AN: Thank you so much for you patience, and for those of you who've sent messages about wanting more of this story. As you all know, life gets busy, things happen, and all of a sudden a month hiatus turns into nine months, and for that all I can offer is an apology and this chapter. I hope you all like it. I decided that my birthday present to myself today was going to be a new chapter for all of you.

Previously in TIB: Regina and Will escape from Mortianna and Nottingham's dungeon. They get lost in the woods but singe major monkey tail, even burn a few to a crisp. David shows up like a knight on a white horse since Robin can't because he was still healing from almost dying from falling over the castle wall after his asshole brother, Andrew/Nottingham, shot him with an arrow. David takes Regina home, she reunites with Robin and Roland and every gets the feels when she runs to her sweet, dimple-cheeked little knight after being gone for so long. Sweet reunion! In between that, Snow and Robin had a cute, meaningful conversation about family. And that's what happened last time. Here we pick up one month later!

And to clear up confusion, everyone knows Zelena, Mortianna and Andrew/Nottingham are working together, but they don't know why.

Regina yawns against sunlight streaming in through mosaic window panes. Prisms of color, pinprick the room like fireflies in an array of pinks, blues and emerald greens.

She's warm, at ease, as she sinks further into the mattress with a contented sigh, relishing in the comfort of Robin's naked body spooned around hers. His right leg is tucked between her thighs, wedged there as they drifted off to sleep near midnight.

She aches, pleasantly, in places that curve her lips up into a pleased smirk and have warmth flushing her cheeks as she thinks about Robin spreading her legs, devouring her, edging her closer and closer to her peak until she's careened over it, shouting his name and groping her breasts as he lit her body aflame. And then he'd done it again, with slow, long drags of his tongue from where her body had been begging to be filled by him most, to the hood of her clit, driving her mad with pleasure, until neither of them could wait any longer. Urgency gripping them, magic stripping them bare, and their breaths coming out in a guh! and ha-uhhh! as he'd slide himself between her legs. She'd been slick, and open, and ready, her throaty groan and his scrunched brow gateways to ecstasy.

Dried sweat clings to her like a second skin now, the aftermath of their coupling still sticky between her legs.

She'll need a bath, and the mere thought of warm water and scented oils washing over her skin makes her moan. Stretching into the sun's beams, her muscles sigh in relief and she smiles softly, before craning her neck to look behind her at Robin's still sleeping form. His arm is snugly wrapped around her middle, his hand curved lax over her belly, holding her against him protectively; it makes her heart swell, makes her next breath catch in her throat, and tears well in her eyes.

Turning slowly in his embrace, she faces him, her rounded stomach pressed against his flat, muscular one as he shifts in sleep. His hand falls over her lower back and an easy grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. Blearily, she follows the bridge of his nose to the pink scar above his lip They match, she thinks, the two of them, even though she wishes they didn't. Wishes there wasn't a reason for him to have such a scar in the first place. Her vision rests there on his marred skin – a souvenir from his fall over the parapet – and lifting her pointer finger, she gently brushes around the edges.

His nose twitches; she breathes.

Tender to the touch it seems, but it's no longer an angry red. Stitches gone, skin sealed. It no longer looks how Roland had described it.

"And Papa had a cut here!" He pointed at his lip. "And we baked apple pie and it was good but I liked yours better and Granny showed me how to plant the seeds and Princess Snow showed me how to water them. And Papa can we show Regina the apple seeds? Can we show Regina my horse!"

She'd missed so much while she'd been *gone*. Missed so much of him, of Roland, of his curiosity and the kind of wonderment only a child's eyes can behold. He reminds her so much of Henry when he was little, of his inquisitiveness, his gentleness, kindness, the way he checks in on the other children in the castle, makes sure no one is left out in their games of hide and seek, or pebbles and stone.

