#Lancelot has no choice but to say these words even though they KNOW Guinevere doesn’t love them back (because they’re part of the play)

[choices-and-voices]

“The purpose of playing, whose end… was and is, to hold as ‘twere the mirror up to nature” – William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act 3 Scene 2

Part 2/2, Lancelot’s scene

[weakforarwen]

The Coming of Arthur (Part 2)

Morgana’s short reign lasted at least a week? That long? Arthur and the others stayed in the cave doing nothing for a week? Let’s give it up for Morgana though. She’s really good at cruelty. Making the noble, all too willing to die, Knights watch as innocent people died instead of them was pretty clever. She really knows how to make people feel utterly hopeless and powerless. Uther, for example, was a mess. When Arthur came from him, he honestly looked disappointed in seeing his once great father so weak. I think Arthur believed Uther had failed him (and not just because he lied about Morgana). 

Did Gwen really believe she was fooling Morgana? As self-absorbed as she is, Morgana knew Gwen well and knew her feelings for Arthur. Gwen was smart to stay alive and live to fight another day, but she was naive in thinking Morgana would believe Gwen could talk Leon into betraying Arthur, even if Morgana was still playing the role of the benevolent ruler. I guess Gwen had no choice but to take a chance and it paid off (but only just). 

This season finale is honestly not the best one, and neither part of the episode is the best episode this season. I find some of Arthur’s speeches a bit too self-aggrandizing, and it took a lot of hail marys for Merlin to triumph. Even with an immortal blade and Lancelot by his side, how can Merlin be a better swordsman than a trained Army, and how can he and Lancelot match the stamina of the undead - especially when they were vastly outnumbered? And what happened to the rest of the immortal Army? They were numbering in the thousands when we saw them in Part 1, but only a few dozens were within the castle walls - where the King, his Knights, and the cup itself were. I also can’t understand how Gaius was able to get to the room where the Cup was. Even if Merlin killed a few immortal soldiers, he did not kill all of them and Gaius had neither advanced magic nor an immortal blade. It’s also hard to believe that Morgana didn’t realize someone had used magic against her sister. How else would someone as powerful as Morgause fall? Did Morgana assume an old man and two commoners could never wield such powerful magic? And it’s interesting that Merlin survived Morgause violently throwing him across the room into a wall, yet Morgause did not...

On the topic of Arthur’s cliche speeches, the scene where the members of the round table stand up one by one to pledge their allegiance to Arthur is kinda, very, cringe. I do like how Gwen just said “You know the answer” and Arthur gazed at her fondly for a while; Merlin didn’t even bother with a real answer yet Arthur already knew what it was, and the two cutely smiled at each other.

Unsurprisingly, Lancelot was the first to rise and talk about the Knight’s code... He’s so unironically serious about the nobility of the Knights, he doesn’t feel human - dude’s a robot. It’s hard to care for his character when his only traits seem to be: “noble”, and “romantic”. There’s nothing else to his character other than an obsession with being a worthy Knight, and Gwen. I noticed Lancelot used Gwen’s own words in his speech, when he mentioned fighting for “all that is good” (Gwen told Lancelot he was all that is good in Lancelot and Guinevere). I gotta say, Lancelot does seem awfully fond of Merlin too. The way he looked at Merlin after he told him his plan. He looked so attracted. And Merlin really remembered to call Lancelot... The show would’ve been so different with Lancelot around to help Merlin and appreciate him the way Arthur can’t (not that Arthur doesn’t appreciate Merlin - he just has a very bad way of showing it and doesn’t know of Merlin’s magic).  

Anyway, the knighting ceremony was a bit tacky as well, what with Arthur saying they should be proud to die for the noblest Army in all the lands... Dude...

At the round table, Arthur personally seated Gwen at his left side - where his heart is - while Merlin was seated at his right side - his strongest side. It couldn’t have happened any other way - Merlin is Arthur’s right hand man, and Arthur is in love with Gwen, so she’s his “heart” - but it’s still a bit cliché. Gwen isn’t just Arthur’s weak spot and love interest - she gives him strength and counsel too. 

I wonder if it’s a coincidence that in both season finales where Arthur is completely devoid of hope - The Coming of Arthur and The Sword in the Stone - Gwen has somehow been taken from him. Obviously, the point of both of these finales is to test Arthur, but for the better part of The Coming of Arthur, Gwen’s (and Uther’s) fate is unclear, and, in The Sword in the Stone, Gwen is around but her and Arthur are in the outs. Gwen is a huge source of strength to Arthur - she gives him hope and encouragement. In The Sword in the Stone, Gwen and Arthur’s broken relationship only served to worsen the blow to Arthur’s already fragile state of mind caused by Agravaine’s betrayal. Arthur was already feeling lost, and Agravaine’s betrayal had the same impact as Morgana’s. I don’t think having Gwen around, and them being okay, would’ve prevented Arthur’s crises, but she would’ve been able to give him strength and get through to him long before Merlin did. It is as Arthur said: if Gwen is alright “then there is still hope”, yet he had to leave Camelot without her; and “If I lose her, I lose everything”, and he did lose her in season 4, even if she was present in the finale.

It’s worthwhile noting that Arthur was genuinely glad to see Lancelot and Percival, and did not, for a second, feel threatened by Lancelot’s presence. Arthur was always certain of his feelings for Gwen and of her feelings for him. He didn’t believe magic had caused them even when Dragoon said so, and he never feared Lancelot’s feelings for Gwen or Gwen’s feelings for Lancelot - not in this episode, nor when Lancelot died and Gwen mourned him, or when he returned in Lancelot Du Lac. And Gwen didn’t express interest in Lancelot at all - she even smiled apologetically at him... 

I think my favorite Arwen kiss might be the one after the round table scene. Gwen’s afraid of the Knights picking up on their relationship, but Arthur doesn’t care anymore and kisses her. The lighting is very beautiful here, and Arthur’s jaw could cut glass. Gwen saying she was so proud of Arthur was cute too.

That kiss represented a shift in Gwen and Arthur’s relationship. At the round table, Arthur made a choice to distance himself from his father and to break from tradition. He pledged to openly support “equality” (in his own elitist definition), and the knighting ceremony and the exposure of his and Gwen’s relationship were consequences of that. There are two scenes which contrast each other for that reason: one before his speech, when Arthur is surprised and happy to see Gwen alive at the cave and they hug heartily, yet Arthur becomes aware of himself and of the Knights watching him hug a servant so he quickly lets go; the other scene, post-equality speech, is when Arthur is waiting for Gwen’s return to the castle. Just as before, Arthur’s face lights up when he sees Gwen, and he quickly makes his way to her, where he helps her off her horse (him, the prince, not the servant standing by); however, this time, he kisses her and embraces her while the Knights watch (in public too). 

Also, it’s cute how happy Merlin is to witness the whole thing - he’s the number 1 Arwen shipper. It’s also cute that it seems like Arthur literally sent all his knights to retrieve one woman. 

However, if these two “opposing” Arwen scenes are proof things have changed with the beginning of Arthur’s reign, his scene with Merlin shows things are still very much the same, with some differences: 

Merlin and Arthur sit side by side in the front steps of the castle - a new development for them already, signifying their “equal” standing - yet Arthur asks (in a joking manner, but he’s not really joking) that Merlin shines his boots. Merlin quickly reminds Arthur that they are all equal now, and Arthur jokes back and cutely shoves him. Sweet as it is, and it’s obvious Arthur adores Merlin, the truth is they’re obviously not equals. - Arthur’s still the Prince/King and Merlin’s only a servant. Even in an “equal” society, a servant and his master can never be equals, especially when Arthur never seems to remember that Merlin has a life of his own. Thus, this mostly sweet scene is a bit bittersweet, and a good representation of Arthur’s reign - full of good intentions, yet too much like Uther’s in the end. 

[apiratewhopines]

Because @jrob64 asked for another chapter and I can’t tell her no.

Midnight

Chapter 5 — The Pumpkin

Summary: In which our heroine really gets into it

Chapter 5 of 7 on AO3

“I had the craziest dream last night, yes I did.

I never dreamt it could be

Yet there you were, in love with me.”

-I Had the Craziest Dream, Harry James and His Orchestra and Helen Forrest

Emma may as well have been glued to his side. His hand was planted firmly on her hip, keeping her cradled next to him as he made the rounds like a seasoned politician. She should have been upset at his overbearing manner, forcing his way into her life and nearly ruining the biggest payday she was ever likely to see.

Instead, she curled into him and realized that instead of bacon, he carried the scent of cocoa with cinnamon. She wasn’t disappointed, though. Not even when he looked at her with a knowing glance after she took a long sniff at a particularly tempting patch of skin just above his collar.

She tried to tell herself it was simply because that was what a wife would do when reunited with her husband and she didn’t want to make a scene.

