the last time, stop cooking because you think you need to contribute. You contribute a fuck lot just by being you."

Tears come, but it's getting dark now, and maybe he doesn't see them. Maybe. She keeps her voice steady as she whispers "Alright," into the dusk air.

He smiles and raises an eyebrow suggestively. "Also… I know we're currently in a tree, but... I miss this. " He grabs at her waist and kisses her, letting his hands wander, rubbing over her breasts down to the swell of her backside. "I know you're new to the bandit lifestyle, but once you adjust, I do hope we can resume these… activities more often."

Regina sighs, tries not to look too terribly affected (she likes when he talks like this to her, loves it, really, but she shouldn't) but can't help biting her lip as she rolls her eyes. "I guess we'll have to see if you're able to win me over," she chirps softly.

He laughs and shakes his head, tells her he intends to do just that.

The guard falls asleep after eating nearly half a pot of stew (she can take the credit for that one, Robin says, her stew is so homey and warm it can settle nearly anyone to sleep), and they escape, taking off into the forest to make yet another new start.

This time, Regina feels much stronger, and even lets herself become optimistic that this is a life that could work for them.

In three days' time, her magic returns to her, gentle, like a feather falling on her back. She feels it, feels the warm power pulsing through her.

For her first act of magic she poofs a perfectly cooked stew into Robin's hands. As he looks at the bowl, awestruck, she chuckles.

"I'm tired of playing bandit," she muses, a fake pout on her lips. "I have an idea for a new place we could go. How do you feel about yet another fresh start?"

"With you?" he asks, a glimmer in his eye. "Absolutely."

She smiles slyly and presents him with the sparkling bean she had been able to uncover with her newfound magic, and tells him, "Let's go find ourselves a home."