This was not the sort of grief that responded to words. Regina knew. It was the sort of grief that led to three-decade long revenge schemes. First loves, broken hearts--at least she hadn't been the cause, but it didn't change how she grieved for Snow.

She didn't tell her daughter it would be all right. It wouldn't. She didn't tell her she was here. She was, and it mattered, but not right now. She didn't tell her they'd find Sansa. They probably wouldn't.

What she said was, "Snow, sweetheart," and with tears in her eyes and her voice, "I'm so sorry."