The party was winding down when the dreaded introduction to Lance happened. He stayed in the shadows, burning holes through her as she clung to the husband who was supposed to be on the other side of the Atlantic. Even from a distance, she could see the challenge in his stare. Instead of being discouraged, the other man was planning to fight his way into her affections.

She had hoped to bypass the whole thing, but Guinevere was determined since her other method of entertainment was spoiled, she was due a different kind. She stopped them with a bright smile and hard eyes as Killian was attempting to maneuver away from the breaking crowd. When Guin waved at someone behind them, Emma caught Arthur’s wandering gaze and silently summoned him to help. “Baron Jones, I’m so glad you’re able to join us for the weekend. Lancelot did his best to keep your wife company, but I’m sure he’s no replacement for you. Lance, do come over and meet the baron.”

With a rueful smile, Lance joined the group and nodded tightly at Killian. “Baron Jones, you’re the envy of every man here. You’re quite lucky in your choice of wife.”

“Oh, it wasn’t luck. Some said the Baroness would do anything for a piece of the pie, even take the name of a man she barely knows. But we both know the truth, don’t we, sweetheart? It was love at first sight.” His fingers moved further down her hip and she felt his body shake with contained laughter. He was enjoying her discomfort, growing bolder in his caresses with the knowledge they had an audience expecting her to be eager for his touch.

Arthur choked on the shrimp he had just eaten, breaking the tension and causing the posturing males to quit glaring at each other and Guin to abandon her machinations to thump her husband on the back. Arthur was too busy trying to breathe to notice his wayward wife had a look of true concern on her face as her pounding turned to a light caress while he regained his breath.

Calling a waiter over for a glass of water, Guin continued to rub Arthur’s back as she addressed Killian. “We’ll move you to a larger room where you will be more comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. The Baron and I are used to sleeping apart while one or the other of us are traveling and we don’t want to cause you any trouble. Tomorrow is soon enough,” Emma assured the woman even as Killian’s arm tightened around her. By then, she will have convinced him to leave quietly. She turned to him with adoring eyes and a smile that was all teeth. “Isn’t that right, Captain?”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble. It’s why we have staff,” Guin said before Killian could answer, her tone distracted. For once, Emma thought she wasn’t causing trouble on purpose. The woman’s attention was still on Arthur, whose face had yet to return to its normal color.

“Did you hear that, love? No trouble at all,” Killian echoed, his touch flittering lightly along the exposed skin of her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He was wrong, of course. It was all kinds of trouble.

—

“What a wonderful room,” Killian observed, ushering her into the large group of rooms ahead of him. He hadn’t spoken two words to her since they entered the home with their hosts, focusing instead on debating the merits of Neoclassical versus Georgian architecture with Guin. The other woman was charmed, her expression warm and open as she hung on his every word, neither of them noticing their partners wore matching scowls.

“It’s the bridal suite. I’m so glad you approve, Baron Jones. It’s not often we get visitors of your stature in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Perfect. In many ways, this is like a honeymoon for us, isn’t it, darling?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, wondering how much longer he planned to play the part of doting husband. He remained in constant contact with her, his fingers gripping her elbow, his hand brushing her cheek or lingering at her waist. It made it impossible to think. Now they were in a bedroom, staring down a long night of complete isolation once the Soberanos left them to their own devices.

“Ahem, yes, my dear Baroness, there is a panic button on the end table. One push and it will wake the entire household,” Arthur explained, addressing Emma but giving Killian a look that threatened retribution for any shenanigans. She could tell the man was uncomfortable leaving her with him. His gaze kept seeking hers as if to get some reassurance she would be okay.

Guin reached out and swatted his arm. “Arthur, don’t scare the poor girl. We’ve never had any trouble here. You will be perfectly safe and I look forward to getting to know you both better over breakfast.”

Killian smiled as they walked out, shutting the door behind them. Walking over to the minibar, he commented, “Lovely couple. So glad you ran into them.”

His calm attempt at normalcy made her want to scream. So she did. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How did you find me? Why did you find me? What do you want?”

“Which one of those would you like me to tackle first, Swan?” His back was to her as he poured a drink. “Although after all the sleepless nights you caused me with your little runaway stunt and whatever the hell this charade is supposed to be, perhaps I deserve to have my questions answered first.”

He downed the rum in one gulp and turned back to face her. He looked hollow, his gaze searching for something, his hand outstretched before he thought better of it and ran it through his already wild hair. “Why did you run, love? I wasn’t going to hurt you. And what are we doing here?”

“I did it for your own good,” she insisted, moving to the other side of the room because the temptation to touch him was so strong she could taste it, along with the lingering flavor of his kiss. “As for why we’re here, I’m trying to start a new life. I have no idea what brought you to this neck of the woods.”

“I’m trying to do the same thing. But my version doesn’t involve false titles and cozying up to obnoxious cads.” He crossed the room in four quick strides and pulled her into his arms. “Why did you do it, Emma?”

If he had tried to push for more, she would have been able to resist. Maybe he knew that, or maybe he just always knew what she needed, so he simply held her. She couldn’t help but relax into it. The weight and stress of the last few days melted away as she listened to his steady heartbeat drumming under her cheek. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He chuckled, pressing a featherlight kiss on the top of her head. “Why did you pick my name when you don’t even seem happy to see me?”

“I am happy to see you, Captain. I…I regret the way I left. It wasn’t fair when you’d been nothing but decent to me. And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about Door Number One once or twice since then.”

“You’re dodging the question, Swan. Or should I say Jones?”

“I know you want it to mean something, but it doesn’t. I needed a name and yours was the first that popped into my mind,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Why do you think mine was the one on the tip of your tongue, Swan?”

She was stubborn enough not to answer but not strong enough to pull away.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman who has been alone for a long time, even when she’s not. You muscle your way through life on grit and nerve because it’s the only way you know how to survive, and you crumble at the first hint of softness, not because you don’t crave it with every fiber of your being, but because you don’t trust it to be real. The only part I can’t figure out is how long it will take to admit to yourself you took my name because I mean something to you.”

“Captain…you need to leave.”

“You can’t run away from what started between us. You’ve tried repeatedly, but it’s useless. We’re right for each other; I know it deep down in my bones. Don’t you?” The soft kisses he brushed against her forehead made her feel like she was on fire. Warmth flooded her skin and pooled in all the places she wanted to feel his touch. “Do you really think love is easier in a place like this? Don’t be a fool, Emma.”

Her name came out like a breathless prayer, and despite her best intentions to step away, to make him understand they were a mistake waiting to happen, she couldn’t resist cradling his jaw and bringing his lips to hers again.

It was all the encouragement he needed. The next thing Emma knew, her back was against the wall, his hands running the length of her form. His mouth soon followed, abandoning hers and trailing down her throat. She could feel the way his muscles tensed, his body hard and unyielding as she fought to get closer.

She would climb inside him if she could figure out how.

“The bed. Now.” His voice was a ragged command she wanted to obey but couldn’t quite manage as she felt his hands gliding beneath her dress and slowly tugging the silk up along her hypersensitive skin. He pulled back and gazed at her through hooded eyes, his mouth red from the heated combination of her passion and lipstick. “Or better yet, let’s go. Leave and never look back.”

It was like he doused her with cold water. What was it about this man that made her lose her mind? And her heart, for that matter. She gaped at him, disheveled from head to toe, and whispered, “No.”

“No? To the bed or to leaving?”

“Both. I’m sorry,” Emma said, pushing his chest gently to add distance between them.

He moved at the light pressure she used but captured her hands before she could lift them. Placing a reverent kiss on the inside of her wrist, he murmured, “Your kiss tells a different story, Swan.”

“I kiss everybody that way.” She was lying, and they both knew it, but she felt she needed to try to regain control of the situation.

With an exasperated expression at odds with his adorably wrecked appearance, he asked with a cocked eyebrow, “Does that include your new friend Lancelot du Lac?”

She didn’t need any more evidence that Killian Jones was not like Neal Cassidy, but if she did, his measured voice and probing question about Lance would do it. Neal was an incredibly jealous person, probably because he was cheating during their entire relationship. She couldn’t imagine having a calm conversation with her ex about a man who practically tried to pee on her leg while being introduced to him. He would have accused, he would have pouted, then he would have made her feel like garbage. But this man in front of her simply asked. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like a ticking time bomb that will blow up in your face.”

Maybe it was precisely what it looked like then. “That’s not your concern. It’s my face, and it won’t be the first time.”

“But your face is quite dear to me, Swan. I’d do anything to put a smile on it.” He pressed another one of those barely-there kisses on her wrist, this time letting his lips move further up the inside of her arm slowly.

“Then you should leave. Tonight.” Even she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. It didn’t help that her head had fallen back against the wall, eyes tightly shut so she could savor the feelings he was inducing without pesky things like lights or coherent thoughts getting in the way.

