#and his fierceness to go to battle for her when he thought killian had killed her

[queen-mabs-revenge]

“He got it from his mother.”

[let-it-raines]

I’ve been in such a Neverland/3a kinda mood with fic reading lately, so I figured I’d send my fave CS fic writer a prompt! Or not really a prompt... I’m giving you free reign of everything, I just want to read something from you set in that time period ❤️

@dorisquinn you flatter me so because I am the worst at writing canon and/or canon divergence, but I figured why not? I 100% went down the road of neverland smut because, well, I’ve never done that before, and I feel like that’s a right of passage here. lol. If you want something different, shoot me a message and I’ll try to figure something else out! 💕 

thanks to @shireness-says for making me sprint so that I actually wrote for once

found on ao3 | here | 

-/-

She’s quiet tonight, but really, he would never expect otherwise, especially after everything that’s managed to transpire today.

Rarely is Emma Swan a woman of many words, but now? Now when they are in the most dreaded place in all of the realms, at least to him, and she is constantly working to try to save her boy? Now she is more silent and pensive than ever, but the fire behind her emerald eyes burns just as brightly as always.

As someone often on the receiving end of her rage, he knows that look and that flame better than most.

He knows that look because he feels it too.

Or, well, he felt it, long ago, and on occasion, sparks flicker back to life, the fire igniting and burning so brightly that he thinks the inferno will begin again with no chance of being extinguished.

Yet, as he sits with his back against a hardened tree and watches Emma ignore her parents fervently talking, he knows that what he feels is not the same.

He knows that he does not have a child, no matter how much he felt like Bae was his, and while his loss stings far more than Killian is willing to admit to himself, it is not the same. It is not Emma missing Henry, constantly worried over his well-being as she keeps their little group from killing each other, and while he is not particularly fond of any of their partners in this adventure, at least he is not counting on a woman he despises and parents who blatantly do not understand him to save the one person in the world who matters most to him.

Oh, and a dastardly pirate who not a soul trusts even though his intentions are good. He swears of it, but it has been a long damn time since someone believed in him like that.

The Charmings do not seem to find him capable of living up to their namesake, but he can’t blame them. His first impression was not one he would call particularly good.

Lies, deceit, violence and the works, but he was in a different mindset then. He didn’t know these people, didn’t have any inkling as to who they were, and he had an end goal in mind that he would have done anything to accomplish.

Still would, most likely, but there’s decidedly something different now. When he wakes up, his first thought is not of vengeance. Those thoughts creep in often, but they are not everything.

He’s been given a reminder that he might be capable of more than the evil he’s been for longer than he’d care to admit.

Killian has done horrible things, has ruined lives, and he won’t pretend he has not. If Snow White can forgive the woman who ruined her life in more ways than one can count despite the Queen showing little remorse, maybe Killian can be worthy of the same kind of forgiveness.

Though, he cares little for the forgiveness of Snow or trying to get on her good side.

But he is here and helping to save Emma’s lad, and he knows this devilish island better than anyone else here.

Well, the Crocodile is wandering around here somewhere and tends to know more than he should, but Killian prefers to think of him as little as possible lest he get caught up thinking of his own vengeance and not the goal here.

Henry.

Bae’s son, which Killian still can’t quite believe.

Emma’s son.

That’s why he’s here. That is all, even if David keeps telling Killian that he is only here to seduce Emma. Killian chuckles to himself. That might be nice, but that is not his goal.

If he is to win her heart, it will not be out of any trickery or misdeeds.

If he is to win her heart, it will not be dishonestly. That hasn’t been important to him in centuries, but there she goes again, reminding him of things he has forgotten.

There’s a rustle of leaves, and Killian stops sketching words into the dirt with his hook and prepares himself for battle with one of the Lost Boys before realizing that it’s simply Emma standing from her spot.

And walking toward him.

Well, maybe he’ll be preparing for a battle of another kind then.

She settles down next to him, the tree’s width large enough for them both to have a place to rest their backs, and he can feel the heat of her skin flicker across his as her hand accidentally brushes against his own. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t explain her presence, and he silently reaches for his flask and hands it over to her. She takes it and then downs a healthy amount of rum. His preferred kind is strong, likes to burn down his throat despite his tolerance, and there’s a part of him that is always impressed by how easily Emma can handle it.

As those words flicker through his mind, he’s immediately brought back to earlier today, to his taunting and teasing. All he wanted to do was get a rise out of her. It’s simply so bloody fun to see her nose scrunch and her eyes roll, and while he’s wanted to kiss Emma for weeks now, to feel how soft her pretty pink lips are, he was not expecting her to take him up on his offer.

Then again, Emma is always surprising him.

The way she grabbed his coat and pulled him to her sent heat to his groin almost immediately, and there was a hunger in her kiss that he felt in his own. It’s been decades since he felt a fire like that deep in his belly, and Killian was reminded of just how much he likes when a woman takes charge of her own desires.

(Another reminder, another reminder, another reminder.)

He simply did not expect for his desires to turn into a want that he’s dared not hope for again.

It was a reminder that he didn’t want, that good things could happen to him, but he knows who he is to this woman and these people. He’s an outsider, and if David’s words earlier weren’t clear enough, he is not welcome amongst them.

And yet, here is this fierce woman who has been like a siren to him, calling him back when he wants to stray, sitting so close to him that her thigh keeps brushing against his own.

The jungle is quiet tonight outside of their camp. He hears no birds or other creatures, only the crackle of the fire and the words being shared between Charming and Snow White. They’ve been huddled close together ever since Snow was informed of her husband’s condition, and while it is obnoxious to have to view, Killian so wishes he’d had time like that with Liam. It’s not a happy future for the two of them, especially having to be separated from their daughter and grandson should they chose to stay here to be together, but it is a future.

There is a possibility of one, and that’s more than most people get.

It’s more than he got.  

The Queen is hidden behind a tree across camp, avoiding everyone, and truly, it should be the other way around. He’s no saint, but that woman ruined this family. He understands that a young Snow shared a secret that had horrible consequences, and while Regina was certainly a victim there, she is not one now. At least when it comes to this family. Her son is in trouble, but no one in this camp is at fault for that.

He needs to get off this damn island. It’s giving him too much time to think about people he should not be giving a second thought to.

“How does this rum never run out?” Emma suddenly asks.

She hands him the flask back, and he takes his own sip. “It’s enchanted.” “How’d you manage that?”

“I’ve gotten around.” Emma snickers, and he arches his brow. “Something funny, Swan?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.”

Killian hums and tucks the flask back into his pocket. “I’m aware of what the phrase ‘getting around’ means, love. I was in your world long enough to pick up on a few things.”

“Of course you would pick up on innuendos.”

He winks, and there’s that eye roll he so fancies. “I do my best to make sure I’m well versed in things that I need to be well versed in. Makes life easier.”

“Innuendos make your life easier?”

“When it comes to beautiful women such as you, aye.”

“Do you always flirt to get what you want?” “Why, darling, are you admitting that I’m flirting with you? Are you going to return my affections?”

She kicks at the dirt and turns away from him.

Push and pull.

Push harder. Pull further away.

That’s Emma.

“No matter,” Killian continues, waving his hand in the air in front of them. “Did you come to sit with me for any particular reason? Perhaps to get away from your parents?”

She groans next to him. “I can’t listen to it anymore. I mean, I can’t imagine how they feel, but I – you know what, never mind.”

“Pan got your tongue?”

His lips curl up at the same time that hers pull down into a frown. She is obviously not amused by him tonight.

“My apologies, milady,” he sighs before standing from his spot. The leaves rustle underneath him, but no one from the other side of the camp notices his movement. They’re all too wrapped up in their own lives.

Emma cranes her neck up to look at him, and he’s never seen someone so swan-like. She lives up to her name, but with Emma, he thinks it must be the other way around.

“Are you going somewhere?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I, too, would like to have some time away from the doting lovers and the moaning queen, so I thought I’d take a walk. I know this area well enough to know that we’re near the beach. Would you like to join me?”

Her eyes narrow and dart over to her parents and then back to him. “Is that safe?”

Killian pats his sword with his hook. “I’ve got weapons, as do you. I think we’ll be fine. C’mon, love. I know you need to have your mind taken off of things. This island will drive you insane if you don’t find something that calms you.”

Emma’s shoulders sag before she stands and steps up to him. “What was that for you?”

He swaggers closer, the magnetic field around her always pulling him those few inches forward, and then dips his head so she has a direct view of his wink. “A man likes to keep his secrets, love, but if you play your cards right, I might let you in on it.”

“Can’t you ever be straightforward about anything?”

“I find that I’m straightforward about many things. You simply never pay attention because it’s not what you want to hear.”

Killian doesn’t bother to wait for her reaction. Instead, he turns on his feels, grabs a lit lantern, and starts heading down the path they made earlier to make his way to the beach. He can hear the ocean waves already. It’s a sound that usually calms him, one that he’s nearly always searching for, but here, the echo is different. It’s loud and brash even when the waves are gentle, and he aches for the sound of the waves in the Enchanted Forest or even those of the ones in Storybrooke.

Anything other than this.

Anything.

Emma’s boots crunch behind him, and he lifts an overgrown branch until she steps underneath it and begins walking at his side. A part of him doubted that she would actually follow, but deep down, he knew the odds were more in his favor than disfavor. She’s silent as they walk, but occasionally her hand will brush against his arm, and he feels the heat of her touch spread over him.

There are no truly nefarious plans in his mind as to what they are to do on the beach once they get there, and he wouldn’t be opposed to simply watching the moonlight glint off the water. However, he knows what he was implying when he suggested them leaving the campsite, and he knows that Emma does, too.

A one-time thing, she’d said. Emma may possess a superpower for telling when others are lying, but she’s not the only one who is good at reading people.

The beach comes into view past a few vines and bushes, and Killian slashes through them with his sword before putting it back in its holster and stepping over the newly slain foliage. Emma steps behind him, following exactly in his footsteps, and then all of the sudden the sound of footsteps stop when they step onto the sand.

That was the one good thing about these beaches. It’s soft sand instead of hard pebbles.

There’s a scratch of nails down his back, a faint feeling through the thick material of his leather, and Killian twists his head to see Emma standing so close that he can see all of the freckles on her face, counting them one by one until he knows them as he knows the constellations in the sky.

He’s rather more interested in them than the constellations here.

“You were saying something about getting my mind off things?”

Killian nods and reaches his hand up to tuck her loose hair behind her ear, and his fingers ghost across her cheek, feeling the soft, velvet skin. He’s seen many a beautiful woman in his few hundred years, but there’s something different about this one that he believes might not be physical after all.

Though, she certainly is beautiful in that way.

“Aye, love, I believe I was.”

And then he dips his head and slants his mouth over hers. The initial shock is much the same as it was earlier today, but this time, it’s his turn to take charge. He gets to thread his hand into her hair first and pull her into him before she can grab onto the lapels of his coat, and he gets to control the pace. It’s fast and heady, her tongue already swiping across his bottom lip, and while he wouldn’t mind slowing it down to savor the feeling of her, that’s not what either of them need.

That’s especially not what Emma needs.

It’s been awhile since he’s done this, his taste for bar wenches fading away a long time ago, but the movements haven’t been lost on him. The push and pull, the teasing and tasting, it’s all second nature, but right now, it feels new.

Everything about this is refreshing, but he has to push those thoughts down. He’s had too many sentimental ones about Emma today, too many realizations and questions since their dalliance, and this isn’t a time to think of him yet again not getting something he craves because he isn’t good enough. This is the time to let his body take over and to forget.

That’s why they came here after all.

Emma’s hands tug on his lapels before moving to the inside of his jacket. She runs them over his chest and over the chains hanging from his neck before they settle on his shoulders. He can feel her nails much more clearly with only the thin layer of his shirt keeping her from his skin, and his eyes shut even more tightly at the feel of it all as his tongue tangles with Emma’s in slide so perfectly in sync that he doesn’t believe it’s real.

This is real, this is real, this is real.

“You tell no one of this,” Emma grunts against his lips as she works to remove his coat from his shoulders.

“Aye, I understand.” His hook tugs against her backside, and he releases his hand from her locks to help her take off his coat. It’s heavier than he would like, but it’s what he’s needed to keep warm in ports and on the deck of the Jolly over the years. Now, it will be a nice barrier between the two of them in the sand. “It will be a private dalliance between us.”

“Do you always have to talk like that?” “Like what?”

“Like you’re from a Jane Austen novel?”

“What’s that?”

That gets a smile from Emma, and maybe he’ll be destined to only make her smile when she’s teasing or feeling superior over him not knowing something about her world. For now, he’ll take it.

“She’s a writer. She writes romance.”

“Oh? You read those? I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Shut up,” she groans, pushing him down until he gets the idea and settles down on the ground. Emma sinks down onto her knees and settles on his hips before she dips her head and rejoins her lips to his. “Just be quiet, okay?”

“As you wish.”

Her mouth stills at the words, the same ones he used earlier, but then she’s continuing the kiss, and Killian can feel her over every inch of her. His skin is prickling and beginning to become sweat-soaked once more, but now that he’s without his coat, he can feel the cool breeze of the ocean wafting up onto his skin. He doesn’t know how long they lay in the sand with their mouths moving together with no destination in mind until he feels Emma’s hands near his trousers. She’s pulling apart the laces, and as her mouth breaks away for her to get more access to it, he takes the opportunity to pull at her blouse with his hook. She gasps at the touch, but she doesn’t push him away. Her skin is sun-kissed and glistening with sweat, and her chest is heaving, heart obviously beating as quickly as his is. He swears that he can feel it, but he knows that’s not true.

She’s glowing underneath the moonlight and the flickering of the lantern, and this may be the first time he’s been truly fond of the moon here in a lifetime.

There he goes thinking those thoughts again, and he swore to himself that he would not do that.

Ever tried, ever failed.

Finally, he gets her blouse down enough that he can see the roundness of her breast, and Killian groans at the sight. He’s spent more nights than he’s willing to admit dreaming about something like this, but the reality is much better.

Bloody hell.

Her hand brushes over him through his leathers, and he hisses. But the pain is good, a pleasant burn, and Killian lifts himself to lick away sweat that is gather on Emma’s collarbone. Her skin is salty on his tongue, and he savors it.

“Why the hell are your pants so frustrating?”

“I believe it takes a more patient hand.”

“I don’t have any time for patience,” she huffs, and he notices that her hands are shaking and that she really is struggling to get his leathers down. Killian takes the opportunity to lift his hips to help her, and she finally gets them tugged down, smiling as his cock juts out.

Well, maybe that’s another way he can get an elusive smile out of her.

“Aha,” she laughs, almost giddily.

“I don’t believe that’s a reaction I’ve ever had before.”

She shrugs and starts working with her own bottoms. She handles them much better than she handled his, the zipper easily tugging down and the material peeled off of her so that he can see the toned legs she possesses, all of her muscles defined.

Beautiful.

His mind simply can’t get past that.

“Yeah, well, I’m always one for new things.”

Emma kicks her trousers off until they’re resting on the sand, and she settles back on top of his hips, her softness brushing over his hardness. She’s more ready than he thought she would be, but he’s certainly not going to complain, not when he so desperately needs to be inside of her. Maybe if he’s allowed to do this again, which he doubts, he’ll be able to take the time he usually would with someone like her.

Someone who is more than a conquest.

Someone who should be treasured.

“Really, now?” he questions. “In that case – ”

She slaps his chest, and he grabs onto her hand, holding it to his chest as he chuckles.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Aye, and while I do so love a woman who takes charge, you have to let a man have a little fun.”

Her groan is frustrated as she tilts his head back, making her neck swan-like again, and all he can think is how much he wants to bite the delicate skin. But that thought is quickly dissipated when Emma takes him in hand, stroking him a few times, before guiding him into her.

Bloody fuck.

It’s better than he could ever imagine to feel her warmth stretching around him and to hear the groan straining in the back of her throat. She’s a vision like this, still half-dressed but entirely indecent, and he almost tells her so before her hands clutch at his shoulders and grab onto the chains around his neck. They’re the only cool thing about this moment, the Neverland heat and heat of their activities consuming him, and it’s a nice touch to feel the mementos he’s collected over the years.

He wishes that he had a way to collect this moment.

“Fuck,” she hisses as she begins a gentle rocking, adjusting a testing out this new position they’re now in. “Fuck.”

“At a loss for words there, Swan?” “Don’t be cocky.”

He juts his hips up at her words, and she moans, and digs her nails into his skin so hard he may bleed.

“Apologies, love,” he says, not meaning it.

In fact, he can’t keep the smile off his face. He’s sure she despises it, but Killian doesn’t care to stop himself when he hasn’t felt this good in ages.

But they’re doing this to forget, he reminds himself, not to remember.

They quickly find a rhythm that works for the both of them. Emma takes control, like he knew she would, and continually changes up how deep he enters her over and over again. It’s like she can’t figure out if she wants shallow or deep, fast or slow, and eventually he tires of it and wraps his arms around her to flip them over, careful not to hurt her with his hook. She gasps at the movement and opens her mouth to say something, but then he’s pushing into her as his mouth deliciously slants over hers.

Emma hooks her foot against his backside, pushing him further inside of her, and he can feel his heart between his ears as he finds the pace that he wants. Her nails keep scratching into his back, and Killian groans before trailing his mouth away from Emma’s to find her ear. He begins whispering to her, working around her rule of him not being loud, and when she complains, he tells her that he’s very much being quiet. Besides, he thinks that words he whispers to her keep her from protesting anymore.

He’s getting close, his high nearing the edge, and he props himself up on his left arm so he can reach between them and rub his thumb over where they’re joined. Emma lets out a long moan that he hasn’t heard before, and then he feels her fluttering, feels her falling around him.

Fuck.

The feeling nearly causes him to fall right there, but he has enough mind to pull out and take himself in hand to finish himself off since he doesn’t believe Emma has any of the potions that prevent pregnancy with her.

This was never really in either of their plans.

Going off of plan is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to him on this damned island.

He’s almost there, teetering on the edge with shaky limbs, and as soon as he feels Emma’s soft hands on him, he’s gone.

Afterward, they don’t spend time lingering on the sand. Before they can catch their breaths, Emma is standing and straightening herself up, tugging her clothes down and back on, and he does the same. Though, he’s much slower than her, partially due to his hand but mostly due to the fact that he doesn’t seem to be fighting the internal war Emma is.

He knows that he just slept with a woman he fancies from time to time, while she just slept with a man she most likely still finds despicable despite them getting along rather well lately.

Nothing like a crisis to bond people.

“Thanks for that,” she finally mutters as she twists her locks back to remove them from her face. She’s flushed, the heat still lingering, and he can see the slightest bit of redness on her chest from where his beard rubbed against her. “It was…”

“Bloody satisfying.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, her lips turning up even as she looks away from him. “But also, a one-time thing. I mean that this time. Today has been complicated.”

“Aye, Swan,” Killian sighs, “whatever you say.”

He’ll respect her wishes with no hesitation, but like he thought earlier, Emma isn’t the only one who knows when someone is telling a lie.

[hookedonapirate]

By the Stars

Surprise @gingerchangeling​​, I'm your Secret Santa for @cssecretsanta2k19​​! 

You asked for an order of dark, pirate!Killian, so I did my best to make him dark, I just hope you like how it turned out. The title was inspired by a phrase from your story, Hallowed Be Thy Name, "She said that he was lost. But that he refused ta look up at the sky ta find his way by the stars." It seemed like the perfect title for this story, for even though Killian is a pirate and knows how to navigate by the stars, he still loses his way.

It was so nice to get to know you more (though I was a little paranoid you'd find out it was me 😆). I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Thank you @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ for beta reading and for all of your help, and @onceuponaprincessworld​​ for being my soundboard and letting me bounce ideas off of you :)

Summary: When the fearsome Captain Hook is hired by the Evil Queen to kill the princess of Misthaven, he is quick to accept. So why does he end up kidnapping her instead?

No curse, no magic.

*Trigger warnings* This story features Dark!Hook and dark themes, including attempted rape (not by Killian), depictions of violence, blood, murder and thoughts of murder. Though this is rated Explicit, there is NO smut, only implied smut and a bit of nudity.

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 10,232

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

He’s contemplated it many times. More specifically, he’s contemplated how he would do it. Would he wrap his hand around her long, elegant neck and strangle her until snuffing the light from her eyes or would he use the dagger currently secured in his sash to end her life? He encases the hilt with his ring embellished fingers to feel the leather in his grip. If he did use his dagger, what part of her would he aim for? The heart? No, he wouldn’t go for the heart. The thought of going for a woman’s heart, like when Rumplestiltskin had ripped out Milah’s heart, makes him cringe. It makes his stomach twist, makes his heart constrict. No, he wouldn’t go for the heart. Instead, he’d go for the neck. 

As he tightens his grip around the hilt of the dagger and brushes his thumb over the pommel, he contemplates how good it would feel to slice the sharp steel blade through her jugular. How satisfying it would be to watch the bright red liquid spill over her creamy skin. To watch as all the youthful life vanished from her sweet face, as her body fell limp, as all the blood left her body, leaving her skin paler than it already is. 

He’s contemplated the task he’s been endowed with; he’s contemplated it many times. So why can’t he follow through?

Killian Jones is not a good man, he has never hidden that fact nor pretended he was. He steals and murders and does anything necessary to get what he wants, especially if it gets him closer on his path of vengeance. He didn’t earn his rings or his reputation by being a good man. He’s a pirate, the captain of the Jolly Roger, the most feared captain of all the seas. He stole the ship after its former captain, his brother, died while battling in the Royal Navy five years ago. Liam’s death destroyed a part of him that day and ever since then, Killian has led his band of pirates. 

Since then, he’s spent years building his reputation as someone who gets the job done, so why does his current job make him hesitate? Normally he can kill without mercy, normally he’s numb to the emotions that are supposed to come along with taking a life. After watching Liam die in his arms and then holding Milah’s lifeless body, he’s become numb to the world, he’s become dead inside. But for reasons he can't explain, he can't kill the princess of Misthaven. Since the day he laid eyes on her, as many times as he’s thought about it, he just can’t find it within his cold, black heart to kill her. 

He doesn’t even know her, only what he’s learned while being primed by the Evil Queen, and he’s only ever seen her as he stalks after her in the forest or watches her from outside the tavern. He’s grown familiar with the way her long, golden hair blows in the wind as she rides her horse, he’s grown familiar with the sad, lonely look on her face as he watches her at the bar while she’s wearing a long dark cloak, disguised as just another peasant to the patrons. He’s grown familiar with how feisty she gets when the sailors have had too much to drink and get handsy with her. He’s seen her slap a few in the face or throw her drinks on them. What a waste of perfectly good drink, but then again, the satisfaction of watching the fierce princess stand up for herself and give the sailors what’s coming to them is well worth it. It’s just too bad he’s never had the good fortune of interacting with her. 

Part of him wonders why the queen wants her dead in the first place. He understands the ongoing feud between the queen and Princess Emma’s parents; he understands wanting revenge, but still, Snow is not the one who murdered Regina’s lover. So why go after her innocent daughter? This is coming from a pirate who killed a man in front of his wife for calling him one-handed Jones and a man who drowned a sailor for drinking the Captain’s wine. Maybe it’s because she reminds him of himself when he looks at her—like she’s dead inside—and that’s why he can’t find it in him to kill her. His reputation as a merciless pirate captain is at stake, though. Many ships surrender their cargo without a fight because of his reputation, so if it’s compromised, then things will have to get bloody while he repairs his tarnished name.

He can kill the princess, get his gold and be on his not so merry way, or he can leave her be and incur the consequences. He has spied on Princess Emma for a couple of days while his ship is docked in Misthaven, and he has until sunrise to murder her before she leaves Misthaven and marries Walsh, the King of Oz, who is twice her age. If Killian doesn’t murder her, he’ll receive the wrath of the Evil Queen, and then she’ll hire someone else to finish the deed. Unless…

There is one other option, but before he can ponder the thought any further, a familiar face enters the tavern. Seeing the owner of that particular face makes him twitch and fills him with conflicting emotions. It reminds him of the past, both the good and bad memories. Good memories because the man he’s glaring at is Milah’s son, and bad ones because he’s also Rumplestilskin’s son. Baelfire is another person he’s considered murdering so he can finally get his revenge for what Rumplestilskin did to him. He murdered his Milah and took his hand. So it’s only fair that he take the life of Rumplestiltskin’s son in return, right? The only reason Baelfire isn’t dead yet is because he’s Milah’s son.

Although every second he sees Baelfire on this particular night, he becomes more fueled with rage. And not because he’s Rumple’s son, but because he’s engaging Emma in conversation, and she seems to be allowing his attention. 

“Come on, slap the bloody bastard,” Killian growls through gritted teeth. “Or throw your drink in his face.”

