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patt-writes-stuff · 4 years ago

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Violetgrass (Xiao x f!reader)

Pairing: Yan!Xiao x f!reader

Word count: 6.7K+

Warnings: not the most canon complaint cuz the timeline for the archon War is a little blurry? Angst with no happy ending, major and repeated character death, semi-detailed descriptions of blood, injuries, and violence. Unhealthy and toxic relationships, yandere themes, mentions of stalking, controlling behavior, mentions of kid-napping, forced captivity. Unhealthy mindsets and generally xiao’s kinda slowly losing his sanity. Some delusions. Allusions of starvation/dehydration (it’s like one sentence). Pleas do not read this if any of the previously mentioned topics trigger you in any way.

Genre: Angst and Yandere

Tags/Aus: Mythology Au, Reincarnation Au

Summary: You and Xiao were lovers during the Archon War. You were his paradise, his bliss, and, unfortunately, a fragile mortal who was taken away far too soon. However Celestina was kind enough, or perhaps cruel enough, to bring you back to Xiao, only to rip you out of his loving embrace once more. This happens again and again, each time far more painfully than the last. Even an Adeptus such as Xiao can only take so much before he snaps though. This time, he’s gonna make sure that no one, not even you, can take his bliss away.

A/N: This is my piece for the Attack on Academia Mythology Au Collab!! Be sure to check the rest of them, they’re all super awesome and made by amazing writers!

You’ve heard the myth about the Vigilant Yaksha and the violetgrass maiden, haven’t you?

It’s said that the two are eternally intertwined, destined to love each other, only to be ripped apart by both her mortality and the cruelty of the gods. The tale itself goes like this…

The first time the Adeptus and his mortal lover met was back when the Archon War was still roaring. The smell of blood and misery filled the air and Rex Lapis had yet to claim his title as the Geo Archon. Despite this, some managed to find joy and serenity in these troubling periods.

The maiden was one of those people. She found joy in frolicking through the fields and climbing the highest mountains to collect qingxin flowers and, her personal favorite, violetgrass, whenever she had the time. Though climbing up the steep mountains and jagged peaks of Liyue was indeed dangerous, the damsel had become quite skilled at climbing, her hold rarely ever slipping, no falls or cuts of any sort.

Until one day, the maiden was climbing up a particular mountain. It was a troublesome one, for there were no proper footholds or protruding stones to grab on to. Still, the pretty violetgrass that was just a foot or two away from her, swaying gently with the wind, was far too tempting to not collect. It would look so lovely in a flower crown, or maybe a vase, perhaps she could flatten it out to make a bookmark or-

A piercing shriek escaped the mortal. Whilst her thoughts had been elsewhere, she’d stopped on a small ledge that was far too fragile to support her weight, the rock beneath the maiden gave away to nothing before she could react.

She shut their eyes tightly, bracing herself for an impact that would surely leave her battered and bruised, if not dead.

However, it never came.

Instead, she was caught mid-air by a pair of strong arms that secured their hold under the mortal woman’s knees and neck. She didn’t open her eyes right away, for fear that she would still fall, choosing instead to catch their breath. Once her savior landed safely on the ground, something she was able to detect due to the thud of shoes against the earth, she slowly opened her eyes.

Upon opening them, her eyes met with the piercing amber eyes of a young man with dark hair (the color of the ocean at night, she thought dreamily) with pretty teal bangs framing his even prettier face. His brows were furrowed slightly, thin lips twisted into what seemed to be a permanent frown. In her still dazed state, she couldn’t help but think that he was far too handsome to look so dreadfully serious.

After an intense moment of eye contact, perhaps too intense for two strangers that had met only seconds prior, he let her go in a rather unceremonious manner, causing her to squawk in surprise, knees buckling under the unexpected weight. She had not yet had a chance to gather her bearings after such a terrifying event.

Instead of asking if she was alright, the young man simply said, in a rather crude and callous manner, “You should be more careful, mortal. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you would’ve surely broken your neck.”

She gawked at him. Mortal? Why would he refer to her in such an… odd way?

The maiden looked at him up and down, as if trying to understand just what was wrong with this poor man. Suddenly, it struck her. She’d been an absolute idiot to not have noticed sooner. From the tattoo that adorned his right arm to the way he held himself, it had been so obvious.

Her savior was an Adeptus.

He wasn’t just an Adeptus, no. He was much more than that. He was one of the Adepti who served under Rex Lapis. He was one of the five Yakshas who kept her and the people of Liyue safe if the mask tied to his belt was any indication. And instead of killing demons or evil gods, he’d taken the time to save her.

Before she could muster an adequate thank you, he, who she’d now realized was Adeptus Xiao, was already leaving, uttering a quick “Please be careful,” on his way.

Quickly, and without really thinking, she grabbed onto his wrist, blabbering out the words, “Wait, don’t go! You must allow me to repay you for your generous actions!”

The amber-eyed Adeptus opened his mouth, ready to declare that it was unnecessary, but before he could, the damsel spoke up, “I could cook you something in return. How about almond tofu?” with a small giggle she added, “I assure you it’s sweeter than those dreams you eat.”

To both of their surprises, Xiao uttered a quiet, almost shy, “Yes.”

The Adeptus didn’t know what had come over him. All he knew is that there was something about the way her eyes sparkled and her lips moved, her soothing, melodious voice. It made his heart pound in a way it never had before.

And so, she cooked him some almond tofu, and they- well, she- talked as he ate the mouthwatering sweet.

He came back the day after that one and the one after that, followed on by the one after that, and so on. Xiao hadn’t meant to, really he hadn’t. But there was something about the maiden that just brought him a peace he had never experienced before. Her warm embrace and soft, gentle words were all he needed to keep fighting, to keep living, even. She was his paradise, his bliss. It wasn’t long until they were mutually infatuated with one another, deeply in love.

Every time he would visit her home, he would always bring her the flowers she so adored. Glaze lilies, silk flowers, and of course, violetgrass. Xiao had even gifted her a small broach, one made of the finest noctilucous jade, shaped like the downturned purple flower.

Unfortunately, everything is temporary for those punished with immortality.

The first time Xiao lost his maiden was, as he remembers, a rainy day. Despite the dreary weather, she had decided to go violetgrass picking since they’re always best picked after the rain.

But, dear Archons, what a dreadful idea that had been.

While the purple flower is indeed best picked after it rains, it is also the time when rocks are most… slippery.

So, as the maiden was climbing up the steep mountains of Juyen Karst, her right hand’s hold on the rock slipped, causing her palm to be cut open by a particularly jagged piece of stone. She hissed in, watching as blood began to ooze out. Panic started to seep in, there was no ledge for her to tend to her wound, and the cut was far too big for her to continue to climb up or down.

Dread began to fill her to her very core, she felt burning hot with unchecked anxiety, fear begging to settle into her gut in the most uncomfortable of manners. She should have waited for Xiao as he had asked of her. Ever since they had first met, a year ago to the day, he’d been so adamant on wanting to go with her to ensure her safety. She’d only wanted to surprise him with some when he returned home. The maiden was so sure it would’ve been a romantic anniversary gift, seeing as they were the cause of their meeting…

She’d been such a fool.

The violetgrass maiden attempted to climb down but Celestia seemed to laugh at her feeble attempts. She stretched her leg, trying to find the foothold she had used previously. However, her foot slipped and before she knew it, she was falling, just as she had been a year ago.

Horror filled her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe, her life flashed before her eyes, and then suddenly she remembered some words her lover had uttered to her one night under the glow of the moonlight when it was but the two of them in each other’s arms:

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name, Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.”

And so she called, at the top of her lungs, as loud as she could muster. The seconds seemed to turn to hours as she shut her eyes and waited to feel the strong arms of her lover, to hear the safety of his heartbeat.

But it never came.

Or rather, it came too late.

By the time Xiao had finished up the demonic creatures that threatening Liyue, by the time he’d answered her call, he was already too late.

Upon manifesting in the air out of nothing, he was greeted by the side of his love’s pitiful, mortal body. Her garments were bloody, the basket she carried her flowers in laid a few feet away from her body,her neck bent in a painfully awkward way.

Xiao felt so helpless. He was so helpless.

He could do no more than hold back the tears stinging his eyes and attempting to shake her awake.

The second time Xiao met the maiden was no more than a century after the first time. The Archon War was not yet over and sickness plagued every nook and cranny, taking the lives of hundreds upon thousands.

The two star-crossed lovers were reunited one clear summer night when the maiden was wandering aimlessly through the fields of Lingju Pass. She knew it was dangerous during these times, especially with how ill she had been feeling as of late. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d already spent hours tossing and turning in her bed. Sleep, however, refused to come. Instead, she felt the overwhelming urge to leave the safety of her bed and go there. It was as if someone had tied a rope around her waist and was tugging at it persistently, insisting she follows.

And so she followed.

Upon reaching a clearing, she froze. In front of her very eyes was a sitting Stonehide Lawachurl, the type even the fiercest warriors in your village struggled with. The maiden quickly started backing away, praying to the Lord of Geo that it wouldn’t sense her presence. Her prayers were in vain, however, for as soon as the thought escaped her, she stepped on a twig, making it snap and effectively alerting the fearsome monster of her presence.

She shook in terror as parts of the Lawachurl’s rocky exterior began to glow with geo elemental energy. She hadn’t expected anything of the sort to happen so she hadn’t brought her sword, meaning she couldn’t exactly fight it, definitely not without a vision at least. Running wasn’t much of an option considering her body’s weak and ill state. She could try to outrun it, sure, but it wouldn’t be long before she was driven to a coughing fit because of it.

Before life had a chance to flash before her eyes, a masked young man appeared. Distantly, she recognized him as one of the adepti and watched him easily defeat the Stonehide Lawachurl with a series of short, consecutive plunges. She couldn’t help but watch him, mouth agape in an expression of pure, unadulterated awe. The Adeptus didn’t even need a claymore to break through the creature’s thick, hard exterior. As bad as she felt for not assisting him, she knew she weren’t exactly in any position to lend a hand. Not that she needed to, though, for soon enough the monster crumbled into nothing but red and black smoke.

After a second of panting over the remains of what was left of the creature, polearm in hand, Xiao turned to her and felt his blood run cold.

It was her.

How could it be her? She had died long ago. He knew she had, he’d cradled her cold body as tears streamed down his face. He’d taken her lifeless body back to her family. He’d left flowers at her grave.

This had to be some sort of sick joke, he thought, perhaps the karmic debt was finally getting to him, just like it had his fellow Yakshas.

Suddenly, his amber eyes zeroed in on a broach she had pinned to her dress. A Violetgrass broach, to be exact. Made of noctilucous jade, just like the one he had given her. The one he’d made for her with his own hands. There was no denying it was the very one. Only, how could that be? He had ensured it had been buried with you…

But it was an indisputable fact. That broach was the one he had made for his love and the woman before him was her. It was her from her wide eyes, fixated on him with the same wonder they had always had when they looked at him. Her hair was the same color and texture, and it framed her face in the same way. It was her.

The beginnings of tears stung at his eyes. Perhaps Celestia had brought you back? Perhaps they’d finally realized, just as he had always known, that her death was cruel and unfair. That it wasn’t meant to be. That she was meant to be in his arms, happy and safe.

“Uhm- excuse me, Adeptus Xiao, are you alright?” She inquired worriedly, eyes solely on him, filled to the brim with concern.

‘Oh Archons’, he couldn’t help but think distantly, ‘I’ve missed her voice.’

Instead of running up to her and crushing him in his loving embrace, he stayed where he was, took off his mask, nodded briskly, swallowing as if to avoid the tightness in his throat. She didn’t seem to remember him yet, so there was no use in frightening her.

Before he could muster up the courage to speak to her, his love began to cough furiously, though she attempted to cover it up. She didn’t want to be rude to her savior, after all.

“Ha, pardon me, sir, I’ve just been feeling a bit under the weather is all,” she told him feebly.

He nodded brusquely, before uttering, “I shall return you home safely.”

“Oh no, I assure you, you’ve done more than enough for me. I can’t ask that of you,” she fumbled hurriedly, though his words were more of a statement than a question.

Xiao had never been one for unnecessary- or at least what he thought were unnecessary- words, so instead of saying anything, the Adeptus simply grabbed her by the waist and teleported you home, after asking where home was, of course.

The next day, the Yaksha visited the maiden’s home, a bushel of violetgrass flowers in hand. She’d been understandably surprised, yet thrilled that the dark-haired man was visiting her. She hadn’t expected someone as busy as him to make time for a regular person such as herself, especially not during these times.

“These are my favorite flowers, y’know? They’re just so beautiful,” the maiden exclaimed gleefully.

He did know. That had been one of the reasons he had brought them to her. The second reason was because of what happened last time, in her previous life, he supposed. Celestia had been kind enough to gift him a second chance with his love, and he was going to ensure that it did not go to waste.

And so, every day he would visit her. Some days he would bring silk flowers, or glaze lilies, while other days he would bring her loach pearls and core lapis. Not a day went by where he would not appear in front of the damsel’s house, a gift in hand, ready to hear her ramble about whatever that beautiful brain of hers desired to prattle on about.

“You’re simply too generous Xiao,” she’d told him playfully while she laid in her bed, as she was still unwell, the Adeptus seated in a plush chair next to it. “There has to be something I can give you in return for everything. I won’t take no for an answer.”

He thought for a moment, before asking, tentatively, “Do you know how to make almond tofu?”

He’d never forget her dazzling smile that day, as she shakily got out of her bed, latching onto the support he offered while she gathered her bearings, and marched to her kitchen, enthusiastically preparing the sweet treat as she talked about a book she’d been reading, one that’d been gifted to her by a friend, titled Moonlit Bamboo Forest.

The lovers did this every day for months. Xiao brought her some medicinal tea that Rex Lapis himself said could cure her ailments. They did indeed begin to see improvement in her health and Xiao couldn’t help but feel immense relief. This time, he wouldn’t lose her for certain.

Until the plagues reached her village.

She’d been one of the first to catch it since the village doctor came to check on her so often, he’d spread it to her. The plague, coupled with her previous illness, weakened her body in a manner of days. One day, Xiao went to get some medicine his fellow adepti had guaranteed would help the maiden feel better.

When he returned later that day, however, he found her body in the bed, cold and without a pulse, the stench of death and sickness thick in the air.