“Not a chance, love. We’re a package deal. We stay or go together. Now come to bed, and let’s work on that smile.”

She allowed herself to move but was surprised when he went to his bag and tossed a shirt in her direction, grabbing one for himself as well. Turning around to give her privacy, he didn’t join her until she clicked off the light on her bedside table. Wrapping her in his arms again, he buried his face in her hair and murmured, “We’re leaving tomorrow if I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming.”

“If believing that will help you sleep tonight, I won’t be the one to burst your bubble,” she answered with a yawn. “About that smile…”

“You’ll have to keep it in your pants, Swan. I’ve changed my mind. Our first time won’t be on a bed of lies. I’m not going to let you lump me in with the rest of this fantasy land you’re playing in and then be dismissed when it’s all over. Besides, I need some kind of carrot to dangle in front of you to convince you to leave.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days? Maybe your carrot isn’t big enough to make me abandon my plans.”

“I’ve had no complaints, love, but I look forward to earning your opinion on the matter.” She felt his laugh more than heard it, the mattress shaking slightly and her hair rustling. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Of what?”

“Seeing you in my shirts.”

It wasn’t the way she thought he would put a smile on her face, but she couldn’t grumble when the last sound she heard before falling asleep was his gentle snore.

—

The lightness to her step she attributed to the man still passed out in her bed. Their bed. In the bridal suite.

When had life gotten so beautifully complicated?

The weather was bright and clear, the air pleasantly warm. Emma followed the sound of voices out to the terrace and saw most of the guests were already dining al fresco from buffet tables running the entire length of the house and laden with every manner of food one could imagine. She was filling up two plates when she felt someone approach her from behind.

“If you’re going to lurk, you may as well make yourself useful,” she said, not bothering to glance over her shoulder to verify the identity of her visitor. The brooding silence was all the confirmation she needed. “Hold this plate.”

Lance took it from her and held it aloft with all the patience of a toddler who had his favorite toy taken away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, and yourself?”

“Miserably.”

“That’s too bad. You should ask them to put you in the bridal suite next time. The mattress is great.”

“Only if you agree to join me,” he retorted, a hint of his former confidence resurfacing.

She actually started feeling sorry for him. It was hard going through life so scared of love you only made connections with unavailable people. She would know. “You’ll have to take that up with my husband. Although I warn you, he’s the jealous sort.”

Glumly, he picked at the stem of a strawberry and muttered, “I eat husbands for breakfast.”

“How odd. Are they better with toast or fruit?” She snorted at her joke, but he remained impassive. “Come on, Lance, it’s not the end of the world. We had our fun, but the cat is back. Behave.”

They ended up at the head table with Arthur, Guin, and Sidney. It was the last place she wanted to sit, but since it was also the only place and she was hungry, she decided to bear it as best she could. The conversation flowed easily; plans for the day were discussed and discounted in the same breath.

As she contemplated a third plate, Killian rushed to her side. Kneeling in front of her and wrapping her hand in both of his, he announced, “Darling, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Torn between amusement and anxiety, she responded with a single syllable. “Oh?”

“Yes, I didn’t check my email before I arrived last night, but it must have downloaded while I still had a signal. Thank goodness, because I had a message from my mother. Little Hope is sick, and we need to get home right away.”

Looking unconcerned with the newest development, Sidney asked around a mouth full of French toast, “Who’s Hope?”

“You didn’t tell them about Hope?”

“Well, you know how it is…new friends have so many things to talk about it’s hard to fit it all in,” she said with a half-hearted smile, wondering what he was up to.

Ignoring her, he focused his attention on Lance. “Hope is our three-year-old daughter, the light of our lives. And she’s running a high fever and has a horrible rash.”

She had been attempting to swallow, but when he announced the existence of their imaginary daughter to the group, she managed to dribble most of her mimosa down her chin. “Crap.”

“I know, darling. It’s terrible news.” He ran his hand up and down her back in soothing circles, but when she looked at him, he had a dare in his eyes.

Challenge accepted.

“Maybe she has measles. Or chickenpox. Do those still exist? I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Sidney responded, dismissing the drama and helping himself to some of the biscuits from the basket at the center of the table.

“We can only hope so. At times like these, a child needs her parents. We should leave. Now.”

“You’re absolutely right, Captain. But your poor mother. Where’s the nearest phone? I need to call immediately and check-in,” she said, making a show of squeezing Killian’s hand and then turning to her friend and adding, “Arthur, would you ask some of your staff to meet us at our room in a few minutes to help us pack while I make a call?”

With a wink, he was off. Emma followed shortly thereafter, hoping she was giving him enough time and that he had glommed on to her plan. Guin had her taken her arm and was leading her into the hallway while everyone else trailed behind. “You poor dear. I’m so sorry about your little girl.”

Emma believed her, and for the first time, she could see why Arthur would forgive her anything.

“What are you doing, love? With the time difference, they’ll be napping. Better to let them sleep. We can call from the airport.”

“No, I couldn’t bear to leave without an update.”

Reaching the old-fashioned hallway phone, she picked it up and dialed the number for her room, ensuring her body concealed the keypad from view. It rang twice, and then Arthur answered. “Your fake husband is a troublemaker. I think I may have found a new best friend.”

“Oh, Mother, thank goodness we reached you! How is our little Hope?” With a side-eyed glance at Killian, she continued, “What did the doctor say?”

She could hear Arthur’s smile as he continued, “No worries, Emma. She doesn’t have measles at all. It’s just a plain old case of a bad hangover. Hope got into her daddy’s rum, and we found her in the gutter this morning.”

With a guffaw she tried to pass off as relieved laughter, she responded, “Oh, how cute of her! Like father, like daughter. She loves it so…” She placed her hand over the mouthpiece and told the group, “She’s all better. The fever broke, and the spots are practically gone.”

She heard Arthur giggle like the little girl her daughter supposedly was and ask, “Is it safe to hang up?”

“What was that, Mother? Hope wants to talk with her Daddy? Of course, he’s right here.” She turned to him, a smile on her face when she noted his grudging respect, and handed him the phone.

He reached for the device as if it were a venomous snake and placed it against his ear. Emma wasn’t sure what Arthur was saying, but Killian’s eyes got wider and wider until he replied, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better dear heart. We’ll see you soon. Listen to your Nana.”

“Isn’t it wonderful? It wasn’t anything serious. Just a heat rash. We don’t have to leave after all.” Impetuously, she threw her arms around him.

He kissed her temple and whispered, “I’ll make you pay for that, love. This isn’t over.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper @klynn-stormz

[shreddedleopard]

10 Reasons it would make narrative sense for Levi and Historia’s character arcs to conclude together.

I’ve been wanting to do this for ages, but I’ve been nervous of the backlash. Feels like it’s now or never though, and theorising for/analysing stories is one of my favourite things to do - I’m clearly missing those literary analysis essays from university days. So please excuse me if you think I’m deluded - I probably am - but the analyst in me won’t let me be until I’ve got this all out of my system.

Beware, it’s a long one. There's some thoughts on chapter 130 nearest the bottom!

1. Childhood Parallels - The Abandoned Children

Levi and Historia’s childhoods mirror one another - there are striking similarities, but then also sections that fit together to complete each other, as though they are matching jigsaw pieces. The characters start out in worlds that are opposite - Historia has the comforts of a safe home, food on the table, and fresh air and sunshine. She has all the physical nourishment she needs, but she does not have her mother’s love. On the contrary, his mother’s love is the one thing Levi does have, otherwise living in poverty underground. Both their mothers, however, appear to be using sex and the idea of love as a means to survive or way to try and improve their circumstances, and it is out of this necessity that both end up being born.

Levi is clearly affected when he first hears Historia’s tale of her childhood - Isayama shows this through the fact that Levi’s plate is the only one left untouched at the end of her story. He has been so sucked in by what she’s relayed, and probably saddened, that he hasn’t been able to bring himself to eat as the others have. Historia’s story rings true with some of his own experiences, but also highlights the world he may have found himself in without his mother’s love.

Remember, Isayama consciously thinks about each panel he’s drawing - he wouldn’t include a small detail like that without reason. We see more of these instances of small but significant stylistic choices and minor details as we progress. Isayama stated in an interview that he wants to give fans an ending that fans would never guess, but that when they look back, the clues were there all along.

Continuing on with the theme of their childhoods and Isayama’s stylistic choices, let’s take a look at two significant moments:

Both characters, although experiencing different forms of deprivation initially (Physical vs. Emotional Nourishment) were abandoned at crucial moments in their lives - when they were looking for validation from their primary caregivers and the people who should have been responsible for demonstrating affection. Historia was abandoned when, after reading and taking onboard information she read in books just like her mother, she reached out to hug her, and Levi was abandoned at the moment he demonstrated that he’d absorbed everything Kenny had taught him. The parallel between these images is very powerful.