But she doesn’t, and instead, she leaves with him after a while. Killian hears Emma chatting with Baelfire when they walk out of the tavern. Her voice is much prettier than he’d imagined, as he’s seen her before but he’s never heard her speak until now. Killian peeks around the building and sees her smiling, although it’s the saddest smile he’s ever seen, and perhaps Baelfire has found a way to get through to her. His father is the master of manipulation, so it doesn’t surprise Killian in the least that his son is too. 

Killian ducks behind the building so they don’t see him as they head toward the forest. Killian swiftly follows behind them, tiptoeing carefully and quietly without snapping any twigs, which isn’t easy when his only light source is the moon and he has to steer clear of the trail Emma and Baelfire are on. He hides behind a tree when they stop somewhere inside the woods. Killian notices they’ve stopped deep enough into the forest where no one leaving the tavern would be able to see them or hear them. He turns around and tilts his head back until it hits the jagged edges of the bark and he waits. If he’s following through with his plan, he needs Baelfire to disappear. 

The air grows eerily silent for a while, he can only hear the hoot of an owl, and he’s not sure why they’ve stopped talking. He thinks he can hear the faint sound of kissing, but he could be wrong.

“Bae, stop,” Emma demands firmly after a minute. 

Killian’s ears perk up as he peeks around the tree. Baelfire has her pinned against a tree a few meters away.

“Oh, come on, we’re just having fun before you leave tomorrow,” Baelfire says, his words muffled by her neck as he kisses her there.

“I said stop!” she cries out again, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge.  

Killian can see the frustration in her movements, the amount of force she uses, and he can hear Emma’s dress ripping as Baelfire reaches under her skirts and presses his body into her. She slaps him hard, tears streaming down her cheeks. His heart actually hurts as he watches the scene unfold. It’s one thing seeing her slap sailors in the tavern when she's been groped or disrespected—Killian at least found a bit of humor in it—but now she’s actually being attacked.

Baelfire grows angry, and after soothing the sting in his cheek with his hand for a few seconds, he captures her wrists and presses them above her head, against the tree. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he barks in a menacing tone as he breathes against her cheek. 

Emma turns her head away from him, her features twisted with disgust. “Someone help me!” She continues to shriek until he wraps his hand around her neck and presses her firmly into the tree to silence her pleas. 

“Your screams are useless, there’s no one here to save you. So shut up, you stupid—”

Baelfire’s sentence is cut off by the blade of Killian's dagger when he plunges it into Baelfire’s back. His lifeless body falls to the ground, blood seeping into the dirt and coating the tips of the leaves. “I’m here.” 

He’s never been this close to the princess before, and for the first time, he sees that her eyes are a mesmerizing green as they widen in fear. Emma’s whole body trembles as she gapes at him. 

He once again contemplates slicing her neck, it would be so easy to do, while she’s too frozen in fear and shocked to even try to escape. Whoever would find her and Baelfire’s corpses would think some lurker attacked them in the forest. Only the Evil Queen would know it was Killian’s doing. She would think he was seizing the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, which would be a correct assessment. She would smile sinisterly and be very satisfied with the turn of events. But Killian doesn't care about pleasing her. For some reason, he cares more about the frightened princess’s safety than satisfying the Queen. So he throws the bloodied dagger to the ground next to Baelfire and raises his hands, lifting his gaze to her fearful one. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he murmurs sincerely.

“Why did you…” she stammers, trying to retrieve her voice after almost being strangled to death. She soothes her fingers over her neck, her lovely pale complexion slowly returning to her face. “You didn’t have to…”

“I didn’t have to kill him?” he finishes for her. “Let’s just say I carry a personal vendetta against his father after what he took from me,” he snarls, raising his hook.

Emma stares at the curved steel as it gleams in the moonlight, growing even more wide-eyed and frightened. “You’re… you’re Hook?”

Killian steps close to her, flashing her a cheeky grin. “Aye, that’s my more colorful moniker. So you’ve heard of me, princess?”

Emma tries to step back, but the tree behind her halts her attempt. She reaches behind her, gripping onto the bark underneath her fingertips as though it will protect her from whatever Killian plans on doing to her. “I’ve heard stories,” she replies, her voice shaking. “And apparently, you've heard of me, otherwise you wouldn’t know I’m a princess.”

“I told you, love, you don’t have to be frightened. In fact, I’m here to save your life.”

“One, I’m not your love. Two, what are you talking about?” she demands, narrowing her eyes at him, anger quickly replacing her fear. “You may have rescued me from being defiled by that pig, but I highly doubt he’s a murderer like you. And three, how do you know I’m a princess?” 

“Because I was hired to kill you.” He steps out of her space and offers his hand. “Now come with me before the Evil Queen realizes you’re still alive.”

Emma’s even more confused, her mouth falling agape, her face paling. “What?!”

Killian sighs and looks toward the sky, praying to the gods that Emma will not make this difficult for him. He looks at her again and can't help but get lost in those luminous green eyes. “I’m taking you aboard my ship so I don’t have to kill you. Which means you have two options; we can do this the easy way, and you can come with me on your own... or we can do this the hard way and I can drag you to my ship kicking and screaming. It’s your choice, love.”

Emma scoffs. “You think I’m going with you?! You’re out of your mind!” She shoves him and storms away.

Killian shakes his head and sighs. He should have known she would try to run away. “The hard way it is.” He turns around and quickly follows behind her, scooping her up in his arms and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She screams and flails her arms and legs, fighting fruitlessly against him, her fists pounding relentlessly into his back. “Unhand me, pirate!” 

“That’s captain to you. Captain Killian Jones at your service.”

~*~

Emma opens her eyes to the light of the sun pouring into the window and finds herself in a warm bed with soft silk sheets and fluffy pillows. At first, she mistakes it for her bed but once her eyes adjust to the light in the room and she sees a wooden ceiling instead of the stone one of her parent’s castle; she knows she isn't in her room. The bed sways slightly from side to side as if she’s on a boat, but that's impossible. What boat is she on? Her brows knit in confusion as she sits up with an urgency her brain isn't quite prepared for, and she gets a little dizzy and cradles her forehead in her palm. She can't even remember the last time she was on a boat; it must have been years ago, when she was merely a child. 

After the sleepy fog filters from her brain, she looks around the room. The furniture is sparse and consists of a desk, a bookcase, a hammock and the bed she’s currently sitting in. This is not her family's ship, and once she takes a moment to take in her surroundings, images of last night flash through her mind. 

Running off to the tavern once again even though her parents forbid it. Thoughts of escaping Misthaven so she didn’t have to marry a man twice her age. Meeting Baelfire. Having a decent conversation with him. Leaving with Baelfire. Being attacked by Baelfire. A pirate saving her. But not just any pirate. Captain Hook. She remembers him taking her to his cabin and tying her to the bed with rope so she wouldn’t murder him in his sleep.

Emma peers down at the inside of her wrists, which are no longer restrained, and runs her fingers over the red marks where she had struggled to escape. She’d been hoping it was all a bad nightmare, but it was all real. The fearsome Captain Hook had taken her.  

She’s heard stories from her parents about him and the Jolly Roger that always make her shiver as if it's a cold winter's night. Then she remembers Hook telling her the Evil Queen paid him to murder her, but instead of murdering her, he wanted her to go with him. She remembers laughing in his face, right before he picked her up and carried her to his ship. Which means she is now on the Jolly Roger. With Captain Hook.

Emma's eyes widen as her heart flits with panic. Why would he save her life? He’s a pirate and a murderer. He stabbed Baelfire easily and effortlessly while his eyes were devoid of any remorse. So why would he spare her life? Emma shifts, attempting to get out of bed, but a figure appears in the doorway. A figure wearing a pair of black boots, leather trousers and a crimson red vest. Her gaze travels up his lean form, appreciating the dark hair poking out of his chest, scruff on his chin and cheeks, the ocean-blue eyes and the dark, unruly hair atop his head that's been ravaged by the sea winds. Emma immediately recognizes him as the man who took her last night. “You… you kidnapped me,” she snaps, glaring at him, the anger she’d felt last night bubbling in her chest.

The toothy smirk he gives her increases the detestation she harbors for him, and she wants to smack it off his face. “Good morning to you, too, princess.” He walks into the cabin carrying a tray of food, wine and a chalice and sets it on the bedside table. 

Emma shuffles across the bed, putting more distance between her and her abductor as he pours wine into the chalice. He tries to offer it to her, but she refuses to drink it. “It’s probably poison,” she accuses sharply.

He frowns at her. “I told you I would not harm you, didn’t I?” 

“If you aren’t set to harm me, then why did you kidnap me?!”

He sighs and sets the cup on the table. “I could have killed you instead,” he points out, as though it makes up for what he’s done. “But I didn't, and here you are, alive and well, with all of Misthaven thinking you’re dead.”

“They think I’m dead?” Emma shrieks. Her parents? Her brother? They must be devastated. Her heart cracks at the thought, eyes welling with tears.

“Aye, I had to tell the Evil Queen you were dead so she didn’t come after you. I burned Baelfire’s corpse until there was nothing left, and I told her it was your body I burned.” Hook throws a pile of clothes on the bed and sets a pair of boots on the floor in front of the bed. “Some clothes for you, Your Highness,” he says with a snide grin, “so you can change out of your tattered dress.”

“But why… why didn’t you just kill me?!” she huffs and grabs the clothes, chucking them at him angrily. 

He dodges them and frowns at her. “Your beauty is more impressive than your aim.” 

She responds by reaching across the bed to grab the chalice full of wine, and hurls it at him. He dodges that as well, and it bounces off the wall, its contents splattering the wall and the floor. He grits his teeth, impatience flaring in his eyes. “I’m beginning to ask myself the same bloody question,” he grumbles while picking up the clothes and placing them on the bed. “Just be thankful I spared your life, princess.” 

She eyes him suspiciously as he bends over to pick up the chalice from the floor. “Why would you? You must have a reason. My parents say you’re a dirty pirate and a cold-blooded killer without a shred of mercy.”

He scoffs as he curtly sets the cup on the table. “Ah, so you think you know me just because you’ve heard some tales? Please enlighten me and tell me more, because I’m dying to know what the hoity-toity princess thinks of the dirty pirate. The pirate who saved your life, not to mention saved you from being defiled outside the tavern and saved you from entering a loveless marriage with King Walsh.”

“Oh, please tell me what a selfish brat you think I am,” Emma retorts as she springs from the bed and steps into his space. “You think because I’m a princess you know everything about me, right?”

He shrugs. “You’re somewhat of an open book.”

“Oh, really?” she asks, irritation lacing her words as she crosses her arms. “You read minds, pirate?”

“I told you, it’s Captain. And I know you’re unhappy. I could see it when I saw you in the tavern.” His voice is surprisingly soft, but it does nothing to change how she feels about him. Annoyance. Anger. Hatred. The list goes on and on.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Please, that’s called spying, not perception.”

“Eyes are the windows to our souls, Emma. They don’t lie.”

“Oh really? And what do my eyes say?”

“That you’re unhappy, that you don’t want to get married to a man old enough to be your father. You’re too lovely to belong to an old man, anyway.” 

“And who should I marry then, hmm?” she challenges, cocking an eyebrow.

Tilting his head, he takes a step toward her and she tries to step back to get away from him, but the edge of the bed stops her. Killian grins and moves in, closing the distance between them. She swears he’s purposely stealing all the air from her lungs. “Perhaps if you had a lusty young lad between your legs, it might take the sadness from your eyes.”

Emma’s face flushes crimson, his husky words vibrating through her. “You forget yourself, pirate!” she warns.

He leans in closer until their lips are only inches apart and speaks in a low voice, “I’m willing to bet you’ve never had a man between your legs.” He licks at his lips as his eyes fall to hers, this time whispering so close she can taste his breath. “Perhaps we should change that.”

Fear surges through her as it did when Baelfire attacked her. She lifts her hand to smack the filthy smirk off his face, but he firmly catches her wrist and lifts the back of her hand to his lips, holding her startled gaze as he places a kiss to the center of her skin.

His lips scorch her skin, the kiss sending a painful ache through her. “Love, you and I both know you didn’t really want to marry Walsh. We both know I did you a favor in more ways than one, so stop pretending like you hate me and show a little gratitude.” He rubs the back of her hand with his fingertips, where his lips had touched and he releases her before walking away. “Now eat your food before it gets cold and get dressed. Then meet me on deck,” he says in a commanding tone, shutting the door behind him to give her some privacy.

Emma is too stunned in her spot, she can’t even throw a tantrum. She can’t huff and puff and yell out her frustrations. Instead, she stands there as stiff as a statue and a little turned on if she’s being honest. She certainly isn’t imagining Hook’s body between her legs as he drives into her. Certainly not. She doesn’t know whether to hate him or...

She shudders at the thought and once she’s able to reassemble herself, she picks up the clothes from the bed and dresses. The outfit comprises a white button-up shirt with long sleeves and black leather trousers, but the fabric smells like the sea and rum and Hook, and she’s definitely not appreciating his scent. The clothes may be too big and baggy on her, and they’re definitely different from the usual attire she’s accustomed to, but she thinks she can get used to them. She hates wearing dresses and corsets. Emma eats her breakfast begrudgingly, deciding it's not poisoned—if he wanted her dead, he would’ve killed her by now—and tugs on his big, heavy boots before she makes her way to the deck.

As she ascends the steps, she hears Hook speaking with one of his men. 

“We’re sailing to the island of Crete to sell the princess to the highest bidder. She’s a virgin so she’ll be worth a pretty penny.” 

Emma’s blood bubbles under her skin. He had saved her life just to sell her at the slave market?! She’s heard enough. Full of rage, she bursts through the cabin door and storms up to the deck, sprinting to the rails of the ship, but before she could jump overboard, two hands grasp her tightly and haul her back on deck. She squirms in the arms of two pirates as they keep her from attacking the captain who seems to find amusement in her rage. 

“You bastard! I’d rather die than be sold as a slave!”

“Looks like you got yourself a tigress,” one of them comments with a hearty chuckle.

“Settle down, love, we won’t hurt you,” Hook says in a soothing voice. Like that’s supposed to comfort her.

Emma scoffs. “You’re just going to sell me off is all.” Her features twist in disgust. “My parents were right, you’re nothing but a dirty pirate.”

She can see the anger spiraling through him as he steps into her space. “In case you haven’t noticed, princess, I am just a dirty pirate, and you’re just another mouth to feed. We, pirates, do what we can to survive. At least you’ll be sold somewhere where the Evil Queen can’t find you.”

Her eyes grow wild, rage cracking through her soul like a lightning bolt. “You think that makes it better?! That I should be grateful you saved me, well it doesn’t! I will never thank you, you bastard!” She spits in his face. “Go to hell!”

Hook grits his teeth and wipes off her saliva, flinging it to the floor and wipes his hand with a handkerchief. She expects him to retaliate but he doesn’t and instead instructs his men to escort her to his cabin to cool down.

But Emma refuses to calm down. She refills the chalice with wine and gulps it down, hoping to keep her body from vibrating with rage.

~*~

As the Jolly coasts smoothly and steadily, rocking gently on the waves, Killian debates with his conscious—something he rarely does. He has to continually remind himself that selling the princess is the best decision. Once Rumple finds out his son is gone, and that Killian is responsible, he’ll be after him. Emma’s not safe on this ship. If the Evil Queen discovers she’s here, she’ll kill her. And he can’t let that happen. So is it better to sell her off, somewhere far away, where she’ll be safe from the Evil Queen, and from himself, or to let the Evil Queen enact her vengeance against Snow? He’s not sure, and he looks out toward the stars for some kind of answer as they glitter in the vastness of the dark sky. 

Emma hates him, but he’d rather her hate him than have her dead. But why is he taking such measures to keep her alive? Maybe it’s the fire that burns strong within her or maybe it has to do with how much he wants her. She’s so beautiful and brave and she’s developed a high tolerance for the situation in a small amount of time. 

She is captive on his ship, yet she helps out with the chores voluntarily. And she gets along with his crew. Although he has yet to see her wield a sword, he knows she’d make a fine pirate. But he doesn’t trust her enough yet to be sure that she won’t murder him in his sleep. So he ties her to the bed at night while he sleeps in his hammock.

“So beautiful.”

Her lovely voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks over from his helm to see the princess gazing out into the starry night with a silvery moon perched big and bright in the sky. “Very beautiful,” he murmurs, a small smile taking over his face. But he’s not referring to the stars.

Emma doesn't look at him; she hasn't spoken to him or looked his way much since she discovered his plan, but he doesn't blame her.

She has her arms crossed and is wearing a nightgown that had belonged to Milah. Luckily, Milah was a similar size. He sees the princess shiver, but he’s not certain if she’s trembling because of him or the situation or because she’s just cold. Either way, he pulls off his long leather jacket and comes up behind her to slip it over her shoulders. 

Emma grabs onto the lapels, securing it around her and turns her head slightly toward him, speaking softly, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, princess.”

When she stops shaking, he breathes a silent sigh of relief knowing she isn't afraid of him, or at least she doesn't appear to be. He wants to wrap his arms around her to provide further warmth and so he can hold her and comfort and tell her everything will be all right, but he doesn’t even know if it will be. Besides, it’s better to keep as much distance from her as possible. She doesn’t need a man like him in her life. She deserves so much better, even if it pains him to admit it. 

“You know, the stars are more than just for show,” he says, standing beside her, gazing over the ocean.

“I know that. I make wishes upon them.”

“What kind of wishes?” he asks curiously.

Emma shrugs. “Well, I used to wish I could travel the world, you know, be away from the castle. Then I was betrothed to Walsh, and I wished I weren’t.”

“It looks like your wishes came true then, love.”

“Yeah, I suppose they did,” she answers solemnly. 

They both know this isn't how she had expected her wishes to turn out. His stomach clenches at the thought. “Then I kidnapped you and you wished you could get away from me?” He can feel her stare burning into his skin as he avoids looking at her. 

“I wished you weren’t selling me, but no, I don’t wish to escape you. I quite like it here on your ship.”

Killian looks at her in surprise, meeting her gaze, and sees the sincerity pooled in her depths. He could easily get lost in her eyes, just as he’s lost his way in life. He can’t believe after all he’s done to her, she still wants to be aboard the Jolly Roger. She is a tough lass indeed. He peels his eyes away, breaking their trance when he realizes they’re both staring at each other, and he clears his throat. “But do you know how to navigate by the stars?”

She shakes her head. “Isn't that what a compass is for?”

“Aye, a compass determines direction,” Killian says as he leaves her side to grab his sextant from near the helm. “A sextant determines latitude and longitude by measuring angular distances, like the altitude of the stars.” Reclaiming his spot next to her, he holds out the instrument, showing her how to align the guiding star with the horizon. “You can read the angle between the north star and the northern horizon,” he explains, pointing to the brightest star in the constellation with his hook while he holds the sextant with his right hand. “So if you’re ever lost at night, you can look up at the stars to find your way.” She takes the sextant and looks through it as he helps her adjust it, not failing to notice how close they are or how her breath catches when their hands brush. The wind blows through her hair, and he picks up her sweet scent as he turns his head to watch her, their cheeks almost touching. Good lord, she’s breathtaking.

“Wow,” she whispers, gazing through the sextant in fascination. “Where did you learn that?”

“I served as a lieutenant in the Royal Navy before I became a pirate. My brother, Liam, was Captain, and this ship was called the Jewel of the Realm.” His eyes darken at the memories and he looks grimly out over the ocean. “Liam, he died in battle and after that... I lost a part of myself.”

“You lost your way?” she asks, even as she already knows the answer.

He nods, flashing her a quick glance before looking up at the sky again. He can’t believe he revealed that much to her, but somehow he feels like a small weight has been lifted from his shoulders. 

Emma hands him his sextant. “It looks like you need this more than I do.”

Killian offers her a weak smile as he takes it back from her.

She yawns and pulls off his jacket, returning it to him as she announces she’s going to bed. “Night, Hook.” 

“Goodnight, Emma.”

He stays in his spot and decides to take a page from Emma’s book and wish upon a star. Killian wishes that he had Liam back, so his wise brother could tell him what to do, to help him find his way again. What he wouldn’t give to hear Liam’s voice again, what he wouldn’t give to hear Liam call him little brother again. 

Killian also makes another wish. He wishes there had been someone there the night he had kidnapped Emma, to save her—someone who could've actually protected her. From the Evil Queen. From him.

~*~

Emma wakes to the booms of cannons being fired and the captain shouting orders to his crew. Panic ripples through her blood, her heart racing as she rushes to catch a peek. Emma gasps when she sees Regina’s ship fast approaching, gliding through the water like silk. Guilt rises in her chest. She knows the only reason why the Evil Queen is after the Jolly Roger is because she’s looking for the princess. Had she discovered Emma wasn’t the one who Killian murdered? Or is she here for Baelfire? Emma’s not sure, but she knows she has to do something to help, rather than cower idly below deck and hope Killian and his crew will defeat Regina’s men. But if she goes out there, they will try to take her. As she returns below deck, she thinks quickly and comes up with a plan. Searching around the first mate’s cabin, she finds exactly what she’s looking for.

~*~

Cannons blaze and muskets fire as the fierce battle rages. The air is thick with smoke, reducing visibility, but both sides continue to fire. Killian wouldn’t be the Captain he is today if he gave up so easily. Besides, he has a princess to protect, and the Evil Queen’s men will have to go through him to get to her. Musket balls, cannonballs and even bolts from crossbows fly from both sides. Blood is spilled, bones broken and limbs severed by the onslaught, but it doesn’t faze him. After years of bloodshed on the high seas, Killian has become immune to the horrors of battle.

“Prepare to fight!” Killian cries as the ship closes in on the Jolly Roger. He looks back at his crew to see the pirates drawing their swords, confident and eager for battle. He glances over when someone stands beside him, sword drawn, and he doesn’t recognize them at first and has to do a double-take, his eyes flickering over her face. He’d recognize those emerald green eyes anywhere. “Emma?! What are you doing?!” 

She’s dressed in the pirate clothes he’d given her, with the addition of a cap pulled below her ears, her blonde hair nowhere to be seen. 

“I want to help. I am well versed in swordsmanship.”

“Go back below deck,” he growls at her. “You’ll get hurt!” The thought pains him more than he’s willing to admit.

“I won’t! I know how to fight, Captain.”

Before he can argue any further, the Jolly Roger is swarmed with enemies, and the sound of metal clashing against metal rings throughout the deck. Killian wants to stay close and keep an eye on her, but that will get him killed quickly. Besides, he doesn’t know if he can stomach the idea of watching, especially if she gets hurt or worse.

“The Queen has sent us for Rumple’s son. Hand him over!”

“He’s not here,” Killian assures them, blowing out a breath of relief.

Emma’s opponent rushes at her with his sword flying high in the air and brings it crashing down. She dodges his attack with a side step but he's quick to recover. With quick speed, he slashes at Emma's stomach, nearly catching her with his sword, but she manages to jump back just in time to avoid being split in two. She fights off several others, sending a few of them overboard, and Killian’s heart swarms with pride. And also relief.

“I knew there was a little pirate in you!” Killian cheers, glancing at her for a second while continuing to fight off Regina’s knights. 

Emma flashes him a cocky smirk. “I told you I can hold my own.” 

“That you can, love,” he agrees as a sword is thrusting at him. He surges backward, but not before the tip of the sword knicks his neck.

When the battle is over, they have won, at least for now; the Evil Queen had retreated. Though Killian had only sustained a minor injury, several of his pirates are badly wounded. 

The ship surgeon and his apprentice retrieve their dressing boxes to tend to the mortal and dangerous wounds first. There are too many pirates down for them to handle at once, so Emma chips in and tends to the men with simple or compound wounds.

Killian is surprised to see her darting from one pirate to the other, applying pressure on their cuts to stop them from bleeding. She does it so quickly and calmly, he’s sure she’s done this before. 

Once the situation at hand is under control, Killian goes to his cabin to retrieve his flask full of rum. Emma has proved she would make a fine pirate, and the guilt of her fate is weighing heavy on his mind. She’d be a valuable asset to him and his crew, but the problem is, he doesn’t wish this life for her, which is rather contradictory since he’s about to sell her off as a slave. Perhaps he should just grant Emma her freedom and leave her somewhere, hoping the Evil Queen will never get to her, but for reasons he cannot explain, he can’t stomach that idea. And if she stays on his ship, she won’t be safe either. Not from the storms, not from pirate attacks, not from him.  

The rum burns down his throat as he comes close to draining his flask, trying to numb the pain he feels. He thinks the pain is only consuming his heart, but when Emma enters his quarters, she’s studying him with a scrupulous eye and lifting her hand to his neck. Killian’s heart flutters at her touch and he loses a breath as he stares into her gorgeous emeralds while she eyes his neck. Killian shudders at the thought of her kissing him there. It’s not until she removes her hand when he realizes he’s bleeding.

