#dimples queen

[victoriously-regal]

LANA & RAPHAEL ON SET BEING ABSOLUTE CUTIES!!!

[belleoftheballpoint]

Prompt: Roland is learning about fire drills at school and wants to have one at home.

Roland came home from school with the kind of excitement that usually meant Regina should start checking for scorch marks or missing frogs. His boots thudded down the hall, his little backpack swinging wildly behind him as he burst through the front door.

“Miss Blanchard says everyone needs a fire plan!” he declared before she could even greet him. “We learned about smoke alarms and stop, drop, and roll, and how you’re supposed to practice so everyone knows what to do!”

Regina looked up from the kitchen counter, where she was finishing her grocery list. “A fire plan?” she repeated, one brow arching. “That sounds very responsible.”

Robin leaned against the doorway, half-smiling as he watched his son beam with pride. “So what’s the plan then, mate? Do we jump out the window or make for the moat?”

“There’s no moat, Papa,” Roland said, rolling his eyes in the same way Regina did when someone missed the obvious. “We just have to meet outside. Near the big tree.”

Henry wandered in, apple in hand, grinning. “That’s actually a good idea, Roland. We used to do them at school all the time.”

Regina hummed approvingly. “Very good, both of you. Perhaps we should review the smoke detectors later.”

That should have been the end of it. But as with many things in their home, should have rarely held up against the determination of a Mills-Locksley child.

It started innocently enough with a flicker of curiosity, a spark of logic that only made sense to a six-year-old brain. Roland wanted to know if their smoke alarm worked. After all, Miss Blanchard said that was the first step of fire safety.

The problem, of course, was that no one was paying attention. Robin had gone out to chop firewood for the evening hearth. Regina had retreated to her study to review town council reports. Henry was upstairs, typing furiously on his science report. The manor was quiet, filled only with the tick of the grandfather clock and the hum of domestic peace.

So Roland climbed up onto a stool, reached for one of the decorative candles Regina liked to light after dinner, and thought: Just a little test.

The match flared to life. The paper towel did too. He didn’t expect how fast it would spread.

“Uh oh,” Roland whispered. He blew on it, but it was too late. The flame licked up, catching the edge of a napkin, then the air itself. He froze, heart pounding. “Oh no, oh no—”

Regina felt it before she smelled it. A twinge, a pull in the air, magic whispering that something was wrong. Her head snapped up, the faint scent of smoke curling through the hall.

“Roland?” she called sharply, already rising. When no answer came, her voice took on that tone that could make even demons reconsider their life choices. “Roland!”

She rounded the corner into the kitchen just as the flames leapt higher.

Instinct took over. She flicked her wrist, and the world froze, literally. The fire hissed, snuffed out in a burst of cold magic that frosted the countertop. Smoke curled through the air in pale, guilty ribbons.

In the middle of it all stood Roland, clutching the box of matches, his eyes huge.

“I— I just wanted to make sure the alarm worked,” he stammered.

Regina’s heart was still racing, her hands trembling from the aftershock of adrenaline. For a moment, she couldn’t even find words. She crouched down slowly, lowering herself to his level.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, brushing ash from his cheek. “A fire drill doesn’t mean we start an actual fire.”

Henry came running in, eyes wide. “Is everyone okay?!”

“Fine,” Regina said, exhaling. “Mostly.”

Robin burst in seconds later, fire extinguisher in hand, breathless. “What happened? Is everyone—”

“It’s handled,” Regina said quickly, standing. “Minor damage. And a valuable lesson.”

Robin looked from the extinguished fire to his son. “Roland?”

“I was practicing,” Roland whispered, his voice small. “Miss Blanchard said practice makes perfect.”

Robin exhaled through a laugh, half relief, half disbelief. “Aye, that’s one way to interpret it.”

Regina shot him a look that silenced the humor instantly.

Henry stepped forward, trying not to smile. “You know, next time you want to test something, you could just push the button on the smoke alarm. That’s what I did once.”

Roland sniffled. “You started a fire too?”

