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fan_flashworks2020-03-30 06:48 pm
queenkatyastar) wrote in fan_flashworks2020-03-30 06:48 pm
Entry tags:
Once Upon A Time: Fan Fic: Sunny, Spring Day
Title: Sunny, Spring Day
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Characters/Pairing: Regina, Henry
Rating: G/K
Challenge/Prompt: Fan-FlashWorks 294: Paint
Word Count: 1,917
Date Written: 29 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: Regina seeks to bond with Henry.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Regina pressed her lips firmly together as she looked from her blank easel to her own back yard. She had never been a fan of the idea of allowing her child to play unsupervised outdoors, but Henry loved the sunny, Spring weather and had been begging her for time out for weeks. Besides, she assured herself, standing here, she was able to keep a watchful, protective eye over her son the entire time he played "unsupervised". Nothing could happen to him.
He was also still in her kingdom. No being in the whole town would dare to touch a single hair on Henry's hair. No one came or went without her knowledge or permission, and even if some fool did try to approach her son, her own trees would stop them. Regina smiled as she surveyed the trees, all standing so tall and stately in her own grove. She had grown each of them by hand and recalled, with ease, every seed from which her small army of silent sentries had been raised. Unbeknownst to Henry, and the rest of the town for that matter, each tree could spring to life, and each would readily give its life for its mistress.
Regina smiled and let the curtain drop from her long, agile fingers. Her son was perfectly safe. No one would or could harm him, and she was close enough that if anyone were ever inane enough to try, the so-called law in this town would be the least of their worries. It gave her time to pursue other hobbies, and actual hobbies, at that. It had been years since she'd picked up a brush, but perhaps painting the scene she had in mind would give Henry an idea. Perhaps, she thought, her lips curling into a rare smile, it might even give her an idea.
She had a plan. She had a desire unlike anything she'd ever known before. Yet it was still a mystery to her as to how to make it happen. The boy should already love her. He should know that she was his mother, the only mother he had ever known and would ever need. Yet it was clear that he still hesitated to be alone around her. He still didn't like her, let alone love her. He almost . . . She wet her lips and swallowed hard, hating the admission even spoke aloud in the private sanctuary of her own mind. It was almost as though he feared her like the rest of the town did.
But Henry had no reason to fear her. She had never harmed him. She had never shown him the darkness in the world or allowed him to see her lose her temper. She had only ever loved him and treated him as a mother should. Still he insisted on speaking of his mysterious birth mother, and the threat that he might one day leave her for the woman who'd had him in prison, of all places, was an ever constant dark cloud that hung between them and the growth of the bond she longed to share with her son.
If she could only reach him, Regina thought. She couldn't control him. She'd learned that long ago from the way he insisted on still slipping around behind her back to talk with the Cricket and others of the doctor's ilk. He even liked to chat up Granny's little girl who was no longer so little and definitely not worthy of her son's time. But if she could reach him, if she could come to get him to at least trust her as a friend, perhaps she could finally form the bond with him for which she had always longed, the bond she'd thought would be her just right as his mother, as the one woman who had always loved and cared for him.
But that bond was not going to simply appear. No amount of magic could make the child love her, though she'd tried time and again. She had no choice but to somehow actually reach him if he was ever to learn to love her, or even care for her at all. Dark clouds gathered both in the bright, blue sky outside and in Regina's brown eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the wind rose and she lifted her brush again.
She had had friends once, or at least one friend. She still remembered Claire, and how her mother had taken that relationship from her as well. No one was going to stand in the way of her building the relationship with her son that was her right. No one was going to stand between them, or take her child away from her.
She started with big, fluid strokes as she painted in the background. Trees had been one of the most difficult things for her to learn how to paint, even worse than the human body, but apple trees had been her favorite even as a girl, back when she'd still had so very much to learn. She painted them first, then the sky and grass. Then, in the very center of the grove, she made a blanket. She thought of one she'd had as a child, a gift from her father whose various corners of cloth had each taken her on a different journey in her mind's imagination. She knew she could not begin to capture the wonders of that blanket, however, so she opted to create just a large, fluffy, and blue blanket. She tried to make it appear as fluffy and blue as the sky she'd seen outside, but she knew she was failing.