“I need to borrow your flask,” she says, holding out her hand.

Killian cocks a brow at her boldness. “Love, trying to take a pirate’s rum is a way to get yourself killed.”

Emma rolls her eyes and shakes her head, offering a tight-lipped smile. “If you were going to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”

“Fair point,” he chuckles and hands her the flask.

Before he realizes what Emma’s doing, there’s a splattering of rum on his neck and a sting so strong, he hisses and tries to pull away from Emma.

“You’re hurt. Don’t move,” she murmurs and cleans up the wound. Her face is so close to his, he can feel her breath on his skin. He looks up, trying to ignore how warm and soothing her hands are and how they scorch his skin. It’s been a long time since he’s actually enjoyed the touch of a woman.

“You seem to know what you’re doing, love. You took care of my men without batting an eye at the blood.”

“You forget that I live in the same kingdom as the Evil Queen,” she replies gravely, her eyes still focused on her task. “My parents and I have cleaned up many of her bloody messes before. She leaves innocent townfolk either injured or dead wherever she goes.”

“That much I’ve gathered about her. So, tell me something, why would you help me and my crew when we’re sailing to the island of Crete, where we’re selling you to an auction house?”

Emma’s jaw twitches as she looks up from her task to glare at him. “Because my parents didn’t raise an ingrate wretch. Your crew has shown me kindness and hospitality on your ship and I am grateful for that.” 

When Emma’s finished dressing his wound, she hands him his flask, her eyes flicking to his. “All done.”

“Thank you, love,” he says appreciatively, offering a small smile. “You’ve been a lot of help.”

She arches a brow. “So, does that mean you’ll keep me on as a permanent crew member?”

His eyes darken at her question, a solemn look clouding his features. “The Jolly is no place for a woman, love.” He turns around and walks away from her, heading for the cabin door.

“Why not?” she demands stubbornly. “Because of what happened to Milah?”

Killian stops dead in his tracks and closes his eyes, sadness and anger coursing through him. Though he’d gotten his revenge on Rumple, it didn’t make Killian feel any better.

“I found her drawings in the desk drawer, all of them signed by her.”

Killian takes a deep breath, drawing the courage to face Emma again. He turns around slowly, seeing the way Emma looks at him. Not with sympathy, but with a steely look embedded in her lovely features. “She would still be alive if I had never allowed her on this ship, Emma.”

“Hook, you can’t blame yourself for her death. Rumple is the one who took her life, not you.” Emma steps toward him, speaking gently. “You want me to believe you’re only a dirty pirate, but I can see a goodness in you. You loved Milah, you loved her deeply, which means you’re capable of love. You’re capable of being more than a murderous pirate.”

Killian looks at her in awe. “How can you be so sure?” he asks bitterly. “You know the things I’ve done, you know I’m about to sell you off and yet you stand here and tell me I’m capable of being a good man?”

She offers him a small smile. “You’re not the only one who can read people. I just hope one day you’ll realize the type of man you can be. I hope that one day you can find your way again.” With that, she leaves him to ponder his thoughts.

Later that night, he can’t sleep. In fact, he can’t sleep for the next three nights, and the night before they are to arrive in Crete, his mind weighs heavy with regret. He doesn’t wish to send the princess away. He’d even go so far as to say he’ll miss her when she’s gone. But he’d never tell her that. The more distance he can put between her and himself, the better.

From where he lays in his hammock, he can hear Emma huff out a sigh of frustration and hears her shifting in bed, although she’s unable to roll over because she’s tied to the bed. She’s proved to him she’s capable of wielding a sword and he wouldn’t blame her if she tried to kill him in his sleep.

“Can’t sleep, either, love?”

“Tomorrow I’ll be sold as a slave. What do you think?”

“Fair enough,” he sighs. 

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“Because I’m the pirate who will be responsible for selling you off as a slave.”

There’s a moment of silence after that, and Killian slowly climbs out of the hammock, walks over to his bed and begins untying the ropes from Emma’s wrists. 

Even through the darkness, he can see her eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re so sure I won’t kill you in your sleep, huh?”

Killian chuckles. “If you did, it’d be quite ironic—the only person I’ve ever spared is the one to kill me. At this point, I wouldn’t blame you, love. Besides, something tells me it will be a sleepless night for both of us.” Once her hands are free, he soothes his fingers over the inside of her wrists, pressing his lips to each one. Emma’s breath catches and she watches him intently.

“Care for some rum?”

“Please,” Emma replies, practically begging for it.

So he fetches his refilled flask and they both make their way topside. Sitting on the deck and leaning back against the railing, they take turns drinking from the flask.

“So, tell me about Milah,” Emma says, passing him the rum.

Killian is hesitant at first, but with the alcohol flowing through his system and the position he’s in, the position he’s put Emma in, he lets himself be open with her. More open than he’s been with anyone in a long time. The most open he’s been since Milah. And before she came into his life, Liam.

After Killian divulges the painful memories of his past, the conversation flows more easily. They chat about everything. Emma tells him about her life in the palace and he tells her about his adventures at sea. They share a few laughs and they exchange a few smiles, both happy and sad, and a few soft caresses of the cheek that almost lead to a kiss, but Killian refuses to let it get that far. So instead he drops a kiss to the top of her head and lets her rest her head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around her. 

He can’t help but think how twisted the set of circumstances are. She tended to his wounds, she confided in him and now she finds comfort in him. She trusts him. Even with the knowledge that he’s selling her tomorrow. After her first couple of days aboard his ship, she has been nothing but helpful and kind and compassionate. And as much as he hates to admit this, he’d be a bloody fool to get rid of her. 

Killian looks up to the stars again and makes a wish. This time, he wishes nothing for himself. He deserves nothing this life has to offer. No, what he wishes is for Emma to find happiness. He wishes for her to find something that will permanently take away the sadness from her eyes. Perhaps someone.

~*~

Emma wakes to the bright sun streaming through the window, and she stretches her limbs, taking a moment for her brain to wake when she realizes something. Make that two things. One, her wrists aren't tied to the bed, and two, she’s still on the ship. They were scheduled to arrive in Crete at dawn. And it’s well after dawn. Emma can tell by how big and bright the sun is over the horizon. Emma gets out of bed and retrieves Killian’s compass from his desk to look at it. They’re not even heading toward Crete. They're going the opposite way. Emma’s completely baffled and confused as she goes up to the deck and finds Killian at the helm. 

“Hook, where are we going?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s not sure why she is irritated, because they haven’t arrived in Crete, but she needs to know what's going on before she can think about getting her hopes up. “We’re not docked in Crete as you had planned.”

Killian shrugs without even turning his head to look at her. “We’ll be docking soon, but not in Crete.” 

“Then where are we docking?” 

“We’re stocking up on supplies…” He turns his head to look at her, donning a grin, “and you’re getting some proper clothes.”

“Proper clothes for what?”

“Clothes that will fit you, love. If you’re going to be a permanent crewmember on my ship, you will need your own clothes.” He turns away from her to continue manning the wheel. “That is if you can handle it.”

Emma scoffs and places her hands on her hips. “I can handle it. I’ve been trying to tell you that all along.”

He sighs and looks at her, guilt and regret flickering in his eyes as he turns around to approach her. “I know that. I’ve just been too stubborn to listen.”

Emma snorts. “I could've told you that.” 

He flashes a sarcastic smirk and steps into her space, cocking his head to the side. “So what do you say, are you in or are you out?”

She smiles big and wide and launches herself at Killian, throwing her arms around him. “I’m in.” 

Once the shock he feels from her embrace subsides, he smiles weakly and wraps his arms around her, stroking his hand through her hair. “In that case, welcome to the crew, love. Now you’re a true member of the Jolly Roger.”

“Thank you,” she whispers in his ear, squeezing him tightly, “for everything.”

“No need to thank me, Emma,” he murmurs, relishing in the feel of her body pressed against his. But the hug ends too quickly and soon she’s pulling away, leaving him shivering from the loss of her warmth.

Killian informs the others of the new addition and after stocking up on supplies, they celebrate with lots of rum and teach Emma some sea shanties and folksongs. 

“So, you lied to her and yourself,” Smee says to him later that night. They’re watching as Emma laughs and socializes with the other crew members. 

Killian turns his head to frown at him. Smee is the only man Killian would allow to still have his tongue intact after expelling such an accusation. “What do you mean?”

Smee offers him a small smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I think we both know why you let her stay, even if you won't admit it.” He leaves Killian to consider his statement. 

He knows Smee is right, but he’s also right about another thing—Killian will never admit the real reason why he wanted Emma to stay.

~*~

“Bloody hell...” 

Emma smirks, her cheeks tinting with blush as he walks into the cabin. “I take it you like how I look?”

Killian can’t even begin to answer, his eyes still navigating over her form and her curves, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth. She’s wearing long leather boots, red leather pants and a fitted top with a wide belt that accentuates her breasts. She’d bought the clothes when they had docked to stock up on supplies.

“How do you expect me to captain a ship with you dressed like that?”

Emma shrugs, a sly smirk curving her lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

She leaves the cabin, and he has to pick his jaw up off the floor before he can join his crew on deck. As much of a distraction as she is, he knows he made the right decision to keep her on board.

Later that night, Killian lays in the hammock and Emma takes his bed as usual. He thought he’d be able to sleep that night, but he struggles once again. He almost made a huge mistake, he almost sold her into slavery. How would he have ever forgiven himself? His heart aches at the thought. He’d prefer to say he doesn’t know why he changed his mind, but that would be a lie. He knows exactly why.

“You know, you don’t have to sleep in the hammock anymore. There’s room in the bed.”

Emma’s voice surprises him. He thought she was sleeping peacefully. He cocks a brow and turns his head to look at her from across the cabin. “You’re asking me to join you in bed?”

She props herself up on her elbows so she can see him. “Why not? It’s your bed.”

Killian is a little bewildered and a bit hesitant, but he climbs out of the hammock and strides over to the bed, slipping under the covers. Emma turns on her side, laying her head on the pillow as he stares up at the ceiling. 

“Tell me something, Captain.”

He turns his head to look at her, offering a warm smile. He’s tempted to wrap her up in his arms, but he doesn't want to risk losing his spot next to her. He’s not sure how she would react to such a move. “Call me Killian, love.”

“Killian?” 

The sound of his name rolling off her tongue is decadent, even better than her calling him captain. There’s something much more intimate about Emma calling him by his real name. He has to pause his thoughts for the moment as she stares at him inquisitively.

“What would you like to know?”

She’s silent for a moment as she bites her bottom lip, mulling over her thoughts. “Why didn’t you kill me that night?”

Ah, he should’ve known his original answer wouldn’t be sufficient for her. She is a stubborn lass after all. “Because I’m a pirate, love. I knew I could make additional gold by selling you.”

Emma nods against the pillow. “Mmhmm, that’s what a pirate would say, for sure. So, what’s the real reason?”

Killian lets out a depleted sigh. He also should have known she’s no imbecile. Lying to her is futile. “Because, love, when I saw you in the tavern, you reminded me of someone.”

“Who?”

He gazes into her eyes through the dark, the moonlight providing the cabin with a silver light that spills over the side of her delicate face. Her green eyes shimmer through the darkness and pierce through his damaged soul. “Me,” he answers in a husky, barely audible whisper. 

Emma’s brows furrow with confusion. Then comes the question he knew she would eventually ask him. “So, why didn’t you sell me?”

“Because I knew you were more useful as a pirate on my ship.”

Emma frowns at him in an attempt to pry the truth out of him with a single look.

“Love, if you’re trying to prove that I'm a good man, you're wasting your breath.”

“Why’s that?” she challenges. 

Stubborn lass.

He looks away from her again to avoid her intense gaze. “Because my reasons for keeping you aboard the Jolly are purely selfish,” he admits with a heavy sigh. 

“And how’s that?”

Killian drags a hand over his face. He knows she won't stop questioning him until she gets every ounce of truth from him. He drops his hand to his side and inhales a deep breath before turning on his side to face her. She waits silently and patiently for his answer and he can’t help but bring his hand to her delicate cheek to stroke her soft skin. “Because everyone I have ever cared about is gone. I can’t lose one more person I love.”

Emma is still silent, her mouth opening slightly, but no words form for a whole minute.

“Well, now I know how to silence you,” he teases with a smirk.

“You love me?” she asks, ignoring his joke.

“Aye.” 

His confession surprises her. Hell, his confession surprises himself. He would like to say he’s done a very good job at hiding how he feels about her; at first, he was too afraid to allow himself to feel something for her, but at the end of the day he knows Emma is precious to him. More precious than any gold or jewels or treasure chests. Probably even more precious than the Jolly. He cares about her too much to deny his love for her.

Emma doesn’t respond after that, at least not verbally, and maybe she doesn’t love him yet, but her eyes say much more than her words ever could. And her actions do too when she grabs onto his shirt collar before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It lasts for a few seconds, or at least he thinks. He can’t register the passage of time as his mind clouds over from the feel of her soft lips on his. Killian is sure he looks dumbfounded as he stares at her and tries to process what had just happened. She kissed him and he’s not sure what he did to deserve her affection. 

His thoughts are interrupted when Emma seals his lips with hers again, combing her fingers through his hair, and his brain turns to mush. His eyes flutter shut as he moves his lips against hers and slides his hand under her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin. He wraps his free arm around her waist, pulling her in and closing the gap between their bodies. He wishes he had his other hand right now so he could grasp onto her hip and stroke her curves, but he really is not in a position to complain when Emma makes no effort to pull away or shove him away in regret and instead deepens the kiss by sweetly darting a shy tongue between his lips. He parts his mouth, granting her access as he emits a deep, approving groan, and sweeps his tongue into her mouth, getting lost in how sweet and decadent she tastes.

The kiss quickly heats up, he just doesn’t realize to what extent until she’s climbing on top of him and straddling him. She leans over to kiss him again, but Killian pushes her away slightly, gazing up at her with a confused expression. “Emma…” he manages, trying to catch his breath. “What are you doing?” He knows exactly what she’s doing, judging by her lustful stare and the way she drags her center against his throbbing erection. And it’s not that he doesn’t want this. He just doesn’t want Emma to regret anything in the morning.    

Emma answers by removing her nightgown and tossing it to the floor. Killian groans as his eyes drink in her beautiful naked form, his manhood hardening even more under her entrance. 

“So gorgeous,” he groans and grabs her hip, fighting the urge to fondle her aching, rose-tipped breasts. 

She dons a little, sly smirk and leans in to whisper in his ear. “I want to see if you were right. I want to see if having a lusty young man between my legs will take the sadness from my eyes.”

His heartbeat quickens, breath catching in surprise. He never thought he'd see the day when she'd take him up on his offer. “I'd be happy to show you,” he growls, swiping his tongue over his lips. The smirk she offers him makes his shaft twitch underneath her core.

“Good.”

Her luminous eyes are practically glowing as he slides the curve of his hook along the inside of her thigh and up her toned, cream-colored stomach, trailing it toward the valley of her breasts. He slowly and teasingly circles one of her breasts with the curved steel, delighting in the way her nipples harden at the touch. When he reaches for her other breast with his hand, brushing his thumb over her nipple to feel the lovely, pliable flesh in his palm, she produces a delicious, skin-tingling moan and leans over him, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck, her tongue darting out to lick him, searing his skin like a branding iron. Heat pulsates through him as she unbuttons his shirt and pushes the fabric away so she can nip at his shoulders before kissing slowly down to his chest. He closes his eyes, sighing softly, enjoying the feel of her wicked lips on his skin as he cups the back of her head in his hand, entangling his fingers in her hair.

Needless to say, he doesn't need further convincing. 

And it turns out he was right. 

When she’s in his arms again, both of them panting and sated, he gazes into those soft emerald eyes. They no longer hold the sadness they did when he first laid eyes upon them. She looks content. She looks happy. He'd like to think it’s because of their tryst, but perhaps the sadness had slowly dissipated since the night he’d kidnapped her and took her aboard his ship.

Killian kisses her forehead and laces his fingers through hers, his heartbeat slowly abating as she lays her head on his chest.

To think, when he first saw her, he had been debating with himself about whether or not to carry out the Evil Queen’s orders and snuff the light from Emma’s eyes; now he has snuffed the sadness from them. 

Many moons later the sadness is permanently gone from her eyes when she gazes upon their wee pirate. She cradles Liam in her arms while singing him lullabies her mother had sung to her when she was a young princess. 

Killian’s heart warms at the sight and he presses a gentle kiss to each of their foreheads. Looking to the stars, he thanks each one for the precious gifts he doesn’t even deserve but loves with all his heart nevertheless. 

He had once wished someone would save Emma from himself; who knew she’d save him? Who knew she'd help him find his way again? Now he only wishes to protect her and their son from everyone else.

[wistfulcynic]

Drink the Wild Air (5/?)

IN WHICH the pirate returns after a long absence, smut is smutted, a plan is hatched, and Lieutenant Jones learns what the heck is going on. 

SUMMARY: Once upon a time a princess fell in love with a pirate. This is their story.

A Captain Duckling high-seas adventure tale in which princesses are kidnapped (OR ARE THEY), sea battles are fought, SWASH is BUCKLED and CASTLES are STORMED.

(also EVIL is VANQUISHED and FAMILIES are REUNITED)

For @thisonesatellite​​ (who has been struggling with flames, so she has something swashbuckle-y to wake up to) 

@ohmightydevviepuu​ @katie-dub​​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @kmomof4​ @teamhook​​​ @stahlop​​​ @mariakov81​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @shireness-says​​ @snidgetsafan​​ @xarandomdreamx @winterbaby89​​ @jennjenn615​ @facesiousbutton82​​​

(please do say if you would like a tag or if you would like not a tag)

(Also on AO3) (Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four)

PART THE FIFTH: THE PLAN

With Killian gone Emma’s world felt dull and grey, each day following on from the one before in an endless chain of monotony. In the morning she arose and dressed and ate and performed her royal tasks, maintaining her schedule out of a sense of duty to her parents and her body and her kingdom, though all she truly wished to do was curl up beneath the thick quilts on her bed and never move again. In her mind’s eye she could see her future stretched out before her, flat and featureless as the landscapes of the inland kingdoms, lacking only the husband her parents so wished for her to choose. The thought of living out that life for years, for decades, squeezed her chest in tight bands of panic and the thought of marrying a man who wasn’t Killian—of doing with anyone else the things that they had done together—actually made her skin crawl. 

A lifetime of duty and protocol and decorum. A lifetime of no Killian. No arrogant pirate to challenge her, or to entice her with his wicked grin and his eyes like the sea, cold and sharp until they landed on her and softened into the summer sky. 

She tried to tell herself that they had only spent five days together and that she had lived her life perfectly well, been perfectly content before she met him. But the truth was that he had changed everything for her, and life no longer felt satisfying without him in it. Daily she struggled against the fear that something might happen to him. If he were injured or—her mind shied from the thought—killed, how would she ever know? She would wait for him, for endless days and months and years but he would never return, and she would have no way of knowing what terrible fate had befallen him. 

She wished with increasing sorrow as the weeks wore on that she had told him of her love. If he were to die without ever hearing her say those words, without ever saying them back to her… but she forced that thought from her mind. He wasn’t going to die. He would be back. He’d promised, and she knew with the same certainty that assured her the sun would rise in the east each morning that, pirate or not, Killian Jones was a man of his word. 

As the weeks dragged into months Emma’s moodiness increased, leaving her irritable and snappish one moment and utterly listless the next. Her parents didn’t pry but she could tell they were deeply concerned. She felt their worried gazes on her when she spoke sharply to the royal ministers, saw the glances they exchanged at the dinner table when she picked at the food she used to love and the anxious way they frowned when they found her wandering aimlessly through the palace or standing for long hours at her window, staring out at the sea. They each found little ways to show her their support, from the fresh flowers her mother ensured were always in her bedchamber to her father’s overly-jovial insistence that she keep up her sword training with him so as not to fall out of practice. Emma made a show of protest but deep down she treasured their efforts, and their patience, and the way they always made sure she felt the strength of their love surrounding her. 

Until the day they didn’t. 

~

Six months after she had sailed from Misthaven, the Jolly Roger and her crew returned. As the harbour came into view over the horizon, Killian forced himself to appear calm, to perform his duties and command his crew as they expected, in defiance of the nervous anxiety clawing at his chest. The past half year had been the longest of his life, every spare moment of it filled with thoughts of Emma and every night haunted by dreams of her. More times than he could count he had relived their single night together, alone and aching in his bunk, and in his dreams his imagination had roamed free, into places they had never been together, acts they had yet to perform. When his ship was in port he found he could no longer bear the noise and hearty genial atmosphere of the taverns, could not even feign an interest in the drinking and wenching that he’d once so enjoyed. He found himself slipping away earlier and earlier, back to the ship to sip his rum alone and torture himself with thoughts of the only woman he wanted, leaving Smee to smooth things over with the crew. Smee alone knew the true identity of the supposed tavern wench he had dallied with in Misthaven, and only Smee knew the depth of Killian’s feelings for her. He knew he could trust Smee, both the man’s loyalty and his fear of his captain’s wrath to keep that secret safe. 

If only he could be as sure of Emma. The closer they got to Misthaven the more Killian’s anxiety grew, tightening the knot in his chest to an unbearable tension. How would she feel about the way he’d left her while she slept, sneaking away without a goodbye? He’d thought only to spare her the heartache of a drawn-out farewell—spare them both, if he was honest—but what if she were angry with him, or worse, hurt by what he’d done. His nightmares were plagued with horror scenarios: she was betrothed, she was already married, she was too furious to speak to him, but the very worst he could imagine was that she was hurt, suffering from something he had done. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

His fingers gripped the ship’s wheel as they drew closer to the harbour, their knuckles glaringly white against the deep red stones in his rings. They must be visible from Emma’s window now, he thought. Had she seen them yet? What was she thinking? What would she do? 

He forced himself to focus on his tasks until the ship was securely docked and most of his crew disembarked, off to seek their own adventures with their own women. Standing at the top of the gangplank with his heart in his throat he scanned the crowd, swallowing bitter disappointment when he caught no glimpse of her among it. His eyes dropped—and met those of his princess (Not yours, mate, he told himself firmly, and tried to believe it) standing right below him at the foot of the gangplank, smiling brightly as he hurried down to meet her, with an eager tension in her posture that said she wanted to throw herself into his arms nearly as much as he wanted to catch her in them. He felt the fear that she would hate him drain away, replaced by a different sort of tightness. 

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing to her. 

“Captain.” Her hands were clasped tightly, fingers twisting. “I missed you,” she blurted, then flushed. 

He thought his grin would crack his face. “I missed you too,” he replied, halting with a good foot of space remaining between them and just drinking her in. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, the morning sunlight caressing her face and glinting through the few strands of hair visible beneath the hood of her cloak, and his fingers itched to touch her. But the docks were heaving and bustling with people, decidedly not the place for the reunion he wanted. He didn’t trust himself to get any closer. 

She seemed to have the same thought. “Can we— is there anywhere we can go?” she asked. “Somewhere private.” 

Killian looked around. His crew had disembarked, everyone save the few would remain to guard the ship, leaving the Jolly Roger all but empty. Did he dare to bring Emma there, to the one place he most longed to show her? He turned back to find her biting her lip as her eyes devoured him and he swallowed a groan.“There’s my cabin.” 

She smiled, relieved and excited and vibrating with the same nervous energy he felt. “That’s perfect.” 

He returned her smile and held out his hand, gasping at the hiss of sensation when their fingers met. The idea of her in his cabin, in the very room where he had spent half a year missing her and dreaming about her made his hands shake and his heart pound, and he had to force himself not to drag her straight there. Instead he gave her a tour of his ship, enjoying the light of interest in her eyes and the way her fingers curled around his until finally he led her into his cabin. 

The moment the door closed behind them she was in his arms, her fingers gripping the lapels of his coat as her mouth pressed against his, hot and desperate. He groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling her as close as she could get, his tongue in her mouth sliding against hers until he feared he might perish from the overwhelming rush of lust and love and the sheer joy of being with her again. 

After a long moment they broke apart, gasping for air, pressing their foreheads together as she cupped his face in her hands. 

“I love you,” she said fiercely. “I should have said it before. When you were gone it felt like half of me was missing, and I love you so mu—” 

He swallowed the rest of her words with a frantic kiss. “I love you too,” he murmured against her lips. “Oh, Emma—” He broke off on an aching moan as she hooked her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers and pulled his hips into hers. 

There was no fumbling or hesitation this time as they slipped the clothes from each other’s bodies, chasing each garment with kisses and soft touches, the press of their skin together, their gasps and moans driving them higher until Emma gripped Killian’s shoulders with desperate fingers.  

