Stiles Stilinski finds out that his parents aren't who he thought they were. After the death of his father, he can no longer stay in Beacon Hills. Everything there reminded him of it. So he took Roscoe and together they embarked on their next advent...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Regina Mills hated her life. This was a punishment for all her dark deeds and atrocious acts she ever committed, this must be it. No other explanation.
She heaved another heavy sigh as she stared at the... gaggle of brats gathered in front of her. They were all quite distressed—that much was obvious—and very loud about expressing their worries.
She cleared her throat, and then she cleared her throat again because obviously, they didn't get the clue when she did it the first time. "As you all know, something happened to Stiles--"
"So something DID happen to him!" the golden-haired boy, whose name Regina didn't know nor did she care to learn, interrupted her rather rudely.
Regina's sigh was that of exasperation. "I'm glad your cognitive abilities are fully functional," the mayor sassed, "but if you'd allow me to finish speaking..."
Isaac snapped his mouth with a click, a tad embarrassed at his behavior. He was just so worried about Stiles, he couldn't help himself.
"As I was saying, we discerned that cause of Stiles's magical illness is definitely unnatural, I'd even go as far as to say it has magical origins. We are doing everything we can to find a way to wake him up without harming him any further, but--*sigh*" she sounded defeated, "to be perfectly honest, I have no idea as to how. We are looking for the ways as we speak."
"Do you--do you think he will wake up?" the strawberry blonde girl from the crowd asked her, her voice was timid, but it somehow made everyone hush down.
"Can't believe I'm the one saying this, but it's not the time to lose hope now. Stiles is strong, perhaps stronger than any of us give him credit for. I'm sure that he will wake up, it's simply a matter of when."
Regina tried to reassure them, but the message was quite clear. Regina wished she could've done more for the people present—it was obvious how distressed and anxious they were, she didn't need to be a werewolf to notice it—but the truth is, they didn't even know what caused his coma in the first place.
She was inclined to agree with that elf-boy, no one other than Rumple was capable of doing such a thing. Did not mean it was his doing though. Regina knew the imp longest, Rumple was always subtle. He wouldn't do something so foolhardy, not when he would be the only logical suspect by the end of the day. No, Regina suspected that someone far more dangerous than Rumplestiltskin was involved in this. She shuddered to think what type of being out there had the audacity to frame the Dark One, not fearing the repercussions.
Whoever was doing this – they were a clever motherfucker. Regina had to give them that. It was obvious. Who else would people suspect if not the immortal, powerful dark sorcerer who wronged—one way or another—every single person living in this town. Even Pan, his own father, didn't hesitate before outright accusing Rumplestiltskin.
Gears were turning in Regina's head as she tried to think of who would benefit from such a thing. This someone obviously knew Peter Pan well enough to calculate his reaction--Holy mother of god! The realization struck Regina like a lightning bolt. She surged to her feet and ran out of the room--at least she tried to. The doors were locked—magically.