Henry shook his head. “No, but I almost gave Mom a heart attack. So… same energy.”

That earned a small, reluctant huff of laughter from Regina.

She knelt again, her tone firm but not unkind. “Roland, when we talk about practice, it means pretending. Talking through what we’d do if there were a fire. Not creating one.”

Roland’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to make you scared.”

Her sternness melted like ice in sunlight. She pulled him close, wrapping him in her arms. “I know you didn’t. But you did scare me. Very much.”

Robin set the extinguisher aside and crouched next to them, resting a hand on Roland’s back. “You’ve got good instincts, lad. Just need to learn your limits.”

Regina shot him a look, less deadly this time, but still sharp enough to make him grin sheepishly.

An hour later, after the smoke had cleared and the kitchen charm had reset the air, Regina found herself standing in the living room with a clipboard. Robin had insisted they make it official.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Mills-Locksley Fire Drill, attempt number two.”

Roland bounced on his heels, already holding a little stopwatch. “I’ll time us!”

Henry grinned. “Okay, but this time I'm calling the shots. I’m the fire marshal.”

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why do I have a feeling this will somehow become competitive?”

“Because you know your family,” Robin said with a wink. “Ready? Three, two, one—go!”

They ran through the motions. Roland practiced crawling under “smoke.” Robin checked imaginary doors for heat. Henry yelled instructions like a tiny general. Regina, dignified as ever, used magic to unlock every exit simultaneously because if they were going to have a drill, it would be efficient.

When they reached the “meeting point” by the old oak tree, Roland lifted his stopwatch triumphantly. “Thirty-two seconds! We’re safe!”

Robin threw his arms wide. “And no actual fires this time.”

“Progress,” Regina murmured.

Henry laughed. “I’m putting that on a T-shirt.”

Regina ruffled Roland’s hair, pride softening her tone. “You did very well. But next time you want to test something, ask us first. Magic can fix a lot of things, but not everything.”

Roland nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

“Good,” she said, brushing her hand over his shoulder before straightening. “Now, inside. Bedtime.”

That night, after both boys were asleep (and the matches had been securely locked in a cabinet that might as well have been Fort Knox), Regina stood in the quiet kitchen with Robin.

The faint scent of burnt wax lingered in the air. Robin leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“Well,” he said, smiling. “You have to admit, he’s thorough.”

Regina gave him a look that could extinguish a bonfire. “He gets that from you.”

He grinned. “And his curiosity from you.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “Fair.”

Robin reached out, brushing her fingers with his. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “you handled it brilliantly. No one panics like you, with such grace.”

Regina rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “Next time,” she murmured, “you’re teaching the safety lesson.”

He chuckled softly. “Aye. Though something tells me next week’s will be about earthquakes.”

She groaned. “Wonderful.”

From upstairs came Henry’s muffled voice: “If it is, I’m in charge again!”

Regina sighed, leaning into the counter. “Between the two of them, I’m never getting a quiet evening again.”

Robin smiled. “You wouldn’t really want one.”

And though she’d never admit it aloud, he was right.

[daggzandarrowsnew]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 3/?  Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood Summary: Never Say Neverland - Set during Season 3A when our crew finds themself in Neverland. What if The Shadow brought Roland instead of Neal…I started this a long time ago - if anyone would like a continuation, I would happily do so but I definitely need a season 3 rewatch first to remind myself of all that happened!

preview

Regina

“Show yourself before I set fire to the earth you stand on.”

Her eyes shot to the rustling foliage as her nostrils flared with the thrill of a possible fight, fire burning at her fingertips and a thirst for blood thrumming through her veins as she awaited her predator’s attack. She was exhausted, her feet were swollen and blistered in her boots and her neck was aching something terrible from countless nights spent sleeping on the ground and studiously ignoring both the Charmings and Emma for fear that she would soon kill them all - she was in no mood.

In all honesty, she was hoping to find either Pan or one of his vicious four-foot cronies hiding behind the shrubbery but instead she was surprised when, rather timidly, an even smaller boy appeared before her.