Kenny is a character that highlights more parallels between Historia and Levi.

Kenny’s words highlight the literal lack of growth in height for both Historia and Levi - both are particularly short, and also look youthful - but we can also take the words to suggest that the characters are still very much defined by what happened to them in their pasts, and have yet to step away from their demons and achieve closure on what has happened to them as children.

At this point, we can definitely say that Isayama has chosen to tie both Historia and Levi’s stories together through their childhoods - their backstories are revealed alongside each other, in the same arc of our story, and in terms of experiences, they are both identical and mirror opposite at different points.

2. Shared Values

Despite being deprived of affection for large portions of their childhoods, both Levi and Historia appear to have experienced glimmers of kindness in their darkness as well, and this has shaped some of their values and behaviours.

Levi experienced his mother's love for a short while until he lost her - we know how deeply she cared for him from her refusal to give him up despite Kenny’s advice to her when she fell pregnant. Historia had Frieda’s kindness instilled in her, even though she's not able to consciously remember her actions until later. 

Both display an affinity for animals, with several manga and even anime-only scenes where we see them being affectionate and kind to their horses. We don’t see this as prominently with any other characters.

But one of the biggest shared values is their desire to protect children. I've posted on this before, but here are a few examples of Levi being driven by this value:

It’s clear Levi has a soft spot for children. And Historia? We know her feelings on children from her first action as Queen - realised with the support of Levi.

3. Kenny’s failure … Levi’s success?

These next scenes we’ll focus on represent the moment that Levi and Historia are set up to undergo that ‘growth’ Kenny was referring to earlier in the uprising arc. Note Isayama’s choice of words here, and the symbolism of the whole scene. Kenny doesn’t tell Levi, ‘I couldn’t be someone you looked up to,’ or ‘I wasn’t fit to act as your father figure,’ he literally says ‘I can’t be some kid’s dad.” What does he do then? He shoves the titan serum at Levi.

Isayama pays great attention to this - dedicating several panels to the weighty moment, and Levi’s expression. It’s very dramatic. Notice how the word ‘Dad’ even has it’s own speech bubble. It’s almost as though Kenny is passing the mantle on to Levi - passing that responsibility on to him. It feels as though the passing of the serum replaces the missing words, ‘but you can.’ Isayama didn’t have to have Levi ask that question in the moment before Kenny passed the serum on to him. He could have positioned it so that the discussion about dreams was the precursor to the serum being passed over - which in my head, for the context of the scene, would make more sense. But he didn’t; he chose to have Kenny say that exact line to Levi - to admit his inadequacy as a father figure, with that focus on the word dad - and then hand the item over to Levi.

By itself, the scene could be seen as highlighting the ways that Levi is already a better father figure than Kenny. He has been somewhat paternal in his role as a Captain. But it’s the very next scene that brings Historia immediately into focus.

Historia looks suddenly so much maturer here, and the way the scenes sit immediately after one another feels too much like foreshadowing.

If you want the full effect of what I mean here, just rewatch this section of the anime!

We are presented with parallels between them once again. The focus of the crown and power of the monarchy being bestowed on Historia parallels the gift of the serum from Kenny to Levi - drawing on the ‘titan science’ element of the Ackerman heritage, perhaps?

Let me take a moment here, while we have these two visual representations of the Ackerman and Royal bloodlines side by side so perfectly, to point out that Isayama chose to answer a question in Bessatsu Shonen Magazine regarding the nature of a child born of both these bloodlines in 2018:

Q: If a child were to be born between two people from the royal family and the Ackerman family, which blood would take precedence? 

A: I think that both [of their bloodlines] would be reflected.

4. Blood Lines, Identity and Destinies - the Acker/Royal connection

We are still missing some information about the Ackermans, and Mikasa’s own Ackerman powers and behaviours have been a focus in recent chapters, prompting more questions. This suggests that the role of the Ackermans will be important in the story’s finale. With that said, lets have a look at what information we have about them so far in relation to the Royal Family:

- They worked closely with the Royal Family at one time, even being described as their sword and shield until they fell out of favour.

- They cannot be controlled by the king’s vow or have their memories tampered with. For this reason, they became enemies of the crown and the two bloodlines became at odds with one another.

Do either of these scenarios sound familiar in a romantic setting? The knight and princess trope has been hugely popular in fiction for as long as stories have been told - Lancelot and Guinevere is a well known classic. And two feuding families finally brought back together through love by the younger generation? Romeo and Juliet, anyone?

Okay, so maybe I’m reaching here. But Isayama has opened the discourse around this connection between the two bloodlines without concluding it, so I am certain it will have a part to play in upcoming chapters. Why create two characters from said bloodlines with such satisfyingly parallel but awful childhoods, if not to use them in some way to conclude this part of the narrative in the future?

5. The Beast Titan.

Another common plot point that Levi and Historia have is Zeke. The Beast Titan is a defining element in both their arcs. Levi is driven forward by his vow to kill Zeke, and this is repeated to the point where we expect this to be realised, or at least to see some satisfying resolution between the two. Historia’s situation is defined by her vulnerability to being turned into a Titan in order to consume Zeke. This threat to Historia’s life as a normal girl is also repeated across the later story arcs, just as Levi’s vow and apparent destiny to face off again with the Beast Titan is. If we link back to the knight princess trope, we could suggest that Historia is the metaphorical princess, Levi is the metaphorical knight, and The Beast Titan is the metaphorical dragon. The dragon must be slain in order to protect the princess, and the one to do this is always the gallant knight, or the hero. We know that Levi has been labelled Humanity’s Strongest, and even a hero, before.

It has been Levi’s destiny from the start. What's more, what is the crux of Zeke’s plan for Eldians? 

Euthanasia by preventing reproduction. Zeke’s ideology basically directly opposes the values of Levi and Historia - who wish to save as many children as possible.

6. The Smile

If there is one scene Levi fans lost their heads over, it’s this one. The Smile. Who was responsible for getting the sullen Captain to smile? None other than Queen Historia. The one time we get to see a genuine smile from him, in all 131 chapters of SNK, is when Historia playfully punches his arm. I think by this point, it is absolutely fair to say that Levi has a soft spot for her, although I’m not suggesting this is anything romantic at this stage due to her still being a child. What else is interesting about this scene? Let’s look at it from Historia’s point of view. She’s still a 15 year old girl. I’m hardly suggesting she’s got deep, meaningful feelings for a Captain so many years her senior. What I am suggesting, is that clearly there is the beginnings of her seeing him in a different light, and feeling some sort of fondness towards him too. This is also the stereotype of innocent, youthful infatuation - how many times have we seen teenagers play-fighting or bantering with the object of their affections? Something might just be stirring in Historia towards the Captain as she begins her transition into adulthood.

7. THAT (deleted) Scene

Okay, so we can’t very well talk about the smile in the context of this topic without addressing this scene:

There were a few scenes cut to make the uprising arc in the anime more streamlined. This is one of them, and again, has been one of the most talked about. People either love or hate this scene. In the manga, it absolutely sets up some major character growth for Historia, when she goes from being scared and allowing Levi to threaten her into taking an action, to standing up to him atop the wall at Orvud district, throwing his own words back at him. In contrast to Historia’s willingness, Levi becomes more receptive to her perspective and backs down, which also shows his growth. (More on that shortly!)

So, if it adds to the narrative around Levi and Historia, and is a key part of their development as characters, why did Isayama let the studio remove it? It must be because their influence on one another’s growth is no longer important to the story, correct?

If you ask me, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Isayama has stated there were some elements of Uprising that he was unhappy with. Just, for a moment, think how this scene would fit into the bigger picture of a relationship (whether that be deeply platonic or even romantic) between Historia and Levi. Could people get behind that knowing that once, he handled her so roughly? Does keeping this scene as canon for the anime open a can of worms in terms of what is and isn’t acceptable (even more so than the age gap already does) when it comes to a relationship? Could Isayama be seen as glorifying abuse and suggesting that female characters are likely to develop feelings for men who have treated them so poorly in the past? I completely understand Levi’s reasoning for acting this way in this scene, and I loved the set up and pay off later in the arc. However, I do believe that animating this, and then having them become much closer later in the story, could make a backlash likely.

My conclusion to this particular section is - if their influence on one another as characters was unimportant, and the payoff of them reaching a stage where they bring out the best in one another wasn’t relevant to the rest of the story, then The Smile shouldn’t have made it in, right? So much of the set up was removed that it would have been far easier to scrap the scene than to try and figure out another reason for Historia to punch Levi, and make him smile.

That punch was important. It remains for a reason.