That was the second time he had lost her.

The third time the star-crossed lovers met was long after the archon war. Liyue was now its own nation with its own name, the great center of wealth and commerce. The Yakshas were now a thing of the past, having succumbed to their karmic debt. Eventually, they all fell in one way or another.

All but Xiao, who remained a constant throughout it all.

Over the past decade or so, Xiao had taken to staying at the Wangshu Inn when he wasn’t slaying monsters. The people were nice enough, though he had long given up on attempting to form emotional connections with others. It would only lead to grief, just like it had when he’d lost his love or his fellow Yakshas, and there was only so much grief anyone, mortal or not, could take before their thread of sanity snapped in half. And with his Karmic Debt being as bad as it was…

As Xiao sat at the edge of the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, legs dangling below, he couldn’t help but think of her, his maiden. He wondered if, perhaps, Celestia would give him a third chance and bring her back to him. Honestly, the Adeptus wasn’t sure he wanted a third chance with her. While he did miss the sound of her heartbeat and the sweet words she’d utter to him and only him, he doubted he could bear the pain of having her ripped away from him once again.

It’s as if Celestia was taunting Xiao. As if the Archons above were bored and found some sick amusement in his pain as if his emotions were nothing but a game to them. What other explanations were there for what happened next?

“Um- excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?” An angelic voice he knew far too well, missed far too much, spoke.

Xiao looked up and lo and behold, it was her. Same hair, same eyes, same violetgrass broach.

She stood behind him clutching a plate of something, though the angle wouldn’t allow him to make up what it was. Her face adorned that same anxious smile of hers and he could feel himself falling in love with the maiden all over again. He knew he should say no. He shouldn’t allow her back in, not when he’s already lost her so many times before, not when they’d both suffered so much just by being together.

He nodded before looking away.

He shouldn’t but he would.

“I hope you don’t mind me intruding on your quiet time,” she said softly once she had settled beside him. When he made no indication of answering, she continued, “To be honest, you just seemed so… sad, melancholic even. Something about it, even if I don’t really know you, doesn’t sit right with me. It makes my heart feel heavy.”

The violetgrass maiden received no response, except for a soft grunt of acknowledgment, so small she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. Still, it was all she needed to perk up and stretch her arms out, offering him the plate she’d been holding.

“Here, I got this for you,” she told him, “word around the streets is you’ve got quite an appetite for it! Though this is my first time staying at the Inn, so I’m not sure if it’s any good here.”

Xiao looked at her, amber eyes filled with love. He was glad to know that, despite living through many lives now, she was still the girl he’d met back then, as sweet as he’d remembered her, just as caring.

He shouldn’t have but he took the plate from her hands and began to eat.

Instead of saying anything, she simply watched him as he ate, a silly little smile making its way to her face. The look on his lady’s face had him growing hot and turning beet red

“So,” he coughed out, embarrassed, “where’d you get a broach like that?”

“Oh, this one?” She inquired, pointing at the shiny violetgrass broach, “I found it lying on the ground one day when I was out picking lotus heads for dinner. I asked just about everyone in Liyue Harbor if it was theirs, but no luck. I eventually decided to just keep it for myself. It is a shame though, whoever lost it must truly be upset over losing such a beautiful piece of jewelry. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

He nodded along, thinking that, well, the broach actually was with its owner.

“It’s as if it were fate though,” she prattled on happily, watching the stars as she talked, “Violeygrass is my very favorite, always has been really. Though, I’ve always been too scared to climb up for them myself. You see, ever since I was little, I’ve had this recurring nightmare where I fell to my death while collecting some.”

The Adeptus stilled for a second, tense. She hadn’t ever brought up dreams about her past life. Maybe this time was different, maybe she’d remember what he did!

“Oh my Archons,” she exclaimed, face warm with embarrassment, scratching the back of her head sheepishly, “I’ve been going on and on! I’m so sorry, something about you feels so familiar. It makes me feel like I can tell you just about everything. Is that weird?”

His heart was racing like it hadn’t in years, decades even.

“You can tell me whatever you want,” he answered shortly, “I don’t mind listening. You have a nice voice.”

The maiden covered her hands with her face, flustered, and Xiao let out a rare smile, soft and gentle. This time would be different. He’d make sure of it.

After that day, the maiden began to visit the Wangshu Inn often, whenever she could spare time away from her job. Unbeknownst to her, however, Xiao followed at a distance when she wasn’t visiting him, to ensure her safety. He knew it wasn’t right, truly, but he had no other choice. He had to, or else he’d risk losing her to an accident such as last time, fall ill again, attacked by monsters or, Celestia forbid, be kidnapped by a group of treasure hoarders.

He’d have to get rid of any and all threats.

So, Xiao continued to follow his maiden from a distance, he made sure she was in tip-top shape, and ruthlessly slaughtering all enemies that he deemed a threat to her, until he was certain nothing would take her away from him again.

Except for one threat. Himself.

The third time he’d lost her was on a beautiful night, not that Xiao could remember it well. His love had insisted on the two of them taking a walk. She’d reasoned that the cool night air would help him regain control. His karmic debt had been weighing on him an awful lot recently and she simply couldn’t bear to see him in such excruciating pain.

The walk had started off rather pleasantly, as far as Xiao could remember. He could remember nudging his hand against hers, wanting to hold it but being far too shy to do so. With a laugh and a teasing remark, the maiden interlaced their fingers, bringing up their hands to place a gentle kiss on his, making the tips of his ears redden in bashfulness. They’d walked a little further until they encountered a group of hilichurls accompanied by a pyro abyss mage. Without skipping a beat, Xiao stepped in front of his lover, polearm appearing in his hand.

And then…

Everything went dark. Xiao’s mind was nothing but a void, pain exploded in every inch of his body as his karmic debt returned in full force to punish him for the slaughtering he’d committed.

When he came to, his mind was hazy, unsure of what had occurred. The Yaksha sat up, ignoring the way his muscles protested against it, and looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened and where he was.

Xiao froze when his eyes locked onto her pitiful body laying a few feet ahead of him in the grass surrounded by arrowheads and broken hilichurl masks, blood turning ice-cold. If he ignored the gashes across her body, the ones that were unmistakably made by the bloody spear he was clutching and not some hilichurl club or bow and arrow, and the blood that stained her pretty garments, he could almost fool himself into thinking she was asleep.

This had been his doing.

After a few beats of stunned silence, the dark-haired Adeptus lurched forward grabbing onto her cold body and shaking ruthlessly, calling out her name frantically, as if it would make his love wake up, make her cradle his face lovingly and ask why he’d been crying.

Xiao looked up onto the sky scornfully, looking up at Celestia with nothing short of pure, unadulterated loathing. He was willing to bet they were all mocking him right now, laughing at how weak and pathetic he was, at how time after time, he’d failed to love her enough, to keep her alive. They did this on purpose he was sure of it, those bastards. Well, if they could play dirty like this, so could he. He’d get her back, he’d keep her alive by his side.

And just like that, Xiao’s thread of sanity snapped.

“You can’t take her away from me anymore,” he spoke to the sky nonsensically, “I won’t let you. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to kill, you won’t take my bliss away from me again.”

“That story was quite depressing,” Chongyun stated, ceasing his footsteps to look to his friend, Xingqiu.

“Ah yes, it is indeed, my liege,” the navy blue-haired gentleman agreed, “However, I’m glad this book included the whole myth, instead of making me wait for the next volume like the last one.”

The light blue-haired boy rolled his eyes before saying, “As much as I appreciated you reading the book aloud, I don’t see how this aids us in our search for (Y/N).”

The reason the boys had been searching across all of Liyue, was because their aforementioned friend had mysteriously gone missing. Everything had been as it normally was until one day, (Y/N) didn’t show up at her job in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, something that was incredibly unusual of her, especially without a warning to her boss or coworkers. This led Hu Tao, with the insistence of Zhongli, to ask Chongyun and Xingqiu, two of (Y/N)’s friends, for help in the search for her. They had also contacted the milelith, but they had told them that she’d not been missing for long enough to warrant a search party. The two had, of course, been quick to help, though Xingqiu had been rather enraptured in a book of Liyue Myths, simply insisting he’d have to take it with him so he could read while he searched for her.

“But my liege,” Xingqiu exclaimed playfully, golden eyes shining with mirth, “this story is of utmost importance in our search for our beloved friend. Why, for all we know, (Y/N) might’ve been kidnapped by the Vigilant Yaksha himself! She has always had a habit of climbing mountains to pick violetgrass like the maiden in the book”

“Do not be so ridiculous,” Chongyun said, rolling his eyes, “I doubt an Adeptus such as himself would ever commit such an atrocity of that degree against a citizen of Liyue. Besides, that myth is incredibly old and there’s very little evidence that proves its validity. It’s more likely that (Y/N) was taken by a demon. That is why I asked you to accompany me to Wuwang Hill.”

“I was simply joking Chongyun,” he said with a laugh before turning solemn, “However, regretfully I feel as though it is time for the two of us to return to Liyue Harbor for the day. You’ve just about run out of popsicles and with this heat, I have no doubt you’ll overheat if we keep going.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” The blue-eyed boy admitted. “I hope (Y/N) is alright wherever she is.”

“I do as well,” Xingqiu agreed, “Perhaps Hu Tao and Zhongli have had more luck.”

Chongyun nodded, “Xiangling also said she’d ask her customers if they’d seen her.”

With that, the two boys made their way back to Lihue Harbor, oblivious to just how true Xingqiu’s joke had been.

Xiao sighed as he climbed up the stairs of Wangshu Inn up to his room. Of course, he did not need sleep, it was a mortal need in and of itself, or a room for that matter but Verr Goldet had insisted that he should have his own space, somewhere he could rest after long days of slaughtering demons such as this one.

The Adeptus turned the door handle, opening the door of an empty, pristine room. While the room had all of the furniture the other Inn rooms had, it still felt unnervingly empty, without any clothes or trinkets laying around. The only personal object of Xiao’s in the room was an orange teapot that rested on the nightstand.

Quickly, Xiao opened the tea pot’s lid, and within seconds he was standing in front of a Liyue style mansion, surrounded by mountains that he crafted to look like the ones from when the two of you had met all those centuries ago. Eager to see you, Xiao ignored Tubby’s greetings and opened the front door, making quick work of taking off his shoes before climbing the stairs to the second floor, where your room was.

He opened the door to find you sat atop your bed, alert and glaring at him fiercely. The Adeptus rolled his amber eyes, it seemed you were still trying to act out and be defiant. Looking around your room, mostly to make sure you hadn’t tried to smash the windows with the desk chair like last time (you seemed to not comprehend the fact that there was no escaping the serenetea pot, since it was a world Xiao himself had created), his eyes settled on the plate of bamboo shoot soup he’d left for you this morning, along with a still filled to the brim cup of water. He narrowed his eyes at that. It simply wouldn’t do. You’d been here for about a week now and you still refused to eat or drink anything he brought you, except for a few nibbles and sips he’d managed to threaten coax out of you. Xiao, admittedly, didn’t know very much about humans, but he did know they needed to eat and drink to stay alive. He’d learned that the hard way on his last few tries.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Xiao inquired before adding, “If you don’t like this food you should come out and say it. I can ask Smiley Yanxiao for something that suits your taste more.”

You let out a poorly suppressed scoff. This nut-job didn’t seem to get that out of all the things wrong in this situation, the last thing you were concerned about was the food. Dear Archons, just what is wrong with this man? First, he had the gall of taking you captive one evening when you were going home from work and now he had the audacity to expect you to act like a complacent little toy and go along with this insanity?

And to think that when you’d first met him whilst accompanying the Traveler and Paimon, who had been commissioned by Director Hu Tao to gather some cor lapis for a client’s ceremony, you’d been absolutely smitten with the awkward and stoic Adeptus. Everything from his pretty black hair to his captivating bright eyes had your knees weak. So much so that you’d ignored all of the red flags, like how he’d stare at you in such an intense manner, with eyes fixated on you and only you, how he seemed to distrust Aether, a trusted friend of his, when it came to him accompanying you, or how as soon as you’d met you had the horrible sensation of being watched at all times of the day. Just thinking back to all the warning signs you’d missed made your skin crawl. Perhaps if you hadn’t been such a lovesick idiot you’d be at home right now or eating dinner with Chongyun and Xingqiu, trying out one of Xianglings crazy concoctions containing slime condensate or whopper flower nectar.

Instead, you were trapped in an artificial world, in a room that looked horrifyingly similar to your own back home.

You were snapped out of your reverie by Xiao moving closer to your bed.

“Let me go home,” you said, hating how your voice cracked at the end. You felt so pathetic, you always prided yourself on being a headstrong independent person, and here you were, cowering at his closeness and avoiding all eye contact, as if looking at his pain filled eyes would ruin you.

“You are home,” he retorted, his voice bordering on delusion, “This is your home. This is where you're safe. Where you stay alive and I get to keep you forever.”

Xiao stretched out his arm, as if to cradle your cheek in his hand but before he got to you flinched away, backing away from him as far as you could, back hitting the headboard. You looked away, trying to ignore how guilty the pain that flashed through his eyes made you feel. You shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty. He should be. He’s the one that stole you away from your home. He’s the one that ruined your life.

You look down at the violetgrass broach clasped onto your blouse in nothing short of complete and utter loathing. You’d been so captivated by it when you’d first found it at the antique shop while window shopping with Mr. Zhongli.

It had been exactly six months since you’d moved away from your home in the sleepy Qingce Village in exchange for a job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and a quaint apparently in the bustling city of Liyue Harbor. To celebrate, your coworker (and the person you had been shadowing in order to learn the ropes of the funeral business) Mr. Zhongli had insisted on going to Third-Round Knockout for some dinner. You’d been a bit hesitant at first, mostly because you knew well of the elegant gentleman’s habit of forgetting his wallet, but you enjoyed hearing his stories far too much to say no. Something about his retellings of stories about the Adepti just enraptured you.

Afterward, the two of you had decided to walk around the city and look at the displays in shops, since you had decided that your hard work warranted splurging a little as a reward of sorts. You had of course asked Mr. Zhongli to join you since he had such exquisite taste and an eye for the authentic, you valued his opinion greatly.

