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She can’t stop smiling. She doesn’t even realize it, until a drunken Will Scarlet teases her about how ill-fitting her Evil Queen title is right now, when she looks so very unevil. She meant to level him with a glare, one she had patented when hunting down her stepdaughter, but from the way Will laughs at her, she thinks she’s not very successful.
That should upset her, but honestly? It’s her wedding day, and she could spend her time failing to scowl at Will or she could look at her husband sitting right beside her, and continue to smile that smile Will teased her for in the first place.
Robin wears an amused expression during it all, except no, it’s more than that. He looks giddy, a matching smile on his face, his eyes sparkling as he stares at her.
She loves the way he looks at her, can’t help the way her breath catches as she takes him in as he does the same.
He leans into her, wrapping an arm loosely around her shoulders, murmuring into her ear, “Are you happy, my love?”
She doesn’t answer, because there are still some things that are hard for her to say out loud, even now. So she lets her smile speak for her, and leans into him, pressing her lips to his in a chaste, tender kiss. She’s still smiling when she pulls back, her mouth seemingly permanently tipped up until something catches her sight just out of the corner of her eye.
Regina is watching them, her hand fisting the material of her dress at her waist, and the Queen winces sympathetically. She knows what that arm around her middle means, a physical manifestation of how emotionally vulnerable she feels right now.
“Excuse me a moment, husband,” she says, because she can say that now and not want to cringe or shy away from the man it refers to. She kisses him again, a quick peck on the cheek, again because she can, because she loves him, because he’s hers.
He squeezes her wrist as she goes, a lingering touch that has a pleasant shiver running over her skin. They haven’t been separated much since the ceremony when Friar Tuck pronounced them wed, and it seems strange now to not be by his side even as she approaches her doppelgänger.
Regina hasn’t been alone either, not for extended periods of time today. Henry has spent as much time at her side as he could, even while supporting his other mother, and Roland has been right there, too. But right now their sons — yes, sons, because Roland is hers now, and he should have been Regina’s too — are preoccupied with Alan-a-dale and Much, the Merry Men are trying to teach them some song… Either way, it’s left Regina alone, since Snow and Charming are also caught up in some conversation with John.
The Queen smiles almost sheepishly at Regina; even now, her smile refuses to be tamed into anything more appropriate for the somber moment they’re about to have. “Are you all right?” she asks, hoping her tone conveys her concern better than her expression might.
“I’m fine,” Regina replies as if the Queen doesn’t know that that’s an automatic response. She doesn’t return her gaze, lets her eyes linger on Henry and Roland, but the Queen simply waits her out, until she’s sighing. “I don’t mean to bring down the mood.”
“You’re not,” she tells Regina honestly, shrugging a little. “Not much could, except for Zelena popping in unannounced.”
Regina grimaces at the reminder of how things ended between Zelena and her, managing a noise that might be a chuckle. “Right…”
Were she anyone else, she might apologize for the dig at their sister, but the Queen isn’t sorry for it. Perhaps one day she could find it in her to forgive Zelena for the things she did. And maybe it’s hypocritical of her to harbor this resentment toward her. She’s okay with that; she knows better than most that her anger is not always rational.
But she didn’t come here to talk about her wicked bitch of a sister. She’s more concerned about Regina’s feelings than Zelena’s, at the moment.
“Regina,” the Queen starts, but she shakes her head, cutting her off.
“No, you don’t — it’s not necessary to apologize or… I’m happy for you. Truly,” she says, despite the pained pinch of her brow.
She studies her, sighing herself. “I believe you,” she murmurs, but adds, “I only wish it didn’t have to be this way. With only one of us having… this. Being happy.”
Regina’s smile seems a little more sincere this time, though it’s a barely there thing, the mere corners of her mouth tipping up. “I am happy,” she says with conviction, her gaze flicking back to Henry. “I have my son, my family, my town. That’s all I need.”
“I know. I do remember having that, when I was a part of you… I miss it, in some ways. Storybrooke. And… the Charmings.” The Queen winces as she admits it, her voice barely above a whisper as she lets these secrets spill out. She can only hope Snow hasn’t somehow developed superhearing. “I miss Henry the most. But…”
“You’ve found your own family, I think,” Regina murmurs, surprising the Queen when she reaches out and grasps her hand. “With the Merry Men, and Roland, and Robin. That’s okay, Queenie.”
The Queen bites her lip, admitting, “Sometimes I feel like I’m betraying Henry by being here, by being happy.”
“No. Don’t even think it. He knows this is what you needed; his authorial magic gave it to you for a reason. And he knows that you love him.”
She nods, mulling over what she wants to say next, only to have her thoughts interrupted when Alan-a-dale and Much break into a jaunty tune, something much louder and quicker-paced than the song they were entertaining Henry and Roland with. There are not nearly enough people at this wedding to dance, and yet Snow and Charming are twirling around the floor with barely a moment’s notice, the Merry Men encouraging them as they begin some sort of lively, intricate line dance.
Before she knows it, she feels a hand at her waist, and her husband’s voice is warm in her ear, “May I have this dance, Your Majesty?”
She spares an apologetic glance toward Regina for the way Robin is wrapped around her, but Regina’s not looking at them. Her eyes are rather deliberately focused on Henry and Roland as Will rather drunkenly tries to teach them the steps to the line dance.
“You may,” she tells Robin, allowing him to pull her away from Regina and into a somewhat more secluded corner of their reception hall.
She tries to not think too much about life before the split, tries to not dwell on the past that is hers and also feels separated from her, because she rather thinks she enjoys living in the now. But dancing like this in Robin’s arms, she can’t help but think of the last time she danced (in another Robin’s arms, when she was another Regina, in another ballroom in another land), and it inspires a bit of nostalgia in her.
It has her clutching Robin a little more tightly, her smile perhaps a bit different than before, and he notices, reads the change of mood as if she had it tattooed on her forehead.
“You all right?” he murmurs to her, dropping a kiss to her neck that has a subtle shiver racing down her spine.
She looks at Regina, tugged into the line dance by Henry and Roland, watching her counterpart at first reluctantly studying the steps and then falling into rhythm with their sons.
“Yes, everything’s all right,” she says, turning back to him and leaning in to press her forehead to his. “But while I’m enjoying dancing with you, there’s another type of dance I much prefer to do with you…”
“Your Majesty!” Robin gasps, mock-scandalized, and she rolls her eyes at his melodramatic antics. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Oh, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m outright saying: Let’s go find a corner of this castle we haven’t christened yet while the guests are occupied, hmm?” She bites down on her bottom lip, grinning mischievously at him before she throws in her kicker, “I want to celebrate our marriage properly, husband.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, a look of surrender she knows all too well. She barely has time to respond to the quick kiss he bestows upon her, though she enjoys the heated brush of his tongue over her lips all the same. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers as he steers them toward the door.
She laughs louder than she means to, stifling herself with her teeth sinking into her lip once more, though it does nothing to contain that once-elusive smile.