#cs reverse Cinderella au fic

[snowbellewells]

Birthday Fic for @kmomof4: "Dreams that You Wish Will Come True" {Part Three} *Story Now Complete*

Oh goodness, the day is finally here! Poor Krystal @kmomof4 had to wait almost until her next birthday for her gift to be finished, but here is the last chapter to this Reverse Cinderella CS AU. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I really enjoyed trying to tie this up with a big fairy tale happy ending bow! I hope all of you reading it will enjoy and let me know what you think.

Without further adieu, here is Part Three...

Summary: Granted a night to seek adventure and dreams, young Killian Jones meets young Princess Emma at her birthday ball. Though the moment is filled with all the excitement and magic of the best fairy tales, it is over too soon and he must leave before the dream is shattered. Will they find each other again?

A Reverse Cinderella AU for (@kmomof4) Krystal's Birthday

You can also read from the beginning here on Tumblr, or on AO3, if that is your preference...

Part Three

When Killian managed to escape the palace, slipping through the wide front gates with a deep sigh of relief, he could see the carriage in which he had arrived waiting for him, Liam beckoning him frantically from the window. He had no time to mourn leaving the stunning princess - who had seemed to wish he would stay - or the marvelous evening he had enjoyed. He did not know the exact consequences which would be visited on him if he missed his given deadline, but he did not relish finding out, particularly in front of an entire ball’s audience as witnesses. Her Royal Highness Emma of Misthaven had beguiled him completely, more than he would have even imagined possible, and he would have remained there beside her on that balcony, or holding her in his arms as they danced, forever if it were possible, but it was simply not to be.

It was only as he was seated and they were speeding away from the castle that Killian delved his hand into his pocket, fishing for the ring that had once belonged to their mother so he could return it to Liam’s care. But to his surprised dismay, his fingers brushed only the inside of his pockets, not a smooth curve of metal. Withdrawing his hand with a sinking feeling, Killian looked to his elder sibling forlornly, knowing his brother would immediately sense something was not right.

“What is it, Little Brother?” Liam spoke up right on cue, concern evident in the crack of his voice. “I realize you had to leave the party early, but your face suddenly looks as if something much worse has happened.”

It was a testament to just how upset Killian was that the customary instinct to correct his brother’s annoying choice of moniker didn’t even whisper in his mind. Drawing in a resigned breath, it was all Killian could do to meet Liam’s eye, though determined to give him at least that much. Instead, he pulled both pockets inside out to demonstrate the proof of his words. “Liam, forgive me, but Mother’s ring is no longer here. I didn’t take it out. I felt its presence at my side often throughout the night, and yet… now…it is gone.”

Both of the Jones brothers seemed sunk in painful silence after that, not sure what - if any - words there were to offer after such an irreversible finding. The ring was not intrinsically of value, but it was priceless as a physical tie to the woman who bore them and loved them both with all she had until life was taken from her much too soon. Liam looked out the window, wondering how to ease this pain and how to ease Killian’s obvious guilt for something that was not his fault at all, just an unfortunate loss which could have happened to anyone. A muscle worked in his jaw, causing Killian to incorrectly assumer anger or irritation as he snuck glances at Liam, causing him to berate himself even further. He tried to replay the events of the evening - difficult because his focus had narrowed to little beyond the Princess Emma once she’d spoken to him - desperate to come up with any moment, any place, the ring might have been lost. And still he came up with nothing.

Killian had already been saddened by having to leave the beautiful young woman who had needed only moments to steal his heart, but his spirits had sunken lower still with the loss of the irreplaceable keepsake with which Liam had entrusted him. As the carriage slowed upon the cobblestone streets leading down to the docks, the wheels rolled to a halt and Liam reached out to grasp his forearm tightly; a grasp firm, but far from being harsh or painful. His brother’s eyes were stormy slate, almost gray instead of their normal slightly darker blue than his own. Yet, Killian finally realized, they held a hurt, yes, but none of the recrimination or blame he had assumed. 

“Brother, it wasn’t your fault,” Liam rasped, holding his gaze steadily in a bid to convey his seriousness. “You did nothing wrong. The ring is gone, aye, but naught can be done about it now. These things happen, and we shall simply have to go on without it.”

Killian blinked, nonplussed, uncertain that he had heard Liam correctly. “But y-you kept it safe all this time… a-and the first time you trusted me with it, I - I lost it… The one thing we still had of Mother’s,” Killian stammered, eyes falling to his lap.

“Yes, but Killian,” Liam soothed, calloused forefinger curling under his chin to tip Killian’s face up to meet his own once more, “it was an accident - one that could have happened to me just as easily, or to anyone, for that matter. Besides, it is still just a thing, precious as it was to us for being hers. It isn’t her; holding onto it won’t bring her back. We still have our memories, with or without the talisman to accompany them.”

Killian was speechless and overcome at those words, and at the certain knowledge that Liam meant them sincerely. Finally, he managed to nod his understanding and swallowed hard, though he was unable to force any words past the lump in his throat. Leaning over where their knees nearly met between the facing carriage seats, he threw his arms around his brother’s neck, embracing him tightly. “Thank you,” he finally managed wetly against Liam’s shoulder.

To which Liam merely hummed lowly, returned his embrace and patted his back until they parted, much calmer and more at ease.