That’s how the two of you ended up at Xigu Antiques, browsing the display case. All of a sudden, your eyes zeroed in on a broach that resembles a little violetgrass plant, its downturned leaves made up of what you could only guess was noctilucous jade. It was, for lack of a better word, stunning.

“Mr. Zhongli,” you exclaimed, tugging at his sleeve to call his attention away from a porcelain teapot with gold little geo symbols as decoration, “what do you think of this one? It’s quite beautiful isn’t it?”

The dark-haired man looked at the broach you were pointing at before going tense, a small gasp escaping him as his beautiful amber eyes widened slightly. You looked at him in concern, you’d never seen the man come this close to losing his composure.

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat, “is this the one you’re thinking of purchasing? I’d advise against it. Even by just a mere glance, I can tell it is not made of real noctilucous jade.”

Strangely, you felt as though he wasn’t being truthful with you.

“Well, that’s alright. I don’t really care about the authenticity and it’s pretty cheap. If it is a fake, I don’t really have much to lose. Plus, I’ve always loved violetgrass. This broach could be like a little homage to that!” You answered, letting out a little giggle.

“You’ve heard of the Vigilant Yaksha and the violetgrass maiden, am I correct?” He asked.

“Oh, yes I have! My Gran used to tell it to me and the rest of the village children back when I was young. It always made me so sad, how they can never be together. It was pretty silly now that I think about it, but I would bawl my eyes out every time. The rest of the kids would tease me a bit but I just couldn’t control it,” you reminisced.

“I- well, yes in any case, they say that anyone who possesses that broach will be cursed to meet the same fate,” Zhongli added, trying his best to dissuade you from buying the old broach, dread creeping into his stomach as he thought of what might happen to you- to the both of you.

“Of course you’d believe old supersticiones, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, letting out a lighthearted laugh that could make any heart, even one of stone, melt, “it’s very on brand! However, I’m sure there’s no need to be worried, after all, it’s nothing but an old myth! And even if it is real, you yourself said that it’s not made of the real stuff.”

Before Zhongli could figure a way to change the unchangeable, you had already purchased the broach. As you kept on leading the funeral consultant around the streets of Liyue Harbor, bag in hand, prattling on about anything and everything, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink. A single thought, the same one you would later have, crossed his mind.

If only you hadn’t bought that goddamned broach.

In a fit of anger and desperation, you ripped the detested broach off of your shirt, throwing it at Xiao. You hoped it would somehow break into millions of tiny pieces.

After a beat of silence, Xiao spoke, “Eat.”

“No,” you yelled, before breaking down into a fit of angry sob, “I hate you!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Xiao lurched forward so close your noses were almost touching, and for a second you think he’s gonna hit you but instead, he simply rests his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. When he pulls away, your sobs have waned into hiccups. Without saying so much as a word Xiao clasps the violetgrass broach onto your shirt, where it belongs.

“Eat,” is all he says, placing the now lukewarm soup into your hands.

Scared, tired, and sad, you do as he said, taking small sips of the admittedly tasty dish. He does nothing more than stare at her with those intense amber eyes of his for a few minutes before turning around and heading towards the door.

Before he leaves he turns his head back to look at her and says, “I don’t care if you don’t like me. Hate me for all I care. As long as you stay alive I don’t care.”

#Xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #genshin impact Xiao x reader #yan! Xiao x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #Xiao #genshin impact #tw: yandere #flavor: xiao #patt’s creations

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fallforcs · 7 years ago

Text

Set Fire To The Darkness

Art by: @nicole-nikla

Author: @celestial-fire-writer

Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven has been the Dark One for ten lonely years, hiding away in her castle from the rest of the world, trying to find a way to destroy the darkness. One day, Prince Killian of Camelot seeks her out, hoping that she can save his dying brother. Emma, knowing Camelot is the best place to defeat the darkness, agrees, and the unlikely duo set off on an adventure together, comprised of trials, battles, family and true love.

Rating and reason for the rating: T, for mild violence.

Triggers: Mentioned death of minor characters, brief description of anxiety/panic attacks.

A/N: I’m so happy to finally be sharing my FFCS story! I loved working on this fic and I hope everyone will enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d like to thank the mods for creating this lovely event and for helping out so much. Thank you!

Shout out to @snidgetsafan for beta reading some of my story although she was busy, thanks a lot! Thank you, @demisexualemmaswan for beta reading the rest, and at such short notice too! And many thanks to my artist who made such a beautiful banner for my story!! I absolutely love it, it’s amazing!

“Killian, are you out of your mind?”

Killian, the prince of Camelot, winces at the sheer incredulity in Belle’s voice. In all the years he’s known the lovely librarian, he’s never heard her so much as raise her voice or lose her temper or even sound particularly frustrated.

Until now.

“Belle, I know it sounds insane-” he tries, but she cuts him off abruptly.

“Insane is one word for it. Do you honestly think Liam is going to agree to this plan?”

Killian frowns. “He won’t be agreeing to anything, because I won’t be telling him.”

The war between Snow White and the Evil Queen has been going on for nigh three decades now. Camelot has been aligned with Misthaven and they are against the Queen as well, despite all her efforts to lure them over to her side. Liam, Killian’s brother and the king of Camelot, remained firm in his decision to ally themselves with Misthaven.

Five years ago, the Queen staged an uncalled for, unprovoked attack on Killian and his fiancée, Milah. Killian had lost his hand and Milah, her life. Fueled with rage on the behalf of his brother and his dead fiancée, Liam promptly declared war against the Queen.

This led them to the situation they are in right now.

Liam is bedridden, poisoned by the Queen, and only has a few weeks to live.

None of the best healers and sorcerers in the land could do anything to help Liam. When all of their attempts failed, Killian and Belle began their own research, working desperately to find a way to save him.

While searching through the many texts on magical ailments and cures in the library, Killian has come across a legend about of the most powerful being to ever live:

The Dark One, a mighty magician who has the power to alter the laws of magic itself.

Or so the legend told.

Belle is vehemently against this plan.

“Seeking out dark magic is never a good idea, Killian,” she insists, nervously wringing her hands. “And the Dark Ones are known for their penchant for making deals. Trust me, that is one price you do not want to pay.”

“We’ve run out of options, lass,” Killian says forcefully. “Liam only has a few weeks to live and I don’t plan on sitting around and waiting for him to die.”

“And you think I am?” Belle asks shrilly, and the pure hurt in her voice makes Killian flinch. He knows that Belle and Liam have had feelings for each other for quite a while now, although both are too stubborn to admit it. When Liam was poisoned, Belle was beside herself with grief, spending the few hours she wasn’t slaving in the library with Liam, trying to raise his spirits and hiding her worry from him. “I want to save Liam as much as you do! But if we resort to seeking out the Dark One, we’re liable to be killed and we’re not much good to Liam dead, are we?”

Killian nods slowly. “You’re right,” he says, and Belle almost sighs in relief but his next words throw her for a loop, “That’s why I’m going alone.”

“Killian, you could die!”

“If I’m trying to save my brother, then so be it I’m happy to,” Killian says resolutely. “And if I fail, I have faith that you will find a way to save him instead.”

Belle is quiet for a long minute and Killian wonders if he’ll have to try harder to convince her. But then she speaks, her tone resigned,

“You’ll need supplies for your journey.”

“I’ll pack them up myself,” Killian assures her, inwardly sighing in relief that he doesn’t have to resort to drastic measures. “In the meanwhile, could you please scrounge up any information you can get about the Dark One?”

Belle nods. “That I can do. When will you leave?”

“At night. No one must know about this save for you and me. I suspect that there are spies of the Queen among our court members. We cannot risk any of this getting back to her.”

“Agreed,” Belle says grimly before another thought occurs to her. “What shall I tell Liam?”

Killian shrugs. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something. The castle of the Dark One, according to the maps I referred to, lies between the borders of Misthaven and Camelot. With luck, I should be back within four days.”

“You’re really doing this,” Belle says, exhaling loudly.

“Aye, that I am.”

“Just…just be careful.”

“Always am,” Killian says, but Belle simply narrows her eyes at him. Relenting with a sigh, he nods.

“I promise. Take care of Liam for me.”

Belle only nods. Killian accepts it, knowing that he’s leaving his brother in good hands.

It’s a two day journey to the Dark One’s castle.

Killian travels through most of the night, stopping to rest for only a few hours before he starts again. By the time he reaches the castle, he is immensely exhausted from the journey; yet triumphant that he has finally made it.

Now the next step is actually confronting the Dark One.

Belle had told him that the previous Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, had been killed ten years earlier. Not much is known about the current Dark One.

They only know that the she is a woman, who has kept to herself for the past decade, rarely coming out of the castle. Killian finds this strange, wondering why a being of such great power would choose to lurk in the shadows, instead of using her power to command nations and make the people of the world bow to her.

According to the texts he’s read, whoever kills the Dark One is doomed to take on the darkness next. Killian wonders if killing the Dark One was an accident, if this woman did not want the power at all and so is hiding away from the rest of the world. He can certainly sympathize if that’s the case. Of course, it then begs the question as to whether she will even help him now.

She has to. Killian does not want to think about what would happen if he lost his brother. He knows tragedy quite intimately, having lost his father to illness seven years prior; as well as his love and hand to the Queen’s Black Knights two years later. He cannot lose his brother. Even if it means resorting to dark magic, he will save him.

Killian enters the castle cautiously, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his prosthetic tucked behind his back, out of habit. It’s a huge, formidable fortress; the doors opening into a large, elaborate room which is covered with layers of dust, books and all manner of trinkets strewn about a large table in the center. In a dark corner, there lie the remains of what might have once been a spinning wheel, but the object is now destroyed beyond recognition.

A flash of gold catches his eye. Killian approaches the table and picks up a dream catcher that perches on the pile of books. A shudder wracks through him and he quickly drops it. He might not have too much experience with dark magic, but he can tell that the dream catcher is absolutely soaked in it.

Belle was right, this is a terrible idea.

But it’s too late to turn back now.

The doors at the back of the room swing open with a bang and Killian spins around, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. A woman strides into the room and pauses when she spots him, her eyes narrowing. Killian knows without a doubt, at this moment, that she is the Dark One.

She doesn’t look evil. Her face is hard and her posture stiff but she doesn’t seem menacing, only defensive. Her silvery hair is gathered in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, and she wears a long, sweeping dress of midnight black, a cutlass at her side. Killian takes a hesitant step forward, letting his hand fall from his sword.

“What do you want?” the Dark One asks. She sounds almost bored. Her voice is soft, yet seems to echo in the silence of the castle. Killian stares at her blankly for a moment before he recollects himself.

“My name is Killian. I am the prince of Camelot,” he says, a little surprised at how steady his voice sounds. “I…heard that you are a being of great magical power. I have come to seek your help.”

The Dark One simply watches him, her brow creased. After a long moment, she sighs and turns away.

“Seek help elsewhere. I’m not interested.”

Panic blooms in Killian’s chest.

“No, wait! Please,” She glances back at him, raising a brow at his frantic plea. “It’s my brother, the King. He’s been poisoned. By the Evil Queen,” For some reason, the green of her eyes blackens with anger at the mention of the Queen and her hands curl into fists. “He only has a few weeks to live, and he needs help. None of the sorcerers or healers in my kingdom have been able to help. Please, I’m begging you, help him,” Killian’s voice cracks. “He’s all I have.”

Silence reigns as the Dark One thinks his request over. When she finally speaks, her voice is curiously sympathetic.

“You’re the prince of Camelot, you said?”

Killian nods. “Indeed.”

“Tell me, does a wizard named Merlin reside there?”

He frowns, perturbed by at the strange question. “No, he died many years ago.”

The Dark One lets out a harsh sigh, and then glances to the side, a dark scowl crossing her face. Killian follows her gaze but can see nothing.

“Some of his spell books remain,” he offers. “If that could be of any use to you…”

It’s true that the spell books remain, but they are also treasures of Camelot, treasures that only Liam himself has access to. Killian knows his brother will be furious with him, but it will be worth it.

She looks back at him. “Then let us make…a deal,” She speaks the words almost reluctantly, glancing to her side again. “I’ll come with you to Camelot and help your brother, and you allow me access to Merlin’s spell books.”

“Deal,” Killian says instantly and her lips tug into a slow smirk. She crosses the space between them, the heels of her boots clicking against the floor. Killian swallows and resists the urge to back away. Her very presence radiates power and might, and it dazzles him.

The Dark One snaps her fingers and a large scroll appears, hovering in the air. She hands him a quill, and Killian takes it hesitantly, his fingers brushing against her cool skin.

“Sign on the dotted line,” she says smoothly.

Liam is going to kill me , Killian thinks wryly as he signs. When he draws away, the parchment glows gold and vanishes.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the Dark One drawls. “Shall we, then?”

“Wait,” Killian stops her. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

An odd expression flashes across her face and for a moment she looks strangely vulnerable.

“…Emma,” She says at last, slowly, as if she’s not used to saying it. “My name is Emma.”

A beautiful name, Killian thinks and then hastily shakes the thought away. The Dark One, no, Emma strides past him to the entrance and he quickly follows, thinking that she is dangerous; not just for the darkness flowing through her veins but for the strange effect she has on him.

Frankly speaking, Emma thinks this is a terrible idea.

When the Prince of Camelot, Killian, he said his name was, showed up on her doorstep begging for help, Emma’s first instinct was to turn him away. She has no use for random people who come hoping to gain from her powers, nor does she have any desire to use said powers. It’s been ten years since she became the Dark One, and in those ten years, she’d refrained from using her magic as much as possible.

Possible being the keyword.

Dark magic is like a drug. It entices you at every step, luring you in despite your best efforts to stay away. And if you use even a little, even if it’s just a tiny spark to light a candle, that’s it. It’s hopelessly addicting and even the smallest taste leaves you thirsting for more. Even the simple act of conjuring the scroll for Killian to sign had caused an itch under her skin, a terrible urge to use more and more of it.

Emma was born with light magic flowing through her veins, being the product of True Love. The very idea of giving into the darkness she had been cursed with had disgusted her, and she refrained for as long as she could. But in the end it had been too much; the darkness that was always flickering in the corner of her eye tempted her to the point when she eventually gave in, and there was no turning back.

Still, she stubbornly tried to resist. Ignoring the temptations of the darkness as best as she could, she kept from using magic as much as she could. Giving it up altogether was impossible, but resisting and struggling as much as possible… well, that Emma could do.