His hair was wild, curls ragged and matted with dirt, his cheeks were smudged with mud and his clothes were ripped and frayed. He carried nothing other than a small tattered teddy that was clutched in a tight palm, its legs dragging on the ground with each small step the child took. Dark eyes were on her hand and the fire burning bright above her skin and so, after a moment of staring rather dumbfoundedly at the boy, she closed her fist and extinguished it with a growing frown.

He didn’t look like one of Pan’s boys but she was no fool to Neverland’s ways, the land itself as terrible and manipulative as its leader so she moved no closer to the child but instead kept her eyes trained upon his, her head tilted in her studying.

“You can do magic?”

His little voice tugged at her heart, at the mother inside of her who ached to call him over and wipe away the tears she could see glistening on his cheeks, but if he was nothing more than a decoy, an illusion sent to leave her vulnerable to attack then she would never find her Henry and that was something she couldn’t risk. “I can,” she replied calmly and evenly, still watching him for signs of sudden movement but he simply stood and stared up at her with a quivering lip as he chewed at his thumb.

“My papa said that magic is bad,” he told her, his voice growing tight and his eyes watering. She guessed it to be at the mention of his father though she couldn’t say for sure as her head tilted even further, her brow furrowing as her eyes narrowed slightly because he didn’t seem to be a shapeshifting sprite nor could she detect any new magic in the air. He radiated an innocence that her very gut told her could not be fabricated.

Regina took a cautious step closer to the boy, breathing steadily with hands ready by her side as she asked “and where is your papa?”

His bottom lip wobbled once more as fresh tears trailed from his unblinking eyes, glistening in the starlight above them, “in the ‘chanted Forest”

Her ears perked at that, at the mention of a home that had once been her own. She softened both her stance and her demeanour a little when she asked “and why isn’t he here with you?”

“The man said that the shadow only comes for children,” he explained tearfully, “he told me to say some words and when it came I’d be okay but I wasn’t…” he was crying in earnest now, his cherubic face scrunched with distress, reliving the moment as he told her, “he took me from papa.”

“Why did the man want you to call for the shadow, sweetheart?” she couldn’t help the endearment as much as she couldn’t help but walk closer to him, her own expression sympathetic for his little cries were unbearably sad.

He hiccuped as he moved to speak, bringing the hand not holding his teddy up to rub at his eye before managing “he wanted to get to his Henny.”

Her blood ran cold at that, her lips parting on a gasp as she froze in place - Neverland suddenly felt a lot colder. “Wh-what,” she coughed lightly to clear her throat as she lightened her voice in an attempt not to frighten the boy even more, “what was the man’s name?” and when the child only continued to cry, sniffling, she asked “was it Neal?”

“Yeah!” he seemed to perk at that and instantly she was dropping to her knees before him, this child was not dangerous but he was most certainly lost. And Neal was alive ?

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m Regina. What’s your name? How long have you been here?” she asked, unsure of how to comfort the boy without frightening him though she was encouraged by the way he seemed to shuffle a little closer to her so that the toes of his tiny brown boots were half an inch from touching her knees.

“Roland.” He shook his head, his bottom lip pulled out in the most heartbreaking of pouts “I don’t know,” before he was trembling and falling into her open arms, “I wanna go home!”

“I know, little one” she soothed, holding him to her with an arm around his waist and a hand in his hair as she rocked them slowly from side to side in the hopes of comforting him, “so do I.”

[believingispowerfulmagic]

Wednesday100: “Regina’s Birthday”

Set in the Missing Year

Roland insisted on making the cake himself but eventually agreed to let Robin and Granny help him. It was still unevenly covered in icing – some parts had too much, some nothing but he was proud of it. Robin carried it upstairs to Regina’s room. She had hidden herself away all day and Robin feared his son would be disappointed.

To his surprise, Regina opened the door. Her expression softened when she looked down as Roland lifted the cake up. She took it from him, studying it before praising his work. Basking in her smile, Roland said:

“Happy birthday, Your Majesty!”

[justanoutlawfic]

Regina & her boys (Request)

Regina is a boy mom. Period.