Stepping down the cobblestone byway, Killian barely took note of the horse and driver clattering off - brought by magic and obviously returning the same way. He looked down to the end of the dock. Through the misty lantern-lit dim of earliest morning, he could see where their ship bobbed gently in her berth. No matter what he had experienced this night - the magical, enthralling moments he could never have dreamed if they hadn’t been true, the panicked flight as the clock struck midnight, and the horrible loss of their family token, the first charming blush of love and the aching pull of tearing himself from her - he had come full circle back to where he’d begun. He would never forget the magical meeting, the chance to dance with the princess herself; yet, it had not truly changed anything, now that it was over. He would still board the ship again, working side-by-side with his brother until they were free, and he would simply have to treasure what he remembered of the marvelous night he had been gifted. For one night, he could have almost imagined he was a prince to match her in a happily ever after. And that would have to be enough for him.

~~~~*~~~~

Though Killian would not have thought it possible in the immediate aftermath, and he had been loathe to open his eyes to the familiar bunk and crowded quarters the morning following Princess Emma’s birthday ball, life did rather quickly settle back into its familiar rhythm. It certainly wasn’t the fine clothing, rich food, and orchestral music he had experienced for those few fleeting hours at the royal palace, nor would climbing up to the crow’s nest for lookout duty or the well-rehearsed way he and Cook wove and slipped around each other in the limited galley space to prepare and serve the crew’s meals be anything equal to the unforgettable whirl of the dances he had shared with his blonde siren that night. But, though there was an ache in his chest, a void he had not known existed until meeting her, Killian Jones was much too busy, worked much too hard from dawn until dark to dwell, or grow truly miserable. He wished he had not been forced to leave the way he had, that he could have at least taken time to explain to the princess, but he tried to be comforted by the fact that she surely was not suffering for it; Princess Emma must have forgotten all about him before the week was out. He was a nobody with whom she had shared barely an hour, and with all the other suitors and friends and family by which she was surrounded, she would obviously be right as rain in no time.

As if they had never met.

If only that weren’t the opposite of comfort to him.

And if only he truly believed it.

Occasionally, on quiet night when his duties were completed and he could slip away without being noticed, Killian sat on deck, looking up at the stars silently, thinking even their heavenly glow could not match the sparkle of her green eyes. It was some tiny solace that, as far removed as he was from her, if Emma looked up to the sky as well, they would be gazing at the very same stars.

He simply could not relinquish the small flare of hope that had been ignited inside by either the incredible night, or the magic of his fairy godmother, or some strange amalgamation of the two. Sometimes, he even swore he heard Nova’s small, musical voice whispering in his ear amidst the quiet sky and the gentle lapping of waves against the hull, telling him not to give up, his story was not over yet.

Killian Jones, well out to sea and far away from the happenings of Misthaven and the talk of those who lived there, had no way of knowing that far from being forgotten, his princess thought of him every day. She tried valiantly to conceal her emotions, to appear normal and unfazed by the fact that the young man to whom she had given her undivided attention and favor had fled from her ball - and her - and seemingly disappeared. The ones who knew her best were hardly fooled, but they allowed Emma her brave face. After all, she was still searching for him.

When Will had first shown her the antique ring on the worn chain and told her it had been in the pocket of the young man who’d captured her heart, Emma had taken it as a sign. The fact that she held in her possession an item that was obviously dear to him had been some encouragement to her in the immediate aftermath of Killian’s hasty exit. She had been certain he would quickly return looking for the trinket. Her plan had not been to hold the ring ransom of course, but to hand it over gladly once he explained to her what had gone wrong, why he’d left her with such speed, and she hoped to ascertain the truth in his eyes or his voice to understand if it had all been in her head, or if what she had felt between them was still there.

However, days, and then weeks, then nearly a month, had passed with no sign of Killian, no appearance made to claim what was rightfully his. Emma vacillated between wanting to box Will’s ears for picking Killian’s pockets in the first place and taking from him something that she could just feel had great sentimental value, and then wanting to squeeze him about the waist until his breath caught, thankful she had something to hold onto, to remind her that Killian and that whole night, those precious moments in his arms and together on the balcony, had not been a fictitious mirage. She would admit to no one that she slept with the ring beneath her pillow each night, her fingers tangled in the chain, but she did just that. It dangled from her grasp as she stared up at the moon and stars from her balcony, wondering where he might be under those same constellations, and she often fell asleep wondering if she would ever see the mysterious young man of her dreams again.

At first, when Killian had failed to return, Princess Emma had been stymied. She was clever and determined, and though hardly spoiled, she was beloved and honored by all of those around her; rarely did her wishes and plans fail to come to fruition. It was not until she finally broke down and spoke to her father when they were alone in his study one afternoon that a new course of action began to take shape.

After reluctantly admitting that she wanted to go searching for the young gentleman she had met at the ball (a fact her father had long since surmised but was prudent enough not to mention) and explaining how they had seemingly been interrupted by the ticking of time itself, the King suggested a plan that Emma could enthusiastically approve. It was ingenious in seeming perfectly natural for her to do anyway as she matured and her royal duties as heir to the throne increased. In fact, Emma wondered how she had not come up with it herself.

From there on out, whenever her father went to inspect a ship of their fleet, offer a sailor a promotion, or christen a new ship, she would accompany him. No one would find it at all odd for the princess to do so; in fact it might add to the occasion, and she meanwhile could look for her sailor in particular.

Unfortunately, just as Killian had no way of knowing Emma was seeking him so earnestly, she had no way of knowing that his ship was not part of their Misthavian fleet, and no matter how many she boarded she would not find him there. She had taken up her father’s idea with unfettered enthusiasm, but as several more months passed with no further luck than before she couldn’t help being disheartened. It would seem that somehow this one special person who had touched her soul had somehow sailed beyond her reach - somewhere she might never find him.

It might have carried on that way interminably if Killian’s fairy godmother had not once again used a touch of her magic to intervene. While Silver’s ship was hardly a law-abiding vessel of any kingdom, there was little chance of her charge being united with the young princess, whom she as a fairy could see was his True Love. And Nova was tired of waiting; this young man had already been twisted and pulled by the vagaries of Fate for entirely too long. The fact that he had been so surprised by her initial appearance proved that. She was called upon to be his benefactress, and now that she had begun the job, Nova was not ready to give up.

It was simple enough for a clever and determined being with magic to effect a small but troubling leak in the hull of the pirate ship - one that necessitated their entering the nearest port - conveniently, as Nova had intended, Misthaven’s - and docking for repairs. Easier still to make certain that the shipwright Silver sent his first mate to see had difficulty locating the needed materials, ensuring the ship and its crew would remain long enough for her youthful sailor to be reunited with his match.

Once the fairy had accomplished her part, she did not even have to provide a nudge on the other side as she had anticipated. It would seem that True Love carried within itself a powerful type of kismet. Barely had Captain Silver and most of his crew disembarked and dispersed throughout the village - to taverns, market stalls, and beyond - than a commotion alerted those few left aboard to an entourage of some sort approaching along the docks.

Killian was below deck when the heavily arrayed and armored phalanx neared his ship’s berth and paused to look up. He had scrubbing in the galley to do and a mess of potatoes to peel and slice for dinner besides. So it was only an older sailor and Liam, left aboard as lookouts, who actually saw the visitors were King David, the Princess, and a number of castle guards, now formally requesting permission to come aboard. Neither sailor was prepared to deny the monarch, regardless of the fact that they were hardly a ship of his loyal fleet, nor strictly under his domain.

Once the King planted his feet solidly on the bare planks of the ship, he faced the two men with one hand resting confidently on the pommel of his sword and his discerning eyes seeming to drill through Liam uncomfortably. “Are you all who are left on the vessel? And what is your purpose within our port? You are not from here, that much is obvious.”

Before either Liam or his befuddled compatriot could decide how best to answer that second query, the princess stepped to King David’s side with quiet dignity, laying a soft hand upon her father’s forearm as though giving a calming reminder. She did not speak aloud, but the look shared between father and daughter spoke volumes, and coupled with a slight shake of her head, the King seemed to pause and mentally draw back, ceding center stage to his daughter.

“Greetings,” the Princess began, her voice calm and measured, but carrying a low, husky warmth that Liam could immediately admit was intriguing. “Thank you for your hospitality. We realize, of course, that this is an open port as long as no malfeasance is occurring or harm is coming to any of our subjects via a visitor’s presence; therefore, you have extended us a courtesy in allowing us to board.”

Liam’s eyes shot back to the king and his gathered attachment, as the monarch flinched slightly but held himself in check, and many of those armed and at the ready to defend him seemed to fidget restlessly. It had to be clear that they were neither a naval nor a merchant vessel, and none on the deck seemed at ease with the other contingent’s presence except for the Princess standing in the middle of them all.

Her eyes were knowing, and her mouth bore an almost bemused upward quirk at the corner of her full, pink lips. He could swear she was practically winking at him, as if to convey that she knew who they were, but was not about to let it concern or thwart her mission. “Let us simply agree that lectures on moral sea trading practice and fealty to kingdom and crown are not the purpose for our visit,” she assured, her voice steady and strong, but also nonthreatening; a true feat since her words confirmed that she understood what they were normally about on the Merry Rogue.

She stepped nearer still to Liam, every movement poised and graceful as the Queen she would one day become, and peered up into his face, searching his eyes as if she saw something within their depths that she recognized. 

Nonplussed by both her words and bearing, as well as her mere presence altogether, Liam simply dipped his chin in an obliging nod to acknowledge her words. “Understood,” he agreed simply. “And if that be the case, then what do you ask of us, your Highness?”

Beneath her placid surface, the Princess’ eyes flickered with a pained emotion as she drew in a deep breath, then leaned closer to confide quietly. “I am hoping to find someone who means a great deal to me,” she admitted at a volume that quite possibly only he could hear. “I’ve been seeking him for months now, on each new ship christened, at every ball since, whenever we offer promotions or awards to our sailors��” She trailed off and swallowed hard before continuing once more. “I have used any capacity available to me as princess to search, but in truth, I did not step aboard this ship today as a royal, but merely as a person trying to follow her heart. When we neared your ship’s berth, I had a feeling, a pull in my gut which I couldn’t ignore. And so,” here she pulled herself to her full height again, straightening and squaring her shoulders as if to ready herself for any response, then repeated the question her father had asked, but in a tone of desperate hope. “Are there any others on board this ship at present?”

Liam’s heart had begun to race as she spoke, realizing more with each moment that passed that the beauty standing before him was as taken with his younger brother as Killian had been with her. He had known the princess on sight, but had been wary, uncertain of the royals’ purpose at first and intent on keeping Killian from further pain or risk if he could. Seeing now that his brother’s silent yearning - obvious despite Killian’s dogged efforts to carry on with life - had not been in vain, nor was it one-sided, Liam could not keep a wide grin from stretching across his face ridiculously, nearly bowled over by the miraculous turn of events.

“Just one other, Princess,” he replied. “My brother is below in the galley. Allow me to fetch him for you.” Liam knew that his voice had trembled audibly with emotion, nerves and excitement, but was powerless to stop it. Moving to the open hatch, he called down the stairs. “Killian! You’re needed topside, Little Brother!”

They could all hear the rattle and clang of dishes banging below and then a playfully exasperated call in answer, “That’s younger brother!” in a tone that clearly said it had been repeated often before it was followed by the added, “I’ll be there in a moment! Hold on!”

They waited wordlessly, but it was hard to decide who was more anxious for him to appear - Liam or the Princess. Both gave each other nervous smiles, fidgeting and shuffling their feet, and neither was willing to look away from the open hatch and the steps leading below deck.

When a dark, ruffled head of hair appeared in the opening, followed by the familiar blue-eyed face and crooked smile, then shoulders and torso as Killian climbed the ladder fully, Princess Emma drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening and going teary-bright as she saw him before her at last. After all her searching and beginning to wonder if he could be found, there he stood - not a figment of her imagination at all, thankfully. Emma glanced quickly over her shoulder at her Papa, as though confirming that he saw Killian too.

King David merely nodded, a gentle look on his regal face now, pleased for her and seeming to urge her forward, to do whatever she had come to do.

That seemed to steady Misthaven’s hair to the throne once more. Emma wet her lips nervously with the tip of her tongue, her eyes roving over his features avidly, even as her fingers twisted together where she clasped her hands before her. No shrinking violet, even in this clearly pivotal moment, however, she drew a step nearer still and finally addressed him directly. “Killian, you’re really here. I began to fear you’d vanished off the face of the Earth.”

She gave him a playful grin along with those shaky words, but Killian’s heart stuttered at the sincerity he heard beneath her attempt at brave jest. She had questions, rightfully so, and unbelievable as it seemed, self doubts as well unless his senses misjudged things. In truth, he was still trying to recover from the surprise at seeing her there on a ship fit for rogues and scoundrels, not royalty, and his heart tried to beat from his chest at the very idea that she would have sought him out after his flight from the ball. He was hardly worthy of her undivided attention then, much less her extended effort after the fact. Huskily, Killian managed to at least say something, knowing he needed to speak and not just stare at her mutely in an attempt to drink in her image. “Aye, it’s me, Princess. Killian Jones at your service.” He sketched a quick bow with those words, then winced at the awkwardness of the hasty gesture.

The princess gave a huff of humor and wry self-deprecation at his response. “It would have been helpful to have that last name before now,” she sighed, shaking her head.

Killian didn’t know how to answer that, still baffled to find her standing before him in all her glowing, golden beauty, much less that she would have remembered even the first name he had carefully given her or try to seek him out with it.

Princess Emma seemed to shake herself from that frustration quickly, waving her hand as if to bat away her own words. “Nevermind,” she pressed on, meeting his gaze earnestly, “in any case, I have something I need to give you.”

Reaching into the small pouch that rested at her hip, Emma drew out a blessedly recognizable circle of metal on a heavy chain - the missing ring that Killian had believed he’d lost. Almost breathlessly, Killian reached out to take the treasured piece of jewelry from her, opening his hand and clasping his fingers closed around it as the chain slid from her grip and the comforting weight landed on his palm. “Thank you,” he stammered, dazed with the turn of events yet again. “I cannot tell you how much it means to have this back… It- it belonged to my mother.”

Emma’s eyes went soft and misty, as if she could somehow discern the loss behind that statement. The small grin she was giving him wobbled a bit, but she nodded before adding, “Well, it was the least I could do after my ne’er-do-well friend picked it from your pocket. Before you shower me with too much gratitude, I believe I owe you an apology.”

Here, she bowed her head, suddenly appearing as bashful as he had felt from the start. Unable to stop himself, or consider the impropriety of his actions, Killian leaned forward, tipping her chin up with gentle fingers so he could meet her glistening jade eyes once more. “No please, don’t worry about that, your Highness. Truly, I am in your debt.”

At his words, her smile grew, blooming across her face like sunshine after rain. Neither of them spoke for some time as they gazed at each other breathlessly. None of those scattered around them moved or spoke either, as if unwilling to shatter a moment in which the very air seemed to waver with a charge of energy or magic, some force that could not be denied.

When Princess Emma spoke again, she seemed to be gathering her courage once more before nervously chewing her lower lip and reaching out to clasp his hand in both of her smaller ones. “I have one more confession to make,” she admitted in barely more than a whisper.

Killian didn’t know where the cheekiness that somehow overtook him just then came from, but he tilted his head, arching one brow curiously as he did, before rasping, “You mean beyond theft, Milady? Why what else could it be?” He wanted to bite off his own tongue as soon as the flippant retort was uttered, but then quickly changed his mind upon seeing the flush that rose up the princess’ cheeks and the intrigued spark that flickered across her expression. He nearly laughed aloud before her next words utterly floored him and stunned him to silence.

“Yes, something else,” she recovered, seeming determined to say whatever else she had in mind. Gathering a breath that visibly filled her lungs and then letting it out in a whoosh of air, she pressed their joined hands tightly and plunged ahead. “Right now, I stand before you, not as a princess and future ruler, but as a woman - young though I might be - who has been unable to forget you since the night we met. I might have held your family heirloom unintentionally, but it would seem you have held onto my heart.” She paused just briefly there, pinning him with the hope in her eyes as his mouth fell open, all words completely gone, just as she asked for a response. “Killian Jones, will you stay in Misthaven and allow us to discover what might be here between us? Is it possible you might feel the same?”

Killian’s mouth opened and closed fruitlessly without any sound coming out. Panicked, he began to hope she could somehow see the pounding of his heart beneath his shirt where it seemed to be attempting to beat right out of his chest. Of course, he felt the same!  But in that moment he couldn’t summon the words to tell her so…

His worries that she might see his floundering and change her mind, and the racing whirl of his scattered thoughts, was interrupted by a strong nudge in his back from Liam, nearly causing him to fall forward at Emma’s feet. “Well, answer her, Brother!” Liam urged jovially, his voice brimming with happiness and humor. “Heaven knows you’ve been miserable missing her, don’t leave the lady in suspense now that she’s here before you again!”

Flicking a quick, embarrassed look over his shoulder, Killian noticed the genuine pride in him and excited joy for his good fortune shining from his elder brother’s face, just as it had that night they had presented him with clothing and a way to the ball. Turning back to face Emma once more, he noted her spotless white gown and the ermine stole about her shoulders, the shining curls of her hair and her perfect face. He didn’t want to think about the stains that were undoubtedly scattered over his patched and threadbare clothes, nor the smudges and cuts that must be visible on his face and hands from hard work and long days in the wind and sun. He wanted to tell her how much he had thought of her as well, but he simply wasn’t sure he had the right…

Just as she had before, Emma tilted her head, studying his face, still hopeful, though anxious as well, and then her eyes softened. It was as if once more she had read his thoughts and knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling, and she understood him in a way he had never experienced before. Stepping so close that their noses nearly brushed and she could speak for his ears alone, she prodded tenderly. “It’s alright, Killian. Just tell me the truth.”

Meeting her gaze fully, Killian could only be honest, deserving of the gift she was offering or not. Reaching out tenderly, he brushed a curl back over her shoulder, trembling at the nerve it took him to do so. “Aye, Princess, I feel the same. I would love nothing more than to remain by your side. I am the furthest thing from a prince or nobleman, but if you truly want to continue our acquaintance, I am happy to do as you wish.”

Her beaming face seemed like a vision from a dream, almost blinding him. They stood grinning at each other for several long seconds before the Princess reached out, caught the edges of his collar and pulled him the last few inches to her so their lips could meet. The moment they did, shocks ran through Killian, colors bursting behind his eyes. Everyone on the deck of the Rogue felt the wave of power that radiated out from the two young people caught up in their first kiss. Killian and Emma jolted back a step, and all who were present seemed to reel and barely stay on their feet.

Killian struggled to grasp what had happened as he heard the King let out a whoop of recognition from behind them. Just before he surged forward to gather both his daughter and her chosen consort up in an exuberant embrace, Princess Emma’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at him. Looking down, Killian found that his appearance had been transformed. Gone were the work clothes of a servant, and in their place was the finery he had worn the night of the ball, as if returned by magic. From head to toe, he looked as though he had been put right back in that very moment. 

Caught up in the King’s strong arms and pressed warmly to his Princess’ side, Killian was stunned once again when he heard the man huskily whisper to his daughter. “True Love’s Kiss, Pumpkin. You’ve found your own.”

It was almost more than Killian could fathom, but as his mind steadied, he knew. He could feel in it his bones, and in his own heart. His eyes returned to Emma and neither of them could bring themselves to look away. The pleasant warmth and sense of rightness, of home at last, that enveloped him then was only strengthened by a moment’s echo of what sounded like tinkling fairy laughter in his ear.