Once, she was a princess.

Once, she was the beloved of Misthaven, the heiress to the throne, the warrior princess who grew up with a sword in her hand and who joined the fight against the Evil Queen when she was merely eighteen, much to her parents’ protests. The Queen had almost won when she had teamed up with Rumplestilkskin to defeat them, but Emma had had a plan. A rather stupid plan, when she thinks about it now, but a plan, nonetheless.

On the day of the battle, she stole away and to Rumplestiltskin’s castle to find the dagger she knew could control him, thinking that that would be the first step to ending the war.

The dagger could control Rumplestilkskin. That was the extent of her knowledge.

Emma found the dagger, rode back to the battlefield to see Rumplestilkskin standing over the broken, battered body of her little brother, Leo. She had snapped.

Giving into pure rage and hatred, she had driven the dagger through his chest. As she did, Leo’s body vanished in a wisp of smoke, Emma realizing too late that his death was a trick and her vengeance was for nothing. However, her revelation was too late and she was consumed by the darkness.

Now, she is the Dark One.

Even now, she has futile dreams of one day defeating the darkness, of vanquishing it for good and going home. For she cannot return as she is now, cannot face her parents as the Dark One, cannot bear to see the horror and disgust that will surely be there in their faces when they lay their eyes on her. The darkness taunts her, telling her that it is a pipe dream, that what she wants can never be accomplished, that she should simply give up.

But Emma is nothing if not stubborn.

Through the numerous texts and books in the castle, she learned that Camelot is the place where the darkness was born and that the wizard Merlin was the only one who was ever thought to be capable of defeating it.

If Camelot is the place where the darkness was born, then surely it can be the place where it can be defeated.

And having access to Merlin’s spell books will make it all the easier.

Hence her reason for agreeing to Killian’s request.

(And perhaps she sympathizes with him because she knows what it’s like to lose a loved one to the Evil Queen. Emma has suffered much at the Queen’s hands, both directly and indirectly and she has no desire to see another suffer as well.)

It’s still a terrible idea, though.

“We’ll be traveling through the woods,” Killian says, breaking her out of her thoughts. “It’s easier than traveling through the towns. The Queen’s spies are all over the place and I’d rather not have her acquainted with my plans.”

“Fine by me,” Emma says shortly. She definitely prefers the woods to the towns. It’s been almost a decade since she has been in the company of actual, breathing human beings who didn’t approach her for reasons beyond wanting her power, and getting used to being around one person is hard enough, let alone towns and villages of them.

Though she’ll probably have to get used to it pretty quick once they arrive in Camelot.

This is really a terrible idea , Emma thinks with a stifled groan.

She glances at the man walking beside her curiously. Unlike most people who had dared to approach her, he had been quite calm and fearless when he had asked for her help. At first glance, one wouldn’t think that he’s a prince. The clothes he wears are quite plain - although that may be more out of a desire to go unnoticed than anything else and he doesn’t seem to have the stuck-up, snobbish nature that most royals have.

Of course, as a former princess herself (because Emma refuses to think of herself as a princess anymore, not after she practically abandoned her kingdom.) Emma really doesn’t have much room to talk. Her parents had always taught her to be kind and respectful to her subordinates, but the other royals at court didn’t always share their views.

Emma has always been good at reading people, a skill that seems to have been sharpened when she became the Dark One. However, she can’t quite get a read on Killian. He seems perfectly normal at first glance, but there are shadows in his eyes and a quiet tension in his shoulders as if he carries the weight of the world upon them. Again, Emma can’t help but sympathize.

“Why do you want Merlin’s spell books?”

Emma looks up at the question to see Killian studying her curiously as they walk through the woods. “You are the Dark One and you have plenty of magic at your disposal. Why would you need any more?”

“Light and dark magic are quite different,” Emma replies. “This has to do with, let’s say…a personal project of mine.”

“You could easily tear apart Camelot and take the books by force, if you wanted to,” Killian points out. “Why make a deal?”

“I may be the Dark One, but I still have honor,” Emma says sharply and he has the grace to look abashed at her words. “I wouldn’t simply hurt innocents to get what I want.”

“My apologies,” Killian says quietly. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just…haven’t had very good experiences with people of your kind.”

“Welcome to the club,” Emma says wryly. Killian gives her a long look before speaking again.

“Regina…the Evil Queen…what did she do to you?”

Emma stiffens at his question. “What makes you think she did anything?”

“When I mentioned her before, you grew angry,” Killian says and Emma reels, stunned at his perception. “Surely she did something to incur your wrath?”

Emma looks away, unwilling to answer. Killian catches on, thankfully and doesn’t push the issue.

They continue to travel in silence.

Whatever Killian had expected the Dark One to be like, it certainly wasn’t this .

Frankly, his mind had conjured up all sorts of terrifying images of monsters and demons cloaked in darkness with insincere voices and harsh deals. Instead, he has found a guarded, somber woman with haunted eyes and clenched fists. She seems to have a vendetta for some reason against the Evil Queen and Killian finds that he can hardly blame her for that.

The Queen has stolen from him, too.

Of course, Emma doesn’t tell him why she hates the Queen. Which is understandable, of course-she obviously isn’t the type who trusts easily or spills her secrets in the blink of an eye.

They trudge through the woods in silence and Killian stops only at sundown.

“Emma?” He ventures and she whips around to look at him, her eyes widening in shock, and Killian is confused for a moment before he realizes that he used her name for the first time. His heart pangs with sympathy, and he wonders just how long it has been since anyone called her by name.

“What is it?” Emma asks after a beat, a strange, soft note in her voice that sends a shiver down his spine. Trying to ignore the feeling, he continues.

“We should stop for the night and get some rest. We can continue at dawn.”

“Oh…right, of course.”

Killian frowns at the pause; it’s as if she never even considered the fact that they might have to rest at one point. Perhaps she doesn’t tire easily? Or pushes herself too hard? She certainly seems like the type.

Why does he care, anyway?

They find an empty clearing, and Killian offers his satchel to Emma, telling her to pick freely from his stash of food while he starts a fire. Soon enough, they are sitting on opposite sides of the camp, eating some of the meat pasties from Killian’s stash, an awkward silence hanging between them.

After his meal, Killian pulls out his flask and offers it to her, hoping to break the strained quiet. “Rum?”

Emma quirks an eyebrow, but accepts it anyway. “Are you sure you’re a prince and not a pirate?” she asks dryly and Killian chuckles.

“Perhaps I’m a bit of both.” He had never been an orthodox prince anyway, always preferring the taverns and the open seas to his castle. Before Father’s death, he’d been lax in his duties, serving as a great source of frustration for Father and Liam. Killian had sobered up quite a bit after his father’s sudden death, but it wasn’t until after losing Milah that he threw himself into his princely duties; especially duties that pertained to winning the war against the Queen. He’d once thirsted for outright vengeance, but Liam and Belle had talked him down, serving as voices of reason to break through the anger and sorrow that had surrounded him.

“We should get to bed,” Killian says presently. “We need to be well rested if we are to leave at dawn.”

“Sleep,” Emma tells him, her voice quiet. “I’ll keep watch.”

Killian opens his mouth to protest-they are a quite a way from the villages within the domain of the Queen, and it would be ungentlemanly on his part to let her keep watch while he rests - but something in her face makes him stop, and he instead agrees reluctantly.

“If you’re certain.”

She gives him a terse nod and he obeys her wishes, lying down on his side with his back to her before he closes his eyes.

Sleep does not come easily to him that night. Whenever Killian turns, subtly, to glance at Emma, he finds her curled up under a tree, fiddling with an unfinished dream catcher, her movements fevered and hasty as she hurries to complete it. Her eyes are almost black with the shadows that lurk in them and her fingers tremble from time to time, causing the twine she’s weaving to slip out of her hand, eliciting a curse from her before she returns to her task.

The flames have burned down to mere embers by the time Killian slips into a restless slumber, full of dream catchers and Milah’s laughing eyes and darkness swallowed by fire.

The nights are really the worst, Emma reflects, as the sky blushes pink with the early light of dawn. If there’s one thing she misses about being mortal, it is sleep. It has been a decade since she has slept, or even felt that physical need to sleep, for that matter. She has been spending the nights by weaving dream catchers and immersing herself in memories of the past, in hopes of chasing away that darkness that always lurks by her side.

It never works.

With a sigh, Emma tucks the finished dream catcher away into a pocket of her dress and grimaces at the sight of her fingers, rubbed raw from the twine she had been weaving all night. The marks will disappear soon, but Emma hates the thought of Killian noticing and asking her about it; as he undoubtedly will.

Emma absently rubs at the marks on her hands, flinching when the darkness cackles.

Go on, dearie, vanish them away. After all, you don’t want him to see you for what you truly are: a monster.

Shut up, Emma thinks savagely, magic sparking under her skin with the force of her anger.

As if on cue, Killian stirs and Emma draws back her magic, breathing in deeply as she tries to calm herself.

He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes and gives her a lopsided smile. “Good morning, love.”

Emma raises a brow at the endearment and says nothing, but warmth builds in her chest.

The darkness hisses in disapproval, and retreats.

Killian takes an apple out of his satchel and offers it to Emma, but she declines, wrinkling her nose. Ten years as an immortal being, and she still isn’t quite comfortable around apples.

Well, given her family history, it’s understandable.

Killian looks puzzled at her aversion, but lets it go, taking a bite out of the apple.

“Why did you not sleep last night?” he asks casually, and Emma sighs, having expected him to ask.

“Dark Ones don’t sleep,” she replies shortly and rises, brushing leaves off her dress. “We should get a move on.”

“As you wish.”

While they continue travelling, Killian keeps up a light stream of conversation, Emma’s replies and comments are few and far in between, but she enjoys listening to him speak. It’s been a long time since she was given the comfort of good company, and even the small talk that the prince makes is welcome.

Killian speaks of his brother often, clear admiration and love in his voice when he does. Through what he tells her of him, Emma finds herself respecting Liam, he sounds like a good and honorable man. Killian does not say why Camelot is at war with the Evil Queen, however, a shadow crossing his face at the very mention of it. Emma doesn’t ask, knowing from experience that some things are just too painful to talk about.

The pleasant time comes to an end soon, as the sound of heavy footsteps clamoring through the forest makes them pause and look at each other in dismay.

“Black Knights,” Killian says grimly and they both draw their swords.

There are about a dozen of them and the leader gives Killian an ugly smirk. “Well, if it isn’t the Prince of Camelot. Far from home, aren’t you? And who is your…companion?”

He leers at Emma and she gives him a smile that is all teeth and no humor. Killian remains defiantly silent, his knuckles turning white as he grips his sword tighter.

The leader nods at the other knights. “Kill them.”

The knights may be well trained, but they are no match for them. Killian is a skilled swordsman, Emma notices, disarming the first who charges at him and running the second through. Emma, on the other hand, steadfastly ignores the darkness that whispers to her, tempting her to use her magic to kill them all and instead wields her cutlass to either disarm or wound them so they are unable to get up. She only kills the ones who arm persistent; shuddering as every drop of blood spilled adds another black patch to her already darkened heart.

Emma has killed before, of course. Not too long after she became the Dark One, Black Knights of the Queen came to her castle, looking for answers about what had happened to Rumplestiltskin. When they found that the new Dark One was actually the Princess of Misthaven, they had laughed cruelly, taunting her even as she tried to ignore them.

“The Crown Princess has gone dark,” One of them taunted. “I wonder how the people of Misthaven would react to this. They would surely turn on Snow White and Prince Charming, and the Queen would win.”

Emma snapped.

Before she knew it, she was striding across the expanse of floor to him and he got little warning before she plunged her hand into his chest and took a hold of his heart. He let out a cry of pain and his fellow knights gasped in fear.

Emma ripped her hand out, clutching the beating organ as the knight gripped at his chest, staring at her with fearful eyes.

‘Go ahead,’ the darkness whispered. ‘Crush it.’

“No,” Emma mumbled blankly, gazing down at the heart, her hand trembling. “I can’t.”

‘Yes, you can,’ the darkness hissed. ‘He deserves it. He deserves to die.’

Emma’s grip around the heart tightened, and the knight let out a pained gasp as he collapsed to the floor, begging for mercy. She ignored him, her gaze focused on the darkness that hovered at her side, encouraging her.

‘If you let him live-let them live, they will tell the kingdom about what happened to you. They will turn on your parents and the Evil Queen will have the opportunity to kill them. Is that what you want?’

“No!” Emma gasped out, her voice tortured. “I can’t let them die!”

‘Then do it. Crush his heart.’

“If I kill him, I will become just like him. Like Regina.”

‘It’s not murder, dearie, it’s an execution,’ the darkness tempted. ‘Think about the many he must have killed while serving the Queen. It’s what he deserves.’

“You deserve to die,” Emma told the knight, mindlessly parroting the darkness’ words as she squeezed the heart tighter. The knight screamed in pain and rasped out broken pleas.

“Mercy, please! I’ll do anything-“

He abruptly cut off as the life faded from him and his body hit the floor. Emma stood still, gazing at the dust seeping from between her fingers.

The other knights made to move, to run away. Emma spun around, her hardened gaze freezing them in place.

‘Don’t show them any mercy,’ the darkness said. ‘Kill them.’

Emma raised her hand and twisted it. Suddenly, the knights were clutching at their necks, struggling for air as an unseen pressure curbed any of their attempts to draw in breath. Emma held it up for a few minutes until they collapsed to the floor, dead.

‘Very good, dearie,’ the darkness said, before promptly vanishing.

The dull crimson haze that had covered Emma’s vision disappeared as well and she gasped, staring at the bodies that lay around her in horror.

“No. No! What have I done?!”

Her knees weakened, and she sank to the ground, drawing in harsh, labored breaths. “No….” She muttered, as darkness engulfed her. When it vanished, the gold of her hair had faded to silver, her skin had become unnaturally pale and the armor and breeches she’d worn before had turned to a leathery costume of stark black.

At that moment, Emma knew (and the darkness never failed to reassure her of it) that there was no going back.

Killian lets out a sharp hiss of pain, rousing Emma from her memories, and she whips around to see him gingerly brushing his prosthetic across his right shoulder, blood seeping through the thin material of his shirt. The knight who injured him raises his sword, preparing to lop off his head and an urgent bolt of panic rushes through Emma. She hastily waves her hand, and the knight flies into a tree and promptly falls unconscious.