“Please,” she said. “I want—I want to—” she made a frustrated gesture and he smiled. 

“We’re going to have to work on your vocabulary, love. For now…” he pulled her down onto his bed, lying on his back and encouraging her up to straddle his hips. “Take it away, darling.” 

Her eyes went wide. “Really? I can…”  

“Aye.” He nodded. “Whatever you like. I’m entirely at your mercy.” 

She trailed her fingers down his chest, swirling them through the thick hair. “I love this,” she whispered. “It’s softer than it looks and it feels so good against—” she flushed. 

“Against your nipples,” he supplied and she nodded. 

“Against my nipples.” She let her thumbs caress his. “Are they called the same on you?” 

“Aye.” 

“And this?” She reached down and closed her hand around him, squeezing gently. “It’s so hard, but the skin is soft. What’s it called?” 

“It has many names. The correct anatomical term is ‘penis.’” 

She gave a small laugh and shook her head. “How do you know this?” 

“You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy.” 

 He held his breath as her fingertips caressed him, letting her explore at her own pace despite the frantic pounding of his blood. 

“So what other names does it have?”

“Oh, all manner of them. Willy, prick, knob, pecker… but my favourite is cock. Simple, straightforward. To the point.” 

She nodded. “Cock,” she repeated, the word somehow sweet and lovely falling from her lips. “And what about my… parts? What are they called?”

“They are also known by many names. This—” he stroked her with his thumb, making her jump and gasp “—is your clitoris. It guards the entrance to your vagina.” He slid a finger inside her and she sighed, pressing herself against this hand. “Those are the anatomical terms.” 

“And the —oh, yes— the others?” 

“Pussy,” he whispered, stroking her more firmly. “Fanny, muff. Lady garden.”

She made a choked noise, half giggle, half moan. “Isn’t there a simple one? Like… cock.” 

“Aye. The one I prefer is cunt.” 

“Cunt,” she repeated. “And cock. So I can—” she swallowed. “I can take your cock in my cunt. Like this?” She grasped him firmly and lifted her hips. Killian pulled his fingers from her heat and curled them around her waist, guiding her as she slid down onto him. He inhaled sharply when he was fully inside, his hand clenching on her soft skin. 

“Just like that, darling,” he moaned. “Gods, you’re so bloody wet, and hot, and you feel so good around me.” 

“You feel good inside me,” she gasped in reply. “So full… it’s almost too much but also I want more? Do I just?” She rocked her hips experimentally. 

“Aye, love, exactly like that. Find a rhythm that feels good and just fuck me.” 

“Fuck,” she repeated, and he could almost see her filing that word away alongside the others in her clever mind. He had no idea what he could possibly have done in his short life already so drenched in blood and betrayal, to deserve this astounding woman, to know the feeling of her grinding down on his cock with her head thrown back in pleasure, but Killian swore to her and himself and to every deity he could name that he would do whatever it took to be worthy of her. 

Emma quickly found her rhythm, bracing her hands on his legs and arching her back as she rolled her hips and clenched her muscles, and he could tell from her short, breathy moans and the flush on her skin that she was close. He didn’t dare come inside her, however much he longed to, so he pressed his thumb against her pearl—his own favoured name for the clitoris—and rubbed it gently until she cried out in bliss. She slumped against his chest and with a deft twist he rolled her beneath him, adjusted her legs around his waist and fucked deep into her, drawing out her pleasure and ratcheting up his own until with an aching groan he pulled out and spilled his release on the sheets beside her. 

She curled against his chest, almost purring in satisfaction. “Is it always like that?” she asked. 

“No.” He was still trying to catch his breath. “What we have is extraordinary. Or maybe it’s just love.”  

He felt her smile against his skin, and the soft kiss she pressed just beneath his collarbone. He tightened his arms around her and let himself drift halfway between asleep and awake until she spoke again.

“Killian, there’s something I need you to do for me.” 

He blinked himself back into full awareness. “Anything, love.” 

She snorted, most indelicately for a princess. “That’s a bold statement from a man who left me for half a year because his crew was restless,” she retorted. 

“Anything that is reasonably within my power to do, I will do for you,” he amended with a sigh. 

“Well, I think you ought to be able to do this.”  

Her voice was solemn and he heard the worry behind it. Gently he brushed the hair back from her face and tilted her chin until she met his eyes. “What is it, my love?” he asked. “What do you need me to do?” 

Slowly, choosing her words carefully, she told him of her observations, her suspicions, her theories, and what she needed from him. 

He frowned as he considered options, weighed possibilities. “I believe I can obtain what you require,” he said. “But I don’t like the idea of leaving you here, if—” 

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’m nothing but a spoiled and brainless princess, remember? As long as I just keep on doing what I’ve been doing, they won’t suspect a thing.” 

He nodded. “All right. But I can’t go through another separation like the last one, love, with no word between us for months on end. If I’m to do this we must have some means of communication, if I’m far away and you run into danger—” 

A grin spread across her face, a wide, triumphant grin with an edge of wicked. 

“I’ve thought of that already,” she said. “We’ll use my mother’s birds.” 

~

Four months later, Princess Emma of Misthaven disappeared from the palace gardens. No trace of her was ever found.  

---

Lieutenant Jones entered the captain’s quarters and shut the door as instructed, then stood at military attention before the captain and the princess. 

Captain Jones chuckled. “No need for that, lad,” he said. “Have a seat.” He indicated the unoccupied chair opposite where he sat. Lieutenant Jones cast an uncertain glance at the princess, who returned a wide smile. 

“Please sit, Lieutenant Jones,” she said. “We have quite a lot to tell you and believe me, you’ll want to be sitting down for it.” 

Lieutenant Jones sat. 

The captain fixed him with a serious look. “I need to you understand before we begin that nothing we say in this room can ever leave it. Can we trust you to keep everything we discuss today in the strictest confidence?” 

“A-aye, sir.” 

“Be certain, lad. The lives of more than one person may depend on your discretion.” 

Lieutenant Jones hesitated. Loyalty was a thing that meant a great deal to him, and he bestowed it sparingly. He’d had it betrayed once, viciously, and since that day only a handful of people had ever succeeded in earning it. 

He realised with a start that two of those people were currently across the table from him, watching him closely. He nodded. “I’m certain, Captain. Nothing you tell me will go any further.” 

Captain Jones smiled, a smile that said he’d expected nothing less, one that held a hint of pride. He leaned back in his chair. “About a year and a half ago, the king and queen of Misthaven disappeared,” he said.  

“What?” 

“Aye, you may well be astonished.” 

“But how— I’ve heard nothing—”

“You’ve heard nothing of it because they were immediately replaced by extraordinarily well-disguised impostors. No one but their closest companions—or family—would ever spot the difference.” 

“And with them being working royalty, there aren’t many of those,” added Princess Emma. “My parents have many good friends but due to their busy schedules they don’t often see them and it is easy to invent reasons to postpone any potential reunions. The only person who really might notice anything amiss is me. And notice I did.” 

“But—” began Lieutenant Jones, then broke off. 

“Speak your mind, lad,” said the captain. “Any questions you have you must feel free to ask.” 

“But wouldn’t whoever was responsible for their disappearance consider that? That you, Your Highness, would of course recognise that your parents seemed different.” 

“Yes.” She seemed pleased by the question. “Unless the person responsible thought I was nothing but an empty-headed, spoilt princess who cared nothing for anyone but myself.” 

“Who would possibly think that!” Lieutenant Jones was indignant. 

Princess Emma smiled. It wasn’t an altogether pleasant smile. “We have good reason to believe that it was your former employer. Queen Regina.” 

“The Evil Queen!” 

“Indeed. Are you familiar with her history with my parents?” 

“Aye, some of it. Your mother was her stepdaughter and she fought a war to get her kingdom back from the Evil Queen’s control.” 

“Alongside my father,” she confirmed. “Once the war was won they cut Regina off from her magic and banished her to her own small kingdom, hoping that she would have learnt the lesson of her defeat. Apparently she did not. We believe that she has managed to regain her magic and use it to abduct my parents and plant these impostors in their place.” 

Lieutenant Jones frowned. “What would be her aim in doing this?” he asked.  

“To destroy Misthaven from within,” replied the princess. “So that once the kingdom is irretrievably weakened she can step in and take over. If she attacked outright the people and the army would rally in its defence, but if the infrastructure slowly crumbles leaving them miserable and destitute then she can paint her conquest as benevolence and they will welcome her. Or at least, we believe that’s her intention.” 

“Thats— rather a complex plan.” 

“Regina is not a woman who does the straightforward thing,” said Captain Jones drily. “And she’s had quite some time to plot her revenge. This is a plan twenty years in the making.” 

The lieutenant nodded, his brow creased in thought. He ran a hand over his face, stroking the short beard on his chin. Princess Emma’s eyes narrowed but she made no comment. 

“So why are you telling me this?” asked Lieutenant Jones. “I presume you require my assistance but for what?”

“We’re telling you this because Killian and I also have a plan,” the princess replied, smiling down at the captain. “We’re going to rescue my parents. And we need your help.” 

[everlastingcaptainswan]

Loyalty Comes At a Price (2/4)

Enchanted Forest, No Curse AU

Summary: The King and Queen are dead and the kingdom has fallen to the Evil Queen. Emma and her brother, Leo barely made it out alive and now Emma has to turn to mercenaries to regain her throne and quickly learns everything has a price.  

Notes: Hope everyone is having a good weekend! let me know what think of the chapter. :D

FF      Ao3 

Chapter Two: The First Taste of War

The next morning there is palpable tension in the air at breakfast. Maybe it was the sense of impending doom or that fact that this would probably be the last time they would all be in the same place together. Either way there was an uneasy feeling in Emma’s stomach. Before they finish Lance turns to her.

“There is one piece of council business we need to take care of before we leave,” Lance tells her.

“What?” she asks, unsure what they could possibly need to take care of right now.

“You need to choose who will be on your council, officially. The council has to be revised with each monarch,” Lance informs her.

“Oh well of course you, Leo, August can be head knight, Red, and the dwarves,” Emma shrugs, not being able to change much about the council as it stands. The people in this room are the only people she trusts. Everyone besides the mercenaries and Emma stands.

 “Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!” Leo begins chanting and the others join in. Emma swears out of the corner of her eye she can see Killian join in as well.

Not long after they clean up and assemble all their supplies. It doesn’t take them long to set off on their journey to the rest of Killian’s troops. Emma and August manage to fall into step with each other.

“I know you were uneasy about the mercenaries, but I think you're doing the what’s best for the kingdom,” August reassures her.

“Do you think my parents would agree?” She asks, unsure how one of her closest friends knew this was worrying her.

“Maybe not your father, but your mother would.” August says truthfully. It’s always something she admired about him, his sometimes brutal honesty. It was better than any white lie.

“She definitely would, but do you trust them?” She asks as they approach the forest, lowering her voice slightly.

“Ah well trust is earned isn’t it? Currently they’re motivated by money, but they could be good men. My trust isn’t important here,” he shrugs.

“Oh no? Then who’s is?”

“Yours of course. Emma, you have to accept you’re our Queen now.” He lowers his voice, “this will all be difficult, but I wouldn’t want anyone else leading us.”

“I know that! Why does everyone feel the need to tell me that? I know I’m Queen, but I’m also a daughter who just lost her parents. They died less than a month ago. That’s not something you adjust to overnight. Especially when they were murdered and their murderer sits on the throne,” she hisses at him attempting to keep her voice down.

“You two keep up!” Killian shouts from the front of the group. Emma hasn’t even realized that they had fallen behind from the rest of the group. Lance looks back them an eyebrow raised in concern. Emma shakes her head and they catch up to the group.

“I’m sorry. I think we are all so focused on regaining the throne that is rightfully yours that the other details get lost sometimes,” August mutters as they reach the group.

“I understand.” She says curtly, effectively ending the conversation. That night they find a clearing for all of them to sleep next to a stream. Emma is too restless to sleep. She tries for a couple hours before making August give up his guard shift, so she can watch over them. With the steady trickle of the stream behind them and the occasional sound of other animals stirring in the forest it almost feels peaceful, but then Emma remembers what is waiting for her. War and possibly death. It’s mostly anger that courses through her veins keeping her awake. Killian rises from his sleep and looks surprised to see her instead of August.

“What?” She asks, eyebrow raised. Killian sits on a patch of grass next to her.

“Most queens who hire me don’t stay up for guard shifts,” he comments, keeping his voice low as to not wake the others.

“Most don’t know how to handle a sword either,” she snorts, keeping her voice quiet as well.

“This is also true. Why do you?” He asks his curiosity getting the best of him.

“The Evil Queen plagued my parents long before they had me and into my youth. That made them look over their shoulder, made them slightly paranoid but always prepared. When I was old enough to hold a sword, my parents decided I should know how to use it. My mother spent years on the run, and they claimed you never knew what could happen. Also, I never could sit still, so I think my mother thought it would use up some of my endless energy,” she chuckles.

“Did it?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“No, not even close, but it made me strong and able to defend myself when it was needed.” She shrugs.

“My brother would’ve liked you,” he chuckles softly. The sadness and past tense catch her off guard.

“Was he a mercenary with you?” She asks carefully.

“No, he’d probably hate what I am now. We served together in the navy; he was my captain. He was all about honor and duty,” he sighs. The more Emma learns about Commander Jones the more she wants to know. He’s certainly an interesting man.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I wouldn’t worry about what he thinks of what you do. Stories of mercenaries I’ve heard have always made them seem like ruthless, money hungry men and you don’t seem like that, I don’t think he’d hate it as much as you think,” she says kindly.

“What do I seem like then?” His eyes search hers for the answer.

“A man who’s trying his best to use his skill set in this world. A man despite being for hire still believes in good form,” she says softly.

“That’s awfully kind of you, Your Majesty.” He says the slightest blush crossing his cheeks.

“Only my observations,” she says denying his compliment.

“When was the last time you truly slept?” He asks bluntly. She gaps at him slightly before snapping her mouth shut.

“The night before we met and that was only because Granny forced me,” she tells him honestly, why she doesn’t tell him it’s none of his business she’ll never understand. Sleep has evaded her the nights since the siege on the castle, perhaps it was seeing both of her parents’ bodies, perhaps it was the fact that her kingdoms fate now sat squarely on her shoulders.

“Far too long for Misthaven’s Queen. Try and get some rest, Your Majesty. If you truly cannot sleep, I’ll be here to keep you company,” he tells her. There’s something in his eyes telling her that he understands her pain. Perhaps he does after all he’s lost a brother, if she ever lost Leo she could never recover from that kind of pain.

“Fine,” She grumbles somewhat reluctantly. He just nods. Emma carefully makes it back to her cot, looking at the commander one last time before lying down. Perhaps she could trust him, only time will tell. Emma closes her eyes and the sounds of the river carry her off to sleep sooner than she thought possible.

The next morning Emma feels rest for the first time since the mercenaries joined them. The motley group continues their way through the forest and to the coast. The spring is surprisingly warm for this time of year causing Emma and most of the group to shed some of their layers.

However, their warm and peaceful journey comes to an end when arrows fly through the air. One arrow lodged into the tree where Emma’s head was just a moment ago. August tackles Emma to the ground and keeps her down.

“Dammit, August. I can help them,” she practically growls at him, trying to get free.

“I know you can, but the kingdom needs you alive,” he snaps back at her. She turns her head to see Killian fiercely fighting the Black Knight who was advancing toward Leo who was gladly taking out knights with his bow. Emma rolls her eyes the only reason she’s stuck here is because she’s a goddamn woman. She’s tired of this bullshit. She brings one of her legs up between August’s legs. He groans rolling off her.

Emma mumbles her apology before leaping up and fighting the Black Knight closest to her. She easily kills him with a few blows and her sword puncturing the space between his ribs. She helps her knights and the mercenaries take down the Black Knights. Killian and Emma end up back surveying their enemy at one point.

“Not one to shy from a fight I see,” he comments, slightly out of breath.

“Never, Commander. The only person who saves me is me,” she smiles before pushing off of him and charging her next victim. He simply chuckles and shakes his head before joining the fighting once again. It doesn’t take long after that for the last of the Black Knights to be disposed of. All of them stand in forest looking from one to the other slightly out of breath. Emma sets her sight on August before marching over to him.

“This war will take every single one of us to win it. I don’t give a damn what orders Lance has given you regarding my safety. I am your queen and I will not be shoved to the sidelines while my people bleed for me. Does anyone have a problem with that?” Emma turns looking at all of them, none challenges her. Her eyes land on Lancelot her gaze piercing him, making sure he understood she was not some damsel to be pushed to the side.

“Good. Anyone hurt?” She asks. There are a few minor scratches but for the most part they made it through unscathed.

After bandages are applied on those who need them, they continue on. They find another suitable clearing for the night and a few of the men go off to hunt dinner for the group. Lance stays behind and Emma knows he wants to talk to her.

“Don’t punish August for following orders.” Lance says sitting next to her as she starts their fire.

“I think my swift kick between his legs was punishment enough. Lance, we cannot fight a battle amongst ourselves in addition to Regina. I know you think you know what is best for me, but you need to back off. You and father trained me; you know what I am capable of. Also, the people need to see I’m willing to fight for them, for the throne.” Emma says with a sigh.

“It’s about time you told me to fuck off,” he says with a smile. Emma’s jaw clenches.

“This was a test?” Emma asks, annoyed.

“Yes, the transition between rulers is always rocky at first. You didn’t seem ready to take the lead quite yet and we all understood because you’ve been affected by the death of your parents, but you’re right the people need to see you fight for them. I had to push your buttons enough to force you into making some decisions of your own,” he shrugs. Emma would like nothing more to punch him in the face, but she’s knows he’s right. Emma knows pissing her off was probably the quickest way to get her to act.

“Don’t ever do that again. I am this kingdom’s Queen and you never would’ve pulled this shit with my mother. She wouldn’t have tolerated it, and neither will I,” she warns him.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Lance nods, with a prideful smile. Emma shakes her head and gets the kindling to catch at last.

Killian, August and Leo return with a few rabbits for a stew Granny is more than happy to whip up for them.

“Lancelot seems content to push you around,” Killian whispers as they eat dinner.

“He was testing me apparently. I gave him a proper scolding, nonetheless. He acts more like a father than anything else. All is well,” she whispers back.

“Good, you were right earlier,” when she gives him an inquisitive look he continues on, “this war will take all of us. Which brings me to another point. I know you weren’t keen on bribing some of the Evil Queens men, but it could be easier than killing them all.” He says quietly. She shakes her head. She probably couldn’t even pay him, not that he knows that, much less bribe others.

“I don’t think we’ll get far with that,” he looks perplexed by this, “her knights are controlled by her dark magic I don’t think they’ll be persuaded by a sack of gold,” she explains hoping that will throw him off bribing people.

“Ah well that does complicate things quite a bit. We’ll just have to be smart about this then. There are other ways,” he says, and Emma can practically see the gears testing in his head.

“Yes, there are, Commander,” she nods before returning her empty bowl to Granny.

The next day they finally meet up with Will on the outskirts of a seaside village. The mercenary envelopes Killian and Robin as if they were parted for months not a week. Although Emma has noticed the commander and his captains have a brotherhood of sorts one strengthened by battle, she’s sure.

Will leads them to a small camp he has set up a few miles outside of the village. He proceeds to tell him what he has learned in their time apart.

“The Evil Queen by all reports hasn’t spent much time in her newly acquired castle, she’s been searching the countryside for Emma and Leo. She’s furious they made it out alive. Anyone who might have been imprisoned is now dead from her attempting to torture the truth out of them. She hasn’t gone after villagers quite yet, but has promised the people prosperity under her rule. Despite this the people are resistant to her rule as they can be without being killed. There are whispers among the people that they are waiting for their true ruler to take her place on the throne. These whispers have enraged the Evil Queen and made her search for Emma and Leo even more urgent,” Will tells them.  

“Soon she'll try to draw you out by hurting the people when she gets tired of this search. The attack of her Black Knights will give her a clue you’re not content to hide out for the rest of her days,” Lance tells Emma. The group has their eyes on them. Emma nods solemnly.

“You lot have certainly been busy I take it,” Will says with an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Robin shrugs.

“Is the ship ready?” Killian asks Will, who nods.

“Ship?” Leo asks shocked.

“Aye, our forces are hidden about a day’s travel by sea from here,” Killian comments. Emma raises an eyebrow at this. There had been no mention of this.

“Not to worry, Your Majesty. The ship is just to cut down on travel time. This many people on foot takes an awful long time,” he assures her.

“Alright, Commander. Let get moving then,” she nods. Killian turns to Will, “You heard her, get your shit together.” Will grumbles, but quickly rolls up his cot and assembles his small pack. The mercenaries lead the group to a beautiful ship at the docks. It’s quite the vessel.

“The Jolly Roger, Your Majesty.”

“Commander, I believe this takes a crew to sail and there only three of you. I’m assuming you’ll need assistance with your ship,” Emma says as he assists her into the ship.

“If your men wouldn’t mind, it would be greatly appreciated,” he says with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“I’ll gladly lend them for our journey, but they will require some instruction. Misthaven has a strong army, not a navy I’m afraid,” she tells him.

“I suspected as much, Robin, Will, and I can do most of the heavy lifting. We’ll just need a few hands here and there,” he says, “now allow me to lead you to your cabin,” he says offering her his arm. Emma rolls her eyes at his formality, but accepts his arm, nonetheless.

Killian leads her down the hatch, down the stairs and through a dimly lit hallway. They stop at a door which he opens for her. The room has large windows in which the dazzling sunset can be seen through. There is a small bookshelf and bed against one wall, along with a dining table in the middle and a desk in one corner.

“This has to be the captain’s cabin,” she says surprised walking through the space.

“Aye, that it is.” He nods.

“I can’t stay here. This is your cabin,” she says shaking her head.

“Nonsense, I’ll be up most of the night sailing the ship. Someone should have use of this cabin and I can’t have royalty sleeping in the crew’s quarters with the rest of the men,” Killian insists.

“Oh, then where is Leo sleeping? He’s royalty as well,” she crosses her arms, challenging him.

“He has the cabin, next door. Not nearly as nice as this one, but privacy and a better bed than the crew’s quarters,” he says without hesitation as if he was ready for this rebuff.

“Very well then. I never thanked you for when we were attacked you protected Leo. I saw you put yourself between him and danger. It means a lot to me. He’s the only true family I have left,” she says, her voice shaking slightly at the end. She pulls herself together quickly.

“Of course, Your Majesty. You’ve hired me to protect you and fight for you. I also know the pain of losing a brother I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” silence fills the room as they survey each other for a minute, “Now, I have ship to sail. If you are need of anything come find me at once. We should be at my forces by midday tomorrow,” he says quickly.

“Very well, Commander,” she nods, and he makes his way out.

“Will you ever call me Killian?” He asks her, his hand on the handle of the door.

“Not until you call me Emma,” she says with a smirk. He simply shakes his head before leaving the cabin.

Emma gets her few things unpacked in the cabin before heading to the galley to see how Granny and Red are settling in. The ship lurches out of the small bay while Emma is walking, almost causing her to fall over. She’s definitely a little uneasy about being on the ocean.

“Ah there you are. I was beginning to wonder where Commander Jones whisked you off to,” Red says with her wolfish grin.

“No whisking just showed me where my cabin was,” Emma shrugged, and Granny just scoffs.

“Mhm, sure thing,” Red just shakes her head. However, when Red catches a glance at Emma’s face her eyes go wide.

“Are you telling me that you two aren’t...?” Red trails off, shocked.

“Aren’t what?” Emma asks confused, “Why does everyone keep looking at me like that?”

“Red, let her figure it out on her own,” Granny scolds her.

“No, Leo keeps giving me those looks too. I need to know what all these looks are about,” Emma says resisting her urge to stomp her foot.

“Emma, you really haven’t noticed how Commander Jones looks at you?” Red asks softly and Emma blushes at this, “The pheromones are practically rolling off the two of you when you’re in the same room.” Red says with an all-knowing look.

“That is not what is important right now,” Emma says shaking her head. Leo walks in just then.

“What isn’t important?” he asks looking between the three women.

“Emma’s love life,” Granny chuckles before she turns to peel some potatoes for tonight’s dinner. A grin crosses Leo’s face.

“Ah you mean Emma and the commander,” he teases.

“Just stop all of you. We’re in the middle of a war right now. This is not the time for this,” Emma sighs.

“Your mother and father met while your mother was an outlaw, there is no time like the present,” Red shrugs and Leo nods.

“It’s like everyone knows, but the two of you,” Leo snorts.