~~~~*~~~~

Six months later, when Killian Jones and Princess Emma of Misthaven stood on the balcony of the palace to announce their engagement to the people, no one gathered there could remember a more joyous or perfect occasion. Killian was announced as a lieutenant of the Queen’s Royal Navy, to which he and Liam had both been enlisted almost as soon as he and Emma were reunited, free at last from the service of Captain Silver in which they had been trapped since their youth. Laughter rang out as the King’s footman, standing next to Lieutenant Jones’ side pretended to take the engagement ring for the Princess from the sailor’s own pocket and presented it to him with a winking bow so Killian could place it on her finger. None of the assembled crowd below could know the secret significance of the gesture or the role Will Scarlet had inadvertently played in their finding one another again. Nor would they realize that the ring was Killian and Liam’s mother’s, the same one Emma had returned to him that day - now a symbol not just of his past and the family he had lost, but of their future and the family they would create together. Her parents and his brother stood with them proudly, her mother beaming even as she dashed away happy tears, and both King David and Liam chests puffed with pride at how far the two young people they loved most had come. 

It was the beginning of something special, another True Love Story for the ages. A happily ever after if ever there was one. And all of those gathered to witness the kiss they shared after Killian placed the ring on the Princess’ finger agreed that no two people could cherish it more. 

Tagging a few who might be interested: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @jonesfandomfanatic @myfearless-love

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @stahlop @eastwesthomeisbest @motherkatereloyshipper

@belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee @laianely @undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @4getfulimaginator2022

@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @resident-of-storybrooke @scientificapricot

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

@ohmakemeahercules @everything-person @kday426 @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly

[snowbellewells]

MY FICS

“Carolina Moon” (my current main focus WIP from @cssns23)

“Believing Impossible Things” (a Victorian flavored CS AU, with Alice as well, from @cssns22)

“The Lawman, the Thief, and the Outlaw” (a Western-set CS Rio Bravo AU)

“A Year in the Court of Misthaven” (a series of vignettes set in the Enchanted Forest, where Emma grew up with her parents as the princess she should have been, very much Lieutenant Duckling)

“Foot Caught in the Door (This Time)” (a Music Man AU originally started for the @captainswanmoviemarathon but I psyched myself out of getting very far with)

Untitled Reverse Cinderella Enchanted Forest Fic (Krystal’s VERY late birthday gift, with Killian in the Cinderella role)

Untitled Musician/Band and EMT fic (Killian is a musician who meets Emma when she saves his life at the scene of a serious accident)

Untitled Pro Dancers CS Fic (this modern AU has a good chunk started but it’s been so long since I got to work on it - Killian and Emma are paired together for a competition and can’t stand each other at first, but their chemistry on the dance floor…! 🔥

"kick-in-the-pants" writer's game!

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[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Dreams That You Wish Will Come True"

Since it is Sunday, I thought this little self-promo would be aptly posted today because I am finally - yes, FINALLY - ready to post Part Two, which will follow tomorrow. I am truly sorry that it has taken so long, but I hope to write lots this summer and to finish this one up in short order with Part Three.

Originally, this was written as a birthday gift for Krystal ( @kmomof4 ) and it is still here present first and foremost. She has been incredibly patient with my slow writing rate lately. I do hope the rest of you will enjoy this take on a reverse Cinderella AU however, and refresh your memory for the new addition if needed.

Also available on AO3 if that is your preference...

by: @snowbellewells

Chapter One

“But Liam,” a breathless young Killian Jones argued stubbornly, “why are you dragging me to the galley? You know all I have to get done before the Captain returns…” Swiping the shaggy dark hair back from where it hung in his eyes, long past needing a trim, the young man cringed at the sound of his own wheedling tone. Gritting his teeth and flexing his hands in frustration, Killian chided himself for questioning his elder brother’s direction and sounding like the bloody nuisance he knew he must be to Liam - strong and wise and nearly grown now. At barely seventeen, and with little experience beyond that of an indentured deckhand on a ramshackle pirate ship, what right or knowledge did he have to be so stubborn, especially not with Liam, who had only ever looked out for his best interests?

Sure enough, exasperated, Liam shook his head before responding with a huff, “Can you not just do what I say, Little Brother? For once? You’ll see in a moment.”

By this time, they had traversed the length of the ship below deck, and they stood outside the galley. They paused briefly, with Killian biting down on his tongue to prevent asking again if Liam was sure about what they were doing. To his wide-eyed astonishment, Liam raised a hand to rap his knuckles in a specific rhythm on the door that separated Cook’s domain from the dimly-lit hall. His brother gave him a bit of a wink, more mischief in it than his serious elder sibling, burdened with far too much responsibility for his years, usually showed. Curious now, Killian waited wordlessly with him until footsteps could be heard drawing nearer on the other side.

When the door was opened to them, Killian was perplexed over again as he and Liam were beckoned inward and the door closed behind them once more. Within the room, illuminated softly by a hanging lantern and a few candles scattered throughout, he saw that, not only Cook, but several of the crewmen of the Merry Rogue, had gathered in the small, already overwarm, and easily crowded room in which they took their meals. Killian was usually on his feet serving. Silver would allow nothing less from his “kitchen maid” as he often tauntingly dubbed Killian, hoping to stoke the fiery temper the young lad tried to check so he could then see him lashed for insubordination. It was only well after the others had cleared off that he and Cook could sit and take their own repast. However, those gathered now had secretive smiles and anxiously pleased looks on their faces. Killian noted easily that none of the more hateful crew members were present; neither those who ordered him about loftily, mocking him and sending him scurrying back and forth for items they didn’t really need throughout the meal, nor the cruel bosun who would stick a foot out to trip him, then cuff him for spilling and wasting food. Instead, gathered before him were the softer hearted men - perhaps misfits on the ship themselves at some earlier time before he and Liam were indentured to the vessel - who had often shown him bits of kindness and understanding when they could manage.

In spite of his earlier misgivings, he was intrigued and couldn’t help asking Cook this time, though Liam was still nearby. “What is going on here?”

The older man merely smiled kindly, motioning Killian further into the room, until he stood near its center. “You’ll soon see, lad,” Cook coaxed gently, turning to riffle through a burlap sack laid out on the galley table before offering his prize to Killian. “We’ve something to give you for the evening’s festivities.”

“Wh- what are you on about?” Killian’s brow puckered in confusion as he looked at what appeared to be a pile of folded cloth in his older friend’s hands, and at the eagerly expectant faces gathered around to watch. “Festivities? Me? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about…”

He was shaking his head as words failed him, not sure how to deal with the puzzle before him, when he sensed Liam at his back, solid and strong. His elder brother placed a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder and leaned in to murmur quietly in his ear. “Come now, Killy, you have to have seen the banners posted all over port for the gala at the castle, in honor of the Princess Emma’s birthday. It’s tonight.”

Killian sputtered indignantly as Liam nudged him in the side and nodded toward the stack of fine material Cook was still holding out to him. “Aye, of course I have, but - but what does that have to do with me?”

Liam responded with an even more brilliant smile, bowling Killian over with his quip, “Simple, Little Brother! If you would get a move on, we mean for you to attend that ball!”

Those words did not truly make the situation much clearer to Killian’s mind, but at Liam’s urging - knowing his sibling would never encourage something that would do him harm - he took the bundle from Cook and moved forward to lay the offering on the long, wooden table for a better view. He could see now that it was a fine coat, made of soft, midnight blue, expertly tailored and brand new, certainly the finest piece of clothing he’d ever held in his own two hands. There was also a dress shirt, a mere shade lighter, clearly meant to be worn beneath the jacket, and breeches of a soft, dove gray - all quite the ensemble and much finer than any mere deckhand or cabin boy would ever have use for. Despite that, all three items seemed to be in his particular size, and the pleased smiles on the small circle of weathered faces around him clearly meant for him to have the articles.

“This is very kind,” Killian began, trying a different tack since protesting that they must be mistaken had done no good. “These clothes are the most handsome I’ve seen, but surely no sailor, and one barely part of the crew at that, would be invited to such an event. Mayhap someone else could…”

“Perhaps I can explain,” an airy, musical voice spoke up, floating on the air like a tinkling of chimes as sparkles of light and swirls of colorful breeze seemed to catch the eyes of all those gathered in the small ship’s kitchen. Gliding gently toward him from above, a small creature - a miniature woman, a fairy!, he realized -  came to to hover before him, a sweetly bemused smile on her delicate face.

More questions flooded Killian’s brain than had already lingered; however, he was now too overwhelmed and in awe to speak any of them aloud. A fairy? Here? Where pirates cooked and swabbed the deck and ate their grub? That he would ever see such a mystical being had never entered his mind, much less the idea that he would encounter one aboard a ship which had seen much more glorious days many years ago. He was sailor enough - a superstitious lot, one and all - to believe that magic existed, fairies among the more familiar imagery of sirens and selkies, but a vague belief in theory was much different from seeing one shimmering before his own eyes, gazing on him with a benevolent smile upon her face.

Seeing that the beguiling young man before her was currently incapable of answering, the silvery-winged fairy’s laughter tinkled on the air like the pleasant ringing of tiny bells, the riotous pile of ringleted brown curls interespersed with morning glory blossoms shook with her gentle mirth before she spoke again, hastening to explain and hopefully to dispel the poor youth’s doubt and confusion. “You are Killian Jones, yes?” she queried, already certain, but awaiting his confirmation nonetheless.

Killian did manage an affirmative nod, and his lips formed a soft “aye”, though it sounded as barely more than a whisper.

“Well then, Killian Jones, it is a pleasure to meet you at long last. I have watched you from afar all your life, after all. I am Nova, your fairy godmother.”

