OUAT kinkmeme prompt: "Leopold was just as abusive to Snow as Cora was to Regina, he just hid it better.
Snow clings to him as her parent, thinks all the 'punishments' her own fault and tries to hide her failing as a daughter.
Diverting from Canon, this time Regina does find out.

Fall out, H/C, maternal!Regina, please?"

WARNING: Mentions of rape, incest, and abuse. Nothing is explicitly shown.

Regina

Regina sat alone at the far side of the room while the rest of the court crowded around Leopold and raised glasses to toast his birthday. Normally she would be up there beside him, pretending to smile, but she couldn't put any weight on her bandaged ankle. She'd told everyone that she'd tripped and no one had asked for further explanation, but Leopold had made it quite clear that he did not want rumors getting out at court.

So tonight Regina watched from a distance, which was just as well since Leopold's speech was all about Snow White and her mother. There had been no kind words about Regina after the first few months of their marriage.

She didn't miss the compliments, or the sick feeling that washed over her when he gave them.

She didn't even want to look at him, instead focusing on her step-daughter. She didn't envy Snow her father's love, but she did envy the girl's dress, the pretty sort of thing with bare arms and shoulders that was appropriate for the warm summer night. Regina, as always, had no choice but long sleeves to conceal the bruises and healing cuts that dotted her arms.

Snow, as always, beamed at her father's compliments, used to them after sixteen years but ever infuriatingly humble. She stayed close to him as usual, clasping his hand.

But it was different tonight, Regina realized. The king kept stroking his daughter's hand in a way that made the queen slightly queasy. She could remember the handful of public appearances she'd made with him before the wedding and how he'd done the exact same thing, petting her hand in a way that looked sweet to others but was decidedly possessive.

Injured ankle or not, she couldn't watch any longer. She stood slowly and tried to walk as normally as possible, arms hugged around herself. None of the courtiers with their backs turned noticed her leaving.

Regina woke with a start to see Leopold looming over her, shaking her roughly by the shoulders. She glanced around once the shaking finally stopped, surprised to see the morning sun shining through the curtains. When she'd fallen asleep just after leaving the party, she was sure that her husband would wake her, as furious as he was now, but she'd expected him late at night.

"You are a disgrace," he said, hands still clamped on her shoulders. "How dare you just get up and leave without my permission in front of the whole court?"

"I didn't think you'd miss me," Regina said quietly, wishing she could push him off of her. She knew better. The more she fought, the more he'd always hurt her.

"I didn't miss you," he growled. "But you are mine, and you need to respect me."

"A strong marriage is built on mutual respect." Regina offered him a meek smile. Sometimes, not always, she could get away with playing the loving wife.

Leopold met her eyes for a moment before tearing the covers from the bed and climbing over her. "What could I possibly respect about you?" he asked, looking her up and down with a critical eye before hiking her skirt up to her waist.

Snow

Snow sank down to her knees, her voluminous skirt pooling around her. She set the sprig of white flowers she'd cut from the garden on the grave, reaching out to press her hand to the tombstone that was warm from the sun.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she said, hanging her head. "I've tried so hard to be good, I really have. I don't know where I went wrong." She could feel the first hot tear rolling down her cheek. "Father says that I'm ungrateful. He says I don't love him as much as I should, but I do, Mother. I love him more than anyone but you." She ran her fingers down the "E" in her mother's name, raising her free hand to wipe her tears. "I wish you were here to show me the right path."

She rose to her feet, dabbing her handkerchief under her eyes and desperately trying to gain some form of composure before she went home. She was sure her tears would only be further proof of her failure to be the daughter her father wanted. They were ungrateful and selfish. She paused on the hillside before passing through the garden, patting her face dry.

She could see Regina in the distance, the queen tending to her apple tree in the morning as she always did. Just another parent who hated her, Snow thought sadly before taking a deep breath and heading into the garden. "Good morning, Regina," she called, hoping desperately for a smile in return.

The queen did smile, if only slightly. Snow could hardly remember Regina's real smile, the one that reached her eyes and lit up her face. "Good morning, Snow," Regina replied, moving to the other side of the tree to get the apples hanging there.

"Your ankle is improving?" Regina's gait was almost back to normal after several days of pretending not to limp.

"Yes." Regina said nothing more, her eyes more downcast than usual, but she didn't snap at Snow when the younger girl picked up the basket of apples and followed her to collect the fruit.