Then came the hardest part, painting Henry, making an image of her son who, though he did not love her, she loved very, very much. She moved slowly as she built the depiction, creating with smaller and more tender strokes. She tried to make him smile the way she yearned for him to smile, but he smiled so rarely now. She walked back over to the window, aching to see at least a hint of his smile for inspiration, but when she raised the curtain, Regina's blood set instantly to boiling.
The beautiful day was gone! The wind was whipping the tops of the trees, and the sky had turned an angry black. Still her son would rather be outside than indoors with her! Lightening flashed in the Mayor's dark, furious eyes. She opened her mouth to scream at him, but then shut her own mouth and pressed her lips tightly together.
She'd been going to add more to the painting. She had been going to create a veritable, mouth-watering feast for their picnic. She wanted so badly to connect with her son, but screaming at him to get indoors when he knew the weather was no longer safe, especially when it had just been so beautiful and peaceful, was certainly not the way to go about it.
Instead of yelling at her baby, she turned her ferocious glower onto the sky. She snatched lightening out of the sky and whisked the clouds away, moving her delicate hands in fast circles. The wind silenced as she snarled soundlessly at it. She dropped the curtain and started pointing. She could not create a blanket to match the one her father had given her with paint and brushes, but she could with her magic. She zapped it into creation, complete with the jumping, green bullfrog she used to adore as a child.
On top of the blanket appeared a large, wicker basket. If Red had had that basket back in the day, she never would have had to return to Granny's to fill her basket a second or third time for deliveries. Lifting the lid, Regina continued creating. Cakes, muffins, and cupcakes filled the basket along with fresh apples and pears, sausages, and tender slices of ham. She paused, considering possible drink, and finally settled on cartons of chocolate milk like the Faeries gave at the school and which Henry always seemed to love so much.
Finally, loaded with the basket and blanket, Regina squared her shoulders and marched outside to join the boy who was meant to be hers. "Henry," she called, beaming when she spotted him still standing in the cluster of trees, "you're right! It is such a beautiful day! It's perfect weather for a picnic, wouldn't you agree?"
Henry opened his mouth. She thought he might agree with her for once, but instead of risking his voiced disapproval, she rushed ahead. "I couldn't resist. I hope you don't mind having lunch outdoors today." She set the basket down and fluffed out the blanket.
"That's an . . . unusual blanket, Mom," Henry commented. His big eyes traveled the different panels of cloth.
"It . . . is fashioned after one my father gave me when I was about your age."
"Cool frog." He grinned, actually grinned, and Regina's heart soared at the sight. How could she have possibly forgotten, even for a second, every charming detail of that sweet smile? Now seeing it, though, she knew she never could come close to capturing it on canvas. Even her teacher would have failed miserably to capture that adorableness.
"I always liked him too. Wouldn't you like to see one in person?"
"Could we?" He beamed at her so eagerly, so joyfully that she could scarcely say no.
"We could journey into the forest a bit, after you've had lunch." Smiling, she set on the blanket and patted the spot next to her. For once, he did not argue, complain, or try to find a way to wiggle away from her.
Instead he actually sat down and looked curiously at the blanket. "What do we have?" he asked.
She began to draw confections out of the basket. "Cakes, cupcakes, muffins . . . " His eyes seemed to grow bigger with each new item she set before him. Her mind flashed back to the blind Witch with the gingerbread cottage, where everything had been created from confectionaries and laid as a huge trap. She could lure little children with sweets too, Regina thought gleefully, but there was only one child who she was interested in captivating now.
"But you must eat your protein too." She passed him sausage links and slices of ham, then leaned back and smiled as his grin grew at the sight of the milk cartons.
"Mom, this is -- " He seemed to search for a word. " -- fantastic!"
"I'm glad you approve," she said, beaming at him, and for once, she meant the words. She had never needed approval. She still didn't, she assured herself, but Henry's approval did mean a great deal to her, more so than anybody else's ever could, including her own mother's. After all, approval was a step closer to acceptance, and all great friendships began with approval and acceptance. "Eat up, Henry," she spoke, but the words came out as a low whisper.
They weren't needed anyway for her son was quickly gobbling down everything she'd placed in front of him. He was a growing boy, she reflected, and a happy boy. For a change, he was joyful. For a change, he was sitting beside her and not trying to find a way or a reason to escape. Right now, in this moment, he actually was her son. She was his mother, and she beamed as the birds sang a sunny song of Spring.