The handsome young man’s bright blue eyes popped wide open at her pronouncement, stunning in their crystal clarity and nearly making Nova’s sweet soul cry at the hope laid bare in his expression, hope which he tried equally to rein in, clearly having already learned such lovely things were not meant for him and waiting to hear the catch. She was the most tender-hearted of all her sisters, and it had been painful for her to look on and do nothing as this mischievous, brilliant little boy had been forced into manhood far too soon. His mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, the privation and shame of unwilling servitude, the cruelty of mistreatment, and the harsh life at sea had all changed the bonny child who had boarded this ship with his father and brother years ago into the solemn young man before her, who had never truly been allowed to leave. She had chafed over and over again at being held back and kept from doing something to help her appointed charge - anything to better his lot, even slightly. Their fairy laws were fickle, and yet exacting; even as Nova honored and revered their ways and her elders, she could not claim to understand why it had taken so long to finally be deemed “the right time”.

She could tell by the furrow of his dark brow that young Killian Jones must be pondering at least some of those same questions. Where had she been these last years of backbreaking toil, pilfered rations, and vicious taunts about a father so desperate to be rid of him he had sold him away? Where had she been the first time the lash had scored his back and left bloodied stripes in its wake? She had been right there beside him, unseen, constrained from taking any action, but he had no way of knowing that.

“I - I have a fairy godmother?” he finally sputtered in stark disbelief.

Nova nodded kindly, having the good grace to look more than a little abashed. “Of course you do! Everyone does. It breaks my heart to think you’ve felt so forgotten.” She squared her shoulders and blinked rapidly, trying not to become emotional as she attempted to explain. “Unfortunately, we fairies follow a very strict code. We are forbidden to make ourselves known before the appointed time. And I kept being told it was not yet that moment…”

Killian’s mind whirled with all the new information - and with a bit of indignance at the idea that all he and Liam had been through since being abandoned and left in Silver’s dubious oversight had not been considered serious enough to merit aid. His mouth opened, and even he himself was not sure if it was a question or a retort on the tip of his tongue - but his immediate awe was finally overcome - when his diminutive magical guest clearly sensed she needed to finish her explanation, and fast. 

“My superior, the Blue Fairy, or Blue as she’s often called, is stricter about maintaining our distance and secrecy than most.” Nova shrugged her shoulders in obvious contrition as she waved her hands and a wand appeared within her grasp. “I’ve never really understood why, but that’s neither here nor there. It is finally time to grant your heart’s wish… to do something to make you life better, just as I’ve been waiting to do!”

Killian’s mouth snapped shut again at that, puzzled by her words and disarmed at the excitement bursting from her tiny frame. He had never met this Nova before, but he could hardly doubt her eager sincerity. “My wish?” he repeated uncertainly, feeling that he was trailing considerably further behind in the conversation that he ought to be. “I can’t honestly remember even making one.”

Even as he spoke those words, however, Killian knew in his heart they were not entirely true. It might not have been the focused drive of a wish upon a star, or anything that direct, but he had often thought on where he would go if he were free, what he and Liam could do if they were their own men, left to their own devices, able to seek an adventure of their choosing, honor and glory for the name of Jones which their father had sullied. Had those hopes and dreams been heard all this time, when he had felt so forgotten and ignored? It must be true, though it was hard to reconcile with his previous experiences.

Almost as if she could read his thoughts broadcast across his face, Nova nodded enthusiastically, affirming his realization. “That’s right,” she pronounced clearly, gesturing to the clothing his brother and shipmates had procured for him. The fairy -his fairy godmother! - then effortlessly waved her wand once more, causing one of the flyers ever-present about this kingdom to appear before him from out of thin air. “This ball is only the beginning for you. You have big dreams, Killian Jones, and a calling to fulfill, but you are also the only one who can see them come true. I may be giving you a bit of a boost, but you are more than enough for the task. Your heart is strong, and I have no doubt it will see you through. You only need a little belief.”

“And what exactly does a fancy royal ball have to do with anything?” he questioned. His shock was wearing off as he grew more comfortable speaking to Nova, but he wasn’t seeing why he would be needed at a princess’ birthday celebration. All the same, he scooped all the formal wear up in his arms to go and change - whether it made sense to him or not.

Nova’s entire small fae being practically twinkled at him with the playful wink she gave before answering, “Not all things are as simple as they might first appear, young sir.” With that, she lightly tapped the end of her wand on the top of his head, causing a pleasantly warm tingling to spread through Killian’s body, all the way out to his fingers and toes.

A mere moment later, amid astonished exclamations from Liam, Cook, and the others, he realized that his arms were empty; the new clothes he had been holding already magicked onto his lanky frame, along with shining new shoes upon his feet and a smart queue tied off with ribbon matching his fine shirt and a fresh, neat trim to his dark hair too. It was indeed enough to make him feel a whole new person - one who might not stand out horribly, even at the palace of Misthaven.

“There now,” Nova approved with gentle tone, a fond smile gracing her lips as she took in the full effect upon her charge. “You look quite the young gentleman.”

“Aye, you do at that!” Cook echoed with his rough but friendly voice as he clapped Killian on the shoulder heartily. “Even in our heyday, Cap’n Silver himself rarely looked so sharp!”

“I’d not let him hear you say so,” the old shipwright Ned called over jovially.

“Too right!” Cook chuckled.

The other crew members present laughed as well and began to talk amongst themselves, drifting away now that the excitement was past. Soon, only Liam stood beside him, the two brothers both looking to their benefactress where she hovered before them. Even Cook headed off for his cabin, saying his old bones were ready for his bunk, even if the night was still young.

“You look just like a fine young lieutenant,” Liam affirmed, eyes wide as he took in his younger sibling and needlessly brushed some nonexistent speck from the shoulder of Killian’s jacket. Then, bracing both of his larger hands on Killian’s upper arms, he held him out to gaze into his face seriously before offering in a choked voice, “This sort of adventure should have always been your lot.” Liam pulled Killian in abruptly and hugged him tight for several seconds, startling Killian before he held onto his brother with equal fervency.

“Thank you,” Killian finally managed when Liam released him. “I don’t know how you managed all this,” he gestured around the room, “but I am sure it began with you.”

Liam flushed slightly, looking down with a sheepish smile. “My idea, aye, but I had lots of help. And it wouldn’t have turned out nearly so well if your honest-to-goodness fairy godmother hadn’t turned up!”

Nova’s ringing laughter once again tickled their ears, her eyes crinkling up prettily as well with her good humor. “It really was my pleasure,” she rejoined. But then she added more seriously, “This is your night, Killian. There is much for you to see and to do, and I bid you enjoy every moment to its fullest. I’ve readied a carriage which will take you to the palace, and Liam can ride along with you as far as the gates. Just remember - the ride and the clothes, the gifts you’ve been granted, will vanish at midnight. It’s simply how the magic works. Make sure you are headed back by then.”

Killian nodded, promising he would do as she said; it was far longer than he could imagine needing, if the truth were told. He wasn’t at all sure what he would do there in any case. And though he wished Liam could venture inside with him, he would gladly take the ride to gather more advice and draw strength from his sibling’s company.

After that, it seemed very little time passed before - head still spinning at the sheer impossibility of it all - Killian was disembarking from a fine horsedrawn carriage at the palace gates. Looking back to grin crookedly at Liam, his brother urged once more “Have fun!” and reassured him that all would be well. Turning, Killian bravely put first one foot, and then the other, forward, until he stepped into the castle of Misthaven, a guest at a royal ball. 

He slipped his hand into his pocket to run his fingers over the ring on an old chain which had once belonged to their mother (Liam had bid him carry it this once for luck) and pulled in a deep, steadying breath as he gained his bearings. He was already dazzled beyond belief, but determined to make a good showing and bring “honor to the Jones brothers” as he murmured under his breath. Whatever he was meant to find, he would do his best.

At that, he raised his eyes, catching sight of the magnificent winding staircase trailing down from the upper floors into the main hall. Halfway down the steps, paused with one foot poised in descent, was a stunningly beautiful, golden-haired vision in sky blue and silver. Killian could scarcely take in the tiara resting upon her head or the clear resemblance she bore to her likeness on all the recent announcements for her birthday. Laying eyes on her in life had struck him motionless, frozen in place. ‘Bloody hell,’  his mind fumbled inelegantly, ‘It’s Princess Emma herself.’

So completely entranced was he, in fact, that Killian failed to realize the princess was just as stunned - equally taken in and unable to move. Their eyes met and held across the distance between them, and one more shining burst of magic was ignited then and there.

Tagging a few who might enjoy revisiting: @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @eastwesthomeisbest @bluewildcatfanatic @jonesfandomfanatic

@belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee @laianely @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm

@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @resident-of-storybrooke

@teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

@4getfulimaginator2022 @ohmakemeahercules @everything-person @kday426 @jennjenn615

[snowbellewells]

CS Birthday Gift Fic: "Dreams That You Wish Will Come True" ~ Part Two

I am so woefully slow in continuing this story with its second chapter for @kmomof4's birthday. Still, I hope any of you who liked the first part will return to see this version of Emma and Killian continue their charmed meeting at the royal ball. There should be just one more chapter/part after this, and I already have it started, so I don't intend to leave you hanging this long again. As ever, I do not own them (just can't stop thinking about them!) and I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!

First chapter can be found here on Tumblr, or the whole story can also be read on AO3, if that is your preference....

Summary: Granted a night to seek adventure and dreams, young Killian Jones meets young Princess Emma at her birthday ball. Though the moment is filled with all the excitement and magic of the best fairy tales, it is over too soon and he must leave before the dream is shattered. Will they find each other again?

A Reverse Cinderella AU Krystal ( @kmomof4 )

by: @snowbellewells

Part Two

Seated before the large, oval vanity mirror in her bedroom suite, Princess Emma of Misthaven stared at her nearly unrecognizable reflection, primped and styled for her birthday ball. She couldn’t help the uncertainty she felt, biting her lower lip in contemplation and pondering how different she looked with her hair twisted into an elaborate updo, gentle curls escaping here and there with delicate precision. She usually chose the plainest tunics and breeches when she could get away with it and pulled her long blonde mane back in a simple ponytail; so the sparkling, diaphanous, ice-blue confection baring her shoulders and collarbones tastefully, the fluttery sleeves and the floaty hem grazing the floor, made their frills and her creamy skin feel all the more uncomfortably displayed. 

Her mother, Queen Snow White, stood behind her, just finishing her handiwork on the hairstyle. Snow’s face came into view in the glass beside her daughter’s as she bent to peer at Emma with gentle concern. “What’s the matter, Sweetie?” she asked, a slight wrinkle in her still-smooth porcelain brow. “You look beautiful, but you don’t seem sure.”

Emma smiled gamely at her mother’s gentle query; she did love Snow for noticing and wanting her to be happy and at ease. The problem was that being at ease was a tall order for Emma when she had to curtsy and dance, make proper conversation, and generally be on display the entire night. It all came so naturally to Snow White; she was born to be royalty. Emma would be happier out in some deserted field - her father’s child through and through - and there wasn’t any way to put her preference into words that didn’t somehow sound ungrateful.

Finally, she decided on a less upsetting portion of the truth. “Oh no, I’m not doubting the style at all. It’s amazing how I can make nothing but a rat’s tail of it most days, and you have it elegant and not a strand out of place in just a few minutes. I’m only nervous about being presented before all those people…”  She hoped that the glowing affirmation would settle her mother’s worry without going into too much more detail. She knew the 16th birthday ball was a monumental occasion and all the work that countless people throughout the palace - but especially her mother - had put into making it truly wonderful. Emma was grateful… it was just… she couldn’t exactly claim to be looking forward to the event.