[queenofglassbeliever]

If they had too kill Robin Sr. they could have at least let her adopt Roland.

[gray-autumn-sky]

Afraid to Lose, an HCBA Flash Forward

Set during Regina’s pregnancy with Oliver, Roland explains why he doesn’t want a baby sibling.

For OQ Angst Fest. Prompts #24, #42, and #44.

It takes her a minute to ease back into the rocking chair by the window, but as soon as she does, she knows it’ll be a long while before she gets up again.

For a moment, she just sits there, rocking gently with her eyes closed, ignoring the newly cut-and-sewn stack of flannels sitting on the little table next to the chair. The window is open, and a light breeze that smells faintly of apples from the nearby orchard is coming in, and aside from the wind, everything is quiet and still. A little smile works its way onto her lips as shifts her hips, finding a comfortable position--and as she draws in a breath, her hand falls over the curve of her very-pregnant stomach, and she’s glad that the baby has also decided to take a rest.

For days she’s been growing increasingly restless, and though she knows that’s normal for this stage of pregnancy, it’s made Robin extra vigilant.

They’ve been working on the nursery--something Robin has repeatedly reminded her someone else could do, and something she’s repeatedly insisted was something she wanted to do--and it was coming together nicely. The Hunting Lodge had never had a nursery. Robin’s father was far too old for one when his father decided to make it his main residence, and the only other child born in that time was Mrs. Potter’s son, Christopher--or Chip as everyone called him--and his room had been upstairs in the servants’ quarters.

Of course, it was because of Chip’s presence in the house that there was anything baby-related at all. In the attic they’d found his crib and the rocker were kept and a little pitcher and basin adorned with hand-painted little ducks, and with a little dusting and refurbishing here-and-there, they were good as new and ready to use.

They’d picked the room across from the boys’ room for the baby, just down the hall from their own, and Regina picked out a green and white paisley wallpaper for the walls. Ruby was making new bedding for the crib in various shades of green, yellow, and white fabrics--all of which she’d spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing--and Mrs. Potter had just hung new, bright yellow curtains on the window that morning.

For the most part, Henry had been her helper, eager to do whatever was needed to prepare the baby’s room, while Robin hovered and reminded her that they had a staff to do these sorts of things. She didn’t mind it, for the most part, and though his worrying could be a bit tiresome, she knew it came from a good place--and she knew his worries stretched beyond her.

Marian’s pregnancy was something that weighed heavily on him before she got pregnant, and though this baby was planned, she’s fairly certain he was unprepared with how he’d feel as she progressed through the pregnancy. She wasn’t even sure if he was entirely conscious of it, but every time something happened--from the first bouts of morning sickness, to the baby’s first kick, to the first time she’d felt a little more tired than usual, he couldn’t help but compare her experiences to Marian’s or to project Marian’s onto her.

He didn’t talk about it much, but she could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch--and she could only imagine what it would be like to be in his position--a helpless bystander--just watching as the life drained from someone he loved. Of course, Marian was sick before her pregnancy with Roland, but the pregnancy took years away from her, everyday draining her a little more and a little more, until all that was left was child she’d bore.

Her own experiences with pregnancy were much different, of course, but Robin didn’t know that, and how she was feeling and what she’d come to expect as normal was hard for her to convey. With Henry, she hadn’t had time to rest. It hadn’t been afforded to her, but she’d also been a bit younger, and aside from a few new aches and pains and a bit of discomfort, until that last month, she hadn’t felt all that different--and the same was true of this pregnancy, though if anyone saw her now, they’d hardly believe it.

“Mama,” Roland’s voice calls, in a loud whisper, “Are you sleeping?”

“No,” she murmurs, grinning as one eye opens and she turns her head to look at him. “I’m just resting.”

“Oh,” he says, shifting awkward as he peeks around the frame of the door. “Are you resting because you don’t feel good?”

“I’m just taking a break,” she tells him, opening her other eye and smiling softly. “I feel fine.”

He nods and fidgets with his fingers. “How much longer til the baby comes?”