8. Levi’s Echo

So, since we discussed the impact of Levi’s words on Historia in the previous point, and how Isayama uses them to illustrate her character growth, let’s jump ahead all the way to chapter 130. We’re now post time skip, where Historia is nineteen. She’s matured now into a young woman - a woman old enough to acceptably conceive a child. This is the chapter which caught everyone’s attention due to Historia’s words to Eren regarding the idea of said child. But first of all, I want to focus on a scene which appears a couple of panels before her question:

‘It’s not as if I’ve just been tending to cattle all this time.’

What does this line mean? The only thing we know in terms of what Historia has been doing in the time skip is that she set up an Orphanage that Levi was also very much invested in and supported her with. So she’s not only been tending to cattle, but ... tending to orphans? With the Captain’s help?

Remember how we said that Isayama doesn’t include subtle details unless there’s a reason. Having Levi support her with the orphanage as a way to show how much he cares about the poorer children wasn’t needed - we already know from several instances discussed earlier that he cares about that topic deeply. So surely this must have been a small detail to set up for a later reveal?

This line alone is interesting, but not necessarily enough to suggest a big influence from Levi. But it’s the next line that grabs attention:

‘There’s no need to fight or run.’

What does this echo?

In my mind, the reason served by this dialogue in 130 is twofold. It works with both the literal events of the deleted scene, and also with the reader’s knowledge that the scene was disregarded later:

1. There is no reason to run or to fight, because Levi is on her side now. When he originally spoke those words to her - run from me or fight me - they were used in reference to what he and the corps were going to make her do - ie, become Queen. Now, they are not forcing her to do anything - they aren’t making her comply with the 50 year plan of producing as many royal children as possible and turning herself into a titan. Instead, she’s empowered by them, and very importantly, him, to make her own decisions while they try to figure out an alternative. (Why do I say him? I’ll cover this in the next point). And yet ... she still chooses to bear a child. A child born of love, not necessity. This is the difference between the birth of her child, and her own birth. And funnily enough, Levi’s birth, too. 

The cycle of history is being broken.

2. Her words serve as a reminder that in the revised version of events, Levi never even forced that choice upon her in the first place. He’s always been her ally and treated her with care and respect. Even more reason for her to value and care for him in return. There really is no need to run or fight - from the military police, because she will bear a child, stopping them from turning her - or from Levi, either. 

9. The Hooded Figure

As promised, let me explain why I say that Levi empowers Historia (yet again) to make her own decisions. My good friend Key made a wonderful discovery regarding the hooded figure panel, and honestly, based on the evidence I’ve seen, I’d be prepared to bet a whole lot on this next claim:

Levi is the hooded figure who warned Historia of the plan to turn her.

I’ve shared Key’s original post previously, but here’s the gist, with some added observations.

Levi from the hallway; Levi from that iconic scene, fits the dimensions of the hooded figure perfectly, without having to adjust the panel sizes. 

The jacket worn is lighter in colour than Eren’s standard black one, but is reminiscent of the jackets worn by the Levi Squad in the uprising arc. The only other clue we’re given to work from is that the figure has their hands in their pockets.

Hmm ... you know who else has a habit of stuffing his hands in his pockets?

So if Levi is the one who warned Historia, is that why she subtly uses his words when talking to Eren?

Let me return to chapter 130 once more, and just invite you to read the following panels from a different angle.

10. Mikasa-Eren/Levi-Historia Parallels

Alright, so this is a bit of a head-mash, but just consider what I’m about to say. In our panels with the Historia-Eren-Zeke conversation, Mikasa is never mentioned by name once. Zeke mentions ‘this Ackerman girl,’ however there is no confirmation that Eren was in fact talking about Mikasa when he asked Zeke about the Ackerman traits ...

Isayama only shows us the conversation with Zeke after Eren has just spoken to Historia about her fate and what the Paradis government want her to do in terms of bearing children. If these are just all memory fragments of Eren’s, why would discussing this with Historia suddenly make Eren think of a conversation about Ackerman traits with Zeke?

In this conversation, Zeke puts two and two together and gathers that Eren is asking these questions because of Mikasa. He then tells him how much Mikasa obviously cares about Eren, regardless of any ‘ingrained behaviour.’ What does Eren then link this with?

The conversation where Historia asks him what he’d think if she was to bear a child. What does ingrained Ackerman behaviour and Mikasa’s true feelings have to do with Historia’s child?

I want to suggest this possibility: this conversation has nothing to do with Mikasa’s feelings for Eren, and everything to do with Levi’s feelings for Historia.

Eren even confirms that Zeke has the wrong end of the stick with asking him how he will respond to Mikasa’s feelings.

What are you even talking about?

Here, he is not considering how he will respond to Mikasa, because he can’t even contemplate that with what he is about to do, and how long he has left to live (although this may have then prompted his later conversation with Mikasa after the market - where he sees Levi save the boy that he will later kill - do you see how this is all linking together?)

Here he means the lives of Historia, her child, and potentially even Levi, as well of course as Armin, Mikasa and the rest of his friends. Want to know why I think that? Isayama hinted it. Again.

We have the image of Historia, suggesting the idea of bearing a child, followed by the image of the child Levi saved, followed by the image of Levi himself.

Isayama draws every detail in every panel for a reason. If part of his conclusion to this manga involves Levi and Historia intertwined and the birth of an Ackerman-Royal child, it won’t be a massively random idea.

It will contribute to an ending where the clues were there all along, but we never really considered them.

(There’s more, so much more, but I have to stop somewhere or I won’t leave my computer. If anyone wants a part two because you’re thirsty for more of this crap, drop me a comment!)

[cruximpetus]

also relevant discourse from the liveblog (WITH RELEVANT ADDITIONS):

talk about beast suddenly getting back into real people clothes after he saves belle. talk about beast knowing shakespeare by heart. talk about beast’s expensive education probably being in paris and that’s how he knows about touristy things. talk about beast probably knowing a little bit of greek because he probably had a classical education because of the time period but when he became a beast and spent all of his time reading he didn’t feel like reading in greek and remembering his education and also wanted to avoid the tragedies. talk about beast totally being cool with belle reading at the table while they’re eating.  and walking with her while she’s reading.  and how belle like constantly has a book and beast is just like hey i’ll be with you while you’re proccupied with this book and belle reading it out loud to him so he can join her with her reading even though he might have it memorized because that’s all he’s done but that’s what you do when you read something with someone you share things that make you think of them and that’s totally what’s happening on the bridge.

talk about beast being able to talk with animals and mimic the horse and talk about belle having a bunch of books at the table but finally deciding to converse with beast instead of reading and so beast decides to sit with her instead of on the other end.

talk about belle looking like she’s cleaning the castle because she is and she picks the one spot that she stops and watches beast while he’s out with phillippe and honestly how many books does she get at once.

talk about beast sharing his classical education because hey this is someone who is actually literate and he hasn’t gotten to talk about any of this with people.

talk about beast reading arthur and lancelot and guinevere because that’s still romantic tragedy but it’s not shakespeare, it’s not suicidal, it’s affairs and courtly and a different kind of forbidden romance but talk about how they’re both forbidden romances with death involved.

TALK ABOUT BEAST BEING LONELY.  INCREASINGLY LONELY. TALK ABOUT THE BEAST/BELLE PARALLELS AND HEY LET’S RUN AWAY BECAUSE.  THEY ARE THE ONLY PEOPLE LIKE THEMSELVES THAT THEY KNOW.

talk about how it’s already full circle when they dance because beast could not pick one singular girl to dance with and kept looking about all of them, but by the time he dances again it wouldn’t matter if there is anyone else because he’s dancing with belle and he is completely focused on her the entire time.

talk about the word choice when they are in paris.  talk about how belle refers to the castle.  talk about how beast specifically avoids using the word love when he’s asking belle if she could love him, talk about how he chooses to use affection instead because he’s not getting his hopes up, he still doesn’t think love is remotely possible but he thinks they could maybe be friends and that would be okay (and talk about how that parallels to him bringing up the idea of the dance and never expecting she would actually say yes).

[swanisms]

when you last left me my blood was in a jar | (1/1)

and you kept it on your mantlepiece

She must be doing something wrong that her son thinks the best way to go about proving his fairytale identity is to steal a sword. She must be doing something wrong to indulge this.

Given everything that Storybrooke and this storybook has thrown her way, it must be wrong that Killian being Captain Hook isn’t the worst option.

notes: love it when i’m just scrolling my dash, minding my own business, and a silly prompt shows up and my brain fires in the completely wrong direction where “MY KID SHOPLIFTED FROM YOUR STORE AND I MARCHED HER BACK HERE TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU AU” becomes nearly 6k of a s1 cursed hook au. anyways, glad that i apparently still know how to put words on a page in something resembling a story, hope you enjoy!

also on ao3

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the sword?”

“It’s not a sword,” Henry grumbles. There’s no masking the disappointment of a ten year old child, and Henry’s mastered the pout. Emma’s not falling for it today. There’s letting him join her for a cup of hot cocoa at the diner when he’s already late for getting...to Regina. But letting him pocket a -

“What is it then?” Emma asks.

