Work Text:
When Robin kisses Zelena in the Enchanted Forest it isn’t true love.
Not by a long chalk.
Their mutual attraction is one part physical to two parts scar tissue. It is their shared loathing of another which draws them together, like painful adhesions forming in the wake of invasive surgery, pulling at their internal organs until they’re close enough to bear it.
“I told her who I am,” Zelena says, her voice cracking. “She doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t want to believe me.”
Robin pulls her to his chest. “She banished her own mother. She cut out her father’s heart. She sees family as an obstacle, or expendable at best.”
Zelena’s tears dampen his shirt. “I crossed a realm to find my family. Belonging is the only thing I want.”
He won’t insult her with false assurances that she belongs with him now. He doesn’t feel like that, and he’s quite certain she doesn’t. But something about her brittle presence in his arms makes him feel protective. Instead he says, “We’ll make your sister pay for what she’s done to us.”
Zelena stifles a sob and pulls back. Her pale blue eyes flicker with shame for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “What she did to you was so much worse. She murdered your wife; your soulmate.”
He manages not to flinch. He has spent years trying not to think about it; trying not to remember the anguish on friends’ faces when they brought him the news; trying not to visualise the many reports he heard from frightened peasants - Marian dragged in chains from village to village; Marian’s fruitless cries for help; Marian burning at the stake…
“We’ll make her pay,” he repeats, his jaw tightening so his words come out rough, like the bark on an old oak. He can almost taste the tannin on his tongue when he speaks. “But a quick death is too lenient.”
Zelena wipes a fresh tear from her cheek. “Yes. Death is too merciful for Regina. Our revenge will be merciless.”
That is when Robin kisses her - in gratitude, not love.
When Zelena kisses Robin in the woods outside Storybrooke it isn’t true love.
Not yet.
Their scheme has reached a critical moment and the risk of being discovered is at its highest. They can’t meet often and when they do it must be far from Robin’s camp. His men can’t understand why Robin Hood is allied with the Evil Queen who hunted them and killed his wife, but they dare not tell them the truth.
Robin sits on a tree stump with his sleeve rolled up, a wary look on his face.
“Is this going to hurt?” he asks.
“Not much. And it will only take a moment.”
“Doesn’t a tattoo take hours?”
“Not this one. It’s blood magic.”
Zelena uses a needle-like pipette to stir an oily brew in a pewter cup. The ink shimmers.
“What’s in it?” Robin asks.
“Besides Regina’s blood? Wormwood, mandrake, garlic…” She can tell he’s having second thoughts about this part. Men can be adorably squeamish.
“Mandrake? What’s wrong with simple ink? Why does it have to be magic?”
She indulges him with a smile. She finds it so easy to smile these days. It must be because she’s found her confidence; and a purpose.
“She’s not going to fall for you just because a fairy showed her a lion mark. She’s a grown woman, not some silly adolescent who thinks she’s ruled by pixie dust. We need a curse to kick-start this.”
“Will what she feels for me be real?”
“Real enough. Seeing this tattoo will put her in a suggestible state. But her choices will still be her own. It will be up to you to do the work.”
Robin shifts on the tree stump. “Perhaps I should just shoot her in the face. My arrow never misses.”
“My arrow, sweetheart,” she reminds him. “But I’ve forgiven you for that. Now give me your arm.”
Robin bears the mild discomfort with a stoicism she finds hilarious… but endearing. The cursed ink seeps into his skin with each brief touch of her pipette. The pale flesh on the inside of his arm soaks up its dark oiliness like absorbent paper, eager and fast. The heraldic image coalesces in seconds – masculine and solid.
“A lion rampant,” Robin notes. “But it’s backwards.”
“It’s sinister,” Zelena says.
“I don’t like it.” He sounds a little petulant. “This signifies disloyalty and disgrace.”
“Betrayal and deceit,” says Zelena. “Do you think you can pull that off?”
“To avenge Marian’s death, yes. But I’m keeping my options open. I might still shoot the bitch in the face.”
