Chapter Text
The spell had gone wrong in the most dramatic way possible: Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke, had shrunk down into a tiny, scowling seven-year-old with her hair tied back in a twisted ponytail.
You found her standing in the middle of her living room, drowning in her own blazer like it was a cape. Arms crossed. Chin tilted up. Eyebrows sharp enough to cut glass.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, the pitch of her voice higher but no less terrifying.
You tried—really tried—not to laugh. “I wasn’t—”
“You were.” She stomped a little patent-leather shoe. “I am still the mayor. Nothing changes. Nothing.”
“Except you can barely reach the doorknob.”
The glare she sent could have frozen the sun. You half expected her to conjure fireballs. Instead, she huffed, flung her arms up, and demanded, “Carry me.”
So you did.
All day, she was this contradiction, bossing you around like a tiny tyrant. Stealing the last bite of pie and saying “It’s mine. By law.” Pointing at people who stared too long and declaring, “She’s with me.”
But as soon as night fell, and you were trying to tuck her into bed, the bravado slipped. She clutched the blanket up to her nose, her big brown eyes glimmering in the lamplight.
“You won’t leave, right?” Her voice was softer, almost pleading. “Not even if I’m…like this.”
Your heart melted on the spot. You brushed her hair back, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Never, Gina. Not ever.”
She gave a satisfied little nod, grabbed your hand like it was her lifeline, and within minutes, your fierce, pint-sized mayor was fast asleep—still holding on tight.