The End
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Characters/Pairing: Regina, Henry
Rating: G/K
Challenge/Prompt: Fan-FlashWorks 294: Paint
Word Count: 1,917
Date Written: 29 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: Regina seeks to bond with Henry.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Regina pressed her lips firmly together as she looked from her blank easel to her own back yard. She had never been a fan of the idea of allowing her child to play unsupervised outdoors, but Henry loved the sunny, Spring weather and had been begging her for time out for weeks. Besides, she assured herself, standing here, she was able to keep a watchful, protective eye over her son the entire time he played "unsupervised". Nothing could happen to him.
He was also still in her kingdom. No being in the whole town would dare to touch a single hair on Henry's hair. No one came or went without her knowledge or permission, and even if some fool did try to approach her son, her own trees would stop them. Regina smiled as she surveyed the trees, all standing so tall and stately in her own grove. She had grown each of them by hand and recalled, with ease, every seed from which her small army of silent sentries had been raised. Unbeknownst to Henry, and the rest of the town for that matter, each tree could spring to life, and each would readily give its life for its mistress.
Regina smiled and let the curtain drop from her long, agile fingers. Her son was perfectly safe. No one would or could harm him, and she was close enough that if anyone were ever inane enough to try, the so-called law in this town would be the least of their worries. It gave her time to pursue other hobbies, and actual hobbies, at that. It had been years since she'd picked up a brush, but perhaps painting the scene she had in mind would give Henry an idea. Perhaps, she thought, her lips curling into a rare smile, it might even give her an idea.
She had a plan. She had a desire unlike anything she'd ever known before. Yet it was still a mystery to her as to how to make it happen. The boy should already love her. He should know that she was his mother, the only mother he had ever known and would ever need. Yet it was clear that he still hesitated to be alone around her. He still didn't like her, let alone love her. He almost . . . She wet her lips and swallowed hard, hating the admission even spoke aloud in the private sanctuary of her own mind. It was almost as though he feared her like the rest of the town did.
But Henry had no reason to fear her. She had never harmed him. She had never shown him the darkness in the world or allowed him to see her lose her temper. She had only ever loved him and treated him as a mother should. Still he insisted on speaking of his mysterious birth mother, and the threat that he might one day leave her for the woman who'd had him in prison, of all places, was an ever constant dark cloud that hung between them and the growth of the bond she longed to share with her son.
If she could only reach him, Regina thought. She couldn't control him. She'd learned that long ago from the way he insisted on still slipping around behind her back to talk with the Cricket and others of the doctor's ilk. He even liked to chat up Granny's little girl who was no longer so little and definitely not worthy of her son's time. But if she could reach him, if she could come to get him to at least trust her as a friend, perhaps she could finally form the bond with him for which she had always longed, the bond she'd thought would be her just right as his mother, as the one woman who had always loved and cared for him.
But that bond was not going to simply appear. No amount of magic could make the child love her, though she'd tried time and again. She had no choice but to somehow actually reach him if he was ever to learn to love her, or even care for her at all. Dark clouds gathered both in the bright, blue sky outside and in Regina's brown eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the wind rose and she lifted her brush again.
She had had friends once, or at least one friend. She still remembered Claire, and how her mother had taken that relationship from her as well. No one was going to stand in the way of her building the relationship with her son that was her right. No one was going to stand between them, or take her child away from her.
She started with big, fluid strokes as she painted in the background. Trees had been one of the most difficult things for her to learn how to paint, even worse than the human body, but apple trees had been her favorite even as a girl, back when she'd still had so very much to learn. She painted them first, then the sky and grass. Then, in the very center of the grove, she made a blanket. She thought of one she'd had as a child, a gift from her father whose various corners of cloth had each taken her on a different journey in her mind's imagination. She knew she could not begin to capture the wonders of that blanket, however, so she opted to create just a large, fluffy, and blue blanket. She tried to make it appear as fluffy and blue as the sky she'd seen outside, but she knew she was failing.