Henry simply says, “A replica of Excalibur.”

“The Knights of the Round Table that hard up for money? Franchising a magic sword?”

Henry shakes his head, in that way he does where he sees her sarcasm as something to power through rather than acknowledge. He’s remarkably good at that, too, because when he replies, “No. Emma, you were supposed to read the book,” she actually feels guilty.

“Yeah...yeah, I did. Refresh me though?”

Henry sees her for a liar, liar pants on fire, but he’s mature enough not to say it and Emma’s immature enough to near smile when she looks up at the telephone wire above them.

“You know Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, right?” Emma nods. She saw the movie. “Everyone knows that...but after he pulled out Excalibur, he realized that he couldn’t use it.” He hushes her next question with a look, so Emma decides to simply listen. “It wasn’t that it was too heavy or that he was a bad swordsman. It just didn’t work for him. Sure, it made everyone believe that Camelot would finally become great again, but it wasn’t magic. It didn’t feel like anything but a normal sword in his hands. He know for certain that this sword had superpowers, and he couldn’t understand why it felt so powerless. He was obsessed with trying to find a way to unlock its power. So, he barely paid attention to being a king and ruling a kingdom, and Guinevere...she was lonely.”

Emma bites at her lip. Infidelity isn’t exactly PG, and she wonders what else she didn’t read in this book. What else her kid is way too knowledgeable of. It isn’t like she wants to be the one to talk to him about the birds and the bees – in all likelihood, that will never be an option and she doesn’t even know if she wants it to be one, not really sure of anything anymore. Still, she doesn’t think its best that he learn about sex through a book of fairytales. If Harlequin writers can’t get it right when erotica is their freaking job, she shudders at how this book might tell it.

Henry elbows her, and once he has her attention, he continues, “And Lancelot, he loved his friends. Arthur was his best friend, and Guinevere was his favourite person in the entire world. He wanted to help them, and when Guinevere used this magic gauntlet to find Arthur’s heart’s desire, she and Lancelot set out to find it and bring it back to him.”

“Oh.”

She really wasn’t expecting that, but fairytales, right. Lonely people trying to reconnect with their significant others rather than find someone else is the dream.

“They thought it’d be fast, but the journey took them across the whole of Camelot. They spent weeks travelling from town to town. They got to know all these people. They saw the way they lived. Some people struggled and others did pretty well, and they were like ‘When we get home, we’re totally going to do all these things to make it better.’ It took them forever really, and suddenly it was Guinevere’s birthday. Arthur promised her that when he became king, the whole of Camelot would be covered in Middlemist flowers to celebrate it. When she didn’t see any, she told Lancelot it was a silly promise that children make, but he said, that it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be kept, and he took her through the woods until they came upon a field full of them. It was beautiful, and that’s when Guinevere realized why Excalibur wasn’t working for Arthur. Excalibur couldn’t make Camelot a true kingdom. It isn’t a magic sword that just fixes everything. It’s magical because it’s a promise to work together to make things better. Arthur didn’t keep that promise because he was too obsessed with finding its magic.”

Quickly, Henry added, “And of course she and Lancelot kissed, but they said that was it, and both went home to Arthur to tell him this. About Excalibur, not the kiss.”

Emma finally interjects, amused by Henry’s obvious discomfort, “I take it that didn’t work.”

“No, Arthur was so angry that they just left, and he wouldn’t listen to them. He didn’t believe that they’d done this for him. He just thought that they were trying to undermine him. He yelled at Lancelot for being in love with Guinevere and he tried to kill his best friend! And he tried to control Guinevere with magic! He was so crazy. They stopped him, but when everyone found out, they were heartbroken. They thought that Merlin was a liar and that Camelot would always be terrible, but with Lancelot’s help, Guinevere gathered them and told them what she’d learned about Excalibur. She lifted the sword to try and make them see and when she did, its shape changed and it became this sword that she could actually use without breaking her arm. She unlocked its magic, and she saved Camelot.”

Emma nods, “So Guinevere’s the one true king? But then shouldn’t she have been the one supposed to pull the sword from the stone?”

“No!” Henry denies vehemently - Don’t you get it? - Emma very much doesn’t so she lets him explain, “Merlin said Arthur would pull the sword from the stone and become king, but he never said he would stay king. He never said that he’d be a good king.”

Emma gets it now, and she says so.

“Arthur sucks.”

“He’s the worst,” Henry agrees.

“Worse than the Evil Queen?” Emma asks - and not because there’s that petty part of her that wants to hear Henry disparage Regina, but because there’s that big part of her that, despite everything she’s seen,  wants to believe that Regina isn’t this person and that she didn’t consign her son to this. She wants to believe that Regina was better before, she can be better, and Emma was right to send him away to have a family she could never give him.

She never wanted him to be as broken as her.

Henry frowns deeply, looking down at the replica sword.

“No.”

Her heart breaks, but that’s normal. Disney got it wrong, leaving Arthur and marrying Lancelot was the best decision Guinevere ever made, Excalibur looks like a needle, and with every story he reads from that book, all Henry does is prove that fairytales are bullshit. Here he is, trying to convince her that all these stories are true, but who wants to believe that these characters lives are just as awful as theirs? That their happy endings could be taken away just like that; one moment you’re dreaming of that happily ever after with your one true love and the next -

You’re letting your son go because that kind of love was never meant for you to have.

Henry prods Emma out of her thoughts, elbowing her as he says, “So, I have to give it back?”

And he drives her into other thoughts that are just as comforting. She looks down at him and his barely hidden smile. No thief should ever look so happy about having to return to the scene of the crime. Emma doesn’t want her suspicions confirmed, but she has no choice.

“Give it back to who exactly?”

Emma doesn’t need to be good at seeing through people to see that Henry was looking forward to this reveal.

“Captain Hook.”

Emma groans, and snatching the weapon out of Henry’s hand - truly, the little backstabber dragging her back to the man she’s made it explicitly clear that she’s only too happy to avoid. Forever. Like trapped in Neverland forever.

“Mr. Jones,” Emma emphasizes as Henry leads the way to his shop, “is not someone you should be stealing from.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to steal from anyone,” Henry points out.

Emma scrunches up in annoyance, and says firmly, “Some people are more forgiving. He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“He likes me,” Henry says, and sneakily, even though her kid is not sneaky, he adds, “He likes you.”

“He does not,” Emma says. “He likes messing with me.”

“I think he just wants to be your friend,” Henry says.

The innocence of youth, to not see the redness in her face as anything other than annoyance. Killian Jones does not want to be her friend. He wants the benefits of friendship. In both those terms. Getting in good with the Sheriff is only common sense with criminal elements, and getting in good with her? He’s made it quite clear that it would benefit the both of them.

She really would like to deny that last point, but it’s been a frustrating few months and running around from one insane predicament to the next does a lot, but not nearly enough.

And really, those little moments that she’s been trying to avoid do way too much. She casts her eyes to her son’s determined pace towards Killian’s shop, the little backstabber -

“Let’s just get his sword back to him.”

Henry turns back to her with a big grin.

“Sure!”

Killian’s shop comes up all too fast, and okay, maybe fast is a good thing. Fast means getting this over with. Still, she sighs watching Henry wrench open the door so hard that it makes the entrance bell chime loud enough that there’s no way Killian wouldn’t hear it.

Following Henry inside, she catches sight of Killian immediately as he steps out from a dark corner of the shop. His eyes find hers, and he lights up, no other way to put it - except maybe that he does that ‘I’m dark and dangerous and I really want to be your friend’ swagger towards her.

She’s glad Henry steps between them, if only because it steals his interested gaze, and Emma doesn’t have to pointedly stare at his neck to keep him from using her line of sight against her. Also because she doesn’t want to have to fight herself to stare at his neck when his collarbones are in view.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he directs at Henry, but his eyes flicker up to Emma at the last bit.

Subtlety isn’t a skill of ten year old boys or thirty year old men. Who’d’ve thought?

“Henry decided to pull the sword from the stone,” she says, lifting the replica in sight. “We both decided that it was a good idea to put it back.”

Killian nods, kneeling to Henry’s height to say, “Swordsmanship is an art that one doesn’t just pick up in day. You don’t start with the blade. That, lad, is an excellent way to lose a hand.”

Emma closes her eyes, tilting her head to the sky in a silent plea to the ceiling to fall in. Not on any of them, but just enough that they can call Leroy in here to make sure that she won’t have to endure this longer than necessary.

“Is that how you lost yours?” Henry asks excitedly.

Killian grins. “You’re a clever lad.” He lifts his gaze to Emma as he says, “You truly take after your mother.”

Henry turns to look at her as well, grinning in that way that makes Emma believe, and says simply, surely, absolutely certainly, “I know.”