However, it became clear she shouldn’t have worried, as the understanding in her mother’s eyes unraveled several of the knots in her stomach when she brushed her cool, soothing finger over Emma’s forehead and pressed a quick kiss to her daughter’s cheek. Resting both hands lightly on Emma’s shoulders, Snow stood up straight again, though still meeting Emma’s eyes in the vanity mirror. “You are so like your father,” she sighed with a fond shake of the head. The expression didn’t last though, as one corner of her mouth curled into a playful, secret smile. “Just one more reason I love you so,” she added with the certainty of a vow. “I realize this is a lot of pressure, Emma. That tonight means all eyes on you when you do not feel confident or in your element. Your father and I both love you for trying your best and being willing to learn. And remember, many of those people downstairs have known you and loved you all your life. Whether or not you know them as well, they are here to celebrate you. You’re their princess. You’re gifting them a wonderful evening of food and finery and entertainment.”

Emma nodded, feeling herself genuinely begin to calm; her nerves easing as her mother’s words sank in. “Thank you,” she murmured earnestly, taking one of her mother’s delicate hands in both her own and raising it to press to her chest. “That does help.”

Snow’s eyes crinkled with pleased mirth, showing just the finest beginnings of crow’s feet from a lifetime of beneficient smiles and gracious expressions. Her twinkling laughter was as much like music as the old embellished tales about her claimed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that!” she exclaimed joyously. “I have been doing this a while!”

Emma allowed herself to laugh along, shaking her head at her mother’s lighthearted antics while standing and beginning to make sure she had all she needed. Snow had begun to move to the door, then she turned, hurried back, and pulled her only child close, cradling Emma’s face in her palms. “Your father will be here soon to escort you,” she reminded. “I love you, my darling. I’m so proud of you. Try to enjoy yourself just a bit, won’t you? For me?” she added with a wink.

Emma nodded mutely, somehow nearly feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes with her mother’s heartfelt praise. That emotion was quickly banished by surprise when Snow pulled her even closer, pressed a smacking kiss to her forehead, and called out while darting away, “Still, just in case, I hid your practice sword behind your father’s throne - should anything go wrong!”

Emma blinked in shock, registering what the Queen had just told her before they both dissolved into laughter. Only Snow White could get away with such a sneaky safeguard while still appearing completely demure and sweet.

Sure enough, a mere few minutes later, a soft knock sounded on the door to her room. Emma smiled, knowing it was her Papa, ready to walk her down the grand staircase to the party. By now, her calm had been restored - at least for the moment - and she was able to draw a deep breath to greet him with a smile when her mother let him in, looking up at Prince Charming himself, just as she had for as long as she could remember, hoping he was pleased.

Her father, King David of Misthaven, though still more a simple shepherd when his guard was down, did not even speak for several moments. His mouth fell open as he looked at his nearly grown daughter, struck all over again by what a stunning young woman she had become.  No longer was she the gangly youth who had loved nothing more than her first pony Taffy, and riding alongside him whenever they had a free afternoon, or the preteen who had made her mother despair of ever keeping her in skirts because every time she could escape her lessons and wrangle him from duties and meetings, she was wheedling him into giving her more sword fighting lessons. His baby looked so beautiful that it was hard for him to speak at all without a tremor in his voice.

“Papa?” Emma finally prompted, looking a little worried about him. She reached out and touched his elbow as if to shake him back into motion.

When he returned to the present, David smiled at his daughter warmly, pulling her to his chest and hugging her close. “Forgive me, Duckling,” he spoke hoarsely, soft but no less sincere. “You look amazing. Every bit the crown princess you are.”

Flushing, Emma shook her head before mumbling, “Now you’re just being silly, Papa.”

But David was back to his usual strong self-assurance as he placed his thumb and forefinger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “Not at all, Emma. Believe your father on this. You are lovely, from head to toe. I don’t say this just because you are my daughter. It’s your good heart, the wonderful person you are, and that beauty shines outward. None could miss it if they truly look.”

The burn of tears threatened once more at her father’s fervent sincerity. Though it felt much finer praise than she deserved, Emma merely blinked away the moisture that had gathered, not about to let tears ruin the work of rouges and powders that her mother had only just completed. She could already hear Snow sniffling for the both of them anyway. Instead, she offered him a watery smile and linked her arm through his gladly. “Thank you, Papa,” she managed to rasp. “If nothing else, that must mean I’m ready for my ball.”

A chuckle escaped King David’s broad chest and his smile lit his eyes, its warmth spreading to her like golden sunshine. “Right you are, Duckling. Right you are.” 

He then held out his other arm for his wife, sharing an indulgent, enamored smile with Snow too as she came to his other side, Leading them both from the room and down the hall, they were soon nearing the top of the grand staircase where all their fine party guests were waiting. Snow moved forward to be introduced first as the rightful Queen and true heir to the throne of Misthaven. As she began her stately descent after a formal introduction, she gave the magnanimous smile that made her truly shine - the Fairest of All, as she had always been. After the thunderous applause of her adoring subjects ebbed, their Captain of the Guard and dear friend of her parents, Sir Lancelot du Lac came up a few steps to meet her and offered his hand to assist his Queen down the final stairs with a reverent bow of his head.

And then it was her turn. Emma heard her full name and formal title being announced, and as all eyes in the room shifted from her mother’s graceful figure to rest on her, Emma clutched her father’s elbow tighter, willing herself not to let the nerves that flared to life again in her belly show on her face. For a moment, she even thought back to the mind-numbing etiquette and comportment lessons Snow had insisted upon when she had first entered her teen years. “Show only placid, regal calm,” the matron had droned over and over again. “Still waters run deep,” Emma reminded herself all these years later as she squared her shoulders and steadied her breath. Her father covered her hand with his own surreptitiously as they neared the landing halfway down to the main floor. He meant it as reassurance, but to all outward eyes, it would seem only a proud and protective royal father guiding his daughter into her official debut. “Be smooth as still waters,” Emma finished the old refrain in her head. “Just as deep and unknowable, and none will guess at anything but calm beneath the surface.”

They had practiced this entire procession many times over the last week, yet when David turned and bowed while she dropped into an answering curtsy, it almost took her by surprise. This was the part she truly dreaded, but Emma turned to face her audience as smoothly as in any of the numerous rehearsals they had performed. Perhaps her mother was right about the value of muscle memory, of repeating an action so many times that the body could carry it out without the help or conscious direction of one’s mind. She stood facing the huge reception hall full of gathered nobles, visiting royals of neighboring kingdoms, and all of their people who could be crammed into the space. Holding her pose, Emma kept smiling as they all looked up at her with curiosity and applauded with loud enthusiasm.

Her father had descended the rest of the steps to take his place at her mother’s side, and after what seemed several interminable minutes, he called for their guests’ attention, welcoming them into the grand ballroom and the rest of the evening’s festivities - dinner, music, and dancing.  Emma was relieved to feel the crowd’s focus shift once more, moving to follow the King’s direction. However, she continued to bide her time, waiting for the moment she was sure it was safe to move again. She didn’t want people still focused on her if she tripped and fell down the last few steps. 

Her gaze swept back over the emptying hall and was caught suddenly by a pair of eyes she had never seen before, looking right back at her. That moment of connection seemed to sear Emma from the outside deep into her soul. She was lost in guileless blue, struggling to stay afloat and yet without any fear of drowning. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t move. If she had thought she was frozen before, she truly was now. And yet, she wasn’t alarmed or discomfited in the slightest. Soothing warmth suffused her being, almost like slipping into a warm bath and easing away every ill. She wanted to speak to the owner of those blue eyes, to call out and urge him closer, to learn who he was and where he had come from, but her lips, her tongue, her voice were all as frozen as her legs and feet.

Emma had just managed to draw in a shaky breath, take in a few other small details of this beautiful stranger - silky, dark hair, lanky build, a shy smile that made the blue of his eyes sparkle all the more, when…

“Oi, Emmy! Why are you still standing there? Don’t think they’ll be letting the rest of us eat without the guest of honor!” Her friend Will’s jovial voice, his jostling appearance next to her, and the playful elbow in her side seemed to break whatever spell she had fallen under, shattering it abruptly in a shimmer of fading golden sparks. He grinned at her unrepentantly when she blinked, trying to clear her mind. 

“W-what are you on about, Billy Boy?” she attempted to jibe back while still gathering her wits.

Her father’s page boy, Will Scarlet, who had come to live at the castle so long ago that Emma didn’t remember life without him, waggled both eyebrows in a way that she knew he thought quite rakish, but which always reminded her of a court jester. “Um…a feast? In your honor?” he prompted. “What’s knocked ya so off-kilter?” They had never learned exactly what corner of the kingdom Will hailed from; he’d been left alone so young that he couldn’t tell them, but his distinctive speech was unmistakably his own.

Not answering him other than to gasp in alarm, Emma’s eyes flew back to where her dark-haired stranger had been standing only moments before. He had seemed to be as affected as her… or had she only imagined that?  But he was nowhere to be found, lost in the crowd, as if he had never been there at all.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, Emmy?” Will pressed with the sort of insouciant mirth that normally made her laugh along, but at the moment made her want to shove him away in frustration.

“You have the worst timing, Will,” she hissed instead, forcing herself not to stamp her feet or plant her hands on her hips as she dearly wanted. “Has anyone ever told you that? And you know I’ve asked you to stop calling me Emmy! We aren’t five anymore!”

“Aww, you love it,” he singsonged unfazed. “Your very own nickname from your best friend.”

Emma shook her head and just barely held back the unladylike snort of laughter she would have given him out in the sparring yard instead of the ballroom. “Hardly,” she retorted dryly.

Undaunted, Will merely beamed at her cheekily without a hint of shame. “Argue all ye want, I know ya too well. Yer glad ‘m here. Ya won’t hafta pair off with some poncey prince quite as fast.” He offered his elbow finally, as he had been instructed to do, and with a playful dip of his head, he waited for her to take his arm.

Almost despite herself, Emma chuckled at that, knowing he was right. She hooked her arm through his and bumped his shoulder with her own goodnaturedly as they walked into the formal ballroom. Once safely off the grand staircase and no longer the center of attention, Emma already felt a bit more steady.

Will, for his part, now that he had tossed out his usual dose of playful ribbing was gallantly leading her toward the slightly raised dais at one end of the space. Most of the guests were either milling and talking along the walls, or seeking out their spots at the long dining tables set up along both sides of the large, elegant area. He might deny it or downplay it if asked outright, but Emma could see her friend was pleased by the honor of escorting the crown princess to her throne next to the king and queen. He stood tall, shoulders back and chest out, chin tilted up slightly, all traces of the lighthearted scalawag he usually presented to the world hidden behind a serious facade. For all his jokes, Emma knew Will was grateful to her parents for the life they had provided and the position he held. He thought too much of them to ever want to disappoint or shame them on such an important occasion.

Without thinking, she lightly patted his arm with the hand she had tucked through his elbow, hoping to reassure him that despite her earlier indignation she was grateful to have someone familiar and comforting at her side when she could feel so many curious glances darting to her and away again as she passed. He slid his eyes over to search her face at the motion, and she offered a small smile that he returned crookedly; the sentiment seemingly received without words.

Still, even as they neared the throne and Will helped her into her seat before bowing and backing away with a cheeky wink, Emma’s eyes were already scanning the tables and the small clusters of people gathered about. She couldn’t make herself forget the young man she had glimpsed in the hall. His image was right there, burned on her mind, even though she had not yet relocated him. The fae folk, whom many no longer believed existed, would have no interest in some princess’ ball, so he could not be one of them simply vanished into thin air. Had she dreamed him to begin with?

No - there!  Emma sucked in a breath of both surprise and relief as she found the lean form in a smart blue jacket and the dark swoop of hair finally, standing rather apart from anyone else, near the corner where the instruments were set up to accompany dancing. Absorbed once more at the sight of him, Emma stared blatantly, unable to resist. Just as she had thought in the grand foyer, she had never seen this young man before. She was certain she would remember if she had, for one thing, but also, he did not resemble any of the visitors and guests she could ever recall coming in and out of the palace. He was singularly arresting to her senses and awareness - and it could not be mistaken. Of that she grew more certain with every breath.