She loves him. She can say that now – that she loves him. It doesn't coil guilt in her belly like it used to, doesn't make her feel like the worst mother in the world. Though, doubt and fear still bubble up like blisters, stinging and burning parts of her soul still dreading *what if*s and failures. Robin's words are like an anchor then, steady and sure, an arrow pointing toward truth and hope. Annoying, that. Hope. He's been spending too much time with Snow and David, fucking captains of the Hope Brigade. The hope gets her through (even more annoying); it bloomed into a fierce protectiveness, the desperate need to keep Roland close, to make sure he's safe and sound.

To do best by him like she tried to do by Henry.

It's that desperation that keeps her from telling her brave little knight the truth (she wasn't just gone), that made her talk to Robin about what truth they'd tell the curious child.

She was taken by Mortianna and Nottingham. The Wicked Witch was involved, but she's safe now, back where she belongs. With them. (But not quite. Not yet. She thinks of Henry.)

Her heart pangs at the time lost, the hopes and wishes unfulfilled as her fingers coast the edge of Robin's shoulder next. She lazily traces patterns over his skin (he needs a bath as well), drinking each inch of him in, memorizing each freckle and long healed wounds near new scars from battle before her eyes flit to his face again.

"Mm'morning."

Busted. Blush bleeds a dull shade of crimson onto the apples of her cheeks, and she murmurs back her own bashful Morning.

"Whatcha doing?" he croaks, clears his throat, his hand beginning to rub up and down her spine. Up and down, up and down, soothing passes over her skin that seep into her soul.

"Memorizing you like this," she says, mapping the curves of his lashes as they open and close, brushing against his cheeks, age lines crinkled around his eyes and the relaxed draw of his brow.

"Mmm, and what do you see, milady?"

She pauses. Stops. Skates her palm up between them to rest over his heart, feeling the rise and fall in the steady rhythm of oxygen filling his lungs and life going on as his breath brushes against the hair around her face. His heart beats beneath her touch, and she stays there for a moment, her thumb drawing small circles directly over it, up and around, up and around, keeping time with the comforting *ba-bom ba-bom* beneath her palm.

She sketches her fingers across his body, etching him into her soul.

It's strange really. She spent years snuffing out the vibrant glow of hearts and turning them to ash in her grip, and yet here she is. Hoping, begging that this heart – his heart – will stay just where it is.

Untouched, without mark or pain, beating steadily, reassuringly.

Ba-bom. Ba-bom.

The last time she felt like this was with Daniel, before she knew hearts could be ripped from chests, before love was squeezed into dust.

Blood pulses through her veins, her head pounds, and she doesn't move her hand, plants palm to skin. A tether to Robin.

She cannot lose him, refuses to lose him (feels his life beneath the anchor of her palm). The very thought of it has her vision blurring, her throat constricting.

Love is weakness, my foolish girl. But love isn't weakness, it heals; it's better. This is supposed to be better. This is supposed to be right. She's been good; she's trying to be good; and it isn't enough. It's never enough.

Nottingham nearly killed him, and Zelena's still out there scheming and Mortianna and her prophecies are still looming over her head and how is she going to get back to Henry how is any of this going to work out what is she going to do about herfuckingsister and why did Mother hate her so much whatdidsheeverdotoher – her heart's beating really fast, she can hear it her ears, oh god, she can't, she can't it's what if—

"Hey, hey, R'gina. Breathe." Robin pushes her hair away from her face, then moves his hand down between them.

He links their fingers together; her lungs fill with air.

"That's it," he says, kissing her brow, holding their hands over his heart. "Just breathe, love."

An ache knocks behind her sternum, heat flushes her cheeks. She swallows, thick saliva running down her throat.

She breathes. Slower. Steadier. She breathes.

Her heart pounds erratically; her hands tremble, and it must be enough to still worry him. He sits up, blinks away the last dredges of sleep and inhales sharply.

So does she. Shaky this time.

"Oh Regina." His hands pull her up with him, gathering her into his arms so her head rests against his chest.

She shivers, gooseflesh puckers her skin, but it's not the brisk morning air hanging low in their bedroom. He leans forward and grabs the edge of the fur gathered at their waists, pulls it up, tucks it around her shoulders.

She breathes; Robin settles them back.

Ba-bom. Ba-bom. She listens.