"And you're feeling better? They said you were suddenly taken ill last night."

Regina met Snow's eyes, noting the need in them. "What did I miss?" she asked gently, biting back her desire to tell the princess to go find someone else to trail after.

"Not much. There was some lovely music, but those parties get so boring. I do wish we could throw a proper ball, but Father says we mustn't."

Regina collected the last apple and took the basket back silently. She'd never cared for balls, so she didn't particularly miss them.

"It's strange, isn't it? I'm sixteen and still haven't been presented at a ball." Snow checked herself quickly. "But I must be grateful for all I have. I shouldn't ask more."

Regina turned to look at Snow again, her expression going wistful. "My mother always used to tell me that nothing would ever be accomplished if people didn't ask for more than their lot." She started walking back towards the door, and Snow hurried to walk beside her. "She and I never agreed on what to ask for, but I do believe she was right."

Regina

That evening, dinner was only the three of them. Regina could never decide which was worse: the lavish parties she attended as though she were a prisoner, or these attempts to pretend that she, her husband, and her stepdaughter were anything like a family. Usually Snow's ramblings about her day were enough conversation for these small gatherings, but the princess was silent tonight, keeping her eyes to her plate and eating little. Regina glanced from her pale stepdaughter to the husband who was shoveling down his food with gusto.

"Your Highness," Regina said softly, finally breaking through the quiet. She'd only once tried to call him Leopold, and that had resulted in her first bruise as a new wife. She knew better now, and she knew that, if she was going to ask for anything, a formal address would give her the slightest advantage. "How would you feel about putting on a ball? A small one, of course, and I'd take care of everything." He hadn't silenced her yet, hadn't even looked in her direction, so she continued. "The princess is certainly old enough to make her debut. I went to my first ball at fourteen."

Leopold turned towards her slowly, and the queen went quiet. "My Snow," he said in a low, measured voice, "is nothing like you."

"Of course not," Regina replied, taking a breath to steady her voice. "But this is common among all girls of nobility."

"I will not have men putting their hands all over my daughter," the king said, glancing briefly at Snow before turning back to his wife. "She is not just some girl to be bought and sold. She is not a whore," he added pointedly.

Regina didn't even flinch at name-calling anymore, but Snow gasped. "Father!"

Leopold stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table. "Enough. I will not tolerate your disobedience," he said to Snow, in a harsher voice than Regina had ever heard him use with his daughter. "Go to your room."

Snow's expression crumpled from shock to sadness, and she left the room in silence. The door had hardly closed behind her before Leopold pulled Regina from her chair and backed her hard into the wall.

"You will stay away from my daughter," he said, his face mere inches from hers. "Snow is mine, not yours."

"I never…" Regina started, but Leopold cut her off with a slap across the face.

"If you put ideas in her head, if you try to turn her against me, I will not hesitate to kill you," he spat before storming out of the room.

Regina stayed put, back to the wall and a hand to her smarting cheek, still stunned. He never lost control in front of his daughter. And Snow… This was all her fault, Regina thought bitterly, but then she remembered the expression on the girl's face all evening.

Regina woke to sunlight yet again, but this time Leopold wasn't in the room, his side of the bed untouched. While he'd been occasionally known to pass out drunk somewhere else in the palace, it was rare that he didn't make it back to bed at the hands of servants.

She was thankful that he wasn't there, thankful that he wasn't about to assault her as he had the day before. She tried to sit up, but sank down into the pillows again, a faint wave of sickness washing over her. She'd been feeling slightly ill for weeks but hadn't sent for a doctor, knowing Leopold wouldn't approve. A doctor would find all her injuries and would begin to ask questions, so Regina kept her illness to herself.

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm her stomach, finally beginning to feel better when the door opened. She sat up so quickly she felt dizzy, thankful to see Snow standing in the doorway and not her husband.

Snow

Her father wouldn't approve, she knew, but Snow had gone in search of Regina when the queen didn't appear for breakfast. Regina was still in bed, pale and seemingly small in the lavish bed. The princess made her way closer with the tray of food she'd taken after her own breakfast, but Regina frowned at it and held up a hand. "Please," she whispered hoarsely, so Snow turned and set it on a table a good way from the bed before returning to her side.

"Are you unwell?" she asked, not sure if she wanted the answer. She could see the beginnings of a bruise along Regina's cheekbone, and since it hadn't been there at dinner the night before she could only imagine it was punishment for asking about a ball. Yet another thing that was Snow's fault. She sat gingerly at the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap and looking down at them.

