Outlaw Queen Shorts

Can You Keep A Secret?

Missing year, dimples queen.

Tiny hands find purchase on the flat stone bench, accompanied by a knee, then a foot, and finally Roland is standing next to the queen. Her back is straight, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Roland shuffles on his toes, waiting for her to look at him, to cup his chin and squeeze him in a hug until he can giggle no more. He's about to say her name, his mouth dropping open, when she turns and flashes him a bright smile, reaches out with both hands to tickle his sides.

"R'gina!" He squeaks with laughter, wriggling within her grasp until she relents and allows him to plonk down next to her on the warm stone, sparkling in the summer heat. He still wears his cloak, even with the blistering temperatures, the deep green material flowing like a river behind him when he runs across the grass.

"What brings my little merry man to the gardens?" She asks, her eyes flicking to the sweat soaked hair plastered to his temples. He really should take off that cloak.

Roland looks up at her with big eyes, chocolate coloured like her own and flecked with gold. His head tilts to the side, "Can you keep a secret?"

Regina's brow furrows, the quickest flash of stables in another life streaming before her eyes. She blinks, tries to not let Roland see her smile falter as she nods her head.
"Of course," she holds out her hand with her little finger extended, "pinky swear." It's something she and Henry used to do - before curses and evil queens entered his world - and the thought has a lump forming in her throat.

"What's a pinky swear?" Roland clambers to his knees, intrigued by her words and her gesture, pulling her from her memories.

"It's a special promise. The most sacred of all vows." Regina takes Roland's hand from his side and lifts it in line with hers. He closes his fist and leaves out his little finger too, mirroring her. "We link pinkies and your secret is safe with me." He's nodding, soaking up every syllable she has to say and it leaves her beaming when he wraps his finger around hers.

"My papa," he says, a mischievous grin playing on his lips that matches a certain thief's. There's a swift tug in her gut at the mention of him and she clears her throat, nods slightly, and draws her lips in a line to keep the corners from turning up. "He likes you."

She scoffs then, shaking her head as she flicks the hair which had fallen over her shoulder back behind her.

"And where did you find this out?"

"I was sneaking!" He claps his hands together and Regina smiles at how animated his features are when he talks, how much he reminds her of Henry at that age, but she doesn't let that upset her, not this time. She soaks it in, the memory almost as warm as the sun itself when it wraps around her. "I sneaked into Uncle John's tent and--and I heard him and papa talking about you."

Curiosity gets the best of her and she can't help asking more. "Roland, were you eavesdropping?" Regina isn't quite sure if she believes this tale, but she'd be lying if she said a small part of her didn't wish it was true. She tries to keep her tone firm, but her smirk gives her away. He shakes his head and a laugh erupts from him, his small arms wrapping around himself as she pulls him into her lap to pepper his cheeks with kisses.

---

The next morning he's walking towards her table in the great hall, the thief clad in his green tunic and brown boots, bow slung casually across his back. She quirks an eyebrow as he pulls the chair out beside her and sits down with the grace and swiftness of his profession. He's always so smooth, she thinks, so fluid with his motions. A few moments pass in silence as Robin shovels down his breakfast, the clink of fork against platter becoming almost hypnotic while she watches him.

"I gather one of my men has been rather...loose lipped," he gives her a pointed look, the curve of his lips making her eyes sparkle with mirth, "of late."

"I don't know what you mean," she says, because she made a promise and she will not break it.

"Well," he begins, lifting his arm to rest his elbow on the wooden tabletop, "I suppose I'll just have to tell you myself, since you already know." Regina narrows her eyes at him and he chuckles. How is he always so relaxed? If her heart wasn't pounding out of her chest, she'd offer him a retort. He extended his little finger, completely oblivious to the glances thrown their way by the packed hall. "But you'll have to pinky swear not to tell anyone."

She knew the smile on her face was cracking her evil queen mask. She knew Snow had been listening intently to the whole interaction from two seats away. And she knew that for once, she didn't care about any of it. She links her finger with his and he leans in close, close enough that she can feel the heat of his breath as he speaks, the air washing over her lips and making a heat rise up her cheeks.

"I like you, Regina."

His blue eyes are dark, locked with hers. It takes all of her will power to keep her voice steady as she tells him, "good," that sparkle in her eyes gleaming like the reflection of stars in a still lake. She stands from the table - leaving their bubble - his finger limp as she pulls her hand away from his. Her heels click against the stone floor, her hips swish beneath the satin of her gown and she leaves the hall, content with the knowledge he is well and truly in her palm.