“Just like your parents then,” Red says with you-know-you-want-him-look. Emma just shakes her head and storms out of the room. Emma is fully aware of how the commander looks at her, sometimes she returns the look. Nothing can come of this. Nothing can come of the stares and the flirting and that almost kiss. She’s fighting with everything she has to get her kingdom back, to avenge her parents’ deaths. There isn’t time for love. Lost in thought she ends up not knowing where she is on the ship. Emma has to wander around for a few minutes before finding a way on deck. Before she can go on deck however, she hears a whispered conversation that causes her to stop in her tracks.

“Killian, I still think this job is a bad idea,” Will says, his voice low.

“I know you do. As I told you we’ll be fine, we always are. Once we’re paid, you’ll forget all about this,” Killian whispers.

“Yeah that’s not the only reward you’ll be getting is it?” Will snaps.

“What the hell are you going on about?” Killian practically hisses at his captain.

“I’ve noticed how close you are with the queen, we all have,” Will scoffs. There’s a moment of silence.

“Close? What on earth are you talking about?” Killian asks.

“Oh, you can’t be that daft,” Robin’s voice interjects, “We’ve all seen you two together. The yearning looks exchanged,” Emma knows she should not be listening to this conversation right now, but she cannot seem to pull herself away.

“There’s not yearning lo-, I- we have more important things to do here,” Killian says quickly before stomping off.

“If we die at the hands of a magic wielding, evil queen all for a dame I’ll come back just to kill him,” Will sighs and Robin just chuckles. The two men walk away, but Emma is rooted to the spot. Was Leo right being Killian and her the last people to notice what was going on between them? Emma shakes her head. Her people need her, they need the rightful Queen. They need a Queen that puts her people’s needs over her own.

Emma manages to find her way back to her own cabin that night and skips dinner all together to avoid Red, which was a mistake because it just makes Red bring her a plate anyway. Her aunt doesn’t say a word, just gives her a smile and the food. Both of which Emma is grateful for. She couldn’t take talking about what is running around in her head right now. After quickly eating Emma falls asleep quickly in the surprisingly soft bed.

When Emma wakes next the sun hasn’t risen yet, but from the shade of the sky, morning cannot be far off. She knows she will not be able to fall asleep again she dresses in a simple dress before going above deck, hoping to catch the sunrise. The only person on deck is Killian. He’s at the helm with the sea breeze in his hair. When he catches her gaze she can’t help, but to move toward him.

“We missed you at dinner, Your Majesty,” he comments as she ascends the stairs to helm.

“I wasn’t feeling well, Red was kind enough to bring me a plate,” she lies, looking around the small platform.

“Are you feeling alright now?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

“Oh yes. I’m afraid I’m not used to being on a ship, just needed to adjust,” she says, not quite a lie, but definitely not the reason why she wasn’t at dinner.

“Happens more often than you think. One of the dwarves was positively green throughout the meal,” Killian chuckles. There’s a moment of silence where they both look out over the horizon. Emma inches toward the helm, toward Killian. She wants to see the ship from his view.

“You’re just in time for the sunrise, Your Majesty,” he says, and she jumps not realizing just how close she had got to him. Her hand was practically brushing his thigh. Emma knows she should move away. Really do anything else, but she can’t seem to help herself.

“Why do you call me that? The real reason please,” she whispers, looking into his deep blue eyes.

“To remind myself that you’re royalty and that there are some things that can never happen, no matter how much I want them to,” he tells her with a certain kind of longing in his eyes. She wants to move closer to him, but his words hit her as hard as any blow could. She turns away from him and grabs the railing of the ship. The sun is peeking over the horizon causing the sky to be a beautiful shade of orange that fades into a light blue.

“Of course, Commander,” she says, not turning back to look at him. Her hand glides over the beautiful wood of the ship as she walks back toward the stairs.

“Why- why do you call me that?” he asks her. On the first step of the stairs she turns back to face him.

“Because I’m stubborn,” she shrugs with a small smile, “It was a beautiful sunrise, Commander.” Emma turns away once again and returns to her cabin.

A couple hours later the ship comes to a complete stop and when Emma looks out the cabin windows, she can only see the cliff side. Curious as to what the commander is up to Emma heads up on deck. All the men including Leo are hard at work and Emma finds Red with a smirk on her face.

“What is going on? Are we there?” Emma asks her.

“No, according to Robin their camp is down the cavern,” Red says pointing to a small passageway nestled in the cliff side. It’s small and rocky, frankly it’s doubtful the ship is going to be able to pass through that. Emma looks to Killian as if he’s a deranged man. Killian just laughs when he catches the look on her face as the ship advances.

“What the fuck?” Emma calls out, raising her hands in defeat. Many of the people on deck who don’t know her are surprised by her profanity. Killian just chuckles at it. Will definitely mutters something along the lines of are you sure she’s the Queen? No one answers him though.

“Not to worry, I’ve done this a few times before, Your Majesty,” Killian calls back. Emma shakes her head, but continues to watch from her spot with Red. It takes almost an hour and all the sails are pulled in. When they somehow manage to maneuver through the cavern without so much as scratching the ship Emma is shocked. The cavern ends and reveals a large, beautiful lake complete with a dock and a few other ships, just waiting to be sailed. Emma is interested in lies past the dock, however. As far as the eye can see there is a camp set up that must hold thousands of men.

“Oh my god,” Emma mumbles under her breath. Red chuckles.

“Lance definitely picked the right man for the job,” Red says in awe and Emma can only nod. After the ship is docked Emma and her group gather all their belongings. Killian comes by the cabin and knocks on the door. Emma ushers him in. She cannot quite place the look on his face, but he’s nervously scratching his ear.

“Commander, what can I do for you?” she asks, carefully keeping an appropriate distance from him.

“I just wanted to warn you about the camp…” he trails off not quite looking at her.

“What about it?” she asks confused.

“Well my men of course obey my every order, but they will not take orders from outside my forces,” Killian says carefully. Understanding dawns on Emma.

“Oh, you’re telling me that your men will not obey my orders,” she says cutting to the chase.

“Yes,” he says a little relieved.

“Of course, they won’t listen to anyone but you otherwise they would not be your forces. Just because I’m royalty doesn’t mean I expect everyone to bow at my feet. Especially those who I have no authority over. Commander, you need not worry about me,” she shakes her head.

“You would be surprised by how other royalty treats my men then,” he sighs.

“Not surprised at all. Appalled by, definitely, but no not surprised,” she scoffs.

“I must say you surprise me at every turn,” he says with something akin to awe in his eyes.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” he chuckles before leaving the cabin. When ready the group gathers on deck. The commander and his captains lead them into the heart of the camp. Killian commands them with grace and dignity. He orders new tents for Emma and the rest of her council. Even Lance looks slightly impressed with the mercenaries set up.

Once set up in Killian’s war tent they begin to strategize once again. Will has the information to better tell what the Evil Queen’s forces and they have to reshape the plans ever so slightly.

“Emma, are you sure you want to do this?” Leo asks her again. Emma’s jaw clenches.

“For the last time yes, I’m sure. I’m going to kill her,” Emma says jaw set. Leo’s disapproval is written all over his face, but he says nothing else. If they’re successful, if she gets on the throne then she’s not sure Leo will ever forgive her for what she has to do, but the fact of the matter is her brother doesn’t have to do it. She does. He can be idealistic, but she doesn’t have that luxury.

A bell tolls throughout the camp and the mercenaries sigh in relief, “That my friends, is the dinner bell. I don’t believe we have anything more to discuss. If there aren’t any objections, we should move out tomorrow,” Killian says looking around the table at all of them.

“I have none. It’s as good of a plan as it’s ever going to be,” Emma says with a tone of finality.

“Good let’s eat. I’m starving,” Will says getting up from the table. They follow the mercenaries to a huge field where all the soldiers are eating, drinking, and talking. A large, long table has been set up for them. Killian sits in the middle of it and directs Emma to sit by his side. Leo sits on her other and the rest of the council finds their seats. Red gives Emma an I-told-you-so look, that Emma ignores.

Once settled in Killian stands with a glass in hand. Immediately every single one of the soldiers falls silent. Their commander has their full undivided attention.

“As I’m sure you’ve heard tomorrow, we will be heading out to fight the Evil Queen,” there is some muttering, but Killian silences them with a look, “She is a terrible plague on this land and thinks she can rule this land. However, she has not met us, our forces, and bravery. We will show her the true power we possess. Rest well tonight for the path to victory will be difficult,” Killian says raising his glass. Everyone follows in pursuit. Once Killian takes his seat once again his men continue eating and talking. Emma stares at him in awe, he’s a natural leader more than he could ever realize. His men respect Killian and follow his commands to the very letter. Emma’s not quite sure how he has managed it, but he has managed it extremely well.

“Something on your mind, Your Majesty?” Killian asks her, breaking her train of thought.

“No, Commander,” Emma says, shaking her head. The rest of dinner is a rather uneventful affair. Red and Emma retire to their tents earlier than the rest of their group. Red slips her arms through Emma’s.

“I won’t push you on the subject of the commander, but I just want to say one last thing. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you fell in love. Your parents would be happy you found someone,” Red says softly. This brings tears to Emma’s eyes, for the simple fact that Red is right. Her parents only ever wanted her to be happy and find a love like they had. She nods, not trusting her own voice. Red squeezes her hand before walking away to her own tent. Emma walks back to her tent, not bothering to wipe away the tears.

The next morning the camp is a flurry of activity as soon as the sun rises. Supplies, food, and most importantly weapons are put into wagons. Emma, Leo, and Lancelot each get a horse for the journey. Killian, Robin, and Will lead their men out of the camp with Emma and her council not far behind them.

The spring day warms rather quickly with the sun beating down on the large traveling group. They don’t stop often because they need to cover as much ground as they can before the Evil Queen’s scouts spot them. Also, there is a lot of ground to cover between the camp and the castle. Later in the afternoon when they come across a large field with a nearby river Killian announces that they will be staying here for the night.

With surprising skill and efficiency, a temporary camp is established by Commander Jones’ men. By sunset Granny and several of the camp mothers are preparing dinner for everyone. To no one’s surprise Killian insists that Emma sit next to him again at dinner. No elegant wood carved table this time, just a spot next to him in the grass.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind, Your Majesty,” he says carefully between bites of the stew.

“Of course, Commander,” she nods, signaling him to continue on.

“Will is still trying to pin down guard schedules and it would be helpful if we could bribe the head guard,” Killian says lowering his voice. Emma raises her eyebrow, not this again. She’s fairly certain she won’t be able to pay him let alone bribe others.

“This again, Commander. With what?” she asks, plainly. He just blinks at her a few times. “I mean I don’t have much to offer them that we don’t absolutely need. Not to mention the moment they get it they will run to the Evil Queen and tell her about our plans, it she doesn’t already know,” Emma says as calmly as she can muster.

“Excuse me what….?” he asks.

“The Evil Queen can remove your heart and crush it, or she can control you. What black magic spell did you think they were under? Do you really think any of her soldiers have their free will?” she asks him with an eyebrow raised. Killian’s jaw clenches.

“I’m not sure what I thought it was, but sure as hell not that!” he practically yells, “that would’ve been helpful to know.” Half of the camp turns their heads to look at them. Emma remains keeps her face emotionless, despite her annoyance at his outburst.

“Let’s talk about this in private,” Emma suggests quietly. Killian nods, before storming off to his tent. Emma suppresses the urge to roll her eyes at his behavior before following him into his tent. Emma remains composed while Killian paces around his tent.

“You didn’t think that was vital to mention when asked about her powers?!?” he asks exasperated.

“I wasn’t alive when she was at the height of her powers and didn’t see this for myself. At the time I forgot she had this power. None of us were omitting this on purpose it was genuine accident. There’s nothing to do, but move on,” Emma snaps at his childish behavior. This certainly catches Killian’s attention.

“Move on? You’ve hired me to protect you and your family. Not only that but to get you back on your throne. I intend to do just that but when information is held back, I can’t do my job properly,” he quips back. Emma glares at him really done with attitude in this moment.

“You’ve made your fucking point and it won’t happen again. We can’t do anything about it now,” she says through her teeth, anger now rolling off of her. The tent flap is pushed open by Lance and when he sees them his eyebrows shoot up.

“Is there a problem here?” He asks automatically defensive. Killian is all too happy to fill him in on what has occurred. Lance glares at him the entire time.

“We all forgot; we all made a mistake. Throwing a tantrum like a child does no one any good now. We face tomorrow better prepared,” Lance practically scolds him. Killian’s jaw drops at this, but he quickly collects himself. Lance looks to Emma to see if she needs him for anything else. Emma simply shakes her head. Lance makes an excuse for leaving before bowing out gracefully.

“One more thing, don’t ever call me out like that again in front of others.” Emma scolds him with her mouth set in a firm line.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. While you lead these men and they follow your every command they’re fighting for what I want, I need them to respect me. They won’t do that with you shouting at me. If you have a problem pull me aside,” she states clearly. He didn’t even think of that that thought never occurred to him.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he nods simply.

“Good.” Emma states before striding out of his tent without another word. Emma rushes to her own tent quickly. Once inside she allows herself to be mad at Killian and herself because even though he was bastard about it, he was right. He needed to know that information. Mistakes like this could take someone else from her life. Someone she loves dearly; she can’t afford to lose anyone else. Not now when there are so few of them to begin with. Lancelot was right tomorrow starts a new day and they will be better prepared than the last. That will have to be enough to keep them alive.

At least Emma hope so because in the hours just before dawn the scouts signal that Regina’s forces are attacking at sunrise.

Their camp breaks out into a flurry of activity as soon as the scouts spread the word. Emma dresses quickly into her black leather pants and white tunic with her chainmail on top. Emma quickly braids her hair to keep it out of her face. As Emma is sheathing her sword into the belt at her waist Leo bursts into her tent. He is dressed similarly to her, but instead of a sword Leo has his bow and quiver strapped to his back.

“Ready? We’re waiting for you,” Leo says a sense of urgency in his voice. Emma nods and they both head out to Killian’s tent.

“I heard you two fought last night,” Leo states, watching his sister to gauge her reaction.

“We did, what of it?” she shrugs, not entirely sure where he is going with this.

“Did you reconcile? Do I need to punch him?” Leo asks her.

“No punching please. We’re fine,” Emma says with a shake of her head before pushing the flap of Killian’s tent back and heading inside.

“Oh, good you’re here,” Killian says as soon as he spots her. His tent is overwhelming to say the least. The tent isn’t that large and many of his men, including Robin and Will are in there, along with her whole council. Robin immediately jumps into his plan for the attack. Leo is going to hide in the surrounding tree line, silently taking people out from afar. Emma pleased with this plan, so she won’t have to worry about him too much and Lance will be with him. August has been ordered to guard her with his life. Although that was something he didn’t need to be ordered to do. Emma is to be near the front, a few lines behind where Killian and his two captains will be. Everything is planned and in place, so in the meantime all they can do is assemble and wait.

Killian pulls her aside once a few people clear from the tent, “I just wanted to be sure that you and I were alright after last night,” he says quietly.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t be. We have bigger problems at the moment, Commander,” she says as casually as she can muster, before walking away to rejoin Leo.

“Oh yeah you two are completely fine,” Leo says his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma says before throwing her braid over her shoulder. Leo rolls his eyes at his sister.

“I don’t buy that for a minute, but when you want to talk, I’m here,” he responds. She nods ever so subtly not wanting to confirm any suspicions he may have about her and Killian.

Not long after Killian signals to them that now is the time to leave. Lance and August approach them. Emma pulls Leo in for hug, “You better come back in one piece understand?” she warns him. He shakes his head as they separate.

“I do,” Leo looks to August, “Nothing better happen to her.”

“I’ll protect her with my life,” he promises. They part ways here, Emma finds it difficult to leave her only living family.

“He’ll be fine stop being a worry wart,” August teases her. She rolls her eyes and playfully shoves his shoulder. They have to move quickly to fall into their place in the line quickly. Marching out to the battle site chosen only takes about fifteen minutes. Just as the sun raises of the horizon, they can finally see the Black Knights marching toward them.

The actual battle is like nothing Emma has ever seen before. It’s bloody, ugly, and chaotic. Emma relishes every second of it. She has one goal the kill any Black Knight that crosses her path and make it out alive. This type of combat spends her heart racing and she feels more alive than she has since the night of the siege. August is never far from her at any given moment. He has taken his orders seriously and will get her out if this alive, come hell or high water.

Despite his determination a few Black Knights get too close to them. They’re outnumbered and August is fighting two at once when Emma doesn’t move out of the way in time and her thigh catches the Black Knight’s sword. She barely feels it and she makes sure to drive her sword through his abdomen before moving on. Maybe it’s the adrenaline and the high of battle, but either way Emma keeps pushing through.

Killian’s men decimate the Black Knights and the fighting finally ends when there are only a few left. Emma is called to the front by Killian to figure out what to do with them.

“Your Majesty,” he gestures to the group of Black Knights in front of them.

“Bring me the one with the least amount of injuries,” she tells him quietly. Killian nods and has one of his men bring forth a young Black Knight, he couldn’t be much more than Leo’s age. The Black Knight is dropped at Emma’s feet on his knees.

“I’m going to let you live if you deliver a message to your queen,” Emma tells him standing tall with regal posture despite the throbbing pain starting in her leg.

“Wha- what’s the message?” the Black Knight gulps, audibly scared.

“You tell the Evil Queen I’m coming for her,” Emma says menacingly, vengeance and rage filling her voice. The terrified Black Knight nods before running away as fast as he can.

“And the rest of them?” Killian asks her. Emma keeps glaring after the Black Knight she sent back waiting for him to disappear from the horizon.

“Kill them all,” she says her face twinging a bit from the pain. Killian gives her a concerned look before passing along her order. His soldiers execute the Black Knights with skill and precision, it’s so quick it’s over in almost a blink of an eye.

When Emma goes to move once again her injured leg almost crumbles beneath her and she has to grip Killian’s shoulder for balance. His eyes glance over her before landing on her leg, his eyes widening.

“Fuck, you’ve been walking around on this?” he asks her, still cursing underneath his breath as she nods. Emma grips his shoulder tightly while he rips some strips of fabric off of his tunic.

“You said you were fine,” August glares at her.

“I was fine when it happened. It started hurting a few minutes ago,” she shrugs. Both men look exasperated with her.

“You’re bleeding,” he ties one of the strips tightly around her leg causing Emma to curse at him, “You’ve got a worse mouth than some of my men.” He teases her and she just shakes her head. Without a word Killian scoops, her into his arms.

“Commander, this is absolutely unnecessary. Put me down at once!” Emma exclaims, thoroughly annoyed by him. His arms just tighten around her.

“You can’t walk, and you had to use me to hold yourself up. With all due respect Your Majesty, no I will not put you down,” he says lifting his eyebrow challenging her. Emma just rolls her eyes at him, knowing better than raising to his bait. Silence stretches out between them as he effortlessly carries her back to camp.

“How did it happen?” he asks her.

“Got cornered by four men. August and I took two each and I just didn’t move out of the way in time,” she explains shaking her head, “I’ve sparred, been in tournaments, and fought for my life when ambushed, but I’ve never been in battle like that before. It’s something else altogether.”

“You never forget your first time on the battlefield,” he tells her with a twinkle in his eye.

“I can’t imagine I could ever forget,” she says quietly. He smirks as they reach the edge of camp. He shouts for someone to send the medic to the Queen’s tent.

Once inside her tent he carefully lies her on the bed. When the medic bursts in Red does as well. Killian raises his eyebrow at the women.

“I could smell her blood the moment you came to the edge of camp,” Ruby whispers to him and he nods. The medic peels back the makeshift bandage Killian tied to her leg. Killian hoovers near Emma’s head.

“I thought we agreed you’d be careful out there,” Red says trying to distract her.

“Yeah well I tried to be, but you know how the Black Knights can ruin any well thought out plan,” Emma says grimacing. The medic pulls out a bottle of rum from her bag. Opening the bottle, she hands it to Emma.

“You’ll want this, I have to stitch you up,” the medic tells her. Emma grimaces, but takes a big swig of the rum before handing it back to the medic.

“Do what you have to,” Emma says lying back on her cot. The medic cuts away her pants, so she has better access to the wound. She pours the rum over the wound and her needle. The sting from the alcohol causes Emma to curse like a sailor again. Without a word or invitation Killian slips his hand into Emma’s just before the medic begins stitching the wound shut. She clenches his hand tightly and lets out another string of curses.

Red can’t help but notice the looks between the two of them or how easily Emma let him grab her hand. Red wishes her niece could see what she and almost everyone else in camp saw, the beginnings of true love. Red has seen true love before, she had watched how Snow and David had struggled in the early days of their love. From what Red could see they would figure out what they felt for each other soon enough.

When the medic is finished with the stitches, she douses the wound with more rum. Emma clenches Killian’s hand tighter. The medic wraps the wound in a bandage and just when she promises to return to clean the wound again Leo and Lance bust through into the tent.

“What the hell?!? I thought she was supposed to be safe!” Leo practically shouts. Killian’s hand slips from Emma’s and he dismisses the medic, who is more than happy to leave.  

“Leo, I’m fine. It was just a flesh wound,” Emma grumbles, wincing a little as she sit up on the cot. Leo ignores her and turns to August.

“You swore to protect her!” he shouts. Before August can respond Emma snaps, “Leo, I knew the risks of going out there. We were cornered I would’ve died without August. Will you calm down?” Leo just stares at her incredulously and she sighs.

“We need a minute, clear the tent, please,” Emma orders everyone out. They all nod and swiftly leave. Leo will not look her in the eye at the moment.

“Will you please come here?” Emma asks annoyed with him. Leo stomps over and sits on the edge of her cot.

“What on earth is the matter?” Emma asks him.

“I don’t- Emma,” he shakes his head, “You’re the only family I have left,” his voice breaking at the end. Emma takes his hand in hers.

“I know, but I promise I’m alright,” she tells him. Leo nods and it takes him a few minutes to get himself together. Once he does Emma tells him to bring back everything else back in. Killian, Lance, August, and Red file back in quietly. Killian fills the others in about the battle and what happened after. Everyone gives their input on their next moves, at some point Robin and Will came in. Emma is frankly exhausted and fighting to keep her head up and her eyes open.

“I have forces that we need to meet with, so we’ll be heading out in the morning,” Killian tells them.

“What about Emma? She can’t travel with that leg,” Lancelot points out. Hearing her name catches her attention.

“She’ll be fine on a horse,” Red waves away the concern and Emma is grateful she didn’t have to be the reason they were stuck here another day.

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, why don’t we call it a night and rest,” Killian suggests. The room agrees much to Emma’s relief. She is about to fall asleep right that very moment. Everyone leaves except for Killian.

“Thank you,” she manages to tell him. He chuckles, “I couldn’t leave a damsel such as yourself in such distress,” he says with a wink. She rolls her eyes at his blatant flirting, it’s just to distract her.

“Goodnight, Commander,” she says with a smile.

“Goodnight, Your Majesty,” he bows ever so slightly before leaving for the night. The Queen is most radiant with that smile on her face. Her beauty is rumored throughout the land and Killian didn’t quite believe it until he saw her. He was blown away by her, not only her beauty, but how she held herself and treated those around her. She’s one of a kind.

[starkxsarcasm]

Meta...ish...sorta

So I have debated writing about this for a while, because it will no doubt be polarizing for a lot of people, but with Infinity War about to come out of DVD,Blu-Ray and that good stuff and having seen a bunch of gifs surrounding this, I feel comfortable stating my thoughts. So just take it how you will and if you agree or disagree, that’s totally fine. But here it goes.

I have such mixed feelings about Tony/Pepper.

Allow me to explain, for this is not a new thing. In fact, I’ve felt this way since the first Iron Man. So let’s start from the beginning.

Iron Man 1

When we are first introduced to Pepper, I was 100% on board. She was classy and sassy, took no shit from anyone and was fiercely loyal to Tony. 

I mean, look at this power girl. She knows Tony has important shit to do and can’t be bothered with awkward breakfasts or underhanded remarks from “Miss Brown” here. So, in the most classiest way, she basically tells her to GTFO, bitch. I loved it!

And then there first interaction. Oh my god, the cuteness!

Like, look at these two! They’re so cute! Pepper being the studious, responsible one, reminding the man-child Tony of all the stuff he has to do, all while Tony playfully flirts with her. Adorableness personified!

I mean, most of them in this movie is just so heartwarming! Tony hearing Pepper call his name while he’s being tortured, Pepper having cried when he came back, the little bicker they had when Tony wouldn't go to the hospital, how she stood by him even after he shut down his weapons manufacturing division when it would’ve been so easy to jump ship, the fun interaction with her helping change his arc reactor. I mean, guys, they were on a roll with this! I loved it!

Then came the first point of contention.

When Pepper finds out what Tony is doing, she tries to stop him and even tries to quit. Now I gave her the benefit of the doubt here, because what Tony was doing was kinda crazy. This was all before SHIELD and the Avengers, so him deciding to just superhero it up was obscenely dangerous. And, to her credit, she listens to him when he explains why he has to do this and does eventually help him download the files and stop Obadiah. All in all, this film was a great set up to their relationship and I so wish it continued on this path. 