Then came the hardest part, painting Henry, making an image of her son who, though he did not love her, she loved very, very much. She moved slowly as she built the depiction, creating with smaller and more tender strokes. She tried to make him smile the way she yearned for him to smile, but he smiled so rarely now. She walked back over to the window, aching to see at least a hint of his smile for inspiration, but when she raised the curtain, Regina's blood set instantly to boiling.
The beautiful day was gone! The wind was whipping the tops of the trees, and the sky had turned an angry black. Still her son would rather be outside than indoors with her! Lightening flashed in the Mayor's dark, furious eyes. She opened her mouth to scream at him, but then shut her own mouth and pressed her lips tightly together.
She'd been going to add more to the painting. She had been going to create a veritable, mouth-watering feast for their picnic. She wanted so badly to connect with her son, but screaming at him to get indoors when he knew the weather was no longer safe, especially when it had just been so beautiful and peaceful, was certainly not the way to go about it.
Instead of yelling at her baby, she turned her ferocious glower onto the sky. She snatched lightening out of the sky and whisked the clouds away, moving her delicate hands in fast circles. The wind silenced as she snarled soundlessly at it. She dropped the curtain and started pointing. She could not create a blanket to match the one her father had given her with paint and brushes, but she could with her magic. She zapped it into creation, complete with the jumping, green bullfrog she used to adore as a child.
On top of the blanket appeared a large, wicker basket. If Red had had that basket back in the day, she never would have had to return to Granny's to fill her basket a second or third time for deliveries. Lifting the lid, Regina continued creating. Cakes, muffins, and cupcakes filled the basket along with fresh apples and pears, sausages, and tender slices of ham. She paused, considering possible drink, and finally settled on cartons of chocolate milk like the Faeries gave at the school and which Henry always seemed to love so much.
Finally, loaded with the basket and blanket, Regina squared her shoulders and marched outside to join the boy who was meant to be hers. "Henry," she called, beaming when she spotted him still standing in the cluster of trees, "you're right! It is such a beautiful day! It's perfect weather for a picnic, wouldn't you agree?"
Henry opened his mouth. She thought he might agree with her for once, but instead of risking his voiced disapproval, she rushed ahead. "I couldn't resist. I hope you don't mind having lunch outdoors today." She set the basket down and fluffed out the blanket.
"That's an . . . unusual blanket, Mom," Henry commented. His big eyes traveled the different panels of cloth.
"It . . . is fashioned after one my father gave me when I was about your age."
"Cool frog." He grinned, actually grinned, and Regina's heart soared at the sight. How could she have possibly forgotten, even for a second, every charming detail of that sweet smile? Now seeing it, though, she knew she never could come close to capturing it on canvas. Even her teacher would have failed miserably to capture that adorableness.
"I always liked him too. Wouldn't you like to see one in person?"
"Could we?" He beamed at her so eagerly, so joyfully that she could scarcely say no.
"We could journey into the forest a bit, after you've had lunch." Smiling, she set on the blanket and patted the spot next to her. For once, he did not argue, complain, or try to find a way to wiggle away from her.
Instead he actually sat down and looked curiously at the blanket. "What do we have?" he asked.
She began to draw confections out of the basket. "Cakes, cupcakes, muffins . . . " His eyes seemed to grow bigger with each new item she set before him. Her mind flashed back to the blind Witch with the gingerbread cottage, where everything had been created from confectionaries and laid as a huge trap. She could lure little children with sweets too, Regina thought gleefully, but there was only one child who she was interested in captivating now.
"But you must eat your protein too." She passed him sausage links and slices of ham, then leaned back and smiled as his grin grew at the sight of the milk cartons.
"Mom, this is -- " He seemed to search for a word. " -- fantastic!"
"I'm glad you approve," she said, beaming at him, and for once, she meant the words. She had never needed approval. She still didn't, she assured herself, but Henry's approval did mean a great deal to her, more so than anybody else's ever could, including her own mother's. After all, approval was a step closer to acceptance, and all great friendships began with approval and acceptance. "Eat up, Henry," she spoke, but the words came out as a low whisper.
They weren't needed anyway for her son was quickly gobbling down everything she'd placed in front of him. He was a growing boy, she reflected, and a happy boy. For a change, he was joyful. For a change, he was sitting beside her and not trying to find a way or a reason to escape. Right now, in this moment, he actually was her son. She was his mother, and she beamed as the birds sang a sunny song of Spring.
The End