"What is it, love?" His voice rumbles against her ear as he brings her hand up to his lips, Kisses brushes the rise of her knuckles, and then he holds her hand to his chest again, his thumb caressing her cheek.

Ba-bom. Ba-bom.

His other hand moves to her arm, rubbing the length of it beneath the covers. She sniffs. A lone tear escapes the corner of her eye, over the ridge of her nose, dripping off the tip and catching on his forearm.

She stares down at the salty droplet on his skin and his question goes unanswered.

He stays quiet. And all at once she's thankful for how patient he is with her, how much he challenges her but also waits when he knows she needs time. She's lucky. And she doesn't deserve to be.

A few more silent minutes pass between them, but the silence is filled with so much more than quiet. She can feel it, in the way he holds her, in the way his heart continues to sound ba-bom. Ba-bom. Ba-bom. In the way he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, weaves his fingers into her hair, massaging her nape, easing out tension with each gentle scratch of his fingers against her scalp.

He's comforting her, letting her know he's there, supporting her in ways that go beyond promises and vows neither of them need to make.

They already know their truth.

"Just stay here. Like this," she finally says, sliding her hand across his chest and wrapping her arm around him, hugging him closer.

As close as she can get.

"I'm here," Robin mutters, breath hot at the crown of her head. He gives her a squeeze, the hard point of his chin nudging her hair. "Right here. Not going anywhere, love."

Tears sting her eyes (damn him); she nods, sinking deeper into his hold.

He's not. She won't let him. She'd go to hell and back for this man, for their children, the family she's slowly realized she's had for some time now.

But she also knows, "You can't promise that."

"What?" His fingers pause at the nape of her neck, massage there, and he presses a kiss to her shoulder.

She moves to sit, the fur pooling at her waist again until Robin sits up as well and drapes it over her shoulders, closing it around her middle.

He's something. Her thief. Considerate, thoughtful in ways she's never been on the receiving end of before. But he's also so dreadfully optimistic (whatever does he see in her? She's the complete opposite.).

"You can't promise you're not going anywhere," she tells him, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "We don't know what's going to happen."

"No, I suppose we don't," he sighs, swooping his hand up to gather her hair over her shoulder, gently combing his fingers through it, sleep-mussed knots disappearing with each gentle drag of his nails against her scalp. "But I can promise I won't go without a fight."

And he won't. He'll not be parted from Roland, or her, or their child growing in her belly if he can help it. She knows this. She's said the same silent vow. But… "She wants the baby. Zelena wants her, and I…"

"I know. Regina, I know, but I swear to you," his hand stills, "I'll die before she touches our baby. Or your heart."

"No. No more dying." She shakes her head. "I'd like you alive, thank you very much. Let's throw a bucket of water on the bitch and put her in the ground before she kills someone else."

And it's serious, this is serious, but he laughs, and the sound makes her laugh, and it's warm and light, and she needed that. God, she need that.

So much of life hurts.

Love knocks against her ribs, and even that hurts. The baby kicks; she rubs her stomach; and she sinks into Robin.

*She*'s running out of time.

"I want to do more," she whispers, like it's a confession, as if he doesn't already know.

"You've been back a month." Robin tenses at her back. "You're just starting to get the rest Doc ordered."

"Is that what last night was? Rest?" She grins, swirling her thumb through the hair on his chest and biting her lower lip.

"That was… foreplay to rest," he chuckles. "To the best sleep we've had for a while."

She grins, thinks about the last few weeks. He's right. She's just started feeling normal, or as normal as she can with a tiny person pressing on her bladder.

"Is that what you want to call it? *The best sleep*?"

He *hmms*, tugging her back to rest against him.

"We can't stay in bed forever, you know." She shifts in his arms to get more comfortable.

"No, we can't." He *hmms*, but he doesn't move.

"Roland will be awake soon."

"If he isn't already. He gets up too early. Before the bloody sun most days."

"His father's son," she murmurs, shifting in his arms again. He pats her shoulder, adjusts them so they're resting on their sides to make space for her belly between them. They settle there, and then Robin coasts his hand over her belly, back and forth, back and forth, rubbing his thumb near her hip.

