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For @oparu, in an attempt to make a terrible birthday slightly more bearable. I told her I’d write her anything she wanted, and she asked for Dragon Queen. So I wrote the most romantic, sappy little scene for her. I hope she likes it… if not, I’ll just have to write some other DQ ficlet for her.
****
It was the kind of cold that went straight to the bones and made them ache, a cold so deep that the stars themselves seemed to burn brighter and colder in the clear skies overhead.
It was a night for cozy fires and warm blankets and hot cocoa.
Regina was outside, bundled into several layers and still cold, still huddling her gloved hands into her pockets as she made her way along the moonlit path between the trees of the north woods.
Occasionally she looked up at the sky as if she were navigating by the stars instead of following a carefully maintained trail. Once she looked at her watch and picked up her pace a little, her breath puffing out with the moderate exertion.
After just another couple of minutes on the path she turned off it and climbed up a small slope. When she reached the top, she looked down into what was most often a well-sized clearing. Today, it seemed a little on the small side as much of it was taken up by a large dragon, scales glinting in the light from above.
The dragon’s head swung around toward Regina, giant eyes fixing on her in a manner that would make almost any human’s heart seize with abject terror.
Regina just smiled as she stepped onto the downward slope, the dragon’s gaze following her progress.
“I think I found a flaw in our system,” Regina said, sliding a little further than she liked but managing to stay upright, “It’s really getting too cold to meet outside like this. At least for me.”
The dragon’s head curled away and then swirled into inky smoke, resolving into the form of a woman–dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather. Mal, instead of the sensible suit and coat combo she’d mainly sported since coming to Storybrooke, wore a loose blue gown with a black cloak over it, her hair down and in soft waves.
“There isn’t even any snow on the ground,” Mal pointed out reasonably. “But if you’re that frail, darling, I’ll come to your little wooden house next time.”
Regina’s lips quirked up. “Much appreciated,” she said, and sighed. “Even so, the walk here was beautiful.”
“It’s much quieter these days,” Mal said. “It makes a nice change from the summer when someone would insist on tromping through my nice, sunny clearing at least twice a day.”
“Storybrooke is rather small,” Regina said. “But we could build you a dragon reserve if you liked.”
Mal shook her head. “And be fenced in? I’d rather suffer the occasional peasant.”
Regina laughed even as she shivered, colder now that she wasn’t walking.
Mal frowned to see it. “Come here, dear heart, and let me warm you.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Regina teased, but she moved closer to Mal, who enfolded her in her arms. The heat from Mal’s body begin to warm her from head to toe and made it almost possible to forget the bitter cold.
This was familiar to both of them, and yet new. Back in the old days, they’d embraced like this, but Regina had been drawing away and becoming hard even as Mal had been softening, growing her child. Mal had been looking toward the future as Regina dwelled on the wrongs done to her, letting her bitterness fester. Now, their softness matched, old bitternesses fading into the past.
Regina, warm now, turned in Mal’s arms so they were face to face. “I didn’t come out here just to look at the stars.”
“Oh?” Mal said. “What other attractions could a night like this hold?”
Regina reached up and drew Mal’s head down to her own, capturing her lips in a kiss, a gentle thing that deepened into promise as they were silhouetted against the starry sky.
****
It was the kind of cold that went straight to the bones and made them ache, a cold so deep that the stars themselves seemed to burn brighter and colder in the clear skies overhead.
It was a night for cozy fires and warm blankets and hot cocoa.
Regina was outside, bundled into several layers and still cold, still huddling her gloved hands into her pockets as she made her way along the moonlit path between the trees of the north woods.
Occasionally she looked up at the sky as if she were navigating by the stars instead of following a carefully maintained trail. Once she looked at her watch and picked up her pace a little, her breath puffing out with the moderate exertion.
After just another couple of minutes on the path she turned off it and climbed up a small slope. When she reached the top, she looked down into what was most often a well-sized clearing. Today, it seemed a little on the small side as much of it was taken up by a large dragon, scales glinting in the light from above.
The dragon’s head swung around toward Regina, giant eyes fixing on her in a manner that would make almost any human’s heart seize with abject terror.
Regina just smiled as she stepped onto the downward slope, the dragon’s gaze following her progress.
“I think I found a flaw in our system,” Regina said, sliding a little further than she liked but managing to stay upright, “It’s really getting too cold to meet outside like this. At least for me.”
The dragon’s head curled away and then swirled into inky smoke, resolving into the form of a woman–dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather. Mal, instead of the sensible suit and coat combo she’d mainly sported since coming to Storybrooke, wore a loose blue gown with a black cloak over it, her hair down and in soft waves.
“There isn’t even any snow on the ground,” Mal pointed out reasonably. “But if you’re that frail, darling, I’ll come to your little wooden house next time.”
Regina’s lips quirked up. “Much appreciated,” she said, and sighed. “Even so, the walk here was beautiful.”
“It’s much quieter these days,” Mal said. “It makes a nice change from the summer when someone would insist on tromping through my nice, sunny clearing at least twice a day.”
“Storybrooke is rather small,” Regina said. “But we could build you a dragon reserve if you liked.”
Mal shook her head. “And be fenced in? I’d rather suffer the occasional peasant.”
Regina laughed even as she shivered, colder now that she wasn’t walking.
Mal frowned to see it. “Come here, dear heart, and let me warm you.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Regina teased, but she moved closer to Mal, who enfolded her in her arms. The heat from Mal’s body begin to warm her from head to toe and made it almost possible to forget the bitter cold.
This was familiar to both of them, and yet new. Back in the old days, they’d embraced like this, but Regina had been drawing away and becoming hard even as Mal had been softening, growing her child. Mal had been looking toward the future as Regina dwelled on the wrongs done to her, letting her bitterness fester. Now, their softness matched, old bitternesses fading into the past.
Regina, warm now, turned in Mal’s arms so they were face to face. “I didn’t come out here just to look at the stars.”
“Oh?” Mal said. “What other attractions could a night like this hold?”
Regina reached up and drew Mal’s head down to her own, capturing her lips in a kiss, a gentle thing that deepened into promise as they were silhouetted against the starry sky.