But alas, it did not. Then comes Iron Man 2

Iron Man 2

Okay, I’m gonna try not to rant too much on this one, but honestly, this part kinda gets me heated up. So, us as the audience are privy very early on to the fact that Tony is dying from palladium poisoning, spelled out by JARVIS who says, “The device keeping you alive is also killing you.” So like, whoa, holy shit! What’s Tony gonna do now?

So, in comes Pepper! Right off the bat yelling at Tony for donating their art collection.

Okay, fine. That was probably frustrating after all the time Pepper spent curating it, but...does she even stop to question why Tony is doing that? It’s clearly out of character, or else she wouldn’t be so shocked and mad. Remember, this is supposed to be one of the people who knows Tony best and yes, Tony hides his emotions and thoughts really badly, but this is a blatant sign that something is wrong. But her first reaction is to shout at him? Okay, that’s not gonna get him to tell you what’s going on. At all. If anything, it’s gonna make him retreat farther into his shell. 

And another thing that kinda peeves me is she only chills out when Tony promotes her to CEO. Okay, yeah, huge promotion anyone would be happy about, but did she just forget that Tony is acting super out of character? That something might be seriously wrong?

Then the bit where Natasha/Natalie comes in and they sort of fall back into the goofy, cuteness argu-flirting during that scene, so I’m kinda like, “Okay, we’re back on track!”

Then...The Grand Prix

No, no, I’m sorry, but I’m with Tony here. What the hell was he supposed to do? Okay, being in the race was a last minute, reckless move but was he just supposed to run away? Let Vanko cut up more cars and hurt more people? Uh, no. That’s not who Tony is. People were in trouble, he wanted to help. And he gets yelled at for it.

Then the plane ride home.

Ding, ding, ding! Hello! I mean, does this guy need a giant flashing neon sign that reads “I’m not okay”? He is clearly acting super off in this scene, not wanting to go home, wanting to “be healthy” in Venice. He is practically holding himself back from completely losing it in front of her, and she doesn’t even notice? Okay, aftermath of a battle, nerves are frayed, I get it. But come on! It’s plainly obvious!

Hell, the first person Tony opens up to isn’t even Pepper, it’s Rhodey. The guy who realizes, “Hey, Tony is not okay. Let’s put aside all this bureaucracy BS for one second so I can find out what’s going on with my friend.” And him genuinely caring about that let’s Tony open up. Hell, he shows Rhodey the burnt out palladium. And yes, later they fight, but he trusted Rhodey in that moment to let him see him at his weakest.

I’m gonna skip the party scene a bit because I can honestly see both sides. Sure, Tony is acting a bit like a jackass and Pepper is tired, but again, this is still another red flag she just doesn’t catch.

And then the scene that really had me questioning this ship real hard.

Again, I get it I really do. She is frustrated and overworked. We’ve all been there But she doesn’t even try to listen to him. This is Tony Stark we’re talking about, a man who knows how to talk about his feelings about as well as a fish knows how to fly. And here he is, trying to explain everything that’s going on, stammering over his words and trying to explain his side and she just cuts him off, like nothing. This isn’t even an argument at this point, this is just shouting louder than someone else and refusing to hear them. This scene really rubbed me the wrong way. Tony doesn’t have anyone else at this point. Rhodey’s gone, his house is a wreck, Fury is just cryptic. He needs someone. And she just shuts him down, because she’d frustrated. Like, that is just so low to me.

But okay, the movie goes on, they have the battle at the Expo and Tony saves her. Got it, got it. Cool! The interaction on the roof was cool and the kiss was cute, but honestly...it was just more bickering? And the kiss, the more I think about it, doesn’t seem earned after all that’s happened above. 

But okay! Maybe things will be better next movie, right? Wrong!

Iron Man 3

Now, I’m largely skipping The Avengers, because their interactions are limited and, for the most part, kinda cute. Even the little bicker with the 12% comment was kinda light and funny. They really did have nice interactions, cute moments of flirting and it even kinda made me sad that Tony couldn’t connect to Pepper before flying into space. Overall, I have no problem with them in the Avengers. 

That’s not the case in Iron Man 3.

Now this section is largely gonna be void of pictures and too much ranting, because I’ve already gone over my least favorite scene in this meta here: http://starkxsarcasm.tumblr.com/post/169317464612/musings

But I’m still gonna touch on some things. 

Okay, but for real. Can someone explain to me what the fuck is going on here in this scene? Like, honestly. I’m lost. Pepper has just told Happy she’s been batting Killian off with a stick for years because he’s constantly asked her out. I think all girls can relate to that one guy who just won’t take no for an answer, so when I heard her tell Happy this, I was like, “Go, girl! Be that strong woman!”

But oh no, Killian’s turned..hot?! (I used that term loosely, because to me he looks like a bag of unflavored corn chips) But...seriously?! Because he’s cleaned up a bit, you’re suddenly all taken aback and all like, “You look great!” Girl, this was a creepy guy, creeping on you creepily for years! Now you’re letting him touch you and be all flirty without kicking him in the nuts?!

I’m totally on Tony’s side here! He has a right to be jealous, if this is how she acts towards some creep who got a five dollar makeover! To her credit, she turns down his proposal, but then acts all flustered and blushy when he leaves. What the hell, Pepper? What happened to that power girl who told “Miss Brown” to kindly fuck off?

And then the subsequent “I can’t sleep” through “Tinker with that” scene which....*deep breath* Yeah, if you wanna know my feelings on that, read the above linked meta post, because talking about it more is just gonna make me angry.

And, even after all that, even after Tony plainly explains he is not okay, the next scene with Maya is literally just Pepper taking potshots at Tony, calling Maya an “old girlfriend” and arguing with him about all that’s been going on. And yes, Tony was dumb threatening the Mandarin. Yes, Pepper has a right to be freaked out. But honestly, when is enough gonna be enough? He is trying to do the best he can, while also suffering from PTSD. Shouting at him is not going to help! I don’t know how many times I can say that before it sticks. Then the house collapses and she thinks Tony is dead and it’s sadness all around. She gets kidnapped again, Tony has to save her. Fast-forwarding because, again, I largely have no problem with these scenes. I even kinda like the “I got you.” “I got you first” line. 

Then, when Tony finally does come to rescue her, first thing she does is call him a jerk. Um...okay? You’re welcome? He just fought through hell and back to get to you, but sure, “jerk” works, I guess. Then the mad scramble for Tony to go and get her followed by thinking she’s dead. Again, no problem with this bit, but that may be due to RDJ’s phenomenal acting during it, because damn, he sells it. 

And then boom! She’s alive and we get some fairly cool kickass bits from her before it all settles down. Now one line that has always bugged me is the “And all your distractions?” Distractions? Like Tony said at the end, his suits are not distractions, they’re cocoons. When is she going to realize that? Also, no, “So are you going to get help for your PTSD and nightmares?” Nope, just “distractions.”

Not gonna go into Civil War, since Pepper isn’t in it, but if anyone wants to hazard a guess as to why they’re taking a break, *gestures to above text* take your pick!

And now for Homecoming and Infinity War

These I’m combining because the problem I have with the relationship now bleeds into both movies and here it is.

Is it just me or does Pepper seem bizarrely disinterested in marrying and having a family with Tony?

Think about it. When Happy pulls out the ring, she gets this look on her face like, “Uh, excuse me?” That may be from the fact that Happy had been carrying it around so long, sure, but then when Tony tries to defend it, she’s all, “I can think of something better.” Um...ouch.

Then in Infinity War, the line, “If you wanted a kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” Speaking, of course, to his new arc reactor. But...what does that have to do with anything? Pepper, after all this time, is still riding Tony’s ass about being Iron Man and helping save the world and her, and is holding the fact that he wants a kid over his head, almost in revenge. Like, “Well, you chose this, so no kid for you!” And she constantly shoots down talks about a kid and the wedding and just....did you take the ring or not, honey?! What is your issue?

Again, I know this will be polarizing for people, and you’re not stupid or wrong if you like the ship, but guys, I’m gonna be honest. I’m kinda just over it. It started off with such promise and just degraded into unpleasant arguments, ignoring when Tony needs help, and constant “yes, no” backs and forth conversations. 

It’s just not a fun ship for me anymore. I wish it was.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Wait for the Moonrise” (10/10) (au)

Summary:  Emma doesn’t remember who she was before she was found in the woods, but she knows that she has a few close friends, a good job, and a loyal cat that greets her every day when she gets home from work. What she doesn’t know, however, is that her past is about to catch up to her in the strangest of ways. She learns quickly that not everything is as it seems, not even her cat.

Rating: E

Content warnings: smutty smut, brief mentions of the loss of a hand

Chapter specific content warnings: some battle-ish stuff at the start, some more happy smut, and hopefully a satisfying ending.

A/N: Just... all my love. I can’t believe it’s over, and this is the last time you’ll be seeing an update for this story. Out of this world, man. All my love to the team of people that helped me through this, and of course to @clockadile for her lovely artwork. And my eternal love to all of you that read, and left comments, and liked and reblogged, and sent me messages. You guys are rockstars. Thank you! x

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

Catch it on Ao3 or FFN! And catch @clockadile‘s artwork HERE!

Surrounded on all sides by the presence of Dark Ones.

It’s not exactly how Emma would’ve imagined a homecoming, but it’s what she’s getting. Regina is standing steady beside her, holding her arm, but otherwise there’s a fire in her eyes that Emma can’t remember ever seeing in their time as friends.

“You okay?”

“Never better,” the other woman grits out, and there’s an edge that she’s never heard before. Emma raises an eyebrow at her, and the look Regina gives her back is telling more than anything. “Might’ve shaken something loose,” she adds.

When Emma was growing up, stories about her mother’s step-mother were very few and far between. Snow always told the story of how Regina saved her from a runaway horse accident, and how Snow would later betray her on accident by sharing a secret she was never supposed to tell. Emma knew the lore that Snow was framed for Regina’s disappearance when it was thought that Regina killed Snow’s father, and even had to go through high trial for it, but no one could prove anything so the issue was buried and Snow was crowned queen.

Every story about Regina included her fierce tenacity and the strength in her voice, and Emma is seeing all of that right next to her. Her suspicions are further confirmed when the barest hint of a spark emits from Regina’s fingertips. Unlike her own magic, Regina’s is red, reflecting her fiery personality. It’s all extremely fitting to the woman she got to know in Storybrooke.

They both do a visual check of their surroundings. Killian, back to poor Cat, is still trying to pull his leg free from the pile of his clothes. Robin is still mostly unconscious, but he at least winces and curls into a ball, which isn’t the worst sign of life she’s ever seen. They need to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, but being outnumbered is really putting a damper on any possible plan.

All things considered, Emma figures there are worse ways to die. They’re not going down without a fight, and maybe Killian can run away fast enough. Of course, judging by the way he limps his way over to stand by her feet when he’s finally free, maybe that’s not a possibility. She looks down at him, wishing she could remind him how much she loves him one more time, but turns to face the man that got lost in the power of dark magic, and all the entities that came before him.

She and Regina can at least take out a couple of these guys, maybe at least knock Rumplestiltskin out before succumbing to the dark magic that’s building around them. The electric gathering of their powers actually causes the hair on her body to stand on end, and she’s surprised the hair on her head isn’t following suit.

There’s a moment, a locking of eyes, when they make the decision to strike, and she can tell that she and Regina are on the same page. Emma nods, just barely, and Regina mimics her action, and then Emma’s focusing all her energy and emotions into focal points as she was taught during all her training. They make eye contact one more time and each inhale deeply –

Before they can do it, before they can exhale and blast out their magic, there’s a horn from the north. Less than a heartbeat later, there’s a shell horn blast from the beach they just vacated. The Dark Ones all shift, looking towards each call and looking at each other in disbelief. Rumplestiltskin twitches with each call, his eyes hardening and the smile slipping from his face.

Within moments, the circle of dark entities that had surrounded them starts falling apart. Misthaven fairies burst through the trees, taking out as many as they can with the colorful bursts of their fairy dust. From the opposite side, a force of seafolk with their magic bracelets charge in throwing liquid potions, headed by Ursula herself. They all charge fearlessly, grins on their faces as they attack as they’ve always wanted to. They know their best shot at defeating evil is standing in the clearing and that they have nothing to lose at this point.

“This way!” comes a faint yell, and Emma’s breathing speeds up recognizing Liam’s voice in the distance.

With an elated expression, she turns back to Regina, who seems just as surprised as Emma is. Chaos is erupting around them, the seemingly unbreakable enclosure left with holes and pockets, dark entities trying to run, trying to escape from their fate of returning to nothing but dust. “Now!” Emma urges, knowing they have one shot - one chance to catch Rumple while he’s still thrown off guard.

In the middle of the clearing, Rumple is too distracted by the mayhem that surrounds him to notice that Emma and Regina brace themselves and let their magic loose. Twin blasts hit him at the same time: Emma’s white and Regina’s red wrapping around him in tight spirals. He barely has the time to look upset before he crumples to the ground, drained of his magic and incapacitated.

Around them, the dark entities are also dispatched, the last of which are taken down by fairy dusts, sea potions, and a spill of soldiers that break through into the clearing.

Moments later, the whole area goes quiet but for the heavy breathing of exertion from all involved parties. The centuries of dark ones are nothing but memories, and the last one alive is still knocked out on the ground, bound by magic and officially harmless.

Cat lands on the ground a foot away from Emma’s feet, having clearly taken shelter in a tree when the hubbub started. Robin is pushing himself to his feet, aided by Regina, her magic sweeping over him to heal the wounds he sustained from getting smacked against several trees on the route in.

“Sorry for the swift exit earlier. I needed as much time as I could to rally everyone up.” Ursula steps up to Emma, checking her over for wounds as she whistles for two men to lift the former Dark One from the forest floor. “We will deliver him to your parents immediately. From what I’m to understand, they have a special prison ready for him that will hold him even if his magic comes back.”

She moves away just as quickly to supervise, and it’s only when Cat meows at her again that she realizes that this little problem still needs to be figured out. She lifts him up, whispering reassurances that they’ll fix it as soon as she comes back to the clearing, all the while she finally catches her breath. Rumple is revived and then marched past them, and Cat hisses and swats at the man, making sure to use his blunted paw in an extra attempt to tell the man off as he’s lacking the voice to do so.

“By the way,” Emma starts as she holds out a hand to halt their progress. “The details of your stupid curse landed your maid in a crazy house, so suck on that for a little bit.”

The man looks aghast at this news, and he opens his mouth to object or clarify, but before he can utter a single syllable, Emma snaps his fingers and temporarily snaps his mouth shut. Emma does her best to subdue her own chuckling as she turns away from him. Cat gives her a look of fond approval.

As Ursula walks behind the removal of the prisoner, she clicks her tongue. “I’ll be back in a minute to take care of that,” she says as she nods at Cat. He quietly growls to express his feelings on Ursula’s humor about the situation. Emma pauses her attempts to soothe Cat when she hears a voice she’s not heard in a long time.

“Bloody hell, I don’t believe it.” Liam.

Emma turns, her smile tentative and her eyes shining as she looks at the older Jones. “Hi.”

He marches forward, enveloping her in a strong hug and squishing Cat between them in the process. “God, I always hoped… Emma, good god, you’ve changed so much since I saw you last.” He brackets Emma’s shoulders with his hands, holding her at arm’s length and staring as if he can’t believe his eyes. “I need to see to my men, and we need to get you back to the castle as soon as possible. Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, uh.” She hefts Cat a little bit, unsure of how to even begin to explain why she needs a couple more minutes.

“You’ve got a pet. That’s okay, I’m sure your parents will delight in having a cat to wander the halls and catch mice. Poor lad looks like he’s missing a paw.” Liam reaches out to touch the leg in question, but Cat jerks it away, his ears flattening against his head as he backs away from the older Jones’ hand.

Emma definitely can’t help the snort as Cat burrows against her. “Just – Liam, it’s Killian.”

His face goes dead serious at the mention of his brother, his hand hovering above Cat’s head as the feline glares at it with wide eyes. “Is he here? Where is he?”

She looks down at the cat in her arms, and Cat looks at her before looking back at Liam and giving a defeated sounding meow. Liam tilts his head, looking between Emma and Cat and back again, the puzzle pieces all finally connecting in his mind as obvious by the widening of his eyes.

“Oh. Oh my. Well, we’ll…” He stares at Cat some more. Haltingly, he reaches his hand towards Cat again, but retracts it once more.

“So, how about we break this spell?” Ursula says as she finally returns.

“I don’t have to kiss him as a cat, do I?”

Liam’s laugh borders on hysterical as he observes their interaction, and he makes a weak excuse of having to check on his men again before he wanders away between the trees.

The sea witch chuckles, beckoning Emma to follow her as she stoops to pick up Killian’s clothes and leads her to a patch of privacy. Ursula sets down the clothes, indicating that Emma should put Cat as close to them as possible. She waves her hands, a purple inky magic flowing towards Killian, and she edges away from the clearing before Killian is fully restored.

“Nothing I need to see there,” she comments as she waves over her shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”

Emma calls out her thanks as she turns back to Killian, who’s just struggling into his boxer briefs. She doesn’t let him get anything else on for the moment, instead launching herself at him. She smiles wide as she kisses him, making it less a kiss and more a pressing of her smile to his as he wraps his arms around her.

“Welcome home, love,” Killian murmurs when he pulls back. “Now, perhaps I can finish getting dressed. Or would you rather I reunite with my brother for the second time in nothing but my smalls?”

“No, no, please. By all means. Better than being in nothing but your fur again,” she comments, scratching under his chin, laughing high and free as Killian swats her on the behind.

As she wanders the clearing, turning in a circle to occupy herself while he slips into his clothes, Emma realizes he’s right; for the first time in three and a half years, she’s home.

-x-

There are too many thoughts going through Killian’s head for him to really keep any of them straight. One: he’s home, back in his homeland, on his own turf, with the woman he loves holding so tight to his hand that he fears she might break it, but he’ll never tell her so. Two: his brother is but a few paces ahead of him, still yet to actually see him as human, still yet to hear his voice since the day he last bumped heads with him. Three: he’s going to see Emma’s parents for the first time since he left their room in a huff like a child. Four: he idly wonders if Snow still has the ring. Five: he also idly wonders if David will rescind his blessings when he sees what Killian has become.

He stumbles over a tree root, and Emma looks back at him curiously, noting the scowl on his face and asking without words if he’s okay. He nods, trying to wipe his expression clean and smile at her at the same time.

Truth is, he’s not okay. This is the culmination of the last three and a half years and he doesn’t know whether he should be smug or scared.

Scared seems to be the emotion his insides settle on, but he layers on the smarm in hopes of saving face when the king and queen throw him out of the throne room as soon as he enters. Out of nerves, he rubs the curve of his hook against the leg of his trousers. While his clothes are still the ones he wore when he left Storybrooke, and he has the satchel of clothes slung over his shoulder, he was able to retrieve his hook and brace from the chest that Ursula fetched for him. Someone already dispatched with the rest of the items, surely throwing them in a prison cell for him to look at as he’s locked up for treason.

Again, Emma reaches for him and squeezes his hand. They’ve reached the castle gates, and he feels half of his heart settle from coming home. The other half is already calm, already recognizing its home next to him, holding his hand.

Liam is gone from sight by the time they enter, and Killian flinches as the full fanfare is blasted out from the horns as they walk through the corridor into the throne room. The castle residents and employees line the rug that runs the center of the room, and the king and queen are each sitting in their respective thrones. Their hands are clasped in the distance between the seats, but neither of them stay that way for long. As soon as they see Emma, their only daughter, truly striding towards them, they’re both up and off their chairs and rushing forward.

Out of habit, Killian immediately puts his arms behind his back after he sets the satchel by his feet. He’s not sure if the habit is more from his upbringing or from hiding his vacant wrist from others, though. He stops, even as Emma continues forward and runs to them. They make the picture of perfect royal family, and he’s sure he’ll only taint it if he goes closer. Regina comes to stand by his shoulder, looking on at the scene in front of them, with Robin standing just behind her.

“How are you holding up, pirate?” When he turns his head and raises an eyebrow, she just shrugs. “Emma told me as much as she could at breakfast that day. You have the posture of one who is skulking, so I figured that’s what you would be preferred to be addressed as.”

“Hook, I go by Hook to my crew.”

Same as Emma, Regina’s lips quirk up and she snorts once, very elegantly, before trying to stifle it. “Captain Hook?”

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, shooting her a look before he turns and stalks away. He figures that there’s enough commotion in the room that no one will notice him missing, in any case. Using his memory as a guide, he finds the small door at the back corner of the room, ducking through and ending up in a narrow servants’ hall. He means to amble his way back out the doors, honestly, because while he loves Emma and wants nothing more than to be with her, he would never make her choose between him and her family.

He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t notice someone stepping in front of him until he’s already running into him, and he struggles for a second as the arms come around him. He almost buries his hook into the shoulder he can reach but it all hits him at once. The man is Liam, and he is embracing him so hard that Killian is sure he’ll have bruises around his shoulders.

“You stupid bloody arse,” Liam mutters into his shoulder, and Killian is only aware his brother is crying because he can feel the moisture soaking through the collar of his shirt. “Stupid, stupid, telling us you were dead.” He pulls back, his eyes still wet but his face a mixture of heartache and elation. “Come, we have much to talk about, little brother.”

“Younger brother,” Killian automatically snaps back, his voice the same whine as it was all through his adolescence. It’s clearly what Liam was aiming for, as his bark of laughter echoes down the hallway.

“Come this way,” he instructs, leading Killian back to their wing of the castle. Liam walks him through the door to Killian’s old room, which is still exactly the way he left it minus the new hinges. The surfaces are devoid of dust, the bed is freshly made, and there are flowers in a vase by the very window he left through. He wonders just how many flowers have actually sat in that vase since he left. “There’s a matching bouquet in Emma’s quarters,” Liam says softly, noticing exactly where Killian’s gaze is drawn.

“All this time?”

“Every other week, Queen Snow comes in and replaces them, and sees personally to the maintenance of the room.”

“Are these from the meadow?”

Instead of answering, Liam just nods, a small smile left and much more sadness in his eyes. “The whole field has been preserved with magic specifically so she could tend to your rooms.” He pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues. “Brother, I have missed you. At least when you were running from me I knew you were okay, but when you told that boy to inform us of your death, I spent months in mourning. Until one day, I woke up and decided you weren’t really dead.”

“Should’ve known you’d be too clever to fall for it completely,” Killian comments. He tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, but he focuses on the flowers in front of him, careful to keep his eyes clear and his voice steady.

“I followed your stops. I described you to every innkeep and bar wench I could find. I followed you to the End of the World, but the woman I ran into said she’d never met anyone named Killian. Halfway through our conversation, she got whisked away by the devil himself. I entered every port hoping to find your ship, and you alive on it. And after that interaction with the Dark One’s maid, I mentally prepared myself to bring a body home if you hadn’t been dumped at sea. I lost your trail until I ended up in Midas’ kingdom and ran into a little friend you’d made along the way. A mermaid named Ariel was very difficult to convince to tell me you’d seen her, but when I explained I was your brother, she told me you’d confessed that Captain Hook was Killian Jones. And my search renewed. I don’t think I stopped sailing for weeks.”

It’s so much to take in. His brother had gone to the literal ends of the earth for him, trying to find him, never giving up hope. After their last interaction, he assumed it would be to aim again with that cannon, but no, it turns out he just wanted his brother back home.

“I do want you to recall that you shot a cannon at me,” Killian says, as if reminding Liam of this incident will change anything.

“Aye, but you were being a wanker. I pretty much had to.”

Killian snorts, mentally agreeing with his brother but shrugging his shoulders in response.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for neglecting you for so long as my brother.”

“Accepted. I’m sorry for not telling you about Emma and I sooner. And for stealing your prized ship.”

“I hope you’ve kept all my belongings intact.”

“Everything is stowed in the back of the closets in the captain’s quarters. So, Belle got transported a couple months ago. Why did no one ever manage to find Emma?”

“We kept sending bloody emissaries to the land you were in. I had no idea you were a cat that whole time. You’ll have to regale me with those tales once you’ve had a chance to breathe again.” He pauses, barely restraining the snort that he emits. “Tales of tails,” he muses quietly. At the glare Killian shoots his way, he rushes onward. “And tell me about these interesting clothes you’re wearing, as well. And the hook, of course.”

Killian ignores everything else, skipping straight over the cat joke in favor of the first thing Liam said. “Emissaries? When?”

“Shortly after Ariel told us that Ursula had sent you over. We appealed to the giants for beans to send someone over to fetch you, but he never returned.”