"I won't let Zelena take our child from us, Regina." He leans his forehead against hers.

"I know. You've said." She lets out a long sigh. "It's just… We have to protect her, Robin, and I can't do that if I don't know what we're protecting her from. I need to know *what* my bat-shit-crazy sister wants."

"How close are we to finding that out?"

"We're still looking," she mutters, before he nudges the tip of his nose against hers. "Belle's been combing every book in the library, I've read every text I have that requires a heart as a main ingredient. Skimmed through every potion, every hex, every curse, but… it's not enough. I'm not doing enough. I feel so… so…"

"Helpless?"

Her shoulders heave, her breath shakes. "Useless."

"You, my dear, are not useless. Will still won't stop talking about your fireballs and scorched monkey flesh."

She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I just want to find out *why* my sister wants our child and my heart. I need to do more."

"We are doing more. You're currently resting, which our baby needs. You heard Doc. You can't keep pushing yourself."

"And what are you doing?" She says "yes you" to his affronted Me?

"Making sure the patient follows the healer's orders. And—" He nuzzles his face into her hair, where shoulder meets neck, trailing chaste kisses there before capturing her lips between his. "I'm seeing to the Queen's needs. Important business, that."

She chuckles, freely this time. "Be serious."

And he is. For a minute. He's serious.

:.:

"We have psychotic siblings who want to kill us and take everything we have, and not necessarily in that order. I take that quite seriously, my love. But… your health, the baby's health is also equally important."

And all this stress, all the late nights in the library searching for answers, trying to figure out what it is that Zelena wants, standing guard on the outer walls, trying to find spells that'll continue to protect the castle from the bitch's flying minions is exhausting him. But him? He couldn't care less about himself at the moment, not when Regina has bags under her eyes, when she's still too thin for her sixth month of pregnancy.

He's watched as she's nearly nodded off in council meetings, and at breakfast over a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of warm milk, and at supper. She's tired all the time, sore from head to foot, and grumpier as the days drag on as they continue fighting back her sister and his fucking brother.

And he knows it's partly due to carrying his child, he knows the strain that puts on her body, but that's not solely to blame.

She's pushing herself, too much, and two days ago he finally got her to rest, finally got her to stay in bed with him for longer hours, to sleep and be lazy for just a moment, but even that turned into midnight kisses and a roaming of hands that had Regina gasping into his mouth and keening under his tongue.

He'd missed her. The feel of her, of being inside her, of tasting her, hearing her. But he's missed her being safe more, of being with family. He'd meant for last night to be just about her, about resting, about her pleasure, but when a Queen wants what she wants… and when she's carrying your child, well… he can't complain about her insatiable appetite for *him*.

Though, guilt does lick at his insides. Because on top of everything else, he still hasn't figured out what his brother thinks there is to gain from kidnapping Regina (what part is Andrew playing in all this?), and they're still trying to find a way back to Regina's son, to Henry. And, he's yet to tell her about the prophecy, hasn't known the time or place to do it.

She doesn't need one more thing weighing heavy on her already burdened shoulders. He will tell her, eventually. Just not today. They need more time, she needs more time.

Less stress. Doc's words ring in his ears. More time.

And they're running out of it.

:.:

Another week ticks by without answers to Regina's (and subsequently everyone's) great annoyance. She's loud, spits sharp insults, has the shortest of fuses. And the longer they go without answers, the more desperate she becomes for them. She knows she's being horrible, is moody, and unpleasant, but she won't take all the blame for that. Robin. She gets to partly blame Robin (can't blame the baby, that makes her feel worse).

She's fat, and tired, and ornery, and God this is awful, pregnancy is so godawful. Is this what Emma felt like? A fireball of emotions ready to explode at any given moment?

Regina pinches the bridge of her nose and kneads a cramp in her side. Robin, Snow, David, Granny, and Leroy are all seated in their chairs around the round table. This was supposed to be a quick council meeting, but David's been rambling about her sister, and all Regina wants to do is tell everyone her plan so she can go pee, and nap, maybe eat something first, and then pee, and then nap.

Did she mention, pregnancy is godawful?