“About two months.”

“Oh,” he sighs. “That’s a long time.”

“It’ll go faster than any of us thinks.”

Nodding, he chews at his lip. “I… I don’t want you to have the baby.”

“No?” she asks, sitting up a little. “You don’t want a little brother or sister?”

Again, Roland shifts nervously. “No,” he admits in a little voice. “I want a mama.”

Her chest tightens. They’ve talked about this before--but no matter how many times they did, seeing that fear in his eyes and hearing it in his voice broke her heart. With Roland, it was similar to how it was with Robin--it didn’t matter how many times she tried to reassure him, he still worried, and at five-years old, he couldn’t quite understand that gaining a baby brother or sister didn't mean he’d inevitably lose a mother. To him, it was a trade--at best, a gamble--and it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, holding out her hand to him. “Come here.”

Roland wastes no time coming into the room and climbing into the rocking chair with her, and when he does, he cuddles up to her, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. Pressing a few quick kisses to his hair, her arm wraps around him and she rubs his back, her heart breaking as his fingers clutch the fabric of her dress so hard that his knuckles turn white.

“It’s not fair,” he says in a shaky little voice, an indication that he’s on the verge of tears. “I just got you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“But you don’t know that.” Her eyes press shut and she draws in a breath, but before she can think of something soothing to say, he lifts his head. “Do you?”

She’s not quite sure what to say.

Of course, there’s a small chance that something could happen. There were always those stories of difficult births and unforeseen complications, but that wasn’t something she could explain to a six-and-a-half year old--and she had to be careful about not implying that this was somehow a choice she could make because if it were choice then it’d have been Marian’s choice to leave him.

“You really miss her, huh?”

Roland shrugs, looking away shyly. “No.”

“It’s alright if you do.”

“I can’t miss her,” he says, sniffling a bit as he reaches for one of the buttons on her dress, his little finger tracing it. “I didn’t know her.”

“That doesn't mean you can’t still miss her,” Regina says softly, reaching out and pushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You can still wish you’d gotten to know her.”

Roland hesitates, focussing on the button. “I… I don’t think she’d want to know me.”

“That’s crazy. Of course she’d want to know you.”

“No,” Roland says. “I don’t think so.”

“And why not?” Regina asks, her voice piquing defensively at the notion that anyone--especially Marian--wouldn't want to know him. “You’re pretty stellar, you know that?” He shrugs, still focused on the button. “I mean, you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you’re so smart, and handsome and--”

“I’m the reason she died,” he tells her in a voice that’s barely audible, his jaw trembling as he looks up. “I heard you and Papa talking about it once.”

“Roland, that’s not--” She stops, shaking her head as she pulls him to her chest, holding him tightly as she rubs her hand over his back. “It’s not your fault,” she tells him, holding him a bit tighter. “It’s… it’s no one’s fault.”

“But she died,” he says, pulling back as tears brim in his eyes. “She died because of me.”

“No--”

“She did,” he says in a small, barely audible voice. “I heard papa say it.”

“That’s… that’s not what he meant,” she says gently. “What happened with you mother was… awful,” she tells him. “But it was complicated and it most certainly was not your fault.”

“But Papa said--”

“No,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “He didn't mean it like that.”

Roland’s face crumples. He’s not listening--and if he is, he’s not hearing it. “And you could die because of that baby.” His jaw starts to tremble and tears spill over his eyes, and all she can do pull him close to her, rocking him gently as she assures him that everything will work out as it’s supposed to, that she’d never willingly leave him and that she loves him--but no matter what she says, it doesn't seem to soothe him. “I don’t want to lose you, too,” he tells her, pulling back and batting his hands over his eyes. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You’re right,” she nods, forcing a smile as her chest tightens. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

He sniffs. “Why do you have to have a baby, anyway?”

A little grin edges onto her lips. “Because your papa and I think you’d make such a fantastic big brother.”

“No,” Roland says, shaking his head as though this were something that could be taken into account to change the situation. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.”

Again, he sniffs. “But I don’t want to be big brother. I like being the little brother. I’m better at that.”