Killian turns from the vase, his eyes focusing in confusion on his brother. “And what happened when he never returned?”

“We appealed to the giants for two more beans, and sent two emissaries. After they never returned either, we could only figure they were being captured, or killed. Something was happening to keep our people from finding you and coming back.”

“The portals, they’ve been enchanted to cause memory loss. The Dark One had it rigged so the moment a person went through it, they’d forget who they were. The curse would build fake memories in layers as the person got acclimated. I only avoided all of that by going through the waterways.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. Even if you are a little unkempt for my taste,” the older man says appraisingly. Killian huffs out a laugh, running his hand through the much shorter hair and rubs his neck. He’s a far cry from naval regulations, but he’s not sure he can ever grow his hair that long again, feeling himself a lad if he did. “Okay, I’ve taken up quite a bit of time with you. Let’s get you back to the king and queen so they might give you a proper greeting.”

“Oh, Liam, no –“

“No, they insist. I assure you. I believe the queen has something of yours?”

Killian’s eyes go wide.

“Yes, she kept that, too. And still wants it where her ring currently resides.” Liam gives him a significant look at that comment, and tells Killian he’ll be waiting outside while Killian freshens up.

“Liam, wait.” His brother pauses halfway to the door and turns to him. “There’s one more thing we’ll need to discuss when we have the chance.”

“And that is?”

“It turns out we aren’t orphans after all.”

With wide eyes, Liam turns fully to Killian, his jaw working several times before he’s able to get any words out. “Father?”

“Not lost at sea, apparently. He looks very spry and happy, but he had no idea who I was, so he’ll need to have the curse broken from him. The whole town will. They deserve to know who they are.”

There’s a whole line of emotions that flickers across Liam’s face in the deep breaths that follow Killian’s words. There’s turmoil in his eyes, and a sadness that distinctly reminds Killian of the way his mother looked when she was told that Brennan wouldn’t be returning from his latest voyage. Maybe it’s that last one that hurts the most, because it’s a pain she never should’ve had to go through. This is yet another way that the Dark One injured his family, even if he didn’t know it at the time. He’s even happier now, knowing that man will never tear apart another family.

“I agree, brother. We’ll discuss that more in the morning. I know he’s cursed and all, but this is excellent news.” He beams at Killian, nodding again and taking his leave while Killian turns toward his wash basin.

The chest, it turns out, was delivered right to his room, and while he pulls everything out, he only fastens his earring in place, and slides on a couple of the less ornate rings he acquired during his time as a pirate. His hand glides over the various articles made of leather that wait inside, but he only finds the ribbon he stashed in his coat pocket, sliding it through his fingers before slipping it into a pocket of his jeans. Everything else gets left behind as he uses the lavatory and splashes his face with cool water. He damns the length of time it would take him to rim his eyes in kohl, but shrugs at his reflection before going to join Liam for the walk back to the throne room.

Liam, however, turns towards the king and queen’s private quarters, and Killian knows without a doubt that the first place he sees them again will be the place he last saw them. He has to stop himself from laying his hand over his chest, unable to physically restrain his heart from beating right out of its cavity if it so chooses.

-x-

Everything is a bit of a whirlwind as soon as Emma enters the throne room. Seeing her parents, her mom and dad (funny how Storybrooke left more of an impression than she thought) just ahead of her, all she can do is rush to them. And while there’s still a lag in her memories, so that it doesn’t feel like she’s waited three and a half years for this moment, she also recognizes that it wasn’t just yesterday they last embraced. Snow cries, her chin crumpled and quivering as the tears fall from her eyes, and David cradles the back of her head the way he’s done for as long as she can remember.

After getting to witness the happy reunion, the small crowd in the large room disperses to allow the royal family their privacy. Soon, it’s just her parents in front of her. She looks around to see that Killian has slipped away, but Regina and Robin are still there, awkwardly shuffling and casting quick glances at the guards still at their posts.

As if thinking of the other people in the room brings attention to them, she hears Snow gasp as she looks over Emma’s shoulder.

“Regina?”

“Hi… Snow. Queen Snow.” Regina is stiff, but smiling, and she walks forward a few steps toward the woman now older than she was when she disappeared. “This whole royal business suits you.” She waves her hand to indicate the room they’re in and everything it entails.

“You’re not - are you…?” Snow works to gather her words. “You look so young.”

“That’s what happens when you end up in a cursed town where time stands still for a few decades or so.” She shrugs, shuffling forward a couple more steps. “Look, Snow, we don’t have to stay…”

“Nonsense,” Snow says quickly, striding forward to take Regina’s hands. “I think it’ll do us some good to work this all out. We’ll set you up with rooms in the east wing.” Her statements leave no room for argument, and Regina gives a curt nod, but adds a smile to soften it a bit. “While they set up a room for you, why don’t we all go sit and you can tell us a bit about… everything.”

The reunited royal family makes their way to Snow and David’s quarters, with Emma’s arms looped with theirs, and Regina and Robin close behind. Upon entering their sitting room, she almost cries at the familiar scent, and she knows if she doesn’t keep going, doesn’t keep talking and immersing herself back into this world, that she will break down, but there’s no time for that. And it’s nothing her parents need to witness. Tonight, later tonight, when she’s alone with Killian again, she’ll allow herself the time to process all of it. Provided he doesn’t find a way to flee the castle or something.

“You’re so skinny,” Snow murmurs as she observes Emma wandering around the space. “I mean just, so skinny. Did you ever eat while you were gone?”

“I worked as a cop. I spent a lot of time at the gym and the rest of the time eating pizza.” At their blank looks, she shakes her head and smiles. “You guys would like pizza.”

David makes some soft comment about her referring to them as ‘you guys’ and smiles. “Twenty years of etiquette training down the drain,” he mutters with a fond expression on his face, directed at Emma.

She grins at him in response, wandering wider to look at the flowers her mother has displayed. She can sense the magic on them, and recognizes them from the field that should be barren and cold this time of year. Her fingers glide along a perfectly preserved petal as she sighs.

Even as she strolls about the room, she listens to the conversation her parents have with Regina. They both seem to be handling her reappearance better than she expected. But the former regent makes it perfectly clear almost immediately that decades as Regina in Storybrooke have erased much of the anger and malice that went along with being the Evil Queen in Misthaven. She also makes sure to introduce Robin, who hasn’t quite regained his true memories, but small tidbits keep shining through for him.

“I don’t feel as if I’m home yet, but I’m hoping my former memories will return soon,” he explains. He also tells them that it helps that he was actually transplanted into the fake town only weeks before Killian was, all because he tripped into the wrong place at the wrong time.

It’s not long before a maid comes to inform them that their room is ready, and Snow and David bid the other two goodnight with promises to talk more tomorrow, after everyone has had some rest.

And then, Emma is left alone with her parents.

On the morning she disappeared, Emma wondered a lot of things, the first of which was whether or not she’d ever see her family again. She didn’t have much time to organize the rest of her thoughts because she was immediately thrown through a portal and forgot her whole life roughly three steps later.

“So,” Snow breaks the silence, “tell us what you’ve been up to the last couple years. Memory curse, right? We used to have those around here all the time until Regina – the Evil Queen version of her – disappeared.”

“They’re so confusing,” Emma confesses, having spent a few days with alternating realities battling it out in her mind and memories. “How many sets of memories do you guys have if they were so common?”

Snow and David look at each other, before they look away again in thought. Snow holds up her hands to count on her fingers while David stares at the ceiling, squinting, as if picturing each different lifetime.

“We’ll just assume a lot,” David finally says, especially when Snow looks like she’s contemplating taking off a slipper to keep counting.

Still, it helps that her parents have been through something like this before, so she opens up and tells them about how she ended up in the forest, and how she made friends in town quickly. She tells them about her job and her hobbies and all the idiosyncrasies of Storybrooke, spending a great length of time on things like indoor plumbing and electricity. And grilled cheese, she can’t leave out grilled cheese.

Several times, Emma has to remind herself to sit still, instead of sprawling across the chair like she would if she were in the sheriff’s station. As it is, she spends plenty of time explaining the clothing she’s wearing, telling her parents all about jeans and sweaters. She realizes she looks utterly out of place in this world as she’s dressed right now, but they’re more curious than confused or put off about it.

She tells them all about Cat showing up on her doorstep, and about when he first changed back into Killian, and how the last six months they’d done little else but focus on getting her memories back. She decides it’s better not to tell them what they were doing any time they weren’t focusing on their mission, though.

“How did you remember?” David asks. “There’s not much that can break a memory curse like that.”

“True Love’s Kiss,” Emma tells them, as if there was any doubt it could be anything else.

Snow sighs dreamily. “Sounds awfully familiar, if you ask me.”

The equal amounts of surprise and pride in her parents’ eyes is comforting, and well-timed when there’s a knock on the door. The guard on duty opens it, and Emma’s smile brightens as she sees the Jones brothers on the other side. Liam leads, with Killian ducking behind him, both of them with their hands held behind their backs. Killian’s clothes may be modern, but his mannerisms are the same as ever.

It’s an obvious contrast from the ease of his actions in her apartment. Even when she didn’t know who he was, she was used to the cocky swagger he exhibited in those short bursts of time. Reconciling Captain Hook (which she still has to control herself from laughing about) with Lieutenant Jones is still a little like playing with a paper doll, as far as her memories are concerned. The man that stands behind his brother is more lieutenant, but with prominent facial hair and a nervous scowl if she’s reading him correctly.

“It’s good to see you again, Princess. Would you care to take a walk with me?” Liam doesn’t waste any time, and judging by the ambushed look on Killian’s face, he had no idea this was a plan.

“I’d love to, Commodore.” Emma rises from the chair. She goes over to wish her parents a good night, kissing them both on the cheek and accepting their tight embraces before she moves toward the brothers. She immediately forgets any princess decorum as she reaches for Killian, giving him a solid kiss on the lips and pressing her forehead to his as she tries to instill some of her calm onto him. “I’ll meet you in my quarters in half an hour, okay?” He nods in response, giving her a wan smile as she moves away.

Liam smiles at her, giving a bow and holding out his arm for her to take before they leave the room. It’s only once they’re out of the sitting room and the door is shut behind them, and they’re halfway down the hall when one of them speaks again.

“Do you suppose we’ve just fed him to lions?” Liam questions.

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Guy lost a hand and became a cat and somehow managed to steal the Jewel of the Realm from you,” she jibes. “Pretty sure he can handle his future in-laws.”

Liam laughs as loud as she remembers. “Oh, how I have missed you, Princess. But I must correct you. It’s no longer Commodore. I’ve decided to retire and settle a little bit. Maybe find a life outside the navy.” Now that she gets a good look at him, she realizes he’s not in the regulation navy uniform. Gone are the white trousers and ornate coat. Instead, he’s dressed in plain black breeches and a white shirt, looking more informal than she’s ever seen him before.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’ve been told that I was so focused on my career that I seemed to have forgotten about my family. Since I’ve lost a lot of time with my brother, I want to correct that as much as possible. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll also find a family of my own since my dear brother seems to have found one in you.”

“He would’ve shared with you sooner, you know. But he was so worried you’d think he was throwing away his career.”

“I would’ve. I didn’t understand at the time. I didn’t understand until I was afraid you were both gone from my life forever.” He stops for a moment, turning to her and placing his hands on her upper arms. “As tragic as your kidnapping was, Princess, it helped me see that I was missing too much by being out there. I only worked as hard in the beginning because I wanted to pay your parents for the debt of taking us in. They didn’t have to, but they gave us shelter, they took Killian under their wing, they let us be part of all of your lives.”

Emma moves her hands to clasp his arms at the elbows. “It was just as rich of an experience for me. I’m sure my parents feel the same way, and I wouldn’t be here again if it weren’t for Killian.”

“And I don’t think Killian would be here if it weren’t for you,” he responds without hesitation.

They walk all the way to the other end of the castle, meandering back at a leisurely pace in order to give Killian plenty of time to talk with the king and queen, and since Killian hadn’t had much of a chance to tell Liam about his animal adventures, she gives him little bits of information. Mostly she tells him about how she called him Cat, and that his missing paw went a long way into convincing her that he wasn’t some crazy person spouting nonsense about being her pet.

“Speaking of hands,” Liam adds once they’ve almost reached her quarters. “He does seem to be missing one. But that just means you’ll be offering him one of yours now, yes?”

Emma smiles, deciding not to answer even though Liam clearly knows she’ll say yes if Killian asks. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Goodnight, Princess. By the way, you should know I’ll be on duty as guard for the first half of the night. I want to make sure neither of you go anywhere after we’ve just gotten you back.” He smiles to show he’s joking, but then he purses his lips a little. “But I’ll be way down that end. Just in case.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, her smile growing wider as she understands the implications. “Goodnight, Liam.”

He chuckles, even as he walks away.

Entering her room is an otherworldly experience. The quiet and stillness is almost unbearable after having lived with technology and automobiles for the last three years. But everything in the room is pristine, the bed made to her usual specifications. There’s a large vase of flowers on the table by her chaise lounge, and she recognizes almost immediately that they’re the same flowers her mother displays. She admires them for a moment, but moves on in order to do something that’s more important.

Every window, every door to her private terrace, every conceivable entry into the room is swiftly reinforced with magic of her own making. She would’ve been powerless to almost anything the morning she was taken, but now she can ensure that once she and Killian shut the doors for the evening, no one else will be able to even budge a hinge without blaring alarms sounding in the whole castle.

“Thank you, security systems,” she mutters as she draws all the curtains closed and snaps her fingers to light the candles spread throughout the room. She might miss lightbulbs, but there is a charm to being able to light and extinguish any candle with just a small gesture.

Having been promised their privacy, there are no maids to dress her for the evening. It’s fine, though, because what would they do? Strip off her sweater? Peel the jeans from her skin? No, and while it sounds incredibly appealing to leave that job for Killian, she has other ideas. She uses the basin in her washroom to freshen up, tying her hair into a messy bun after she washes her face and brushes her teeth. Then she wanders into her closet and undresses, leaving her modern clothes on the floor for the time being.

Her fingers run along all the different delicate fabrics in her closet. Even the cotton has a better consistency. She passes by each section of gowns and attire, finding her way to the very back and grinning at what she finds. Black corset, with black skirts.

He’ll either love the throwback, or he’ll run screaming from the room. But either way, she has to. She just has to.

-x-

Bloody hell, this is worse than an overnight siege, Killian decides the second Liam asks if Emma would like to go for a walk. He’s just been handed over to something worse than pirates, in his opinion. He’s been fed to the king and queen, holders of his ultimate fate.

He’s being dramatic and he knows it.

They’re all quiet, and he has no idea if they’re waiting for him to speak first, or if he’s going to have to wait ages for them to deem him worthy of their voices. He doesn’t have to wait long; just as he opens his mouth to say anything, David suddenly stands up.

“You stole one of our ships.”

As soon as the clipped words are out of his mouth, Snow sighs. The exasperated noise is one he’s all too familiar with, especially paired with her quiet words of “Oh, David,” that her husband mostly ignores except for the clenching of his jaw.

Killian swallows, glancing between the two of them and taking note of Snow’s encouraging smile before he responds. “I paid for it.”

“You terrorized the rest of my fleet.”

“Not for very long,” Killian counters. It’s not a lie; he did stop antagonizing the Misthaven Navy after the day Liam shot at him.

“We didn’t make unreasonable demands,” David says, his demeanor cracking with the simplicity of the statement.

“Not unreasonable for you, perhaps.”

“But for you? What was so bad about what we were asking you to do? In this family, we work as a team -”

“Aye, a team. And every suggestion I made was thrown out the window before it could be considered. If you haven’t noticed, your majesty, your daughter is back and darkness has been defeated because I followed the path that called to me. My demands were simple. I wanted to be seen as the man that wanted to marry your daughter. Not just another body that served the crown.”

“I didn’t - we never…” David throws his hands in the air and moves away from his usual perch, pacing around to the back of their chairs and back again. “Okay. I’m sorry we ever let you feel that way. But now you’re back. Will you continue your life of piracy?”

Killian considers this statement. He always thought he would bring Emma home and go on his way, thinking she wouldn’t be capable of loving the man he became. Now that she’s back, and she does love him, it’s hard to say what he’ll do with his life.

“I don’t know,” Killian admits. He pulls his arms around to fiddle with his hook. The fact that neither of them even flinch at the metal attached to the brace at the end of his arm is reassuring. “Your majesty, with all respect, a life of taking orders isn’t something I believe myself to be made for anymore. I’m willing to give up the lawless life under very obvious circumstances, but I don’t see myself stepping back into the war room to be your strategist again.”

David grumbles, crossing his arms and wandering to the window to stare out at the darkened courtyard outside.

Snow, who has largely remained silent during this whole exchange, clears her throat to command his attention. “We don’t want to ask you to do anything that isn’t in your heart, Killian. And you’re right, we often set aside your perspective because we were too wrapped up in our own. Sometimes, sharing a heart gets in the way of listening to others,” she admits. David, sighs, moving to stand behind her chair and placing his hands on her shoulders. “You were always like a son to us. Emma would’ve grown up all alone if it weren’t for you, and getting to see you both mature, and then slowly fall in love, was like watching a fairy tale come to life. You still love her?”

“Aye, more now than ever,” Killian admits with no hesitation. The king and queen have a wordless conversation before Snow focuses back on him.

“What we do want,” Snow continues, “is for you to be part of our lives. Now, I believe I have something to return to you.” She stands, coming forward and reaching into her skirts to retrieve a small pouch.

“I kept it polished for you,” she tells him.

“And I made sure she didn’t polish it too much or else the band would be a half moon at this point,” David adds on. A smile is just barely visible in his eyes, just beneath the never ending affection for his wife.

Snow tumbles the ring into his hand from the upturned pouch, and he marvels at how it gleams. Still, after all these years, it looks like the perfect selection for Emma.

“All other discussions can wait until morning,” Snow reminds him as she closes his fingers around the ring. She reaches up and hugs him, her arms just as familiar as he remembers them. “Welcome home,” she whispers once, before she moves away. She reaches for David’s hand as she passes him, squeezing it once and smiling at him before she bids them both goodnight.

Left alone with David, Killian is unsure what to do. He bows, thinking that the king will leave it there, but David moves around the chair that’s standing between them and stops when he’s a yard away from Killian.

“Because I still need to say it, Killian, thank you for bringing Emma back alive. Talk of piracy and stealing ships aside, there’s no way I could ever repay you for that one act.” Without warning, David moves forward and gives Killian a hug. He slaps the former lieutenant on the back a few times before moving away again. “Goodnight, Killian.”

Feeling lighter than he has in years, Killian walks the familiar path from the king and queen’s quarters to Emma’s rooms. He passes Liam on the way, this time not hesitating to initiate a bear hug with him. Even while growing up, he got all his embraces from the staff or the queen, or Emma who hugged him best of all. He’s lost over three years of the ability to hug his brother, on top of all the years Liam wasn’t around.

For some reason, as he eases towards the door at the end of the hall, that’s when the nerves hit. He’s sure the lead in his stomach won’t allow him to move further, but he manages to push open the door, shaking off a chill of magic when he turns to close it. Clearly, Emma is not joking around with security measures this time. He locks the door out of habit, walking through the antechamber and putting out candles as he goes. He enters her bedroom and closes that door, as well, intent on finding Emma.

His attention is immediately brought to the bouquet of flowers on the table, and Killian realizes it’s where the breakfast tray sat the day Emma went missing. He’s just about to fall down another hole of memories and thankfulness for being back, when Emma clears her throat.

It’s like a startling moment of déjà vu, with Emma spread across the comforter, smile in place. Her hair is all pulled up, leaving the lines of her décolletage exposed. She’s in the corset and skirts from their first night together, her legs crossed just so to hide her privates. He bites his lip against the devilish smile he knows is on his face.

“This all seems a bit familiar,” Killian says as he saunters forward. Years of experience don’t have him as shaky or unsure of what to do next, but he wants to let her lead tonight.

“A few things have changed,” Emma responds, smirk in place, fluttering her eyelashes in a coy manner.

She acts demure, but he knows better. “For the love of all the ships in the realm, please tell me you brought condoms back with you.”

Instead of a response, she shifts off the bed, gliding towards him with the sheer shirts swirling around her legs. At the same time, she waves her hand, and a line of the foil packets appears in her hand. “They were stashed in my coat pocket. Just in case.”

“Always good to be prepared for every eventuality.”

“Just kiss me already,” Emma says, chuckling as she does. She twists a hand into the fabric of his waistcoat and pulls him to her, their lips meeting somewhere in the middle as their arms wrap around each other. He turns his hook so it won’t catch on the delicate materials, but doesn’t hesitate to palm her backside, feeling the warmth of her skin just beneath the fabric.

Piece by piece, she strips the clothes from his body, leaving the brace and his boxer-briefs for last. She’s seen him without his brace before; that’s not what bothers him. But this is her first time seeing it on. As if to reassure him, she draws her hands down his arms, linking one hand with his fingers and grasping his hook with the other.

“I love you, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, thankfully no longer Cat.”

He ducks his head to kiss her, something simple and momentary before he responds. “I can confidently say that I love you, Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven, Deputy of Storybrooke.”

Her whole face lights up with her smile, her eyes crinkling as she releases hand and hook so she can pluck at the waistband of his underwear. “How about losing these, and loosening my laces?”

“Surely you secured this with magic, Swan. Why delay by asking for help?” She’s in the process of turning away from him, so he takes advantage to wind his arm around her middle and pull her back to him. “In case I forgot to say so, darling, you look divine in this.” He uses the tip of his hook to draw her hair off her neck, enjoying the way her breath stutters as she shifts into his erection. Her whimpering moans when he kisses down the side of her neck are also pleasurable. The sharp cry of his name with at least three expletives following is the real treasure, though, when he bites and soothes with teeth and tongue.

She loses her patience after that, finding the ties to her skirts and practically ripping them off as she moves far enough away for him to access the back of the corset. He doesn’t tease her any longer, instead pulling at the knot and loosening the laces just enough for her to be able to unclasp it without discomfort.

Emma, he’s forgotten, looks stunning in candlelight. But he gets to remember as they come together again and again, until the flames in the room all extinguish on their own and the only light left comes from what’s left of the fire in the hearth. Only then do they settle, their bodies sated, their adrenaline all spent, and no threats looming over them in the near future.

Killian is jostled awake by movement next to him. Apparently, he’s been a little spoiled by Emma’s memory foam mattress back in Storybrooke. Turns out the land without magic does have a few tricks up its sleeve. It's entirely too early to be awake. The sun isn't yet peeking above the horizon, if the back of his eyelids are anything to go by. A dip in the bed this time is what alerts him to Emma’s movements, and he cracks open an eye to watch her climb from the bed.

“Swan,” he grumbles, trying to reach for her as she stands.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells him, bending to retrieve his shirt from the floor.

“It’s too early. Come back, love.”

“I wanna go down and grab us breakfast. No matter how many times everyone kept telling us that we would talk today, I plan on bringing back enough food so we can barricade that door and stay here for at least a day or two.” As she finishes fastening the buttons, she tosses a saucy look over her shoulder. “I wanna make up for some lost time.” She bends to lift his jeans, but Killian practically leaps from the bed to snatch them up.

“Now, Swan, it’s your first day back to your homeland. Don’t you suppose we should at least swing through and say good morning?” He eases the pants from her hands, anxious to keep the pockets upright as he does so. He half-folds them, placing them down on the chaise before he moves forward to pull her close by tugging the tail of the shirt. “Of course, when you look like that, I’m hesitant to let you leave at all.”

“This early? No one will be up. No one in the kitchen. No one snooping around wondering why I have a beautiful set of teeth marks on my neck that I want to leave for just a little longer before I heal them.”

Releasing the fabric, Killian slides his hand down until it rests at the juncture between her thighs. Emma gasps, pressing closer to him as one of his fingers slide inside her. “I’ll let you go, but in just a moment, and only once I’ve watched you fall apart. Deal?” The words are a husky whisper, delivered straight to her ear, and she shivers against him.

“Hell yeah, it’s a deal.” She yanks his head down none too gently to kiss him again, and it doesn’t take long for her voice to rise in pitch and volume, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she clutches on. He suspects that grip and his left arm clamped around her lower back are the only things keeping her upright. He hopes that no one is still keeping guard down the hall, or that Emma placed some sort of sound-proofing on the barrier she put around the room, as the lack of upstairs and downstairs neighbors allows her the freedom to call his name without restraint, her triumphant call of “Yes!” echoing off the stone walls.

“Okay,” Killian says, still catching his own breath as Emma collapses in his arms, “now we can go get breakfast.”

She laughs in response. “Oh, sure. Now that I’m torn between dragging you back to that bed to sleep off that orgasm or cause a couple more.” She half-heartedly smacks his arm and kisses him soundly once again. “Let me get some pants on or something.”  