The baby kicks her in what feels like a vital organ, and her patience wanes thinner than it already is. She finally has a plan and David won't shut up. She's gonna pee her pants if he doesn't fucking shut up.

"Ever since we got back here, Zelena has been unpredictable." (No shit, she thinks.) David slams his fist down on the round table. "She attacked the front gate three nights ago; Frederick has a broken arm. We're running out of grain, and the people are scared."

"With all due respect, your majesty," Leroy says. "They've been scared for months. I vote we make a run to Edgewood. We need supplies." Right. Because that's a great idea. Send dwarves with their pickaxes and peasants with their pitchforks beyond the castle wall, outside the shield protecting them from Zelena's beasts. Because that makes perfect sense.

"No, we need everyone here, Leroy." Snow shakes her head, massaging her left temple. "We can't guarantee anyone's safety outside the castle walls."

At least someone makes sense, Regina thinks, tracing circles around her navel with the pad of her thumb. She clears her throat, drawing the attention of her comrades. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but for once, I agree with Snow."

Snow's eyebrows inch toward her hairline. "Thanks, I guess," she says, shock clear in her voice.

And now the part of her plan that Regina knows none of them are going to like. "You can't leave the castle, but, not everyone can stay here." She looks to Belle for support as she continues with, "Obviously, my sister..." (that word tastes bitter in her mouth) "... is a problem. I need to know what she's planning. To find a way to be one step ahead of her. And Belle and I believe we've exhausted our resources here."

"Right," Belle says, leaning forward, thumbing the edge of one of her books. "We've checked every source we have available, and while the library here is extensive—"

"You're not going to offend anyone by telling us it's crap, Belle. Spit it out," Regina tells her.

"It's not crap, it just... It doesn't cover a majority of the dark arts."

David grins. He actually grins, and Regina's fingers itch to smack the smirky look off his face. "I find that hard to believe," he says, leaning over the table. "Considering Regina was the Evil Queen for several years."

"I wasn't always the Evil Queen, Charming." She purses her lips; Robin scowls. "Just as you weren't always a prince. Though, once a shepherd, always a shepherd, I know you still like to roll in the fields with the sheep," she taunts, suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

He and Snow roll their eyes in tandem, and then David turns his attention to Belle, asking her, "What are you proposing?"

"We need to go to the Dark Fortress." Belle clears her throat, thumbs the edge of her book again. She's nervous; Regina can tell she's nervous. She's spent a lot of time getting to know her over the last several months. The young woman is quiet but brave, not meek or mild by any means. She picks her battles, which Regina can appreciate. It's Rumple – it must be. Belle must be thinking about the imp. "I know it's not the safest idea given what happened the last time I was there, but it's the only other idea we have."

And Snow says what Belle doesn't, "Rumplestiltskin. You think he'll have the answers?"

"Yes. There's a book that deals specifically with…" Regina pauses, protectively folds her arms over the rise of her stomach and rubs where her daughter is hiccuping in her womb. "Well, you'd be horrified by how many spells require a baby's as the main ingredient."

"Oh…" David gulps. Snow pats his hand, then squeezes.

"Yes, 'oh,'" Regina repeats.

Honestly, does she have to spell everything out?

"You know what you're looking for?" Snow asks Belle, and she nods. "Then it's settled. We'll leave for the Dark Fortress in two days. Granny, we'll need provisions–"

Regina shakes her head, interrupts, "In the morning. We'll leave in the morning," and pushes herself up so she's sitting as upright as possible, steeling herself for resistance. Her makeup is thick today, dark, contouring her cheekbones, accenting her eyes in pitch and a smoky shade of gray. She's playing a familiar charade, one of masks and armour.

"Regina..." Snow speaks before Robin can, but Regina sees him tense out of the corner of her eye. "You're not coming."

Oh the sweet girl, she really believes that's true. Regina chuckles. "I am." She sits straighter, smooths her dress over the curve of her belly, then stops. Puts her hands on the table instead. All they see is her belly – a huge bullseye that shouts I'M WEAK LEAVE ME BEHIND. She needs to not touch her belly. She needs them to understand why she has to do this.