“Well, you’ll still be the little brother,” she explains. “You’ll still be Henry’s little brother.” Pausing, her eyes narrow as Roland’s lips tighten, clearly not liking that explanation. “But it’ll be different than it is with Henry and you.”

“Why?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why does it have to be different?”

“Well, you’re in a special situation.”

Roland shakes his head. “I don’t want to be in a special situation. I just want my normal one. I like the way it is now, with me and Henry and Papa and you.”

“I like that, too,” she admits. “But this special situation is going to be so much better.”

“Why?”

“Because you get to be a little brother and a big brother. You get the best of both.” She grins, watching as Roland considers it. “It’s like getting two desserts.”

That seems to catch his attention a bit, and he looks up at her, grinning softly though his tears. Leaning in, she kisses his forehead and rubs her finger over his cheeks, brushing away his tears. A little grin edges onto her lips as she kisses his cheek and as a faint hint of a smile tugs up at the corner of his mouth. She giggles softly as she leans in to kiss the other cheek. Again, that faint smile starts to tug at his lips. Her hands find his sides and her lips pepper his face with kisses, and it isn’t long before before he’s laughing out and squirming, practically screaming as she tickles and kisses him--and then suddenly, they both stop.

Her hand falls to her stomach as the baby kicks--and Roland’s eyes widen as he feels it. She takes his hand and places it over her stomach so he can feel. “The baby wants to play, too,” she tells him, watching as his hand trembles over the spot where she holds it--and when the baby kicks another time--this time a bit harder-- she flinches.

“Is it hurting you?” he asks, his voice tentative and his eyes wide. “Is--” His voice halts as his eyes grow wider and flood with tears, and Regina’s brow furrows with confusion. “Is that blood!?”

She looks down at herself, following his gaze to a red spot on her dress--and she can’t help but laugh. 

“No,” she tells him, taking his hand and turning it over so that his palm is faced upward. “I think that’s strawberry jam from your sticky hands.”

Roland blinks, looking almost stunned--and she watches as relief washes over him, likely remembering the scones and jam Mrs. Beakley had made to go with tea. Somehow, though his relief is heartbreaking and she knows that it’ll be short-lived--so she presses a kiss to his palm and tugs him back to her, wrapping her arms around him. He’s too big and she’s too pregnant for her to cradle him, but she tries it anyway, rocking him in her arms and giving him the love and attention that he’s craving--the love and attention he’s so afraid to lose.

[ninzied]

Firsts [OQ - Part II]

A First Curse AU. For OQ Angst Fest, Day 2. Prompts 48, 13, 5, 24, 44.

part i | part ii

Regina learned of his life, in pieces, starting with its not-quite-end. There’d been a robbery gone awry, the wrong end of a blade turned against him, and the owner of a pawn shop waiting to press charges if he ever woke up.

Her soulmate would be some kind of criminal.

But it was her magic that had pulled him under, not anything he’d ever done to deserve it, and did it really matter what was real, or wasn’t?

She could never allow him to wake up.

She had no choice, after all.

(She let herself believe it for a while.)

…

He had a son.

Mop-haired, and always bright-eyed with hope at his side, until one of the boy’s guardians came to retrieve him each day.

“Papa?” He’d pat a small hand to his cheek before going. “Can you please wake up tomorrow, please?”

“Pardon us, Madam Mayor,” his many uncles would say, but one of them had started to look too closely, too curious about her each time their eyes met.

Regina learned to keep her distance from them. She couldn’t stand for reminders of some family he’d never get back, this man who’d once been meant to be hers.

…

She made the mistake of lingering, one day.

When the boy turned that deep-dimpled grin on her, she didn’t know how to leave.

She tried to forget when he told her his name.

One day turned to two. Three. At some point, she stopped keeping track.

The clock tower ticked on. Was time moving forward, she wondered, or was it counting down instead?

She couldn’t stay any longer.

“Please don’t leave,” said the boy. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Regina thought of her Henry, of how she’d tried, of how he’d run.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.