Regina adjusted herself so that she was sitting upright but leaning against the pillows. "It's only my stomach," she replied, studying Snow's profile. "I'll be just fine."

Snow nodded. "Did Father punish you, too?" Her voice was faint, and she couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes to meet Regina's.

"Too?" Regina sat forward a little. "Snow, what did he do?"

Snow finally forced herself to look up. "Nothing I didn't deserve. I've failed him as a daughter. I don't know how." Tears rose in her eyes, but she saw Regina's concerned expression before they clouded her vision.

"My mother always used to tell me that," Regina said, and Snow felt the older woman's hand on her shoulder. "But even when I was trying my hardest to be a good daughter I wasn't nearly as good as you. He loves you, Snow."

Snow shifted closer on the bed, surprised when Regina's arms went around her. Her stepmother hadn't embraced her in years, since Snow had grown old enough to know better than to try to win her affection. "I don't deserve his love. He's right to punish me."

"Snow," Regina said firmly, a hand coming up to cradle the girl's head against her shoulder. "How did he punish you? Did he hurt you?"

Snow pulled back slightly, shaking her head immediately. "He wouldn't." She wiped at her tears, not wanting Regina to get the wrong idea. Her father wasn't to blame. She was.

Regina held out her arm and rolled up her sleeve. Snow gasped at the dark bruises and new scars that stood out starkly against skin pale from being covered for years. "I know what he's capable of," she said.

"Oh, Regina." Snow ran her fingers down Regina's exposed arm lightly, not daring to put pressure on the injuries but needing to know they were real. "He's never done anything like this to me."

Snow's fingers reached Regina's wrist and the older woman grabbed her hand tightly before she could pull away. "Tell me, Snow."

"I don't know," Snow whispered, sinking back into Regina's shoulder and feeling arms going around her again. It was what she'd wanted so badly the day before at the grave of her mother, and she didn't care that Regina wasn't the real thing. "He comes to my room at night and I don't know how to describe it."

Regina

Regina felt the nausea coming back, but she tightened her hold on Snow. If Snow meant what she thought she meant… She'd never imagined Leopold capable of anything like that. He was capable of many things, of forcing a young girl to marry him, of forcing her to share his bed, of beating her at the smallest provocation, but she'd never seen him so much as raise his voice to Snow before the previous night. "Snow," she whispered, closing her eyes to keep from crying herself. "I'm so sorry."

Regina had learned fairly early on that Cora didn't always have her best interests at heart, but she remembered how she'd felt the first time her mother gave her a lesson in the things a future husband would expect. She'd felt terrible afterwards, dirty and broken, but she hadn't told anyone. And rather than hating Cora, she'd hated herself. She couldn't even begin to imagine what this was like for Snow, who had always trusted her father.

"You are not a bad daughter," she said, pressing Snow away just enough that they could make eye contact. "You do not deserve this. The things he's doing are wrong, Snow. I promise you."

Snow nodded tentatively, and Regina could tell just how desperately she wanted to believe that. She got up quickly, making her way to the closet and pulling out the simplest clothing she could find, shabby old trousers from years ago when she'd still had the chance to ride and a rather plain linen shirt. The trousers wouldn't button up all the way, so she switched to an easy dress instead, with flat shoes. She hurried back out to Snow, pulling the princess to her feet.

"We're leaving," she announced. "Is there anything you need?"

"Leaving?" Snow blinked at her. "But what about…"

"I'm pregnant," Regina blurted out. It was the first time she'd admitted it, even to herself, and saying it aloud felt terribly final. "And maybe it'll be a daughter. I don't want him anywhere near her."

Snow chose to smile, focusing on the good news. "Regina, are you really?"

Regina put her hands on Snow's shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. "He is not going to touch her, or you, or me, ever again. I can't stay here and I will not leave you."

Snow looked down at Regina's stomach and then back up at her stepmother's face. "But he's my father."

"He lost that privilege the first time he laid a hand on you." Regina gave Snow's shoulders a squeeze. "Please, Snow. Please come with me."

She could see the conflict playing out across the princess's face but waited silently for resolution. Snow bit her lip, reaching out a hand to press to Regina's stomach. "For her," she whispered.

"For her." Regina nodded, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of Snow's face. "But someday you'll see that it's also for you. For us."