"Regina…" Robin tries. But she won't let him. Of all people, he has to understand (that's not fair, and she knows it).

"This is between me and my sister. She wants *my* heart. *My* daughter." (That isn't fair either, but she's so busy trying to make her point, she misses Robin frown.) "I won't stand idle by while you go searching for answers, and I'm left here twiddling my thumbs."

"Aren't you supposed to be on bed rest, sister?" Leroy points out.

"He's right, Regina. Doc said you needed rest," Snow says, and they're all ganging up on her now.

"I'm sorry, love," Robin adds, reaching out to rest his hand over hers. He rubs his thumb over the rise of her knuckles, a gesture that usually soothes, calms, but she doesn't want to be calm right now. They're treating her like a child, and to be fair, she isn't helping her case any by digging her heels into the ground, she needs to explain herself. "... but this time, I have to agree with Snow on this one. We only just got you back."

Even Granny can't resist speaking her mind. "Girl, it'll take a full lunation for them to travel there and back. You know it isn't wise for you to travel that long."

Are they all really that blind?

"I'm the only one with magic." Regina slips her hand out from under Robin's and settles back into her chair. This isn't up for debate. "Stay here, or come along with me, but I'm going."

"You're being stubborn," Snow scoffs.

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, don't you think, Snow?" Regina snaps back.

Snow scowls, angles her head to the side, and says, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," raising her eyebrows to challenge Regina.

Regina sighs. This is ridiculous. "Out of all of us, I'm the only one that *has* to go. What're you going to do if you need magic? If you need a spell broken or a protection charm cast? What if you're attacked?"

"Precisely, our point." Robin finds her hand again, rubs his thumb over the rise of her knuckles, and she let's him. "What if we're attacked? You and Will were lucky on the road. But even then, you needed help. You can't keep pushing yourself."

"Robin… this isn't an in-and-out-mission," she tries to get him to understand. "You're not sneaking into a castle or robbing a royal at the Troll Bridge. Bows and arrows won't work against Rumplestiltskin's magical boobytraps, and they certainly won't stop Zelena from killing you with a flick of her ugly green wrist."

"Blue. She could—"

She cuts David off. "Absolutely fucking not." There's no need to explain that one, they know her aversion to the Blue Fairy. That's not up for discussion.

"What about Tinker Bell?" Robin suggests.

"Pixie dust and fairy magic won't stop my wicked sister if she hexes you."

"It froze you when we needed it," David says, cocky and smirky again, and God how she wants to wipe that look off his stupid. Smug. Face.

"That one time was a fluke. I was blinded by rage, unprepared. Zelena won't make that mistake. She's insane, but she's *organized*."

Snow scoffs. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"Tink isn't coming," Regina continues. "I want her to stay here with Granny and Roland."

"Hey now, my bones may be old, but they're not brittle," Granny says. "I'm plenty fine watching the cub on my own."

"Of course you are, Granny, I know you're all bite and coarse fur when you need to be. But I'm not leaving you here to run the entire castle alone while we're gone. Someone needs to help make sure this place is still standing, and I'm not leaving that job to the dwarves."

"And what's the Evil Queen's problem with dwarves?" Leroy snorts.

"You hatched from eggs," she deadpans.

"And?" He gestures with his shoulders.

"Did I need another reason?"

Robin sighs, "You're going either way, aren't you?"

With an uncommon public display of affection, she grasps his hand on top of the table.

"I can't afford to wait a month for you to return with news from Rumple. We…" She places her hand over her stomach, looks pleadingly into Robin's eyes. They're so blue, so clear, and if she can just get him to understand why she needs to do this, maybe it really will all be okay. "... can't afford to wait. Zelena wants our daughter, Robin. She wants our daughter and my heart and I don't know why. And truthfully, I don't care why, but I do need to know how to stop that bitch before anyone else we love dies." She thinks of Much; she's always thinking of Much, what he did for her, for them. She won't let anyone else die because of her. "I need to know how to protect our baby."