“But,” he adds, drawing out the word, “I have to go meet my -” He furrows his brow, scrunching his face in thought before finishing, “Other mom now.” He pouts guiltily. “I’m already in trouble. I shouldn’t be late.”

Running over to Emma, he briefly wraps her in a tight hug and says, “We’ll continue the operation tomorrow. You can tell me all about what you find.”

It takes Emma a beat, enough time for Henry to swing open the door and run out the shop, for her to realize what he’s referring to.

He wants her to prove that Killian is Captain Hook.

Oh boy, she’s going to have to disappoint. She turns to follow him out, but Killian calls out to her, “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

He offers his hand and for a brief, insane moment, Emma thinks that he’s referring to her. She has all the words of protest at the tip of her tongue when he nods towards her hand and she realizes she’s still holding the sword.

“Right,” she says, hoping beyond hope that the quaver in her voice is all in her head and not being catalogued in his list of ‘Reactions Emma Swan Has Had to Me That Imply She Actually Does Like Me.’

Swiftly, she places the sword hilt-side up in his hand. Her fingers brush his palm for a fraction of a second, but she looks at him at that exact moment and doesn’t miss the quirk of a smile, the passing of heat in that light touch - the flare of heat in her belly, that traitor.

Ignoring her body being an asshole, she says, “Thanks for, you know,” She shrugs at his bewildered response, “Not pressing charges against my kid.”

“I know how corruption runs rampant in law enforcement. I doubt anything would come of it,” Killian teases.

It well and truly misses the mark. Having spent time working with both the NYPD and BPD, and her brief encounters with other police forces when she’s caught her jumpers across state lines, Emma knows how true that is.

Killian notices her stiffen; he doesn’t miss much. Emma hates it, especially when his expression softens, apologetic in his understanding of her.

“I would never do such a thing. I’m not a cruel man,” he says quietly.

Emma catches how it’s something like a lie, something like he doesn’t believe his own words even though he wants to.

She knows that feeling.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to acknowledge it when he adds, “And I would never fault him for wanting to indulge in a little piracy.”

Emma shakes her head, a small disbelieving smile taking her lips at his smirk, and can’t resist replying, “It is thievery.”

“Pirates and thieves, one and the same.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but we are standing on land, and don’t hit me with any sea of molten lava deep beneath the surface. It’s thievery.”

“I’m not certain why you’re insisting on labelling your son a criminal,” Killian says with a too amused grin.

She steps towards him, and he turns, taking the sword towards the counter, so she follows him because a turned back does not mean he’s won this.

“You’re the one calling him a pirate,” Emma says.

Whispers “fuck,” because she’s whining. Jesus, she’s whining and she’s letting this get too far. Maybe he has won.

“Fuck.”

Sword placed on the counter, Killian turns to face her again and she rocks back on her heels unsteadily, followed him much closer than she meant to.

“Actually, he’s the one calling me one.”

Emma frowns, argument gone as she’s reminded of Henry’s intention in bringing her here: to discover the truth for herself. Killian’s truth.

She looks past him, gaze tracking over his shop - and that, it sticks, ill-fitting in her head. This shop doesn’t feel like his. The thought is stupid, really, but it feels like he’s tried to fit himself into the space of someone else. Someone that he doesn’t particularly like, given the state of the shop.

She noticed that first time she came here, demanding to know why he had Kathryn and David’s windmill in his shop, and he’d shrugged like it wasn’t anything important. He’d just picked it up. It was there, and then he let it go. Something so important was nothing more than a thing passing through his life when it had - when she’d had to swallow down the thought that it had ruined her friend’s life when David had only been a part of it for a minute, or Once Upon a Time, somewhere far removed from the reality that Mary Margaret had gotten herself infatuated with a married man. She’d fallen down a road that Emma knew all too well, and it was her fault. Because she’d convinced her to entertain Henry’s story, pressed to believe only for show and Mary Margaret believed.

“You are a pawnbroker. Other people’s things are kind of your inventory,” Emma says.

He shrugs.

“These aren’t my trophies.”

Whose are they?

Emma stills the question on her tongue, and steps away from him to get a good look of the shop. She follows this counter around to the next, and even though his steps don’t follow hers, she feels him right behind her - his gaze almost as heated as the thought of pressing her body to his. A thought she has had a lot. Is having right now, apparently, because he’s looking at her and eye-fucking is kind of a thing he’s good at.

But –

She forges past that to focus on the shelves of objects as ridiculously mundane as an old record player and a Walkman with a Spice Girls sticker on the front, and as strange as wands in protective glass cases, a pack of tarot cards ink in colours that don’t seem real, and a genie’s lamp pulled straight out of Aladdin.

Then there’s the hand in the jar.

‘What the fuck?’ isn’t her first thought because there’s a goddamn hand in the jar, but because it’s Killian’s. Why the ever-loving fuck that is her first thought she can’t even fathom a reason for, besides that she’s read too many pages in that storybook.

She stiffens at the press of his hand to her shoulder, as he steps up behind her, beside her, and finally turning slightly to have both her and the hand in his view.

With a lifeless smile, Killian says, “The previous owner had quite the sense of humor. He left that for me as a -” He pauses, stretching out his handless arm so that she gets it when he says, “Parting gift.”

She sighs. “More hand jokes? Really?”

He can’t help himself from self-deprecating, from pointing it out before anyone else does, of turning his loss into a threat to anyone trying to use it against him because he’ll use it first.

Killian smiles and shrugs, and this smile is the same as before. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it sinks beneath his skin, where she can’t see – probably the same place she keeps hers, in the hollows of her heart.

She shouldn’t at all.

Maybe she really should.

Emma reaches for him. Her touch makes Killian pause, right before that moment where he curtains himself, and it’s with a clarity that she sees the haunting in his eyes, a darkness she really shouldn’t let herself touch, but she did, she is, and -

She swallows as he waits, frozen in that expression. Gods, she has no idea what he’s waiting for, like he’s been waiting forever. For her to pull away. For her to pull him with her.

“Light!” she blurts.

Killian’s expression shifts, and she shouldn’t sigh in relief for the bemused look, but it’s easier to handle than everything she just saw.

Searching for a way to not sound completely stupid, she says, “This place could really do with some more light if you want to attract any customers.”

She nods, satisfied as much as she can be. She is right. This place is way too dark. It feels a bit like a lair. Or a prison. Both, maybe.

His eyebrow lifts, his face deepening its confusion, and she sighs because this is something he doesn’t get. He understands enough to catch her at her weakest –

“You don’t want to abandon him the way you were abandoned.” Meeting the steel in her gaze with one of his own. “So, don’t.” –

He knows how to throw her back on her feet.

Killian understands enough to have her running. She really has been avoiding him since them, and doing a spectacular job of it, too, but now she’s stepping into him, close enough that he’s pressed against her as she looks for something to prove her point because this idiot can understand too many things but not how to light a shop, apparently.

She finds it. A fake flower that looks real, and not like something preserved to fit into a portrait to hang on a wall. It looks like it’s just been picked. Beautiful white petals curling towards its bright green stem.

Flowers are pretty, but beyond that, they’re just flowers. It’s not something she gets hyped for, but there’s a rush in her voice that can’t be explained by anything she’s felt before as she says, finger pointing at it through the glass, “That would totally sell.”

He settles in behind her, looking over her shoulder at the flower beneath her finger. Her breaths go unsteady as he murmurs, breath warm and making her shiver, “Are you looking to buy?”

She shakes her head swiftly, pushing out of their embrace.

Somehow it doesn’t feel like that motion has broken them apart at all.

“No. I’m not.”

Emma turns to face him, about to repeat herself when he offers a smile that’s been nothing like the others he’s given her today. No pure flirtation, no teasing or amusement, no masking, just a smile of genuine happiness.

Genuinely happy.

“Then it shall be a gift.”

She lifts her hands, self-defense second nature, and she hates that she has to defend herself against bringing out a smile - because smiles like that can only lead to trouble. The fluttering in her stomach has nothing to do with frustration, and she hates that she can even acknowledge that.

“No, nope,” she says.

“For the business advice,” he offers, his smile a little more recognizable, but no less difficult to handle. Killian understands her (and not normal business practices, of course, makes sense.) She won’t take anything that first smile offers, but this she can take.

Logical, really.

But not really at all because an installation of lights isn’t exactly a stroke of genius, and it’s not like he’s cared to do this before and there’s no particular reason why he should care now.

(No reason she should be the one to make him care.)

Killian moves behind the counter, pulls out a key from a pocket that she didn’t even know he had. His clothes are ridiculous. Either it’s the leather jacket with the inner pockets deep enough to hold a large (full and gladly shared) flask, or these skinny jeans that don’t look like they could hold anything at all without her seeing the outline of them in his pockets, and yet she missed that.

Granted, she hasn’t let her eyes drift beneath his torso up until this point, and granted that she’s of enough sense of self to let them linger.