Soon the conductor stepped forward at her mother’s nod, the band took their places, and music filled the hall. The rumble of varied conversations receded to a low hum as people found their seats for the meal to follow and watched her parents open the dancing with an enchanting waltz. 

Avidly, Emma alternated between watching her parents twirl effortlessly across the dance floor while gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes and flicking quickly over to assure herself that the silent object of her interest was still within view. She had always felt a certain pride and hope in the fact that despite all the intervening years and the obstacles they had surmounted along the way, her parents never ceased looking at each other with such love and affection - and it allowed her to wish she might find a similar bond with someone of her own in turn.

The very thought of her parents’ chance meeting on a forest road years ago, and how they were taken with each other from the very first moment, had her seeking a glimpse of her handsome young stranger once more. She watched as he moved nearer the front of the room, allowing herself to take in new details: unfairly long dark lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinked, full, strong lips, a jaw clenched with determination, and a faded scar high on one cheekbone that made her ache to smooth healing fingertips over it, though it must be long past the sting of injury. The youthful gentleman, for his part, seemed focused on not catching anyone’s eye or drawing any attention or conversation from those scattered about the outskirts of the space. Emma was holding her breath, just letting herself hope that he was trying to draw closer to her when her father appeared at her elbow, garnering her focus just as the waltz ended and a more sprightly tune took its place.

“Might I have the honor?” her father asked gallantly, holding out his hand and giving a slight bow, a playful light in his eyes. 

Normally, Emma relished a turn around the floor with her papa. Unlike most royal activities for young ladies, dancing engaged both body and mind pleasantly, and - when dancing with her father, anyway - she didn’t have to bite her tongue or worry about wandering hands or assumptive intentions. She was still happy to join him, but she feared losing sight of her intriguing unknown guest if she did.

Inevitably, King David noticed his daughter’s distraction, even though she took his hand and followed his steps as always. It was hard to miss Emma craning her neck again and again to glimpse something out of sight over his shoulder. As her father and, he flattered himself, one of her closest confidantes, the former shepherd also sensed an excitement in her he had not seen before, an energy he could feel running through her frame far more than would be brought about by an enjoyable dance or mere nerves over the important occasion.

Having never forgotten the thrill that went through him at the first glimpse he’d ever had of Snow - even if it did end with a rock to the chin - he had a strong suspicion what might have struck his only child. He couldn’t fully hold back the small, knowing smile that tipped his mouth upward, though he felt a pang in his chest at his baby’s growing up too fast for his liking. “What is it, Duckling?” he asked when he pulled her closer in a twirl of the dance. 

Emma’s bright green eyes searched his face, quickly measuring whether or not to ask her question. She appeared to make up her mind, swallowing and biting her lower lip before plunging forward, “Papa, do you know the young man there along the wall, standing not far from Lord Beresford?  I do not believe I have ever seen him before.” Though she wanted to know desperately where he had come from and who he could be, Emma gamely attempted to convey only casual curiosity in her question.

David was hardly fooled, though he allowed her the subterfuge, not wanting to put her on guard or cause her to shy away from the interest she had shown. He knew his daughter well enough to be pleasantly surprised that she was voicing an interest - in anyone. Emma was usually much too averse to being trapped by an awkward partner, or boring, pushy possible future matches, to let herself consider the new friends or possible allies around her at such functions. He couldn’t deny a sense of relief and proud delight at her growth, even before he followed the line of sight she mentioned. For she would need to marry someday; the royal line must be preserved, and she was he and Snow’s only child. By the same turn, he had barely escaped the yoke of an unwanted marriage himself to find True and lasting love. He dearly wished for his beloved daughter to have such happiness as well.

Without drawing undue attention, the King looked to where Emma had instructed and found the young man who must be her focus. The youth was lanky but had an inherent strength in his stance and bearing. Even at a glance, he possessed a finely formed face: full, strong mouth, and bright, intelligent eyes, dark hair, a bit overlong but in a neat queue; all allowing King David to see why this unknown would have captured his daughter’s attention. However, he was a stranger to the protective father as well - a complete mystery. Nothing in his appearance nor his apparel bore the mark or designation of any particular region or neighboring kingdom from which he might hail. Though they had been largely at peace in Misthaven for many years - in fact, since just before Emma’s birth - David did not fully let his guard down, not when the issue concerned his darling daughter.

“What say you to a bit of an exploration?” he queried, bending slightly to murmur in Emma’s ear, knowing without doubt that she would jump at the chance for a bit of mischief.

As expected, her jade eyes sparkled when she raised one curious brow. “What do you have in mind, Papa?”

“Simply that we dance our way over and make his acquaintance,” her father replied with an indulgent smile. “As King, I should introduce myself to unfamiliar guests and welcome them to our home. Then, you may offer him a dance, I shall hopefully receive a name to work with, and I can excuse myself to see if your mother might recognize him.” Even as he spoke, the King had already gracefully brought them about in a wide turn and had them sweeping in the proper direction to come up alongside the object of Emma’s interest.

She blushed despite her soaring excitement - not sure how to react to her father’s ingenious plan and his eager aid in helping her meet a handsome prospect. Not to mention that letting her mother in on the situation upped the stakes significantly. Emma showing a preference for a particular young man would have the Queen planning wedding details by breakfast the next morning in her overzealous enthusiasm.

Still, the temptation was too great. Something inside was pulling her toward this enigmatic stranger, even as the dancing allowed her to cover the fact that she might have walked right up to him shamelessly in a sort of trance regardless. Emma had to find out a name, a title, some way to find him again, should the crowd swallow him up and he vanished once more - nothing but a pleasant waking dream.

She nodded in agreement to her father’s plan, her cheeks pinking with embarrassment and excitement, even as she nearly hopped into the next step at the spurt of added energy she felt. It seemed only a few breaths later that they drew up nearly at the young man’s elbow and came to a stop, easily drawing his attention.

When the dark-headed youth turned to look at them fully - and clearly recognized them - his eyes widened with a tinge of what almost seemed alarm and his mouth fell open slightly, gaping and a bit dazed when his eyes landed on Emma. Her heart stuttered in her chest upon seeing his reaction; had she imagined that he felt something as well? She curtsied, dipping her head for a moment and hoping it might disguise the immediate flair of heat suffusing her cheeks. It was an almost unconscious response to her years of proper training, and so she missed the humored smirk that crossed her father’s face -even more so as the young man they had approached quickly fumbled into an awkward, nervous bow in response.

When Emma raised her head, she could merely look on dazedly, blinking through a fog as her father introduced them with formal propriety, giving this guest all his due attention and respect, and as promised, allowing Emma to hear her beguiling stranger’s voice in return.

“I am honored to meet you, your Majesty,” he stammered, looking almost floored that Misthaven’s king would seek him out and make introductions, “and you as well, your Highness,” he added breathily, those breathtaking blue eyes skirting over to look up at Emma for brief seconds before lowering again, hidden by unfairly long, upturned dark lashes. “I fear, however, that you would not find my name at all worthy of your notice, nor even your recognition.”

His last words made Emma’s brow furrow, unaware that a much similar expression had crossed her father’s features as well. But in spite of her puzzlement, the lilting quality of his entrancing voice in an accent unknown to her, was like the rise and fall of the waves in the harbor where she sometimes stood watching, mesmerized. Contrary to his words, far from being beneath her interest or concern, there was nothing she now coveted more than his name; in fact, anything of himself he would allow her to know. 

Her father appeared rather stymied by the humble but altogether unhelpful response; the confounded look on his face nearly made Emma giggle despite everything else crowding her mind. It must have been the King’s hesitation and lack of words that lead her to press on, wincing at the sound of her own blatant eagerness as she did.

“Why not let us be the judges of that?” she countered, a sculpted brow raised archly in playful challenge. “And in the meantime, why not grant your Princess a dance?”

Genuine surprise and joy lit his face at her invitation, and while his visage was already gorgeous, the transformation made him mesmerizing. Without hesitation, he held out his arm for her to take with a smart bow. “As you wish,” he replied, the warmth in his smile seeming to curl around her insides. “In fact, I would love nothing more, your Highness.”

King David stepped back smoothly. He was pleasantly surprised at her taking charge of the situation, and to also see her as close to charmed as he had ever witnessed.  Something in his daughter’s expression as she and this youth faced each other and began to move along with the steps of a minuet reminded him of Snow in the very early days of their courtship. Something almost shining lit Emma’s features brightly, in a way that couldn’t be ignored by one who knew her well, even if it was just a first dance he was witnessing.

As the princess and her chosen partner whirled away, David was pleased to notice Emma continued to show a grace and confidence she did not often produce in her dancing lessons. He was still shaking his head, almost trying to overcome his disbelief, even as he moved toward the space where Snow stood speaking with her friends, the Lady Ruby Lucas and Lady Ashley, wife of his own contemporary Prince Sean Hermann. His wife beamed at him as he neared the group, immediately threading her arm through his and leaning into his side with long-standing comfort.

Their friends moved off to mingle further after a few moments of greetings and small talk. Ashley and Sean joined the couples spinning along to the strains from the orchestra, and Ruby went to check on her grandmother settled at a nearby table. Snow tilted her head up to whisper to him as privately as possible, “And just who is the handsome gentleman who has captured our Emma’s attention?” she asked, a mischievous and enthusiastic twinkle overcoming her face. David had expected that, but not for her to look as clueless to the young man’s identity as he was. He’d been counting on his wife knowing who this mysterious youth might be - her acquaintances and knowledge of their nobles and those of the surrounding kingdoms as well stretching well beyond what his ever would. That she seemed without any knowledge of his identity either let his imagination run to some sort of reiteration of their own chance meeting on a forest road which led to lasting love.

Meanwhile, out on the floor, Emma was gazing up into her partner’s eyes marveling at the depth of the blue she could nearly lose herself within. Killian, her mind prompted her with a whisper of the name he had given as they had shifted from the minuet into a second dance, a galliard. She felt as if they were floating along on clouds, lighter and more free and graceful than she had ever felt before. When that second dance came to an end and the music slowed, Emma couldn’t bring herself to pull away and relinquish contact. She hated to alter the dream, still half convinced he might vanish if she even blinked.

“Some fresh air, Milady?” her young man questioned gallantly. It was almost as if he had read her mind; she wanted no part of being interrupted by any other princes, dukes, or earls, to have to spin away from Killian in any other arms, for even the length of a single dance.

Her cheeks flushed with both the warmth of exertion and the crush of so many others dancing around them, as well as the possibility that he too was reluctant to part. Rather than seeking words, she merely hummed her approval low in her throat and gave him a nod of approval

They left the dance floor arm-in-arm and managed to skirt those gathered on the sidelines to slip out onto the open balcony overlooking the castle gardens. As the hum of voices died down, fading somewhere behind them, and the strains of the orchestra became mere whispers in the background, Emma and Killian could truly begin to talk privately, standing at the railing and looking out over the flowers and shrubbery lit by both sconces placed at intervals along winding paths and the pinpoints of stars overhead.

It felt as though the rest of the world had slipped away - or vanished completely to leave them in peace - as they stood there with a comfort between them that Emma rarely found easily. She tended to struggle with words, awkward at making conversation until she had known someone awhile. And yet, with Killian, that had been almost immediate. They had talked about everything from her sword and riding lessons with her father, and how Liam had taught him everything he knew of sailing. Killian had listened in awe as Emma recounted her parent’s famed love story, and she had felt tears welling in her eyes at his scant memories of the mother he had lost when barely a toddler. She had just reached out to cover his hand where it was clenched on the smooth railing, pressing intently in the hopes of offering some solace, when there was a scuffling nearby and suddenly none other than Will Scarlet appeared, two cups of punch in his hands and a trouble-raising smile on his face.