Robin sighs, his shoulders deflating before he drags a hand over his tired eyes. She knows she has him before he speaks: "Then I suppose, we'll have to find out together."

Relief washes over her, and she takes a deep breath.

"Fine. But if you're going, we're all going," Snow says, pushing her chair back from the table, as if that's settled, as if that's final.

Regina pushes back her chair as well, stands to meet Snow's height, and firmly tells her, "No. Absolutely not."

From the outside, the two of them look ridiculous. Regina standing with her hands at her back, supporting her burgeoning belly, her stomach obvious at this stage of her pregnancy. She's wearing shorter heels than she usually does, and they bring her eye-level to Snow, their gazes meeting in equal ferocity.

They're stubborn, and Regina knows exactly where Snow gets this from, but she's too stubborn to admit it comes from her. Like mother, like daughter echoes through her ears and she feels a quickening in her womb, more than slight flutterings now – somersaults, and the roomba, and kickboxing lessons in such a small space that it has Regina holding back a wince and remembering that she really, really has to pee.

"We're not letting you go alone, Regina. When are you going to realize, we're family, and that means we do things together?" Snow glares even harder.

Regina recognizes that look in her eyes, knows that look. It's the same one Snow used when she was a child who knew she could get her way, the same one she's seen countless times over the last year, and the same one that looks her in the face every time she stands in front of her vanity.

Stubbornness. Thine name is Regina Mills and Snow White.

"Fine," Regina finally bites, and Snow retorts with her own clipped Fine as well.

Everyone else seems to sense that this is the end of the discussion; the Queen and the Princess have decided for them how this is all going to go. No room for argument. They're going to find Rumplestiltskin, and a way to defeat Zelena, and they're going to find a way to get back home to Storybrooke.

Regina dismisses everyone to make preparations for their journey, waves them off, but she asks Snow to wait.

"I'll meet you in our chambers in a minute," Snow says to David, giving him a quick peck on the lips. It's tame, even for them, but it still makes Regina huff in annoyance.

David leaves, and the door closes behind him.

And that's when Regina finally asks: "When are you going to tell him?"

"I— " Shock bleeds onto the apples of Snow's cheeks, and her mouth gapes open. Regina chuckles, taking a little pleasure in the fact that she's caught her off guard. Snow composes herself and says, "He'll only worry."

She's not denying it then. Regina was right.

"For a reason," Regina answers, cocking her head to the side. "That shepherd loves you so much I can practically see the hearts beating in his pupils."

Snow snorts. "You cannot." And then she's fidgeting with the hem of her tunic, her voice nervous when she says, "This is nice. It's been a long time since things between us were… easy."

She's deflecting, but it makes a smirk tug at the corner of Regina's mouth so she lets her. For now anyway. Like mother, like daughter.

"Things have never been easy between us, Snow."

"Maybe. But… I'm just saying this is nice. I missed you, missed having family around."

"You? You've always had family around." Regina swallows a growing lump in her throat. She's thinking of Emma, and Henry, but instead she offers, "You had David. You *have* David.

"I know. I don't mean that I didn't before. I just…" Snow's eyes water, and she sniffles. Oh dear God. Is she going to cry? When did this become a conversation worth crying over? Regina can't deal with anyone else's emotions but her own right now. "You were my family… before. And then you weren't, and then Emma was born, and then she was gone and then we got her back but you were still—"

"The Evil Queen," Regina says, uncrossing her arms, and sighs.

(She regrets asking Snow to stay back. Why did she think this would be a good idea? Now they're talking about feelings, and emotions, and things Regina normally hidden, private, tucked far away from the ears of others. Especially from the ears of Snow White and her bleeding heart.)

"No, I… Regina, I was so angry with you, but I've realized it's because I missed you. The way things used to be. I just wanted my friend back and it was easier to hate you than to accept that this—" Snow waves her arm around them, tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill out. "This is all my fault."

Regina scoffs, and maybe that was the wrong reaction, but her list of mistakes and remorse is miles long. She's spent decades dedicated to vengeance and only a handful of months trying to be better. She will spend the rest of her life trying to atone for her sins (and it'll never be enough), but for Snow to think that this is her fault, well, that's just idiotic. Possibly the most idiotic thing to ever ruminate inside her precious hope-filled head.

