Chapter Text
The caves below the castle dungeons have always been utilized to hold the land’s most notorious criminals until their inevitable hanging. Yet, for a time – impossible to track in the darkness – the only thing it has been housing is a lone woman, thin and frail, seemingly harmless. Her only source of light in the deep recesses of the cave is the flickering flames from the single torch, on the far wall, casting shadows on her face. It could have been years, or even decades, since the woman had been thrust in the cavern, rotting away in her cell, with the continuous drip of water and the scurrying of rats, deafeningly loud in the quiet, the only things to keep her company. The visits are the only break to her never-ending monotony, the sound of his echoing footsteps drowning out all the rest as he gets nearer and nearer until he finally appears before her, the blue of his eyes gleaming in the light of the fire.
The woman scrambles forward on her knees, her hands gripping the bars, and it is a sharp contrast to how she had carried herself years ago, rags replacing the fine, jewel-encrusted material that had once clothed her.
“Have you decided?” she asks, her voice, gravely from disused, barely above a whisper. The man pauses, lips parted to speak, and then sighs. She already knows his answer.
“No, My Lady… I have not,” he admits finally, after she’s already deflated, dark eyes cast down. There’s no reason for her to pretend anymore.
“Just leave then. Ask for an audience with the girl,” she spits bitterly, still unable to relinquish her title. It was all she’d had before the girl ripped even that away from her. “I’m positive she would let you go free if you told her who you are.” He could just leave too, she knows that. The man is skilled enough to constantly pick his lock, she’s certain he wouldn’t have any issues sneak past the guards either.
“I couldn’t do that,” he says finally, breaking the silence. Her eyes dart up to meet his. “You’d miss me too much,” he smirks. Her eyes roll despite the lump in her throat.
“You give yourself too much credit, thief.”
She hates that he’s right.
2 MONTHS PRIOR
As a woman in her particular position, Regina had always been keenly aware of whenever someone was watching her. Ever since she’d been unceremoniously tossed into her cell, leather cuffs stifling her magic, she’d felt the stares less and less. It had shamefully become something she would look forward to, but it always came paired with the shuffling of feet along rock and dirt, a guard bringing her meal or lifting her from her cot to bring her to the underground stream to relieve herself and little else. For the first few months of her captivity, Snow White would visit her, robes swishing against the ground, a tentative “Regina?” leaving her lips, begging her to repent. She had staunchly ignored her until the humiliation lessened more and more and she could admit to herself that she did not mind it as much as she wanted Snow White to believe she did. The visits ended when Snow had brought her daughter, a toddler with pale gold hair, and Regina lashed out, her breath stolen from her.
This time, it is unexpected. When the hair on the back of her neck stands on end, she feels a sense of dread for she had not heard their approach.
Regina swallows, clears her throat as silently as she can so that when she speaks, her voice is strong and sure. “Show yourself,” she commands, and a man steps out of the shadows. He doesn’t speak, just stares at her with curious eyes and she finds herself restless. Instead of expressing that discomfort, her eyes scan him. He’s average in stature, with broad shoulders and rather common dress. The lack of fatigue and dirt on his clothes indicate that he hasn’t been in here for long. But if he is not a guard, Regina wonders, what is he? “Have you come for me then?” she asks, searching his shadowed features. He steps closer, the fire casting light on his face and he tilts his head in confusion.
“To rid the kingdom of me once and for all,” she supplies with what she hopes is a mocking smile.
“No, my lady,” he finally speaks, and Regina nearly gasps at the sound of a voice other than her own. “Why would I want to do that?”
Her eyes round, bare lips parting when she realizes he has no idea who she is.
“Who are you?” she asks, careful to keep the venom that comes so easily from her tone.
“Robin of Locksley,” he pauses, smiles a bit. “Or better known as Robin Hood.”
“The thief,” she supplies, raising a brow.
“Ah, so you have heard of me.”
His face had graced many wanted posters, her knights, alongside King John’s, had ruthlessly searching for his band of men. Of course, she cannot let him know that. He is waiting for a response and yet, Regina is loath to give it to him. She has not spoken to anyone unaware of her identity for the majority of her adult life. She craves the anonymity.
“Is this your escape then?” she says instead. “I’m afraid you’ve taken a wrong turn.”
Robin lets out a scoff of a laugh, shaking his head. “It probably wasn’t wise to descend deeper into the dungeons.”
“You think?” she smirks.
“I couldn’t find the way out,” he supplies with something of a cheeky grin, and Regina finds herself fighting against a smile. He crouches down in front of the bars then, causing her to flinch away, back into her cot. “I’m sorry,” he says then, eyes lined with worry.