“Ah, here ya are!” he crowed, looking excessively pleased with himself and causing Emma to blush again, both at being caught in a private moment and at the idea of Will letting slip that embarrassing nickname or any of the crazy stories of things they’d gotten into growing up.

“Yes, you’ve found me,” she confirmed, turning slightly from Killian to face Will with a hand on her hip, hoping that her wordless expression would warn him not to say anything that might make Killian look at her differently.

“Can we help you, Mate?” Killian spoke up, his brow raised curiously, looking caught between stepping in front of the princess protectively - not sure how to take Emma’s stance and words - and greeting this newcomer warmly.

“Ya can, indeed. You’re hoggin’ the guest of honor, if ye haven’t noticed. People in there - “ he jerked his thumb back over his shoulder toward the ballroom, “been wanderin’ where she got to.”

“Is that so?” Killian questioned, still trying to gauge Will’s intentions. His mostly soft-spoken and almost shy countenance seemed to shift before Emma’s eyes as the other young man moved closer, clearly studying Killian just as intently. He pulled himself up to his full height more noticeably and squared his shoulders, as if hoping to make himself more imposing.

Thankfully, Will didn’t carry on with his teasing; instead he crossed the space between them and offered them each a cup of punch. As Emma watched the two of them sizing each other up she found herself relaxing. Killian appeared to settle a bit as Will quieted, becoming less challenging. They began to talk tentatively, feeling each other out, and Emma had to soon hide her face behind the rim of her glass at their back and forth, not wanting either of them to see the laughter she struggled to hold in. It was obvious both her best friend and the no-longer-stranger who had captured her eye were each merely trying to take the other’s measure, wanting to be sure she was treated properly.

After a few minutes, each seemed satisfied that the other was not a threat and even began to seem friendly and joking. Will shook Killian’s hand, and Killian briefly clasped his shoulder in return when Will finally moved to leave them to themselves again. Still, Will leaned over to murmur to her quickly as he passed, “You still better rejoin the party before too long,” he cautioned. “Me interruptin’ the two of you getting cozy is one thing, but some neighboring princeling or jealous duchess who might think or gossip the worst would be somethin’ else, right Emmy?”

She swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and hating it, in the same moment. They were going to have to end this moment they had stolen and return to the crowd. She could only hope that this would be only the first of many meetings and conversations they would share.

Once they were alone again, Emma looked up at Killian ruefully, longing for just a few more moments to keep him close, all to herself.

“Ah, the real world has encroached on us, hasn’t it?” he murmured, returning her gaze with clear affection and a similar resignation to what was filling her.

“It seems that way, yes,” she whispered, hating the little quiver that crept into her voice. This wasn’t a goodbye, after all. It simply couldn’t be. She reached out to touch the edge of his jacket, wanting to draw him near, to somehow keep some small piece of him beside her even if they would soon have to part as the evening ended.

Killian swayed forward, following her lead, and she caught her breath in anticipation. They seemed to hover with mere inches between them, caught up in that powerful moment, only to be startled by the loud, tolling peal of the clock in the grand hall. The deep, rich sound of its bells announcing the hour had soundtracked Emma’s entire life - it could be heard throughout the palace and grounds - but never had it seemed so blatantly loud before.

Killian jerked backward in alarm as if coming back to himself from some sort of haze. “Midnight,” he murmured under his breath. “When the clock strikes midnight.” His eyes were wide with alarm as he shook his head, looking around him in disbelief. “How could I have forgotten?”

Emma felt her pulse begin to race in response to his agitation and upset. She didn’t know why he was suddenly so distraught, but she wanted to help. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she pleaded. “I’m sure we can fix it, whatever it is.”

Those beautiful blue eyes came back to her again, refocusing and holding her tenderly until another echoing gong rang out, jolting him into panicked motion once more. His words were quick as he clasped her hand in both of his for a quick, charged moment, “Your Highness, Princess… Emma… meeting you, this whole night, has been wonderful. I wish I could stay right here by your side, but I cannot. I have to go… I’ve already stayed too long. I must go, I’m sorry.”

Before Emma could reconcile his words, he had whirled away and was sprinting back through the curtains, across the ballroom to the hall from which he had first appeared, away from her. Emma hurried after him, grabbing her skirts so as not to trip and trying to catch up. She only just managed to stop herself from crying out for him to wait, not to leave her, hoping she hadn’t already drawn the attention of half the crowd with her sprint across the open floor.

But by the time she reached the grand hall herself, the clock was pealing its twelfth tone - midnight - and she was just in time to see Killian slipping out the entrance into the night. 

It seemed there should be some way to stop him, to call back this dream man from slipping away. Her hands were clenched in the fabric of her skirts so as not to point after him and order the palace guards to bring him back. She would never order such a thing, as much as she was trembling with the sudden loss and the need to do something. He had done nothing wrong, and he was absolutely free to go. She certainly did not wish him to be constrained by force.

Yet, Emma found as she stood there alone, blinking back silent tears, that she couldn’t understand what had happened. It had seemed they were perfectly in tune, only for the illusion to shatter in an instant. The fantasy disintegrated as swiftly as it had appeared - a mirage in shifting sand beneath her feet.

She simply could not bring herself to return to the party. There was no polite, concealing smile that would allow the shock and hurt rolling through her to remain undetected to so many eager eyes. Thankfully, in the following moment, a hesitant, slightly clammy hand found and clasped hers, and she turned her head to find Will standing beside her.

“Chin up, eh Emmy?” he cajoled gently, his voice still hoping to evoke a laugh or grin, but not nearly as boisterous and loud as normal.

Emma attempted a watery smile that she knew was fleeting and weak at best as she looked back at her friend, but then dropped his gaze with a slight shake of her head. “He’s gone, Will,” she whispered hoarsely. “And I didn’t even get his whole name. Even if he wanted me to, I’ll never find him again.”

Will sympathetically squeezed her hand, then looked down at his feet for a moment, his face suddenly showing a distinct expression she’d seen before when he was worried he was about to make her mad. “I need to tell y’ somethin’...” he started, “but ‘fore ya get all up in the air, just hear me out. I only wanted to try an’ help, make sure yer man was on the up’n up. Old habits and whatnot… Anyway, before I’d talked to ‘im, I thought he might’ve nicked this. It was in his pocket.”

Reluctantly, Will pulled something from his brocaded royal livery and held it out on open palm for Emma to see. She drew in a quick breath, just knowing it had been on Killian’s person and that it had been taken from him, but beyond that (and holding her tongue impressively, she might add) she couldn’t help feeling a rush of excited hope. There cupped in Will’s palm was a rather old-looking, but lovely, ring - sturdily fashioned, with a large garnet stone in its center. The chain from which it hung was rather tarnished and had clearly seen better days, but it dangled in the space between them enticingly. Was this talisman precious enough to him - was it rare or special enough - that it could somehow help her find him again?

“Will, what were you thinking?” she huffed in exasperation. But as she reached out to take it from his willing grasp, the light in her friend’s eye told her he wasn’t fooled by her proper admonishments. He knew her well enough to see that her belief had been rekindled and she was forming a plan.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @eastwesthomeisbest @bluewildcatfanatic @jonesfandomfanatic

@belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee @laianely @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm

@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @resident-of-storybrooke

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@4getfulimaginator2022 @ohmakemeahercules @everything-person @kday426 @jennjenn615

[snowbellewells]

HAPPY (One Day Late) BIRTHDAY KRYSTAL!!!

(I really wanted to get this posted on @kmomof4's actual birthday - I've only been trying to get this going since I promised it LAST YEAR! But you have been very patient, Krystal, and here at last is the story I'm working on for your birthday gift. Seeing as you wrote a beautiful CS AU of the Bridgerton book which is a bit of a Cinderella story, and since I've been mulling a bit of a Killian-as-the-Cinderella-character fic for some time, I've mashed that idea together with several of your mentioned fave tropes and characters/relationships from OuaT. I'm not going to list it all here. Hopefully, it will lead to more pleasantly melty surprises as we go. ;p I'll try not to keep you waiting too long between updates - and I have no idea how many chapters there will end up being. I first thought a really long one shot, then a two shot, but Killian and his fairy godmother (and Liam!) were excessively chatty, and it just kept getting longer and longer! I realize Emma isn't in it much yet, but we'll start with her next time.)

I hope you enjoy, Krystal!! I'm so glad we are friends!!!

Also available on AO3 if that is your preference...

"Dreams That You Wish Will Come True"

by: @snowbellewells

Chapter One

“But Liam,” a breathless young Killian Jones argued stubbornly, “why are you dragging me to the galley? You know all I have to get done before the Captain returns…” Swiping the shaggy dark hair back from where it hung in his eyes, long past needing a trim, the young man cringed at the sound of his own wheedling tone. Gritting his teeth and flexing his hands in frustration, Killian chided himself for questioning his elder brother’s direction and sounding like the bloody nuisance he knew he must be to Liam - strong and wise and nearly grown now. At barely seventeen, and with little experience beyond that of an indentured deckhand on a ramshackle pirate ship, what right or knowledge did he have to be so stubborn, especially not with Liam, who had only ever looked out for his best interests?

Sure enough, exasperated, Liam shook his head before responding with a huff, “Can you not just do what I say, Little Brother? For once? You’ll see in a moment.”

By this time, they had traversed the length of the ship below deck, and they stood outside the galley. They paused briefly, with Killian biting down on his tongue to prevent asking again if Liam was sure about what they were doing. To his wide-eyed astonishment, Liam raised a hand to rap his knuckles in a specific rhythm on the door that separated Cook’s domain from the dimly-lit hall. His brother gave him a bit of a wink, more mischief in it than his serious elder sibling, burdened with far too much responsibility for his years, usually showed. Curious now, Killian waited wordlessly with him until footsteps could be heard drawing nearer on the other side.

When the door was opened to them, Killian was perplexed over again as he and Liam were beckoned inward and the door closed behind them once more. Within the room, illuminated softly by a hanging lantern and a few candles scattered throughout, he saw that, not only Cook, but several of the crewmen of the Merry Rogue, had gathered in the small, already overwarm, and easily crowded room in which they took their meals. Killian was usually on his feet serving. Silver would allow nothing less from his “kitchen maid” as he often tauntingly dubbed Killian, hoping to stoke the fiery temper the young lad tried to check so he could then see him lashed for insubordination. It was only well after the others had cleared off that he and Cook could sit and take their own repast. However, those gathered now had secretive smiles and anxiously pleased looks on their faces. Killian noted easily that none of the more hateful crew members were present; neither those who ordered him about loftily, mocking him and sending him scurrying back and forth for items they didn’t really need throughout the meal, nor the cruel bosun who would stick a foot out to trip him, then cuff him for spilling and wasting food. Instead, gathered before him were the softer hearted men - perhaps misfits on the ship themselves at some earlier time before he and Liam were indentured to the vessel - who had often shown him bits of kindness and understanding when they could manage.

In spite of his earlier misgivings, he was intrigued and couldn’t help asking Cook this time, though Liam was still nearby. “What is going on here?”

The older man merely smiled kindly, motioning Killian further into the room, until he stood near its center. “You’ll soon see, lad,” Cook coaxed gently, turning to riffle through a burlap sack laid out on the galley table before offering his prize to Killian. “We’ve something to give you for the evening’s festivities.”