The other guards, stunned by Emma’s display of magic, take to their heels and flee.

Killian sinks down onto a log and with a bit of struggle, manages to lift the sleeve of his shirt with his prosthetic, inspecting the wound with a grimace. Emma hovers awkwardly. The wound isn’t too deep, but it looks nasty. And painful.

“I could, uh, heal it. If you want,” Emma says hesitantly. Killian glances up at her, looking rather surprised at the offer, and shakes his head.

“There’s no need, love. I…noticed that you were rather averse to using your magic during the fight. I don’t want you to needlessly use it on my behalf.”

Emma’s heart does a little flip in her chest, so startled and touched is she at his perception. She sits down next to him and offers him a genuine smile.

“It’s no problem. Really.”

Killian’s cheeks tinge crimson and he ducks his head shyly, holding out his arm. Emma takes his hand in hers, pretending not to notice the shiver that wracks through his body at the contact. She pauses momentarily, shutting her eyes. She knows she’s already promised to heal Killian’s brother, but this, somehow, is different. It shouldn’t be, really. But it is, and the thought of messing it up frightens her far more than the thought of failing to heal his brother does.

“It’s alright,” Killian murmurs gently and Emma opens her eyes in shock. He smiles up at her gently. “I trust you.”

Emma’s heart stutters painfully in her chest at his words and without another thought, the magic flows through her body. Killian lets out a gasp as the wound closes smoothly, not even leaving a scar. Emma smiles in triumph, withdrawing her hand.

“Thank you,” Killian says gratefully. Emma gives him a short, jerky nod, her fingers still tingling from where she touched him (and not from the magic) and glances down at his arm, her attention diverted by the crimson tattoo that decorates it.

“Who’s Milah, on the tattoo?”

The warmth in Killian’s eyes vanishes, and he quickly stands, yanking down the sleeve of his shirt to cover the tattoo. “No one,” He says quietly, sheathing his sword and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Emma stands as well, realizing his aversion to discussing the topic.

“We’d better get a move on,” Killian continues, avoiding her gaze. “If we move fast, any knights that are still around won’t be able to catch up.”

“Right, let’s go.”

When night falls, they are only a few hours away from Camelot. They stop and set up camp as they did the night before, and Killian glances at Emma as he lights the fire.

She has not spoken since he dismissed her question about the tattoo. Killian sighs as he thinks of it…the knowledge of what had happened five years ago is so common in Camelot that no one has questioned him about it in a long while. Emma’s question came as a shock, and his first instinct was to shut her down completely, the wound left by Milah’s passing still raw and bleeding; even the loss of his hand not comparing to it.

Killian looks at Emma again. He fears that he might have offended her by his silence on the topic. He’s not sure why he cares about her opinion of him so much. It’s true that she’s the key to saving his brother, but it’s much more than that. She’s not the cold, ruthless demon he had pictured in his mind, but instead a rather complex woman; a witch who avoids using her magic, who remains awake during the night and weaves dream catchers. She healed his wound like it was nothing, and her touch had sent flames shooting up his arm. She carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders and her eyes are full of old pain and buried hopes.

“Emma?” He begins tentatively and she looks over at him, raising her eyebrows in silent question. “I apologize for being short with you earlier, it’s just that-“

“It’s alright,” Emma interjects. “I brought up a painful topic. I apologize for that.”

“How do you know it’s painful?” Killian asks defensively. Emma smiles wryly.

“You’re something of an open book,” She says simply. “And it takes one to know one.”

“You lost someone?”

Emma nods. “A lot of someones, actually,” She says. Killian’s heart pangs in sympathy.

“Milah was my fiancée,” He begins haltingly. “She was killed by the Queen’s black knights,” Killian holds up his prosthetic. “It’s how I got this.”

He expects to see pity in her face, but finds nothing but a quiet understanding. “I’m sorry,” Emma says sincerely.

They remain in companionable silence, after that, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the occasional snapping of a twig. It feels like they are closer, somehow, as if at least one of the many walls that stand between them has been broken down. Killian finds himself drifting off soon, and the last thing he hears is Emma’s whispered ‘goodnight’ before he falls into a deep slumber.

Emma does not weave her dream catchers that night.

Instead, she thinks of things she hasn’t allowed herself to ponder for a long time. She thinks of the way her mother’s brow crinkled every time she laughed, of how her father lovingly cradled the back of her head every time he hugged her and of the way she and Leo would run around the castle, staging mock sword fights and driving the staff to near distraction.

She thinks of Killian and the gentleness of his smile when he told her he trusted her.

She thinks of the way using her magic had felt right , for once, when she wielded it to vanish away Killian’s wound.

And for once, the darkness remains silent.

The next day, they reach Camelot by noon.

Emma swallows apprehensively at the large number of guards and courtiers waiting at the gates to greet them, or rather, to greet Killian.

Killian, as if sensing her discomfort, slips his hand into hers and squeezes reassuringly. Emma glances up at him sharply, his touch sending heat through her body.

Killian retracts his hand and gives her a last smile; just as a dark haired woman comes running out of the gates and towards them.

“Killian!” She hugs him tightly, and Emma takes a step back, irrational jealousy flaring in her gut. Is she his lover? Or his wife, perhaps? He’d never mentioned having one, though.

“ Belle ,” Killian grunts. “I can’t breathe, lass.”

The woman, Belle, draws away slightly and sniffs. “I was worried,” she says. “Can you blame me?”

Belle glances past Killian at Emma and her eyes widen. “Is that-“

Killian releases her and nods. “Aye. Emma-” he turns to her. “This is Belle, the castle’s librarian. Belle, Emma.”

“You succeeded,” Belle breathes, a large grin lighting up her face.

“Did you doubt I would?” Killian teases and then his eyes grow serious. “How’s Liam?”

“Not good,” Belle says somberly. “He’s finding it hard to even stand, now. And he’s worried about you.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Of course he is,” He mutters, but there’s affection in his voice. “Bloody idiot won’t even worry about himself. Well, there’s no time to waste,” he nods to Emma. “Shall we?”

“Of course.”

Belle looks nervous. “Uh, maybe I should talk to him first. He’s not going to be happy that you, uh-” She glances hesitantly at Emma.

“Brought the Dark One into his home?” Emma finishes for her, dryly, and Belle flinches, as if waiting for Emma to blow up in her face. When she does nothing of the sort, Belle looks visibly relieved and leads them into the castle.

“Wait here,” she tells them when they stop outside the king’s chambers and slips into the room, shutting the door behind her.

Emma and Killian wait in awkward silence and she catches him wincing when the sound of raised voices reach their ears. They hear Belle’s voice, soft and pleading; and then a noise of assent before Belle exits the room, looking harried.

“I take it my brother isn’t exactly an ideal patient?” Killian asks with a forced grin. Belle looks unamused.

“He wants to talk to you,” She informs him and Killian nods, glancing back at Emma.

“Go ahead,” Emma tells him. “I’ll be fine.”

Killian smiles and Belle narrows her eyes, looking back and forth between them sharply. Emma ignores her curious gaze, but feels heat creeping up her neck.

Killian casts her one final glance before entering the room.

“Hello, Liam,” Killian greets his brother with forced levity, his heart sinking at the sight of Liam’s condition. His brother is gaunt and pale, black veins from the poison creeping up his arms.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Well, at least it seems like Liam still has his temper.

“Liam-” Killian begins, but is abruptly interrupted.

“You brought the Dark One into our castle?”

Liam speaks the words with disgust and Killian feels a sharp jolt of anger rush through him. He forces it down, trying to maintain his calm.

“It’s the only way to save you.”

Liam scoffs and Killian flinches at the harsh sound. “By resorting to dark magic? Aye, sounds like a wonderful plan.”

“I’d rather use dark magic than watch you die,” Killian snaps defiantly and Liam’s eyes flash.

“After all that we’ve suffered-�� He begins lowly. “After all that you’ve suffered because of dark magic-shouldn’t you be disgusted at the very idea of seeking it out for help?”

“Any magic that could be used to save your life could never be dark,” Killian says passionately and Liam seems to soften slightly at that. But the next moment, he’s protesting again.

“And the Dark One , at that, Killian…do you know how dangerous that is? He could have killed you.”

“She, actually.”

“What?”

“The Dark One is a woman.”

Liam raises his eyebrows at that, but continues. “Regardless, how do we know that we can trust her?”

“You can trust me ,” Killian says steadily. “You can trust me that she’s not lying, that she really is ready to help you.”

Liam regards him in silence for a long moment and then sighs in relent. “Very well, you can send her in.”

Killian nods, relieved, but before he can call Emma in, Liam stops him. “Wait. I know that the Dark One makes deals. What did you promise her in return?”

Killian shifts uncomfortably, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “Ah…about that…”

“Spit it out, Killian.”

“I promised her access to Merlin’s spell books.”

“You did what ?!”

“Alright, I’m calling her in,” Killian says quickly, ignoring Liam’s outraged protests. He hurries to the door to open it and ushers Emma in, smiling weakly when she raises a brow at him.

“Good to see you’re still alive. I heard shouting.”

“Right as rain, love,” Killian promises, and over Emma’s shoulder, sees Belle’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “Come on in,” He mumbles hastily, blushing.

Emma notices, and smirks at his embarrassment before sweeping past him into the room.

Liam pushes himself up on his pillows and tries to look as intimidating as possible, but Emma doesn’t look the least bit fazed by the effect.

“Hello,” She says softly. “My name is Emma, I’m-“

“I know who you are, Dark One ,” Liam says tersely and Killian groans, wanting to punch his brother. Emma looks unaffected.

“I was going to say that I’m here to save your sorry ass,” Emma says calmly, and next to Killian, Belle chokes. “But it’s nice to see how grateful you are.”

Liam goes red at the chastisement and Killian struggles not to laugh, reflecting that Emma really doesn’t seem to give a damn about whether they’re royalty or not. Then again, she is the Dark One; she has no reason to be intimidated by them when she could easily snap their necks in the fraction of a second.

For some reason, that really doesn’t bother him at all.

“My apologies,” Liam mutters, and Emma makes a noise of dismissal, moving closer to the bed. She observes his condition in silence, the inky veins travelling up from his arm, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. The veins on his chest are obscured by his clothing, but can be seen inching up from the collar of his shirt, dangerously close to reaching his face.

Emma releases a deep breath. “Alright,” she murmurs. She positions her hand over Liam’s chest, slowly rotating it, stretching and motioning her fingers as if to draw something out. Emma’s arm shimmers a bright gold and Killian stares, transfixed, unable to look away.

This may be dark magic, but it also may be hands down the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Beside Killian, Belle squeezes her eyes shut, clasping her hands together; as if sending up a silent prayer.

Liam��s body glows, and a ripple of magic pulses through the room, nearly knocking Killian and Belle off their feet. Liam gasps in shock as the veins marring his skin vanish, the color returning to his cheeks and the strength to his limbs.

Killian sags in relief and before he can even say or do anything, Belle rushes past him to the bed, practically collapsing on it as she flings her arms around Liam. His eyes widen in pleasure, and he draws her closer, pressing a kiss to her head.

Emma backs away from them, looking visibly exhausted. Killian lays a tentative hand on her shoulder, smiling at her gratefully.

“Thank you, Emma.”

“No problem,” Emma says brusquely, but her pale face flushes, her mouth curving into a pleased smile.

Killian feels the oddest urge to kiss that smile from her lips.

Coughing, he hastily backs away, just in time as Liam and Belle part from their embrace.

Liam stands up and offers Emma a courteous smile. “I owe you my life, milady.”

“There’s the gratitude,” Emma quips and Liam has the grace to look abashed. “It’s no big deal,” She continues. “As long as your brother there follows up on our deal, of course,” She gives Killian a pointed stare.

Belle looks confused. “Wait, what deal?”

“Access to Merlin’s spell books in exchange for the King’s recovery,” Emma says breezily and Killian shifts uncomfortably under Belle’s incredulous stare. “That’s the deal we made.”

“I’ll retrieve the spell books for you,” Liam says briskly. “Belle, would you escort Lady Emma to the library? Killian, you should accompany them.”

Killian sees Emma’s lips twitch into a knowing smile, clearly understanding that Liam wants him to go along for Belle’s safety. Thankfully, Emma doesn’t seem insulted by Liam’s lack of trust in her, only amused.

Before they leave, Liam strides up to Killian and hugs him. “Thank you, little brother,” he murmurs. “I was right to trust your judgment.”

“ Younger brother,” Killian corrects him, but he can’t hold back his delighted smile.

“It’s quite the collection you have here,” Emma remarks when they step into the castle’s expansive library. “Do you manage this all by yourself?”

The question is directed to Belle, who flushes.

“I have help, of course,” She stammers, still clearly intimidated by Emma. “But mostly, yes.”

Emma hums in reply. The library in the castle of the Dark One was possibly as expansive as this one, but that had more of texts concerning dark magic and ancient spells. Most of the books had been dangerous, even; the spells written in them could be blown off the page and towards a target. The library itself had been dark, musty and unorganized; and the airy, bright and neat room in this castle is a stark contrast to it.

Belle goes to arrange something at the counter, and Emma and Killian find a table at the back and settle down.

“So,” Emma begins casually. “How long has Camelot been at war with the Evil Queen?”

“About five years, now,” Killian replies. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Emma mumbles, picking at the sleeve of her dress. Killian clearly doesn’t buy it, and opens his mouth to question her further, but is interrupted as Liam appears with the spell books. Emma’s eyes light up at the sight of them. There are only a couple of them, but they could be the first step to finally defeating the darkness.

The darkness cackles in amusement. Quite naïve of you, dearie , it sneers. Haven’t you learnt by now? The darkness cannot be vanquished; you’re wasting your time with this little endeavor. Your time could be spent in a better way, like taking revenge on the Queen for all that she has done.

Emma firmly ignores the darkness, clenching her fists under the table in an attempt to curb the prickling under her skin.

“These are all of them,” Liam says, setting them down on the table. “But it’s getting quite late. I asked the servants to prepare a room for you, so perhaps you could rest for the night instead.”

“Thank you,” Emma says, deciding against mentioning that she really doesn’t need rest. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Liam says and turns to Killian. “There’s a Council Meeting. Your presence is required.”