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” she bites back, embarrassed by her own reaction. She has a thought then, lips pursing as she locks eyes with the man on the other side of her cage.
“Hood,” she says, testing his name out on her tongue. “Will you help me?” She lifts herself from the cot in the corner of her cell and moves towards him, lowering herself down in front of him, thin fingers wrapping around the bars. She watches as his eyes search her features, and she wonders what he sees. When she’d had access to the many luxuries afforded to a woman of noble standing, she knows that she’d been beautiful. Now, she must look nothing more than a common peasant. It’s only when he speaks again that Regina realizes he is looking at the leather around her wrist.
“I’m not sure I can,” he says, meeting her eyes. “These bars don’t have any locks. You were locked in with magic.” Regina lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and wonders what his tightened jaw means.
“Figures,” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. Robin tilts his head in question. “You really are just a common thief if you’re unwilling to help those in need,” she spits. He laughs at that, but there does not seem to be any humour in his eyes.
“It seems incarceration hasn’t -” Whatever he’d wanted to say doesn’t make it past his lips, his jaw clenching when he hears the sound of footsteps. “It seems I have to take my leave, Your Majesty,” he says then, giving her a mocking bow. Regina stares at him in horror, her stomach dropping at the title. “May we meet again.”
She dreams of him whenever she sleeps. Her dreams filled with his soft melodious voice and the dark blue of his eyes. In her dreams, he’s out in the sunlight, eyes bright with laughter, cheeks creased with dimples and she wonders when she’d even noticed that he had dimples - or if it’s just a figment of her imagination. It angers her that she had been naive enough to believe that he did not recognize her. It angers her that his presence had even given her the illusion of escape, of freedom. It angers her enough that a scream rips out of her throat as she paces the small confines of her cell. She screams until her voice is raw and her cheeks are wet.
She has never had freedom anyway.
She wouldn’t know what to do with it.
“Robin,” Regina gasps when she sees him next. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m made another failed attempt to escape,” he says in jest, almost casually strolling up to the bars that enclose her from the rest of the world. Her features screw up in disbelief, a scoff slipping from the back of her throat just as she notices that her initial observation was correct. He does have dimples.
“I highly doubt that.”
“Perhaps I’ve come back to visit you,” he says quietly, and Regina laughs for the first time in years, although it isn’t one of mirth.
“I doubt that as well,” she says slowly, eyes searching his features.
“I’ve been caught again,” he says, a dullness to his tone that makes her eyes narrow.
“My guards hadn’t been able to capture you for years and you’re telling me that Snow White’s guards have managed to catch you twice in …” she struggles to finish her sentence, unknowing how much time has passed since their first meeting. He takes pity on her then, making her stomach churn as he kneels down in front of her so they can be eye-to-eye. “A fortnight,” he supplies and she huffs with a shake of her head.
“Perhaps if you had invested less time hunting Snow White, your guards would have found me too,” he says quietly, blue eyes searching her features for a reaction. She doesn’t give him one but he takes that as a response anyway. “The... Guard in command has taken a particular interest in me,” he says carefully.
“Enough with the games. Why are you here?” Regina snaps, head tilting to the side. The question seems to startle him, almost as much as it startles her. It causes her hands to tremble at the thought that she could very well scare him off, chase him away with harsh words, leaving her alone once more. And yet, she can’t help the words that spill from her lips, her words bitter, hurt. “Does seeing the most hated woman in the kingdom locked away and chained bring you satisfaction?”
“It should,” he declares with a slight raise of his brows. He’s quiet then, and Regina finds herself holding her breath. “But it doesn’t.”
“Why?” she can’t help but ask.
“You’re not… what I expected,” he hesitates, meeting her eyes.
“What am I then?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Regina finds herself holding on to that ‘yet’ long after he’s gone.
The next time Robin visits her, she wakes up to him placing a bowl of something inside her cell. Initially, she thinks it’s a broth and her stomach turns at the thought of it, but when she pulls herself up from her cot and sits down before the bars, she realizes it’s a bowl of water with a wet cloth. The water smells of lavender essence and something warm, comforting. Regina looks across at him in confusion.
“What’s this?”
“I nicked it from the garderobe,” he says with a smug look of pride. Regina gapes at him. He could have had the chance to escape and instead he risked life and limb to make his way higher into the castle so that she can have something more than just a dirty rag and river water to wash up with.
“You’re an idiot,” is all she says. Robin smiles.