"Don't be ridiculous, you didn't cast the curse," Regina says, her fingers itching to... comfort? Hormones. She's blaming this swelling urge to soothe away the tears forming in Snow's eyes on hormones. "You didn't get us into this mess. That was me. I did this to us."

"No, if i hadn't told your mother about you and Daniel, none of this would have happened," Snow tells her adamantly, and they could do this tete-et-tete for hours, but Regina still really has to pee. "Things would be different. We might not be… Emma and Henry never would have been taken away from us."

"Snow, chances are Henry and Emma never would have been born if things hadn't played out the way they did," Regina says, crossing her legs and finding her balance. She rubs under her belly and breathes through her nose.

"But Daniel—"

"Daniel wasn't your fault." Regina shakes her head. She may have blamed Snow in the past, but she knows now it wasn't her fault. "It was my mother. She sealed my fate, and yours."

"Things could've been different."

"You're right. They could have been worse."

"Worse than you hating me?"

She still doesn't get it, so Regina, in a moment of hormone-induced compassion, tentatively reaches out and touches her shoulder, rubs up once, and then down. "Yes, but I don't hate you, dear."

"You don't?" Snow looks up, meets Regina gaze, tears dripping off her chin, and there's that need to soothe again, a new ache to reassure.

"No, you idiot." Regina smiles, grasping Snow's chin with her thumb and forefinger. "I find your usual hopefulness annoyingly frustrating, but I don't hate you."

Snow's chin wobbles, her voice wet when she replies, "But you didn't tell me you were pregnant."

Regina sighs. "Because I quite like my ability to hear and breathe without shrieking and coddling following me from dawn to dusk. If I'd told you I was pregnant in the beginning, you would have been unbearable."

"I wouldn't have," Snow says, sniffing again and jutting her chin out. It reminds Regina of the time Henry fell off his bike when he was five years old, when she'd scooped him up off the ground and kissed his scraped knee and said they were done learning how to ride a bike for the day. He'd looked at her the way Snow is now, chin jutting out, cheeks red from crying. I'm not ready to go inside, Mommy. I want to try again, Henry had said.

"You would have, and I wasn't ready for it, for the same reason I wasn't ready to accept that I was pregnant," Regina whispers, catching a stray tear on Snow's cheek and then squeezing her arm and taking a step back. That's enough of that.

"Because of Henry?" Snow asks, even though she already knows. It's likely the same reason Snow hasn't told David her own secret yet. Because of Emma.

Regina nods, and then says, "But y'know what helped? You, Robin. Telling Robin helped." And the next thing she says draws Snow gaze back up to her own. "You need to tell David? But before you do, tell me when you're going to. I need to prepare myself for the inevitable vomit-inducing love fest."

Snow laughs, and so does Regina.

"I still can't believe you knew I was pregnant," Snow says, scratching the back of her neck and smiling. "No one else has said anything."

"Granny and Ruby probably know." Regina taps the tip of her nose and shifts her weight between her feet, saying, "It's a wolf thing."

Snow nods her head once, and then Regina sees a glimmer of something in her eyes. "You know, wolves also have really good hearing, and I heard from Ruby that someone was up rather late last night. What happened to bed rest?"

Regina's eyes go wide, she tenses, and to her great mortification, she pees a little, caught off guard by Snow's bluntness.

She's going to kill Ruby. And then Snow. And maybe Robin. But first she's going to visit the facility before she embarrasses herself further.

Regina's scooping up gravy with a forkful of roasted pheasant at supper, when Snow tells David mid-bite about her secret – their secret. He practically chokes on his mouthful of potatoes and parsnips, Snow patting him on the back and offering him his cup of mead. He takes it gladly, sips and sips and sips until his throat is clear and he can breath again. And then Regina watches as he mouths a question she can't quite make out but knows is about Snow being pregnant. She smiles, chuckles softly at the bemused look on his face, and then her amusement quickly turns into a grimace as David basically sucks face with his wife at the dinner table.