“I just got back,” Killian protests but Liam just gives him a stern, no-nonsense look and he sighs and acquiesces, rising to his feet.

“I’ll see you later,” He tells Emma with a rueful smile and she nods, ignoring Liam’s suspicious frown.

The room that has been prepared for Emma is large spacious, a huge, four poster bed by the window as well as a desk, a vanity and a wardrobe. It’s not unlike Emma’s own bedroom back when she used to be a princess, and for a minute, she aches with homesickness, wishing for nothing but to go back to those simpler times.

The wardrobe has been furnished with clothes as well, most of them beautiful dresses of bright colors, ranging from cotton to satin. Emma ignores them completely, finding a grey silk nightgown and putting it on. She has no intention of sleeping, of course, but it’s far more comfortable than her black dress.

Emma sits at the desk with one of Merlin’s spell books open, a roll of parchment next to it. This particular book is in a foreign language, but thankfully, during her time as the Dark One, she dedicated a lot of her time to learning new languages. This one is a bit trickier than most, but Emma sets her quill to the parchment determinedly, ready to do whatever it takes to get some answers.

As the hours pass, the light dims and the shadows lengthen. Just as Emma flicks her wrist to light the lamps in her room, there’s a knock on her door. She rolls up the parchment and tucks into the book before going to the door to open it.

It’s Killian.

“Good evening,” he greets. “I just wanted to see if everything’s alright with your room.”

“Its fine,” Emma assures him. “Your brother is very kind,” Killian looks a bit awkward, standing in the doorway, and she steps aside. “Would you like to come in?”

Killian looks startled. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m not inviting you in for anything inappropriate, just so we can talk more comfortably.”

Killian gives her rakish grin, though the effect of it is lessened by his flushed face. “I wouldn’t object to….more pleasurable activities, milady.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Emma says dryly although she is rather surprised that he even tried to flirt with her. He’s never made an advance before. Still, it must be easier now that he doesn’t have the threat of his brother’s death hanging over him. “Come on in.”

They sit side by side on the huge bed and talk about many things and Killian asks her how the progress with the book is coming along.

“Slowly,” Emma says. “But I know I’ll get through soon.”

“Why do you want those books?” Killian asks. It’s not the first time he’s asked her this and Emma isn’t surprised, knowing her never bought her lies before. Still, she doesn’t tell him the truth.

The Dark One lies, the Dark One tricks.

“Why every great wizard does,” She says offhandedly. “To gain more power.”

“You don’t even like using your power,” Killian points out.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be using it to level your kingdom,” Emma says acidly, her temper getting the best of her. Killian looks taken aback.

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” He speaks the words which so much certainty that it makes her heart ache. Emma ducks her head, feeling guilty.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. Killian waves it away.

“S’alright, Emma.”

He lingers a bit more than is strictly necessary, talking about such mundane things that Emma wonders if he’s doing it on purpose to spend more time with her. Then she shoots the idea down, not wanting to explore that line of thought now. Or ever.

Killian chuckles, dragging Emma out her musings and she looks at him inquiringly. “What?”

“Nothing,” He says with a grin. “I was just thinking that if Liam knew I were here, he’d certainly kill me.”

Emma frowns. “Why?”

“Well, it’s not very gentlemanly to be in a lady’s quarters at night.”

Emma snorts. “Aren’t you the type of prince who prefers the taverns and towns over the comfort of his own castle?” She’d know. She was the same.

“A rake I may be, but I still believe in good form,” Killian insists. “And as for a lady such as yourself-“

Emma cuts him off. “I’m not a lady,” She says shortly. “I’m the Dark One.”

“You may be the Dark One, but you are still a woman,” Killian murmurs, his eyes sweeping over her form in a manner that leaves her pulse racing. “And a breathtakingly beautiful woman, at that.”

Emma swallows, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. Suddenly the large, spacious room feels far too small, the respectable space they had put between them suddenly not enough. She searches his eyes for the lie, but finds nothing but sincerity.

Her eyes flicker to his mouth, then, and the irrational urge to haul him into a kiss startles her out of her daze.

“I think it’s time you go,” Emma breathes, curling her hands into fists so she doesn’t give into the temptation of touching him. Killian nods slowly, seemingly as dazed as she is.

“Right. Of course.” He rises and holds her gaze for a long moment before giving her a short bow. “Goodnight, milady.”

Killian leaves the room quickly and Emma allows herself to collapse on the bed, drawing in her breaths harshly.

What the hell had just happened?

When Killian is done with his duties the next day, he goes straight to the library to see Emma. Belle barely acknowledges him when he enters, practically buried in a pile of books.

He finds Emma at the back, writing on a parchment while referring the books scattered on the table. Killian sits down from across her, waiting patiently for her to finish.

Finally, Emma sets down her quill and looks at him expectantly. “What?”

“Good morning to you too, Emma,” Killian chuckles, a little relieved to see that she doesn’t seem to be bothered in the least about the moment they had shared the night before.

Looking back on it, Killian honestly doesn’t know what he was thinking. Going into her rooms in the first place had been a bad idea. Calling her beautiful an almost kissing her, for Killian is sure that if she had not asked him to leave he would have definitely kissed her-was an even worse idea.

But Emma had looked so relaxed, the nightgown she wore giving her a younger, girlish appearance, that Killian had let any rational thought fly out of the window.

“Good morning,” Emma replies. “Now then, what did you want?”

“As charming as ever, I see,” Killian teases. Emma actually laughs, as if enjoying an inside joke, and the sound is like music to Killian’s ears. “I simply wanted the pleasure of your company.”

“Don’t you have Council Meetings and princely duties?”

“Done,” Killian gives her a mock pout. “Are you truly that eager to get rid of me?”

Emma huffs, looking amused. “Fine, you can stay. Just don’t disturb me.”

“As you wish, milady.”

Killian busies himself with an administrative text, but ends up not paying much attention to it; constantly distracted by the curve of Emma’s jaw, the way she frowns in frustration upon encountering something particularly trying, the few strands of hair that slip out of her normally immaculate bun when she rakes her fingers through it in frustration.

Bloody hell, Killian thinks, forcing his gaze away from her and back to his book. I’ve got to stop this.

Emma sets down her quill after a while, rubbing at her tired eyes with a groan.

“Alright, love?” Killian asks in concern, the text forgotten.

“Yeah…just…this isn’t exactly easy,” Emma sighs. “I’m getting there, but…..” she rotates her neck, wincing at the tension.

Before Killian can think twice, he gets up and moves to stand behind her. Emma twists in her seat to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d help you relax,” Killian murmurs. The dress she’s wearing today exposes her back and shoulders and when Killian ghosts his palm over the bare skin, Emma stiffens momentarily at the contact.

“Is this okay?” Killian asks tentatively. Emma hesitates for a moment and nods.

Encouraged by her assent, Killian settles his hand at the base of her neck and begins to gently knead at the muscles, slowly easing out the knots. Emma lets her head fall back with a soft groan of approval. Killian freezes at the sound, heat rushing to his cheeks, but continues with his task, forcing himself not to react to the little sounds she makes.

Killian rubs at her shoulders next, massaging until he feels all the tension seep out. He then moves to gently toy with her hair, twisting and weaving the strands that have escaped her up do.

He should move away. He really should, it’s probably the gentlemanly thing to do, but Killian doesn’t and Emma doesn’t tell him to, either, her eyes closed in content.

She is like a siren, Killian thinks, rousing feelings and desires that he has not felt in a long time, causing his broken heart to beat again.

He wants to kiss her, right at the spot where her pulse flutters in her neck, to map out the freckles dotting her skin with his lips and teeth, to draw out those intoxicating sounds from her again and again.

Killian lets out a barely audible groan at his own thoughts. What is this woman-this beautiful, mysterious woman-doing to him? He hasn’t felt such a swift, powerful attraction to anyone in so long, no, not since Milah-

Milah.

The reminder of his lost love is like a swift punch to the gut. Killian steps back from Emma like he’s been burned, eliciting a small noise of confusion from her as she turns to look at him.

“I-I’m sorry,” Killian gasps out, his mind whirling, the very thought of Milah sending flaming agony and guilt through his veins. “I-I have to go.”

Before Emma can say a word, Killian turns and strides out of the library.

Emma knows that she has been starved of physical affection for a long time, but this is just insane.

As she slowly got to know Killian over the past few days, it quickly became obvious that he was a very physically affectionate person, casual with his touches.

Every touch sets her off, causing an intense buzz in her veins. His touch shouldn’t affect her this much, but it does, heat flaring in her stomach at the slightest brush of skin against skin. And as for Killian’s gentle way of easing the tension from her shoulders, it had left her positively addicted. Every rational part of Emma’s brain screamed at her to get away, but she was helpless to move. Killian might be a mere mortal, but he has still bested her.

But then Killian had sharply pulled away, leaving the library with stammered apologies. Emma sits at her table quietly, her work abandoned as she tries to figure out the reason for his hasty departure.

He probably came to his senses, dearie, the darkness taunts. He must’ve finally realized that it’s the Dark One he’s dallying with, not a normal woman.

“He doesn’t think that,” Emma mutters aloud, digging her nails into her palm until she draws blood. The wounds vanish instantly, but the sting of the act remains. Then Killian’s words from the previous night come rushing back to her.

“You may be the Dark One, but you’re still a woman.”

He wasn’t lying….was he? Emma’s ability to detect lies has always been uncanny, since long before she became the Dark One, but her emotions always tend to cloud her judgment.

They were merely pretty words, the darkness says immediately. Don’t believe a thing of what he says. You know better than that. Everybody lies. Everybody leaves. There’s no use getting attached.

The darkness is probably right, Emma thinks.

Everybody leaves. Everything good vanishes.

Killian is no exception.

Knowing she won’t get any more work done, not now, Emma gathers up her notes and storms out of the library, ignoring all the fascinated courtiers and maidservants who stop to gaze at her as she passes them by. She sighs in relief when she reaches the solitude of her chambers, slamming the door shut.

Emma hates this. She hates caring so much about what Killian thinks, about whether he’s lying to her or not, about him. She hates the burn of rejection in her gut when he left her hastily. And Emma hates the longing she feels for him to return, to make her smile with his small talk and attempts at flirting.

And she absolutely hates the acute pain in her heart at the thought of him just being someone who leaves her in the end.

Killian escapes the castle for a while and rides to his favorite spot to think, a cliff that overlooks the sea. The sight of the waves crashing over the rocks and the ships in the harbor and the sea gulls flitting around the cliffs calms his heart slightly, the pain ebbing to a dull ache.

What was he thinking?

To be harboring such romantic thoughts about a woman is surely a dishonor to Milah’s memory. When she died, he’d sworn to himself to remain faithful to her memory forever, to never love again.

And the worst part is that Killian doesn’t even know if this is love. With Milah, it had been easy. He’d fallen hard and fast and knew without a doubt what his feelings towards her were.

But with Emma, it’s different.

He knows that his heart beats faster whenever she’s around, that a rare laugh or smile from her builds an indescribable warmth in his chest, that he always wants to seek her out and be by her side, that he wants to chase away the shadows in her eyes and the sadness in her heart.

But he doesn’t know if he loves her.

And that’s probably the worst thing out of this whole mess, not knowing .

Light footsteps sound behind him and before Killian can turn, Belle appears by his side suddenly, offering him a kind smile as she sits down.

“Everything okay?”

Perceptive as ever. Killian lies, trying to play it off as nothing. “Of course, lass.”

Belle hums in disbelief, clearly not buying it. “Uh huh. Then why did I see you leave the library as quickly as you did? Not to mention, Emma did the exact same thing not too long after.”

Killian curses inwardly, knowing that he must’ve hurt or offended her with his abrupt departure. He can deal with her hating him, but he can’t stand the thought of her being hurt because of him.

There it is again.

“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” Belle asks knowingly. Killian stiffens.

“ Belle -” he pleads. “Don’t.”

Belle crosses her arms and looks at him expectantly. “Don’t what?”

“Just don’t,” Killian says shortly. “I can’t fall in love with her.”

“Why in the world not?” Belle demands.

“Milah. I’d be dishonoring her memory-“

“That’s utter crap and you know it,” Belle snaps and Killian blinks in surprise at her curse. “You know Milah would want you to be happy, not wasting away like this.”

“Wasting away?” Killian repeats indignantly.

“ Yes. That’s exactly what you’re doing, shutting the world out, even Liam and I at times and not allowing yourself to fall in love.”

When Killian says nothing, instead staring at the horizon, Belle sighs and reaches over to take his hand.

“You deserve this, Killian. You deserve a second chance at love.”

“I-”

“Just because you’re falling in love again doesn’t mean you’re loving Milah any less,” Belle says patiently. “You’re honoring her memory by moving on.”

Killian simply nods, absently brushing his prosthetic over the tattoo on his arm. Belle sighs, and pulls him into a one armed hug.

“Come on,” She says presently. “We should get back to the castle.”

The next day, Emma is back working in the library again. Belle throws her an odd look when she enters, but quickly covers it with a welcoming smile. A little puzzled by it but deciding to brush it off, Emma returns to the books.

A passage in one of Merlin’s books makes her pause. The word ‘Excalibur’ is mentioned, along with a theory about it being a weapon with the ability to destroy the darkness.

Excitement surges through Emma, her heart racing and she quickly flips through the pages. Sure enough, Merlin has written the details of how the darkness came to be. The first to be tethered to it was a woman named Nimue and Merlin broke the sword Excalibur in half, using one half to create the Dark One dagger, which he tied the darkness to. The other half of Excalibur was set in a stone, not too far away from Camelot, only to be drawn out by its rightful owner.

Emma closes the book and leans back, thinking. If only she could get her hands on this ‘Excalibur’ and translate the rest of Merlin’s works, then maybe, just maybe she could finally destroy the darkness.

Of course, there is the problem of finding Excalibur. And according to what Merlin wrote, only the rightful owner of the sword could draw it out of the stone. Emma isn’t quite sure as to what that means. Does that mean the Dark One, as the dagger that controls her is the other half of Excalibur. Or is the meaning a little more traditional, the rightful owner being someone of great courage and a true heart?

If that is the case, then all is in vain, Emma thinks a little bitterly. After all, she has none of those things.

Still, it’s a start.

Emma rises and hurries to Belle, who is sorting out books at the counter. “Are there any books on magical artifacts here?”

Belle nods. “Yes, anything in particular?”