That is when Zelena kisses him - to offer encouragement.
When Zelena and Robin kiss each other in New York it isn’t true love.
Not quite.
“I never thought we’d end up somewhere like this,” Robin says. They are lying side by side in the creaky double bed. The apartment is tiny, but it has indoor plumbing and that alone makes it luxurious.
“The Saviour and the Snow Queen did us a favour,” says Zelena. “Their meddling lengthened our window to inflict Regina’s torment.”
Robin chuckles, and there is something musical about his malice. “It got a bit complicated, but it makes me glad she caught the arrow when I shot at her face.”
Zelena stretches and relaxes. Her red hair tumbles across white fabric. She is herself. They decided she would wear the glamour charm which maintains the façade of his dead wife during the day, just in case; but not when they’re in bed.
“I remember, it’s a heavy bugger. You need some respite!” Robin quipped. And Zelena understood.
“Do you regret our decision?” Zelena asks. “Not bringing Marian to Storybrooke, to the present?”
Robin takes a while to answer, but when he does he isn’t hesitant.
“The only thing I regret is not getting the chance to say goodbye to her. But that wasn’t your fault. Regina robbed me of that when she executed her. I lived with it for years, and with the horror of knowing she died a terrible death. You have given me the peace of knowing Marian died painlessly instead.”
“You don’t blame me for leaving behind your soulmate?”
Robin turns to look at her, and their faces are inches apart.
“Marian was my soulmate; but I am not the man I was. Her death made me different. Now we wouldn’t fit… like this.”
That is when they kiss – because they are falling in love.
When Regina catches sight of Robin and Zelena kissing in the padded cell she knows it is true love.
She knows because their kiss breaks the curse.
She feels the snares she didn’t know existed unwind from her subconscious: the layers of deceit – of false hopes dashed and cruel joke after cruel joke, played upon her sanity to make her strive and despair and demean herself.
Regina watches as the tattoo on Robin’s arm slides from his flesh like a leech that has sated itself at last. The lovers turn to look at her and clarity cuts through the air. It is cruel and honest, and now Regina remembers…
She remembers how Robin’s wrist twisted unnaturally to expose the lion when he offered her the drink.
She remembers how his enchanted arrow was never of any use in a fight - except that time she only just caught it.
She remembers how he would come back to her when she pushed him away – how insistent he was.
She remembers how he humiliated her in front of Emma and a stranger - treated her like a jealous, deluded ex…
And she contemplates how happy and content Zelena was to be brought back to Storybrooke.
The realisation leaves her exposed, emotionally naked.
“Why?” she asks.
“You killed my soulmate,” says Robin, harshly matter-of-fact. For the first time Regina realises how ugly he can make himself. His face is pure contempt.
“It’s poetic, don’t you think?” Zelena says. “Fake soulmate for dead soulmate.”
Regina feels ignominy eating into her guts. How infantile she must have sounded - “She killed Marian!” – like a guilty child deflecting blame when caught. She almost chokes.
“You actually thought you could kill Roland’s mother and then take her place?” Robin mocks. “What kind of hubris stops you from seeing how sick that is?”
The room spins. Regina grapples the door frame for support.
“You know, Regina, there was a point when I took pity on you,” says Zelena. “When we returned to Storybrooke I was going to call a halt to it. Give you a chance to accept me and my baby as family, unlike the way you’ve treated all your blood relatives up to this point.”
“I gave you a chance,” Regina insists.
Zelena snarls. “You left me alone and helpless in a cell to be murdered!”
Regina’s mind reels. She can’t speak.
Zelena touches her swelling belly where her child – their child – is growing to mock Regina with its simple presence. Her expression warps into the accusing sneer that Regina hates.
“But then you were going to kill us. You were ready to wipe me and this baby out of existence. And now you want to snatch it.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Robin says, pulling Zelena and his unborn child into a protective embrace. “You stay away from us, Regina. Away from Roland, away from our baby. You’re not wanted.”
And theirs is a kiss of triumph because their merciless vengeance is complete.