“Wh- what are you on about?” Killian’s brow puckered in confusion as he looked at what appeared to be a pile of folded cloth in his older friend’s hands, and at the eagerly expectant faces gathered around to watch. “Festivities? Me? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about…”

He was shaking his head as words failed him, not sure how to deal with the puzzle before him, when he sensed Liam at his back, solid and strong. His elder brother placed a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder and leaned in to murmur quietly in his ear. “Come now, Killy, you have to have seen the banners posted all over port for the gala at the castle, in honor of the Princess Emma’s birthday. It’s tonight.”

Killian sputtered indignantly as Liam nudged him in the side and nodded toward the stack of fine material Cook was still holding out to him. “Aye, of course I have, but - but what does that have to do with me?”

Liam responded with an even more brilliant smile, bowling Killian over with his quip, “Simple, Little Brother! If you would get a move on, we mean for you to attend that ball!”

Those words did not truly make the situation much clearer to Killian’s mind, but at Liam’s urging - knowing his sibling would never encourage something that would do him harm - he took the bundle from Cook and moved forward to lay the offering on the long, wooden table for a better view. He could see now that it was a fine coat, made of soft, midnight blue, expertly tailored and brand new, certainly the finest piece of clothing he’d ever held in his own two hands. There was also a dress shirt, a mere shade lighter, clearly meant to be worn beneath the jacket, and breeches of a soft, dove gray - all quite the ensemble and much finer than any mere deckhand or cabin boy would ever have use for. Despite that, all three items seemed to be in his particular size, and the pleased smiles on the small circle of weathered faces around him clearly meant for him to have the articles.

“This is very kind,” Killian began, trying a different tack since protesting that they must be mistaken had done no good. “These clothes are the most handsome I’ve seen, but surely no sailor, and one barely part of the crew at that, would be invited to such an event. Mayhap someone else could…”

“Perhaps I can explain,” an airy, musical voice spoke up, floating on the air like a tinkling of chimes as sparkles of light and swirls of colorful breeze seemed to catch the eyes of all those gathered in the small ship’s kitchen. Gliding gently toward him from above, a small creature - a miniature woman, a fairy!, he realized -  came to to hover before him, a sweetly bemused smile on her delicate face.

More questions flooded Killian’s brain than had already lingered; however, he was now too overwhelmed and in awe to speak any of them aloud. A fairy? Here? Where pirates cooked and swabbed the deck and ate their grub? That he would ever see such a mystical being had never entered his mind, much less the idea that he would encounter one aboard a ship which had seen much more glorious days many years ago. He was sailor enough - a superstitious lot, one and all - to believe that magic existed, fairies among the more familiar imagery of sirens and selkies, but a vague belief in theory was much different from seeing one shimmering before his own eyes, gazing on him with a benevolent smile upon her face.

Seeing that the beguiling young man before her was currently incapable of answering, the silvery-winged fairy’s laughter tinkled on the air like the pleasant ringing of tiny bells, the riotous pile of ringleted brown curls interespersed with morning glory blossoms shook with her gentle mirth before she spoke again, hastening to explain and hopefully to dispel the poor youth’s doubt and confusion. “You are Killian Jones, yes?” she queried, already certain, but awaiting his confirmation nonetheless.

Killian did manage an affirmative nod, and his lips formed a soft “aye”, though it sounded as barely more than a whisper.

“Well then, Killian Jones, it is a pleasure to meet you at long last. I have watched you from afar all your life, after all. I am Nova, your fairy godmother.”

The handsome young man’s bright blue eyes popped wide open at her pronouncement, stunning in their crystal clarity and nearly making Nova’s sweet soul cry at the hope laid bare in his expression, hope which he tried equally to rein in, clearly having already learned such lovely things were not meant for him and waiting to hear the catch. She was the most tender-hearted of all her sisters, and it had been painful for her to look on and do nothing as this mischievous, brilliant little boy had been forced into manhood far too soon. His mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, the privation and shame of unwilling servitude, the cruelty of mistreatment, and the harsh life at sea had all changed the bonny child who had boarded this ship with his father and brother years ago into the solemn young man before her, who had never truly been allowed to leave. She had chafed over and over again at being held back and kept from doing something to help her appointed charge - anything to better his lot, even slightly. Their fairy laws were fickle, and yet exacting; even as Nova honored and revered their ways and her elders, she could not claim to understand why it had taken so long to finally be deemed “the right time”.

She could tell by the furrow of his dark brow that young Killian Jones must be pondering at least some of those same questions. Where had she been these last years of backbreaking toil, pilfered rations, and vicious taunts about a father so desperate to be rid of him he had sold him away? Where had she been the first time the lash had scored his back and left bloodied stripes in its wake? She had been right there beside him, unseen, constrained from taking any action, but he had no way of knowing that.

“I - I have a fairy godmother?” he finally sputtered in stark disbelief.

Nova nodded kindly, having the good grace to look more than a little abashed. “Of course you do! Everyone does. It breaks my heart to think you’ve felt so forgotten.” She squared her shoulders and blinked rapidly, trying not to become emotional as she attempted to explain. “Unfortunately, we fairies follow a very strict code. We are forbidden to make ourselves known before the appointed time. And I kept being told it was not yet that moment…”

Killian’s mind whirled with all the new information - and with a bit of indignance at the idea that all he and Liam had been through since being abandoned and left in Silver’s dubious oversight had not been considered serious enough to merit aid. His mouth opened, and even he himself was not sure if it was a question or a retort on the tip of his tongue - but his immediate awe was finally overcome - when his diminutive magical guest clearly sensed she needed to finish her explanation, and fast. 

“My superior, the Blue Fairy, or Blue as she’s often called, is stricter about maintaining our distance and secrecy than most.” Nova shrugged her shoulders in obvious contrition as she waved her hands and a wand appeared within her grasp. “I’ve never really understood why, but that’s neither here nor there. It is finally time to grant your heart’s wish… to do something to make you life better, just as I’ve been waiting to do!”

Killian’s mouth snapped shut again at that, puzzled by her words and disarmed at the excitement bursting from her tiny frame. He had never met this Nova before, but he could hardly doubt her eager sincerity. “My wish?” he repeated uncertainly, feeling that he was trailing considerably further behind in the conversation that he ought to be. “I can’t honestly remember even making one.”

Even as he spoke those words, however, Killian knew in his heart they were not entirely true. It might not have been the focused drive of a wish upon a star, or anything that direct, but he had often thought on where he would go if he were free, what he and Liam could do if they were their own men, left to their own devices, able to seek an adventure of their choosing, honor and glory for the name of Jones which their father had sullied. Had those hopes and dreams been heard all this time, when he had felt so forgotten and ignored? It must be true, though it was hard to reconcile with his previous experiences.

Almost as if she could read his thoughts broadcast across his face, Nova nodded enthusiastically, affirming his realization. “That’s right,” she pronounced clearly, gesturing to the clothing his brother and shipmates had procured for him. The fairy -his fairy godmother! - then effortlessly waved her wand once more, causing one of the flyers ever-present about this kingdom to appear before him from out of thin air. “This ball is only the beginning for you. You have big dreams, Killian Jones, and a calling to fulfill, but you are also the only one who can see them come true. I may be giving you a bit of a boost, but you are more than enough for the task. Your heart is strong, and I have no doubt it will see you through. You only need a little belief.”

“And what exactly does a fancy royal ball have to do with anything?” he questioned. His shock was wearing off as he grew more comfortable speaking to Nova, but he wasn’t seeing why he would be needed at a princess’ birthday celebration. All the same, he scooped all the formal wear up in his arms to go and change - whether it made sense to him or not.

Nova’s entire small fae being practically twinkled at him with the playful wink she gave before answering, “Not all things are as simple as they might first appear, young sir.” With that, she lightly tapped the end of her wand on the top of his head, causing a pleasantly warm tingling to spread through Killian’s body, all the way out to his fingers and toes.

A mere moment later, amid astonished exclamations from Liam, Cook, and the others, he realized that his arms were empty; the new clothes he had been holding already magicked onto his lanky frame, along with shining new shoes upon his feet and a smart queue tied off with ribbon matching his fine shirt and a fresh, neat trim to his dark hair too. It was indeed enough to make him feel a whole new person - one who might not stand out horribly, even at the palace of Misthaven.

“There now,” Nova approved with gentle tone, a fond smile gracing her lips as she took in the full effect upon her charge. “You look quite the young gentleman.”

“Aye, you do at that!” Cook echoed with his rough but friendly voice as he clapped Killian on the shoulder heartily. “Even in our heyday, Cap’n Silver himself rarely looked so sharp!”

“I’d not let him hear you say so,” the old shipwright Ned called over jovially.

“Too right!” Cook chuckled.

The other crew members present laughed as well and began to talk amongst themselves, drifting away now that the excitement was past. Soon, only Liam stood beside him, the two brothers both looking to their benefactress where she hovered before them. Even Cook headed off for his cabin, saying his old bones were ready for his bunk, even if the night was still young.

“You look just like a fine young lieutenant,” Liam affirmed, eyes wide as he took in his younger sibling and needlessly brushed some nonexistent speck from the shoulder of Killian’s jacket. Then, bracing both of his larger hands on Killian’s upper arms, he held him out to gaze into his face seriously before offering in a choked voice, “This sort of adventure should have always been your lot.” Liam pulled Killian in abruptly and hugged him tight for several seconds, startling Killian before he held onto his brother with equal fervency.

“Thank you,” Killian finally managed when Liam released him. “I don’t know how you managed all this,” he gestured around the room, “but I am sure it began with you.”

Liam flushed slightly, looking down with a sheepish smile. “My idea, aye, but I had lots of help. And it wouldn’t have turned out nearly so well if your honest-to-goodness fairy godmother hadn’t turned up!”

Nova’s ringing laughter once again tickled their ears, her eyes crinkling up prettily as well with her good humor. “It really was my pleasure,” she rejoined. But then she added more seriously, “This is your night, Killian. There is much for you to see and to do, and I bid you enjoy every moment to its fullest. I’ve readied a carriage which will take you to the palace, and Liam can ride along with you as far as the gates. Just remember - the ride and the clothes, the gifts you’ve been granted, will vanish at midnight. It’s simply how the magic works. Make sure you are headed back by then.”

Killian nodded, promising he would do as she said; it was far longer than he could imagine needing, if the truth were told. He wasn’t at all sure what he would do there in any case. And though he wished Liam could venture inside with him, he would gladly take the ride to gather more advice and draw strength from his sibling’s company.

After that, it seemed very little time passed before - head still spinning at the sheer impossibility of it all - Killian was disembarking from a fine horsedrawn carriage at the palace gates. Looking back to grin crookedly at Liam, his brother urged once more “Have fun!” and reassured him that all would be well. Turning, Killian bravely put first one foot, and then the other, forward, until he stepped into the castle of Misthaven, a guest at a royal ball. 

He slipped his hand into his pocket to run his fingers over the ring on an old chain which had once belonged to their mother (Liam had bid him carry it this once for luck) and pulled in a deep, steadying breath as he gained his bearings. He was already dazzled beyond belief, but determined to make a good showing and bring “honor to the Jones brothers” as he murmured under his breath. Whatever he was meant to find, he would do his best.

At that, he raised his eyes, catching sight of the magnificent winding staircase trailing down from the upper floors into the main hall. Halfway down the steps, paused with one foot poised in descent, was a stunningly beautiful, golden-haired vision in sky blue and silver. Killian could scarcely take in the tiara resting upon her head or the clear resemblance she bore to her likeness on all the recent announcements for her birthday. Laying eyes on her in life had struck him motionless, frozen in place. ‘Bloody hell,’  his mind fumbled inelegantly, ‘It’s Princess Emma herself.’

So completely entranced was he, in fact, that Killian failed to realize the princess was just as stunned - equally taken in and unable to move. Their eyes met and held across the distance between them, and one more shining burst of magic was ignited then and there.

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