Emma hesitates before she answers. “Anything that mentions the sword Excalibur.”

Belle looks skeptical. “Excalibur’s only a myth,” she points out. “Are you sure that’s what you’re looking for?”

“ Yes ,” Emma says impatiently. The darkness is hissing in disapproval and she can feel it struggling for dominance, to try and quell her desire to destroy it. Magic threatens to seep from her hands and Emma clenches them into fists, ignoring the burn.

Belle, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice and is about to agree to her request when the doors to the library slam open.

The young librarian swings around with a scowl, ready to scold whoever it is but falls short when she sees Liam and Killian stride in, looking tense.

Emma carefully averts her gaze from Killian’s, clenching her fists even tighter as the darkness continues to struggle.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asks worriedly, her gaze darting between them. Liam and Killian share a glance before the older brother speaks.

“Bad news,” Liam admits, quiet fury in his voice. “Misthaven has been overtaken by the Evil Queen.”

Liam’s words, while said under a calm façade, absolutely knock the breath out of Emma. She staggers back, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, her vision blurring.

Oh God. Oh God.

“Are you certain?” Next to her, Belle is speaking frantically, but Emma barely hears it.

Then Killian speaks, his voice strained and it’s enough to break Emma out of her daze. “I’m afraid so, lass.”

“The King and Queen,” Emma says suddenly, through gritted teeth and the other three glance up at her in surprise. “Are the King and Queen, the royal family, are they still-“Her voice cracks and a shudder wracks through her. “Are they still alive?”

“We-we don’t know,” Killian answers slowly, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “They are nowhere to be found, apparently, they might have gone into hiding…“

And then the dam breaks.

Suddenly there’s a crash, and then chairs and tables are upturned, decorations hanging from the ceilings are shattered and the shelves shake ominously, books falling to the floor.

Belle lets out a little shriek, Liam stumbles back, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword.

Killian, astonishingly enough (when will he stop surprising her?) takes a step forward. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

Emma clasps her hands together desperately, as if that will stop her magic from going out of control and her gaze darts around, flitting from Belle’s fearful eyes to Liam’s distrustful ones and back to Killian again, to the gentleness in his face and she breaks and for the first time in a decade, she feels like she might break down into sobs then and there.

“I can’t-“ she chokes out because it’s hard to breathe and her family might be dead and-

And then Emma does what she does best, and runs.

When Emma runs out of the room, leaving chaos in her wake, Killian hesitates only for a moment before following, ignoring Liam’s calls, faintly hearing the sounds of him and Belle arguing as he moves further away from the library.

“He can’t, she’s dangerous , she might do something-”

“No, she isn’t. Not to him, at least. Let him go to her, Liam.”

Killian finds Emma soon enough, huddled in a stairwell, her skirt hiked up as she hugs her knees to her chest, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Killian’s heart hurts at the sight.

“Oh, Emma.”

She glances up sharply and then shakes her head fervently as he comes closer. “No, don’t. Don’t. I might hurt you, Killian, you can’t-“

“You won’t hurt me,” Killian insists, kneeling down before her. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“ Damnit Killian-“

“I mean it,” Killian says. “I could never be afraid of you, love.”

Emma actually shrinks away at the endearment and Killian’s heart sinks, but he plows on.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Emma remains silent for a long time, stubbornly picking at the hem of her skirt before she finally gives in.

“I told you my name was Emma, when we met,” she begins haltingly and Killian frowns, confused, but doesn’t interrupt. “That was the truth, but I also didn’t tell you something else. I’m actuallyPrincess Emma, daughter of Queen Snow White and King David.”

Killian’s jaw drops as he struggles to process the information.

Bloody hell.

“I-everyone thought the princess was dead,” He splutters out. Emma lets out a harsh, humorless laugh that makes him wince.

“As you can see, the truth is far worse,” She mutters and Killian wants to refute it, tell her she’s wrong, but Emma continues.

“Nobody knows the truth. Not even my parents.”

“What happened, love?” Killian asks, almost dreading the answer.

Emma sighs and averts her gaze. “It was Rumplestiltskin,” she murmurs. “The previous Dark One. He tricked me into thinking he killed my little brother Leo.

“There is a powerful dagger that can control the Dark One. It is also the only object capable of killing the Dark One. I knew that at the time…I just didn’t know that whoever kills the Dark One is next in line.”

“And you killed him to get revenge,” Killian guesses. He hurts for her, wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, but knows she will never allow it. He settles for simply reaching for her hand, not taking it in hers, but simply drawing soothing circles over the skin.

Emma gazes at the movement of his fingers, seemingly fascinated before answering. “Yeah. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“I’m sorry,” Killian whispers. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should.”

Emma nods. “If my family is dead-” she begins.

“They aren’t,” Killian says firmly. Emma laughs bitterly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Call it hope. Or optimism. Or something.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“A wise woman, to be sure.”

Emma laughs again, but this time it’s not forced, and it’s like music to Killian’s ears.

“Our army is preparing for battle,” He says presently. “We leave at dawn tomorrow.”

“I’ll fight with you,” Emma says immediately and Killian smiles.

“I’d expect no less, love.”

He almost says my love and holds himself back at the last moment, instead giving her a last smile before he goes back to the library to explain things to Liam and Belle.

And hopes selfishly, for a day when he might be allowed to call her his.

“Rest up well,” Liam tells Killian as they exit the Council Room that evening. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Killian acquiesces with a nod. Liam had softened a bit after hearing Emma’s story and did not hold the incident in the library against her, much to Killian’s relief. They went to the Council Room to discuss battle plans after that, and two hours later, are finally done.

After wishing his brother good night, Killian heads straight to Emma’s chambers, not even hesitating before he knocks. Emma opens the door, and his heart practically stops at the sight of her. She’s wearing a silvery dress that clings to her figure, the sleeves belling out elegantly and her hair is braided loosely, draped over her shoulder.

“Eyes up here,” Emma teases when he takes a little too long to recover and Killian coughs, embarrassed.

“Sorry, love.”

“No problem. Was there something you needed?”

“Actually yes,” He extends his hand to her. “If you would come with me, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

Emma raises a brow at this but agrees readily enough.

“You know, if you just told me where we’re going, I could easily poof us there,” Emma says as Killian leads his mare out of her stall. He chuckles.

“Call me old fashioned, but I prefer this method of travel better,” Killian teases and Emma huffs. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it,” He continues. “Shall we?”

Emma hoists herself up behind him and he can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks. “Lead the way, then.”

They ride away and to a meadow Killian had discovered a few years ago blooming with middlemist roses. Emma lets out an audible gasp when they arrive and dismounts from the horse, looking around in wonder. Killian grins in triumph.

“ Wow . Killian, this is-it’s beautiful ,” she says, awed. “It doesn’t look quite real.”

“There’s still beauty in the world, Emma,” Killian says. He takes her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together as he leads her out into the field. “All you have to do is look for it.”

Emma smiles at him gratefully. “Thank you. For bringing me here, I mean.”

“You’re most welcome,” Killian bends to pluck a flower and moves closer to Emma, tenderly tucking it behind her ear. Her cheeks flush, the same pale pink of the middlemist rose. “ Lovely ,” He murmurs, gently stroking her face; her eyes falling half-shut at the caress.

They remain there in silence for a while, standing far closer than is appropriate and Killian takes Emma’s hand again.

“I’m afraid,” she says suddenly and Killian glances down at her, his brow creasing in confusion.

“Of what?”

“Of facing my parents,” Emma says softly, barely a whisper. “I don’t want them to see what I’ve turned into. A monster .”

Killian flinches at the self loathing in her voice and squeezes her hand tighter. “You’re not a monster, Emma.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t know. The things I’ve done, Killian-“

“I don’t need to know,” he says firmly. “I see you . The woman who saved my brother when he lay at death’s door. Who healed my wound without a second’s thought in the forest. Who saved me from the Black Knight that tried to kill me.”

When Emma says nothing, Killian continues, determined to get her to see what he does. “After all of that, how could you call yourself a monster? You’re not. And your family will see that, too.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they’re your family and they’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

Emma meets his gaze, tilting her head to one side. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Killian nods. “I’ve done a lot of foolish things, Emma. When Milah died, I was consumed by rage and hatred for the Evil Queen. I tried to seek revenge, but it only resulted in endangering Liam and Belle. Yet, after all that, they forgave me.”

“This is different, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. They will forgive you.”

Emma nods shakily. Suddenly, she says,

“Merlin’s spell books. I was lying to you about why I wanted them.”

“Aye, I gathered as much.”

“I’m…hoping to destroy the darkness.”

Killian looks at her in shock and she continues. “I know that the darkness was first born in Camelot, and that Merlin had something to do with it. That’s why I wanted the books.”

“Because you think he might have a way to destroy it,” Killian guesses.

“Yeah. I think I might have had a breakthrough, but there’s still a lot more to be done.”

“You’ll do it,” The conviction in his voice makes her look up at him in surprise.

“You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Emma says nothing, seemingly at a loss for words. She simply holds his gaze, her green eyes brighter than ever.

Then she pulls him closer, pressing their joined hands to his chest as she kisses him.

Killian stills in shock for a moment, before closing his eyes and responding in kind. The kiss is sweet and tender, tasting like gratitude and affection. Emma sweeps her tongue over his lips and he lets out a soft sigh of pleasure, opening for her.

When they have to part for breath, Killian moves to kiss her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. He can’t get enough of her, Killian thinks, as he presses an open mouthed kiss to her pulse point, teeth scraping over skin. Emma lets out a little, keening moan at his ministrations and drags him up to kiss her again.

“ Emma ,” Killian murmurs against her lips. If there was any doubt before, it has all vanished. He knows what this is. “Emma, I-“

“Shh,” she interrupts, cutting him off with a kiss. Killian groans against her mouth, cradling the back of her head as he pulls her into him.

“ Later ,” Emma promises, pressing a kiss against his jaw. Killian struggles for a moment before giving in.

“Fine. Later, then.”

The next day, they prepare to leave Camelot by the early light of dawn.

Belle is to remain behind, and Emma watches from the sidelines as she says goodbye to Liam and Killian. Belle hugs Killian fiercely, murmuring something in his ear that makes him flush in embarrassment before releasing him. Emma idly wonders what it is. She doesn’t feel jealous, knowing quite well that Belle has eyes only for the older of the brothers and even if she didn’t, from what happened the previous night, Emma has it on pretty good authority that Killian’s feelings for herself go way beyond platonic.

“ Emma, I- ”

There was no doubting as to what he was going to say. It scares Emma, but also leaves her with unspeakable joy, warmth flooding her at the thought that Killian is capable of loving her despite what she is.

But there are more important things to worry about.

Like the war. And the Evil Queen. And her family.

A low murmur ripples through the air and Emma glances up to see that Belle has shocked the entire crowd waiting to see them off, and the army, by pulling Liam into a fervent kiss. Emma can’t help but grin at the sight.

Liam seems just as shocked, but returns it with equal fervor.

Killian is grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the sight.

Then they ride away from Camelot, the mood becoming somber once more at the reminder of the grim battle ahead.

Misthaven is in chaos.

Now that the Evil Queen has taken over the castle, the common people don’t seem to be satisfied with sitting back and waiting for the battle to be over. They have joined it, instead, fighting against the Queen’s knights ruthlessly, wielding pitchforks and axes. Although the Black Knights are well versed in combat as compared to the peasants, they are hopelessly outnumbered.

The army of Camelot waits at the border, awaiting Liam’s orders.

“It’s clear that the Queen has employed most of her army in eliminating the rogue warriors outside the castle,” Killian begins.

“Which means the castle will be left unprotected,” Emma finishes. “We can sneak in, rescue my parents and take the Queen by surprise. The rest of the soldiers can take out her army, so she’ll be left defenseless. ”

“Except for her magic,” Liam points out.

“I think you’re forgetting that you have an extremely powerful sorceress on your side,” Emma says dryly. “Leave Regina to me. I’ll deal with her. She has a lot to answer for.”

Yes, you can finally kill her , the darkness suggests.

No one’s killing anyone, Emma retorts inwardly. Get out of my head.

And much to her astonishment, the darkness retreats.

Emma doesn’t dwell on it, returning to the discussion. “There are underground passages that lead into the dungeons. I can guide you through them. Regina has most likely imprisoned my family there.”

Liam thinks it over for a minute before nodding. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go give the soldiers their orders.”

He walks away and Emma is about to follow, but is stopped by Killian.

“Wait, love.”

“What is it?”

In response, Killian tugs a chain over his head, one that she hasn’t noticed before, except for the previous night, because it’s always hidden beneath his clothes. There’s a beautiful ring attached to it, silver with a crimson stone set in the metal. Emma’s breath catches.

“You’re not gonna get down on one knee, are you?” she jokes weakly. Killian doesn’t smile, looking solemn.

“This ring belonged to Liam,” He begins. “Given to him by our father. Liam gave it to me when he became King. It’s what’s kept me alive, all these years.”

Emma glances up at him sharply.

Killian presses it into her palm, curling her fingers over it. “I want you to have it, love.”

“I can’t die today, Killian,” Emma says gently. “I’m immortal.”

Killian exhales. “The Dark One is immortal. But the strong, brave lass I know- you aren’t. Keep it, Emma.”

“What will protect you, then?” Emma asks.

Killian grins at her. “I have you by my side, love. What more protection do I need?”

Overcome by emotion, Emma leans into him, pressing her forehead to his, shutting her eyes. In a few minutes, they go into battle, to face possible death.

But for now, they can have this.

I love you , Emma thinks, but doesn’t dare to say it aloud.

The underground passage leading to the dungeons is exactly as Emma remembers and she guides Liam and Killian through the twisting, maze-like pathways with little difficulty. There are a few of the Queen’s guards stationed there, much to their surprise, but Emma makes short work of them, knocking them unconscious with her magic.

Liam looks impressed. “Nice work, milady.”

Emma nods in thanks and hides a grin. Liam’s opinion of her has bettered considerably and she can’t say she’s disliking it too much.

Everything abruptly goes to hell then, as the sound of running reaches their ears and before they can react, or do anything, a dark haired man rounds the corner, catching hold of Killian and holding a knife to his throat.

“Killian!” Liam draws his sword, but the man presses the knife hard enough to draw blood.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns. Emma snarls wordlessly, raising her hand to dispose of him, when something makes her pause.