“Here you go, love,” he says. Even as he does, he doesn’t expect her to walk over, coming out behind the counter to offer the flower to her himself.

Emma opens her palm for it, and his touch is gentle as he presses it into her grasp. Red’s flooding her cheeks, but more so, her chest feels like she’s doused herself in Vicks, and without the smell to distract, all she feels is the path of heat beneath her skin, leading to places she doesn’t want warmed.

She doesn’t want to feel anything at all, but she shifts the flower into the other hand so she can drag her fingers over it, and gasps in surprise.

“It’s real,” she says.

“Of course it is,” he replies, smile amused.

“What? How?”

“Magic,” he offers.

She doesn’t like the way he says it. Like it’s true. Like it’s a truth he hates, and yet, Killian looks at her like he doesn’t hate it that much at all.

Emma should’ve left when Henry did, for all this encounter has done to her head. Messed with it. He likes messing with her. He likes her.

Flight kicks in, and she says, “Thanks. I have to -”

“Go,” he finishes.

She nods and turns away, her gaze catching on the shelves of objects and there they settle again on that jarred hand. The flower is so soft beneath her fingers. Cold, though. Too cold.

Emma bites her lip, pausing yet again.

“Some more advice?”

Killian lifts a brow in amusement. “Should I paint the walls? Hang some new shelves?”

“The hand should go, too.”

He stiffens again, clearly searching her face from some sort of understanding. She doesn’t think she’s confused him this much since their first meeting, when, after stumbling into her (or she’d stumbled into him, realizing all she’d had in her car by way of clothes were two tank tops and a pair of jeans and stomped away in frustration) he’d murmured, “Are you real, lass?”

She’d jumped at the question, hackles raising. “Of course I’m real. Are you drunk?” was her swift response to the light smell of alcohol cloaking him, and he’d confirmed her assessment with a deep nod, “Aye, I am. And you are,” his gaze roving over her in wonder, “Quite real.”

It’s weird because she feels like Killian should understand the way her hand inches up to her neck, fingers brushing the chain. It’s been there for so long, but she hasn’t given it conscious thought in so long. Yet, it’s been on her mind too much lately. That necklace Neal gave her feels as painful as the day she put it on, and it isn’t because she sees Henry and thinks of him, although she does because he looks like him and has that same mischief that Emma loved, and still loves.

But it hurts, how she’s holding onto this reminder of everything that told her she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t have this, and she should never want to - when she’s so scared of how things will turn out with Henry now that she’s in his life, and she can acknowledge that he’s in her heart, her love for him the softest thing that’s ever found its home there.

It hurts because she’s more scared of holding onto this reminder of every reason why she can’t when she suspects that she’s actually starting to believe that she can.

But Killian can’t know that, all the intimate details of her rocky past and all the thoughts floating in her head and the feelings in her heart, when she’s been making sure that he can’t.

It isn’t like Emma knows him either - no matter that there are pages in Henry’s book detailing how Captain Hook lost his hand and his love, and how his revenge led him to Neverland and not that Neverland created it. She doesn’t know Killian Jones beyond a story her son believes, and these moments they’ve had, sharing a flask at the docks, a quipped remark here and there, and flirting every time they meet, whether he’s walking out the doors of the Mayor’s office, or while he’s in heated conversation with Dr. Whale, or after he’s finished antagonizing David on Main Street. Plus, he bears a fondness for the Sheriff’s Office that she bears with zero grace.

She doesn’t know him; he doesn’t know her, but she understands.

“You should get rid of it,” she says, and offers a raised eyebrow of her own and a scoffed question, “What does Captain Hook need with another hand anyway?”

“Yes...Aye.”

He quiets, and his gaze follows the trail her hand leaves when she pulls it away from the necklace weighing at her neck and cups her hands over the flower. Her hands are warm, but it doesn’t feel like it’s wilting in the slightest. It’s cold against her fingers, just short of the bite of winter, the air after a fresh fall of snow.

Killian follows the lift of her ducked head, the press of her lips. Emma finds them dry, and licks out at them, and he follows that motion, too. He follows her movements with a focus she doesn’t know how to match.

But she’s watching him, too, so maybe that’s the same given the circumstances, when she should’ve walked out the door the moment she came in.

She should have…

Killian’s confusion slowly gives way to a wonder unlike the one before.

“Why does Hook need a hand indeed?”

Any other time, she’d expect him to smirk, offer himself to her just so she could deny him. The familiar game. But right now, she isn’t playing at that. She isn’t playing at all. Maybe there’s something to the wonder – the revelation in his eyes because she’s never felt barer than she does right now.

Someone knocks at the door of his shop, and it startles. Confusing. Why would anyone need to knock?

“Mr. Jones, I…”

She whips around to face the newcomer, a portly man she’s seen before when he’s definitely been up to no good by the way he stutters, “Sheriff Swan! You’re…”

Emma saves him his breath because it sounds like he needs it.

“Leaving.”

She shifts back to Killian, but whatever she saw moments before is completely gone. He looks more shadowed now than he did when he’d stepped out of the dark corner of his shop.

“Thanks again and just remember –” Remember what? This? Everything this conversation has been? What has it been?

“Add more lights?”

She doesn’t mean the question, except that she has too many.

“Shall do, Sheriff,” he replies.

There’s nothing more to say to that so she steps past the man and out into the sunny day. The door shuts behind her, and she frowns at it.

But there’s nothing more to do except go about what she’s been doing. Train her focus back to - she groans as she pulls her phone out her pocket, a struggled motion to keep the flower uncrushed while checking the screen.

She’s late to being on call.

-

The flower first goes on top of her desk, but it doesn’t feel safe - she’s worrying about the safety of a flower, what the fuck. It goes into her desk, but that feels wrong, and she starts to rationalize these irrationalities. It’ll get crushed in her pocket. She can’t just put it anywhere where it can get crushed, lost, stolen. That last one occurs to her after she looks at old case files and catches a report of a break in at the flower shop.

The best option becomes her dashboard, in the empty box of her new phone charger, bought at a price only reasonable in a small town with no other competition, and no other options. Amazon apparently does not deliver to Storybrooke, Maine.

It’s the curse, Henry would say.

It is a curse, definitely.

A few days pass with the flower in her car, and (irrationally) she checks every time she gets in, expecting disaster. It’s always as perfectly preserved as before. Just as alive.

It’s either goddamn magic or just the coolest trick anyone’s ever pulled off.

She’s leaning towards (the former, really, but she hates that, it’s completely insane so she tells herself it’s) the latter.

Emma doesn’t mention it. Not that it’s something worth mentioning, or something she should mention, but just...yeah is all she can say. She doesn’t understand it really at all. It’s just a feeling that keeps it a secret, protected within her twice-stolen car.

Inevitably, today Henry pops open the dash to access a pen and yells, “Where did you get that?”

Emma rubs at her ears, his yell more akin to a pitch that she won’t mention to him, to protect his pride.

“Calm down, kid. It’s just -” She looks at the flower as he lifts it delicately from the box, marveling at it. Swallowing around that feeling she can’t voice, she says, “Killian gave it to me because I gave him some advice.”

“Whoa,” Henry says, wide eyes on her. “He gave you that?”

His expression tightens, fierce thought in his eyes. His brain is working to the max. Not always a good sign. Never a sign her day is going to remain nice and quiet.

“Yeah. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Emma, didn’t you read the whole book?” Henry accuses.

Embarrassed and guilty as charged (again), Emma says, “I read the important stories!”

“All of them are important,” Henry insists. Holding the flower up to her, he says, “Especially this one. The Dark One Rumplestiltskin tricked a woman into trading it to him to save her son. It’s protects you from all dark magic and it brings good luck. Of course, he wanted it to protect him from the Bog Witch’s curse - though it didn’t work for him because he is dark magic so he just kept it so no one could use it against him but…” Henry’s voice softens as he searches for an answer to his offered question. “Why would Captain Hook have that?”

A previous owner sounds like a good reason – if she’s to believe that…the feeling of pawnshop not belonging to him wasn’t an incorrect one.

Henry stares at the flower. Each word slow and measured, he says, “I think there’s some stories missing from the book.”

His gaze turns to her, so serious, an expression far too old for him to have. It’s the look of everything changing and having to face something you never thought possible.

Henry has been preaching the impossible since she met him. Nothing should be too impossible for him.

At a whisper, he says, “I think Captain Hook is the Dark One.”

Emma scoffs.

“Really?” she says.

She looks at the flower in his hand, and unthinkingly opens her palm for him to hand it to her.

“Seriously?” she reiterates.

She runs her fingers over the flower, over the ice cold petals in her hand.

‘Seriously?’ is what she asks, but it’s the answer as well. Seriously.

Emma really fucked up.

Emma really picked a shit time to start to believe.