The man looks strangely familiar, his defiant glare and the blue of his eyes tugging at a long lost memory.

Then he looks at her and lets out a cry.

“Emma?!”

And that’s when Emma instantly knows.

“Leo?” she croaks out, her eyes watering. Leo promptly lets go of Killian and runs to her, embracing her tightly. Tears flow down Emma’s cheeks as she hugs him back. It’s her little brother, who’s all grown up now.

“Gods, Emma,” he mutters into her hair. “We thought you were dead.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Leo pulls back to take a good look at her. “What happened to you, Emma?”

Terror seizes her, she knows that this is the moment of truth. But there’s no point lying now. She can’t .

“Because they’re your family and they’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

The memory of Killian’s words gives her a boost of courage and she swallows before answering.

“I turned into the Dark One,” Emma says steadily. “Rumplestiltskin, he tricked me into thinking he murdered you and I-“

“Oh, Emma.”

And then Leo is hugging her once more and Emma cries again, because Killian was right and he doesn’t hate her, and-

“You’re all grown up now,” Emma says with a half laugh, half sob. Leo snorts, drawing away.

“It’s been ten years, sis.” he glances at Killian and Liam and frowns. “But who are they?”

The brothers, who had been watching the reunion in silence (Killian smiling proudly all through it) look at each other before Liam answers.

“I’m King Liam of Camelot. And this is Killian, my brother.”

Leo’s eyes widen and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Oh, you’re our allies. My apologies, I thought you were part of the Queen’s army.”

“Speaking of,” Emma says anxiously. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

Leo sobers. “Regina captured them. I managed to get away, thankfully, and I’m here looking for them.”

“So are we.”

“There are more Black Knights stationed further in the dungeons, guarding them.”

“Not a problem,” Emma says, her eyes hard. “I can take them out. Are there any more in the castle?”

“Yeah, but not many,” Leo replies.

Emma nods and turns to Killian and Liam. “You two should go take care of the rest of the knights. Leo and I will find my parents and after that, I’ll go face Regina.”

Killian looks upset at the idea. “Emma-”

“ Please ,” Emma says quietly. “This is something I have to do.”

Killian holds her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Alright.”

“Let’s be off then,” Liam says. “You stay safe, milady.”

Emma grins and nods. But before they go, Killian hastily turns to pull her into a lingering kiss. Forgetting about their audience, Emma clings to him desperately, tears burning at her eyes.

“Come home to me,” she murmurs against his lips when they part.

It’s not quite an I love you , but it will do for now.

“I will.” Killian vows.

And like that, he’s gone.

“What was all of that about?” Leo demands as they run further into the dungeons.

“Shut up,” is all Emma says, but she’s smiling, clutching at the chain around her neck.

The Black Knights guarding the cell Emma’s parents are trapped in barely get a warning before she knocks them unconscious with a blast of her magic. Leo whistles, impressed.

Snow and David come running to the bars and when they see Emma, expressions of pure shock appear on their faces.

“ Emma? ” Snow breathes, as if barely able to believe what she’s seeing.

Emma melts the bars with a wave of her hand and then she’s running into her parents arms, the tears coming back in full force as her mother tackles her into a bear hug and her father cradles the back of her head, kissing her forehead tenderly. Leo joins the embrace, slinging his arm over Emma’s shoulders.

“We thought you were dead,” David whispers brokenly. Emma nods guiltily.

“I’m so sorry,” she says and then recounts her tale again.

When Emma finishes, her parents are crying as they pull her to them again.

“We’re so sorry we weren’t there for you, Emma,” Snow murmurs, clinging to her daughter like she might disappear any moment.

Emma shakes her head. “It was my fault for not seeking you out before. I just-“ her voice breaks. “I was so afraid that you’d despise me,” she confesses.

Snow cups her cheeks in her hands. “Emma, you are our daughter,” she says firmly. “Never think for a moment that we do not love you.”

When their tears have been dried, David finally asks,

“Did you come here by yourself?”

“No, she came with Camelot’s army,” Leo says wryly.

“Camelot?” Snow questions. “I know they’re our allies, but how on earth did you get affiliated with them?”

“It’s a long story,” Emma says quickly. “We really don’t have the time-“

“You could at least tell them that you’re engaged,” Leo butts in. Emma splutters and David’s face turns purple.

“Engaged?!” He demands, outraged. Emma tosses her brother a furious glare.

“We’re not engaged! Where did you even get that idea?”

“What’s the ring around your neck for, then?”

“What it is , is none of your business,” Emma retorts smartly. “Killian-“

Snow gasps loudly. “ Killian ? The Prince of Camelot is courting you?”

“We’re not courting,” Emma says defensively. “And anyway, don’t we have more important things to discuss right now? Like ending this war once and for all?”

Her parents sober up instantly at that. “Right, of course,” David says. “What’s your plan, Emma?”

“I’m going up against Regina,” Before they can protest, Emma holds up a hand. “I’m not taking no for an answer. We all know that I’m the only one capable of facing her right now.”

“We can be back up,” Snow argues, but Emma disagrees.

“Liam and Killian will need help with the rest of the Black Knights. You three can to that. I’m facing Regina alone.”

Snow and David clearly realize that there’s no point arguing with her, and sigh and relent.

“Be careful,” David says softly.

Emma smiles. “Always am.”

“That’s all, I think,” Killian says as he pulls his sword out of the body of the last knight, grimacing at the blood that coats the steel. Next to him, Liam nods, exhausted.

“Aye. What now?”

Before Killian can reply, they hear the sound of footsteps and swing around. A tall woman with steel grey hair, dressed in black, with a wicked smirk on her face strides into the hallway.

The Evil Queen.

“You,” Killian snarls and Liam holds him back, just barely.

“Hello, little prince,” Regina mocks, but her smile disappears when she sees Liam, angry confusion replacing it. “How are you-you should be dead-”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not,” Liam says with a grim smile. “Perhaps this time you’ll fight fair, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, how naïve of you,” Regina practically purrs. “I never fight fair.”

Before Liam can blink, she snaps her fingers and suddenly he is bound by an invisible force, unable to budge an inch. Regina moves towards Killian swiftly and plunges her hand into his chest. He lets out a cry of pain, his head slumping forward.

“No!” Liam shouts in panic, desperately fighting against his bonds.

But before Regina can rip Killian’s heart out, a shockwave of magic pulses through the room and the Queen is thrown to the floor. Killian gasps in relief, clutching at his chest and then looks upwards.

It’s Emma.

She walks towards Regina, eyes black with anger, the air around her crackling with magic, looking like an avenging angel ready to destroy whatever stands in her path.

Regina looks up at her, eyes narrowing in uncertainty. “Who are-”

“You should’ve done your research first, Regina,” Emma says coldly. “Then maybe you would’ve known better than to touch what is mine .”

The possessiveness of her tone sends a sharp thrill through Killian.

Regina stands up, studying her carefully. “You’re the Dark One, aren’t you? Rumple-”

“I killed him, ten years ago.”

“Who are you?”

Emma bares her teeth. “Guess.”

Recognition dawns over Regina. “You’re Snow’s daughter, aren’t you,” her face twists in a sneer. “Well, well. I do wonder how your mother took the news of her daughter going dark.”

Emma ignores her taunts. “I’m not here to talk, Regina. I’m here to defeat you, so let’s get on with it.”

Regina snorts. “Please. You might be the Dark One but I can tell you never bothered training your magic. You’re no match for me.”

“Well then, let’s test that theory, shall we?”

Without further warning, Emma draws back her hands and emits twin bolts of grey light, sending them straight towards Regina. The older woman stumbles back, but quickly regains her footing, conjuring fireballs to throw at Emma.

Emma dodges them nimbly, the last one singeing her hair, but she barely flinches at it, attacking again.

The fight continues like this for what seem like hours to Killian but in reality are only a few minutes. Regina begins to get visibly tired, her earlier boasts falling flat as the Dark One’s magic proves to be superior to hers. Hope flares brightly in Killian’s chest, thinking that they might win.

But he thought too soon.

“You’re good, Dark One,” Regina sneers between pants. “But you made a mistake.”

Emma raises a brow.

“You revealed your weakness.”

And before Emma can do anything, Regina swings around, and sends a greenish-black bolt of magic towards Killian. It hits him squarely in the chest and he collapses to the ground.

The last sounds he hears are Emma and Liam’s panicked voices calling his name before everything fades to darkness.

“No! What have you done?!”

Emma gazes at Killian’s unmoving body in horror. Her magic threatens to fly out of control again, pure fear coursing through her veins.

Regina chuckles and thrusts her hand out and suddenly, Emma crashes into the wall. She slumps down on the floor, raising her hand gingerly to the blood that flows down her forehead.

“I may not be able to kill you, but I can at least incapacitate you,” Regina says, stalking over to Emma. At that moment, Snow and David enter the scene, but neither women notice them.

Emma pushes herself up with some difficulty. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Regina,” She waves her hand and blasts her back, and before the Queen can stand again, restrains her with magic.

“You can’t run now,” Emma snarls, towering over the woman.

Regina laughs mockingly. “Are you going to kill me?”

Yes, the darkness insists. Make her suffer for all that she has done.

“Your parents will despise you, you know,” Regina continues. “They do so hate the idea of killing. And you’re the exact same. Dark One or not, you won’t do it.”

Do it, the darkness commands, it’s voice rising to a high shriek. Don’t go back to being nothing .

“You’re nothing,” Regina hisses. “You’ll never be able to protect them. Any of them.”

Something in Emma snaps. The weight of the ring against her chest burns and all the memories of being too weak to fight the darkness, of losing control wash over her, and-

“I am not nothing!” Emma growls , her hands clenching into fists until her knuckles turn white. “I was never nothing! I don’t need to kill you to prove a point. I will never turn into what you are. I amstronger than you ever will be!”

Emma reaches into her pocket and pulls out a black leather cuff. Regina glances at it, and her eyes widen in fear.

“I won’t kill you,” Emma says. “But I will make sure you never hurt anyone again.”

And in a swift motion, she clamps the cuff over Regina’s wrist.

Abruptly, the magic holding Liam down vanishes and he stumbles forward. Emma backs away from Regina and into the arms of her parents and Leo.

“You did it, Emma,” Snow praises. “Oh, we’re so proud of you.”

Emma gives her a weak, watery smile and then glances at Killian, her eyes widening. She runs to him, kneeling beside his prone form.

“What’s going on?” Emma looks up frantically at Liam’s stricken face. “All of Regina’s spells were cancelled, he should’ve woken up, too.”

She reaches over to feel his pulse and it’s like a punch to the gut when there’s nothing.

“ No,” Emma whispers. Behind her, her parents are murmuring sympathies, but she ignores it, shaking him desperately.

“Killian, please,” she begs. “Please, come back to me.”

“Can’t you do anything?” Liam demands, his voice shaking. “Your magic-”

“I don’t even know what’s wrong with him.” Emma says brokenly.

There’s a terrible pain eating at her heart, so dreadful, that Emma can barely hold herself up, slumped over Killian’s body; her breaths coming out in heaving pants.

She never told him she loved him .

The thought just sends a fresh wave of agony through her and Emma sobs like she never has before, clutching at the lapels of his coat as she begs him to come back to her.

“I love you,” Emma whispers and as a last, desperate resort, she presses her lips to his.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then a wave of pure love rushes through her, nearly knocking her over. Emma barely has the time to register to startled gasps of the others before her vision turns a dazzling white, light magic swirling around her.

When she opens her eyes again, the darkness is gone and Killian wakes with a gasp.

It’s a flood of warmth and magic that jerks Killian into wakefulness, his eyes flying open as he gasps for breath. He sees Emma immediately and lets out a low cry of surprise.

The silver of her hair has turned to gold, silky waves that spill down her shoulders and chest. The black dress she’d worn previously has transformed into garments of pure white.

She looks like an angel .

“Emma,” Killian breathes, reaching up to cup her cheek. She lets out a little, relieved cry, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Killian,” Emma says. “I-I thought you were-”

“I’m fine, darling,” He reassures her immediately. “I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Killian sits up, gazing at her in wonder. “Wha-What happened?”

Emma looks down at herself, then, as if not having noticed her transformation before. Her voice shakes when she speaks.

“The darkness,” Emma whispers in awe. “It’s gone .”

“Gone?” Killian repeats. “How?”

“True Love’s kiss,” Emma realizes. “When I kissed you, it broke the curse, and-”

The breath flies out of Killian’s lungs. “True love?” he croaks.

Emma meets his gaze and smiles, gently brushing her knuckles over his cheek. “I love you,” she says simply. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I-”

Killian doesn’t let her finish, pulling her into her arms, burying his face in her hair. “I love you, too,” He says, his voice muffled. “And you have nothing to apologize for, my love.”

Emma wraps her arms around him tightly, holding to him as if she fears he’ll disappear any moment. “I didn’t need Merlin’s help to defeat the darkness, in the end,” she says, sounding awed. “I didn’t even need Excalibur. All I needed to do was open my heart to love.”

Killian chuckles, drawing away. “I told you you’d do it, Emma.”

Emma laughs, a pure, delighted sound before she pulls him into a kiss. And this time, when Killian kisses her, it feels like coming home and the darkness and walls which separated them have finally been vanquished.

When she releases him, Liam embraces him, calling him a ‘bloody idiot’ and ordering him to never nearly get himself killed like that again.

(“I’m the King, you know. You have to obey my orders.” “Whatever you say, brother.”)

Emma is in the arms of her family, all of them laughing and crying at the same time as they cling to each other. Snow then moves to hug Killian and Liam, thanking them profusely for their help. David shakes Killian’s hand, thanking him gruffly for ridding Emma of the darkness. In the background, Leo elbows Emma slyly and she scowls at him in response.

When Camelot’s army comes back, victorious and Regina is locked away in the dungeons, Emma turns to Killian, grinning brightly.

“I’m glad I met you, Killian,” she says, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth. Killian turns so he can kiss her properly, relishing in the sound of her pleased moan when his tongue slides over hers.

He breaks away, and rests his forehead against hers.

“I’m glad I met you, too, love.”

Fin

#ffcs 2018 #fallforcs #fall for captain swan #blind date with a fanfic #cs ff #cs ff au #set fire to the darkness #shadowyfirehawk #celestial-fire-writer

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