The satchel, it turns out, had been delivered to her room, which he failed to notice when he entered the night before. When Emma wanders from the bedroom to find a fresh change of clothes, Killian scoops his jeans from the chaise and slips them on before digging the ring from the pocket. He’s waited three and a half years for this moment. There’s no time like the present.

When Emma walks back in, Killian is on his knee, his eyes trained on the door so as not to be caught off guard. They smile at each other, even with two yards between them.

As they sneak through the halls towards the kitchen, she’s wearing his shirt and his ring. They leave a note for her parents outside her parents’ quarters, addressed to Snow, with her ring inside. The Queen wisely informs everyone that they’ll postpone the homecoming breakfast until the following morning as she slides the peridot back onto her ring finger.

-x-

“What I’m saying is that the Dark One’s memory curse on the town is wearing off, and these people are freaking out.”

They’re all seated around the large table in the war room, with Ursula in attendance to explain the after-effects of finally dispersing the Darkness. It turns out, Ursula has been keeping tabs on Storybrooke for a long time to make sure nothing was going wrong with the Dark One’s cursed town. But like a sea witch, she’s kept all of her information to herself until now.

It’s been three days since they broke Emma’s memory curse, since they defeated the total darkness that was threatening to destroy more and more families. While they’ve been trying to find some semblance of normalcy since returning to Misthaven, it’s clear that they’re not done with Storybrooke yet, just as the town is not done with them. Emma’s thoughts have wandered to the little home she’s grown fond of more times than she can count, lost in the memories of sidewalks beneath her feet, snow catching on her eyelashes under the fairy lights outside Granny’s diner.

“What do you propose we do, have the merfolk bring them all back here in shifts?” This suggestion from Killian isn’t the worst thing Emma’s ever heard, but it’s not exactly the best solution.

“Some of those people have been there for decades,” Regina comments. “Maybe even longer. We questioned Rumplestiltskin about the town, and he says he’s been using it for at least three hundred years. He got mad at a village for making fun of his name, of all things, so he transported the whole thing to this other land.” She rolls her eyes as she talks, clearly expressing her exasperation with cleaning up after this man.

Robin, having regained his own memories, has been instrumental in helping Regina compile all the data on the fake town that has served as its own prison for centuries. “The curse was so layered that it eventually learned on its own. It’s the strangest thing, but if it were younger, they probably would have all transported back automatically once his magic stopped feeding the spell. As it is, the town has become a source of magic on its own, in a land completely devoid of magical sources. The good thing seems to be that portals won’t strip travelers of their memories anymore. We’ll have to send another emissary to be sure, of course.”

“Because magic beans are so easy to come by?” Emma asks skeptically. Last she heard, it takes an arm and a leg to get ahold of one of those. Mentally, she berates herself, and reaches for Killian’s hook on her right. Thoughts of what he’d look like in a soft flannel shirt, a cozy wool sweater, matching socks, run through her head. She glances at him to catch his eye, smiling when he winks at her, and almost misses what her father is saying.

“Actually, portals might be easier than you think. We made a deal with the giants while we were trying to get to Storybrooke. They’re going to open up a trading post. It took a lot of persuading, but we did them a favor by sharing some magic from the fairies with them, so they can come to land and take part in human spoils whenever they’d like. It looks like we’ve found peace in another area of this world.”

“That’s great,” Ursula mentions, probably because that means her human transportation business will finally dwindle again, but she doesn’t stop there. “But if some of these people have been trapped there for centuries, there’s no way they’ll want to return. Storybrooke is the only home they know. Their families are long gone.”

“Well, we could always establish this town as another sector of Misthaven. I know the town, and all the townspeople. I don’t ever remember actually seeing a mayor, which means the chain of command was probably all part of the curse. They’ll need leadership. What else is a defunct regent going to do with her time?” Regina mutters the part, but in that flippant way she’s so good at. “The politics over there work a little differently, but I’d like to return to Storybrooke and run for their mayor.”

Regina and Snow branch off to discuss the fine details of what would go along with mayorship of a town as an extension of Misthaven. If any two people can figure out a good way to make this all work, it’s those two. Weird to think that her mother and step-grandmother have such a relationship and history, when Emma only knew her as her best friend.

The memory of Regina bumping into her in the hallway and claiming they weren’t besties makes her grin, especially since they went right on solidifying their friendship. Perhaps Rumple never anticipated how close they would become, and how instrumental they would both be in his downfall. The idea of Regina leaving, however, almost makes her sad. She wouldn’t expect things to stay the same after the turmoil they’ve all been through, but how is she to go on living in Misthaven when she feels like she belongs somewhere else?

Between the homecoming celebrations and her own quiet time with Killian, talks about what they’ll do now have been sparse, few between, and almost non-existent. She’s not told Killian about how she stares out the windows sometimes and wishes she could pop over to Granny’s and grab a hot chocolate. She actually misses work. Emma knows she’s going to be met with resistance, but the decision is easy for her. “I want to return, too.”

All conversation ceases around her, with every set of eyes turning to stare at her with varying expressions. Her parents look shell-shocked, Regina looks confused, and Killian just looks… well, like he knows exactly where her mind is. This should come as no surprise since he knows her so well.

“But Emma -”

“But nothing,” she cuts off David. “It’s nothing compared to decades or centuries, but I’ve been there for three years. I love my job, I like my friends. My life is there. If magic beans are readily available, then we can visit any time?” It comes out as a question no matter how hard she tries to make it a statement.

“We can?” Killian says, purely to tease. She hasn’t gotten around to telling him just how much she already misses electricity and grilled cheese sandwiches. The cooks tried for her yesterday, but it just wasn’t the same. The easy smile on his face further tells her he already knows, and the usual look in his eyes says he will follow her to the ends of the earth if she asks.

“We can,” she reasserts, moving her hand to squeeze his forearm when he gives her a nod. “And you could visit us,” Emma states, looking at her parents. David, poor David, looks devastated at the idea of his princess leaving again. They just got her back and she’s already talking about leaving. Snow, however, looks like she’s considering it, and Emma knows if she can get her mother on her side, they can both convince her father that it’s a sound idea.

“The sooner we figure this out, the better,” Ursula reminds them. “There are people in that town that are panicking because they want to get home with their families. We need to either get them back to where they belong without draining my resources, or we need to get them calmed down.”

“How about you take us back with you when you go again? I’ll even help make a spell that will use a little less of your own magic so you can transport us easily.” Regina pushes back from the table, standing and preparing to make her accord.

They seal their agreement with a shake of their hands, rather than a signed contract. The fact that deals can be made without there being a hefty price or threat of punishment on the side is probably the best part of Rumplestiltskin being locked up in a magical cage in their dungeons. Once Regina and Robin have left the room to go pack their belongings, Ursula and the rest of the major council disperses, leaving just the king and queen, Emma, and Killian.

There’s a heavy silence over the table, one that makes her think that even if Snow is considering it, her parents aren’t happy that she plans to leave them again. Plus, it means she’s giving up her rights to the throne if she moves to Storybrooke for good. She even has ideas to pitch on how that should be handled, but that’s a conversation for another day.

“We can have the wedding here,” she blurts out. Killian turns and raises an eyebrow at her, but she barrels on. “We haven’t set a date yet, but we can always plan it to take place here. I would never want to deprive you of another big moment in my life, but I really feel like Storybrooke is just…home. I mean, it’s not home. You guys will always be my home home, but I’m comfortable there. I’m happy there. I like having a job and technology and we can visit any time if this bean thing is really going to work out.”

David gets up from his chair, pacing a few times as Emma talks, and then stopping behind Snow’s seat as she finishes. They both stare at her, shifting their eyes minimally to look at Killian as well. Snow tilts her head back to look at David, and he looks down at her, and they do their married-conversation-without-words bit before they look at her again.

“Okay,” they say in unison.

“Go back with Regina and Robin. It’ll probably help to have a member of the current royal family present while everything gets situated, particularly for those from our kingdom,” David tells her.

“We’ll start planning the wedding. We’ll come visit in a few weeks when the first bean crop is ready for harvest so we can deliver some to you,” Snow says. “And try pizza,” she adds with a wide smile, the word sounding weird coming from her mouth.

It’s hard to think she’ll be leaving them again, but hearing Snow say they’ll come visit soon makes her feel like this is the right decision. This is what she wants. And while she hasn’t really talked to Killian about it, she knows that he enjoyed their time in Storybrooke enough to lament the things he’s also missing.

“Will you send word to Regina to wait for us?” Emma asks as she stands from her chair. Behind her, Killian moves his, and comes to stand beside her.

With a gesture, David draws one of the guards from the doors, relaying the message and sending him on his way. “We’ll be there as soon as we can be,” he tells Emma, accepting the hug she offers and holding her tight. He only releases her when she tells him how much she’ll miss him again, and that she loves him, and then she moves on to Snow.

Her mother is crying, of course, just barely. But Emma knows it’s hard to say goodbye so soon after what they’ve been through. She tells Snow the same thing she said to David, and includes an extra tight squeeze as she tells her how much she’s looking forward to planning the wedding when she sees her again.

A half an hour later, Killian returns to her quarters after packing as much as he wanted from his room. While he had unofficially moved in as soon as they got back, he still had to retrieve the things he most wanted to bring. And tell Liam.

“How’d it go?” Emma asks, not looking up from her own task of putting some of her Storybrooke clothes back into the satchel they brought with them.

“He cried,” Killian says, but she immediately hears the scratchiness in his voice, so she turns her head and raises an eyebrow at him until he looks at her. “Okay, fine, we cried. Happy?”

“Yes, actually.” He was trying to be a smartass, but Emma’s response is genuine. She stops her packing for a second to walk over, not even hesitating as she reaches up to kiss him and wraps her arms around him at the same time. It’s a chaste kiss by the standards they’ve set over the last three days; they have absolutely made up for lost time. But it’s the beginning of their own wordless communication. She doesn’t need to tell him she loves him right this moment (she’ll tell him a thousand times anyway, but it can wait another minute or two). She doesn’t need to thank him, or explain how much this means to her. She knows he would wave off any of those statements if she tried. “I’m just about finished. Any word on how long until the others are leaving?”

“And I quote, there’s not enough time for you two to go at it like rabbits again,” he says, pressing his lips together to ward off the smile that wants to creep up. “End quote.”

“Damn,” she mutters. “Oh well, just means we’ll have to wait until we’re back in my apartment with all those lovely, battery-operated toys.”

“See, now I’m fully on board with going. I had just the slightest hesitation earlier, but you’ve fully won me over with this idea.” She shakes her head, kissing him once before going back to her task.

Killian leaves ahead of her, so Emma has a moment in her room by herself. It feels a lot like a heavy goodbye, even though she knows they’ll be back to visit. Even if the bean trade falls through, Ursula has agreed to help in cases of emergency. The mark for her shell is still on Killian’s arm, so they can call her if they ever need to get back to Misthaven. She turns around the room slowly, smiling at the flowers in the vase, knowing that her mother made the fairies enchant a whole field just so she could go stand someplace where Emma spent so much of her time.

Now, she’s thinking that the same meadow might make a beautiful location for a wedding some day. With that thought in her mind, and a smile on her lips, she walks out, extinguishing all the candles before she closes the door behind her.

-x-

Storybrooke is in calm chaos for weeks. Dealing with who wants to stay and who wants to leave is the trickiest bit. There are many people who, just as Ursula and Regina figured, don’t want to return to a place where their families are long gone. There are others who simply believe they fit better in a modern world than the one they were taken from. Will Scarlet, especially, says he’s a much better man in Storybrooke than he was in Misthaven, or Wonderland, or Oz… or so he claims. He is spending a great deal of time at the library, but Emma has suspicions that it’s because of Belle, and not because of the books.

Most fascinating is watching the connections between the people of the town come out of the woodwork. It turns out that Ruby and Mulan already knew each other, having met as they were on their own adventures, and traveling together for some time. They’d both been attracted to the other, but far too timid or unsure to pursue the idea of really traveling together. What had been a tentative start of a relationship when Emma saw them before the search party set out blossoms into a beautiful partnership.

Graham laughs, his whole body shaking with the action, when he realizes precisely who Emma and Killian are. “You’ve both come a long way from those hand-offs in the hallway. My favorite little tart thieves. No wonder you always felt like my younger sister,” he marvels to Emma. Killian smiles, happy to observe the interaction. He’s been meeting the people Emma has spent her last few years with, and it’s jarring but in a wonderful way.

He’s had the only reunion he was concerned with. Stepping onto the docks yesterday to find Brennan was a surreal experience, especially when his father sizes him up. The last Captain Jones saw of his sons, Killian was barely retaining his memories. His father seemed ten times larger than the average man, so standing before him now, their statures so similar, is the hardest part to swallow. But then Emma was beside him, easing the tension he felt in his shoulders. Introducing him to Emma might be his favorite part of the reunion.

Their stories are not so unique. There are children and parents, friends, lovers, enemies who decide to bury the hatchet – all types of camaraderie all over this town that was born of petty hatred. Person by person, story by story, they sort through every resident in the town to take an accurate survey of everyone there, figuring out where each one wanted to live and shuffling them toward the piers to help get them ready for Ursula.

Shortly after everyone gets placed where they want to go, life returns to something resembling normal. Since the bean crop is just about at its harvesting point, Killian is pretty sure they’re bound to get a message any day about Emma’s parents planning a visit. The idea makes her absolutely giddy. She wants her parents to see that while they were separated for far too long, she was by no means abused in her temporary “prison” town. She talks plenty about taking them to various places in town, not hesitating to point out a new one as they walk to dinner one night, or as he walks with her to work the next day.

He always gives her a kiss on the cheek before they part, with her heading into the station and him walking the last couple blocks to the docks on his own. He knows boats and ships, so what better place for a pirate than working at the docks. His crew, all but Smee, returned to Misthaven to go find their bluer seas. He sent Smee back to retrieve his ship, but hired the man to be his first mate once more, for good over greed this time. Amazingly, Smee happily comes aboard, glad to lend out his services of finding people and goods when not working on the Jolly Roger.

The fair trade of magic beans and goods in Misthaven ends up being so lucrative that Storybrooke becomes something of a tourist destination. There aren’t a lot of visitors in the winter, but in the summer, there are people popping in every day of the week. It means that they have to come up with a conversion rate for gold to money, which is an interesting affair, but it works out fantastically for Granny’s bed and breakfast, and the diner. With the extra revenue, Regina begins making plans for updates and upgrades, for new construction projects and a reassessment of the schools. Everything that can be improved is given a thorough inspection by their new, watchful mayor.

It also works out great for Killian and Brennan. Since he’s already been working on the docks all this time, he and Killian start up an ocean tour business, taking their vacationing Misthaven folk out on the sea and around the coasts they can now travel to since the curse has lifted. When Liam comes to visit, the Jones family has their own day. Liam has more memories of Brennan, and so the two connect much easier than Killian initially had. But having them all together is more valuable than anything else.

When he returns home after the first night, Emma is waiting for him with a knowing smile on her face. She pulls him into her arms as soon as he closes the door, easing the tension and nerves that he managed to hide all day long. Having a family outside of Emma is still startlingly new to him, but he’s adjusting.

The king and queen’s visit is a much-anticipated event for the town. Much like a visit from any other top-ranking officials, the residents all put forward their best efforts. Granny, who knew Snow as a child before she and Ruby were sent to the cursed town, gets to host the royals as her guests. During their visit, Killian gets a taste of how it must’ve been adjusting him to modern amenities. Emma’s parents were told in advance what to expect, however watching David operate light switches is Killian’s new favorite activity.

On the second day of their vacation, Emma and Snow go out shopping for modern clothes for the king and queen to wear during the rest of their stay. In their new outfits, David looks like any other random bloke in town, and Snow looks like a perfect school teacher, her prim cardigans and soft pastels the perfect style for her demeanor.

“In another life, in this town, I think I would’ve enjoyed being a teacher,” Snow tells them after Emma points this out.

The four of them squeeze around the table at Emma’s apartment for meals, and it’s obvious that the space that used to feel adequate is no longer enough. Hand-me-down castoffs are well and good, but as soon as they start shopping for Killian and filling the closet and drawers with his clothes as well, they realize that they’re not destined to inhabit the one-bedroom apartment for something longer than a temporary stay.

Finding a house to live in is an adventure all on its own. They wait until David and Snow return home to go out looking, wanting to devote their whole attention to the task. They bicker about the details, sometimes to the point of going just beyond the term of disagreements and entering fighting, but it’s only through these interactions that they discover ways to resolve them. And make-up sex is the very best way to end any argument, of course.

When they do find a house, it’s a choice they can both agree on. The process of filling the house with more than just furniture and clothes is something they both delight in. Emma has a knack for finding the perfect paintings and artwork to put on the walls, and Killian excels at finding knickknacks and functional items of the perfect style. Soon, picture frames line the walls and sit across the mantel, and curtains they picked together cover their windows.

After a little over a year of residing in peaceful Storybrooke, they head back to the Enchanted Forest to prepare for the wedding. Brennan and Smee sail the Jolly Roger between the realms with the help of the magic beans and ferry guests to Misthaven for the event.

For some of them, it’s their first time back to their homeland, so David and Snow open their doors to any guests, housing all of the wedding-goers in an attempt to make everyone as comfortable as possible.

Killian can hardly believe the transformation of the flower field when he sees it the day of the wedding. Platforms and walkways, all specially crafted with the fairies’ magic, are placed over the flowers so that none of them are disturbed during the ceremony. In the center, a dais has been built up to accommodate the nuptials. With their flowers all in bloom, and the sun shining down on them, Killian and the guests wait patiently for Emma and her parents to walk up the path.

He might be biased, but she’s the most beautiful bride he’s ever seen. The dress is more modern, having been purchased in Storybrooke, but her head is topped with a flower crown made of the delicate buds from the field. The event outshines every ball the kingdom has ever held, with the reception taking place in the main hall. They spend their first night as husband and wife in Emma’s old quarters, with her magic surrounding and protecting the room again, just in case. As is the trend in their lives, this is the room that witnesses another of their firsts.

While the guests all return to Storybrooke in the days that follow the wedding, Emma and Killian stay behind to begin the first leg of their honeymoon adventure. As a princess, Emma had little chance to explore the kingdoms, so they set off on a journey to remedy that. Killian takes her on a tour of the best ports he visited. The second half of their tour is spent exploring the country that houses their new home. Storybrooke still won’t show on any maps, keeping their little magic town a secret of sorts, but the broken curse means that the residents can move beyond the town limits.

Killian is sure that their life in the Enchanted Forest would’ve been filled with plenty of excitement, but as they settle back in after their journey ends, he discovers that they’ve hit the exact amount of thrills to fit their lifestyle. Some nights they dance to whatever music comes from the stereo, and sometimes they go sailing for the joy of feeling the wind in their hair. They make dinner slightly more often than going to grab Granny’s for takeout, and they live and work and love every single day, enjoying every single moment.

And when the time is right, they get a cat.

The End.

Thank you for reading! xo

[eirabach]

Heathens [7/14]

Summary: After the events of Renegades, Emma finds herself the reluctant monarch of a struggling Kingdom, her only advisors a mish mash of those who’ve betrayed her in the past, and her only comfort one very uncomfortable pirate.

Believing her long lost parents could still be alive, Emma and Killian set out to find them and reunite them with both their daughter and their throne.

Easy.

Right?

Halfway!!!! Thank you so much to everyone who’s commented so far, I hope you continue to enjoy! All my thanks and love as ever to @phiralovesloki and @katie-dub for their beta work and general amazingness, and to @seastarved for her incredible artwork!

Rated: E. Warnings for violence and corporal/capital punishment later on too.

This chapter 4.8k

Other Pairings: Snowing

Catch up on tumblr: Prologue One Two Three Four Five or here on AO3

Chapter Six: Another Love

“Snow. White.” Eric lets the words roll over his tongue as he shakes his head slowly. “There's a name I never thought to hear again.”

 “She's alive?” Ariel gasps out, her eyes sparkling, “We all believed - ”

 “Everyone did,” Emma says sharply. “Or at least that's what they wanted to believe, but Regina swore she hadn't killed her.”

 “And you believe her?”

 “I held her heart in my hand,” snips Emma coldly. “She had no reason to lie.”

 “She could have gone anywhere,” Eric says, frowning down at the map. “Your mother was a talented tracker herself and no mean shot. If she didn't wish to  be found, I have no reason to believe she would be.”

 Ariel appears bereft at this, wringing her hands together and biting on her lip.

 “She could have come for help,” she says, a tremor in her tone, “for sanctuary. I thought we were friends.”

 “You were,” says Eric gently. “She would never have dragged you into a war that was hers to fight, Ariel.”

 “But she's been alone,” Ariel half sobs, “and for so long!”

 Emma looks down at the polished tabletop, concentrating on the whorls and knots in the wood as she swallows back a sudden rush of tears.

 “I know how she feels,” she mumbles, and then, looking up, fierce determination in the line of her jaw. “So will you help me?”

 “Of course,” Ariel says, coming around the table and taking one of Emma's hands in both of hers. “Anything.”

 “And,” Eric grins, “I may have an idea of where to start.”

--

 “Are you quite sure about this?”

 The royal coach judders and shakes its way along the pitted, mud-slick track that leads through the forest to such an extent that Emma finds herself flung violently against the door and clinging onto the window edge for dear life.

 “Quite sure,” Eric assures her from where he's sitting, apparently comfortably, on the opposite seat. “Most of Snow White’s allies learned to keep their associations secret once Regina came to power, but this one - ”

 He shakes his head, and Ariel smiles.

 “He has a very loud mouth and an inversely low tolerance for mead.”

 “Why wouldn't Regina just have killed him, then?”

 “Why did Regina do anything?” Ariel asks, and shrugs a shoulder. “She never much cared for the little people, perhaps he was too far below her to notice.”

 “Ariel!” Eric admonishes, and she turns to him, scandalised.

 “What?”

 “Don't be unkind,” he says.

 Ariel huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'm not being - ”

 The coach shudders to a halt, the horses blowing in their traces, in front of a small stone cottage. There's someone at home, a thin stripe of grey smoke rising from the chimney and a lone white nanny goat tethered outside who maas balefully at them as they alight.

 Emma steps ahead to hammer on the door, only for it to swing open and reveal a balding man with a grey beard, who is only as tall as her shoulders and wears an expression like thunder.

 “Whadda ya want?” he barks out. “Coming around disturbing a man's peace! Do you know what time it is?”

 Emma blinks and looks down at her shadow. It’s short, and the sun is warm on the back of her neck.

 “Midday?”

 “Midday!” howls the man. Eric steps forward and pats him on the shoulder, the man watches his hand with a faintly disgusted expression.

 “I know it's… early, but I hope you will understand why our request couldn't wait.”

 “You want something from me?” he laughs shortly. “Jog on, sisters, and you, whoever you think you are. Coming around demanding things like you're royalty or something.”

 Eric and Ariel share a look, but before Eric can open his mouth to speak Emma half shoves him out the way, her patience wearing short.

 “We’re looking for Snow White,” she snaps. “Can you tell us where she is?”

 The man’s red tinged face drains to white, his eyes flashing with terror and something fiercer, as he attempts to slam the door in Emma’s face. Eric catches it, smiling, not unkindly, as he pushes both door and man back.

 “I'll take that as a yes,” says Emma.

 “Listen, I ain't telling you nothing. I didn't tell the Evil Queen when she ripped my brother's heart out in front of me, I ain't telling you now. Do your worst, sister. I'm ready.”

 He draws himself up to his full height and glares up at her. Behind her, the goat let's out a maa of agreement.

 Emma wonders what it must be like - what her mother must have been like - to engender such loyalty. What sort of queen she must have been, once, and her heart squeezes in her chest.

 “I'm not going to hurt you,” she says softly. “I’m her daughter. The - ”

 “Emma?” His eyes go wide. “You're alive?”

 “More or less,” she says. “Will you help me?”

 He opens the door.

 --

 His name is Grumpy, which surprises her less than it ought to, and he's lived here alone with only the goats for company for twenty-eight years, his only solace found in dark corners of quiet taverns as he nursed the wounds of the battle that had taken her parents from their throne and from her.

 Emma settles as best she can in the rickety undersized chair the dwarf offers her, trying not to smile at the way Eric’s knees rise up somewhere around his ears as he follows her lead. Grumpy looks uncomfortable and unsteady in her presence, bouncing his leg as he, too, sits.

 “There was meant to be a curse,” he tells her as they take cautious sips of a thick, black drink scooped from a cauldron that hangs over a dying fire. “Your parents had a plan for that. But then she changed her mind, or it didn't work, I don't know, and the battle…” He shudders, finishing his drink in a single gulp. “It was a bad time, sister.”

 “So what happened? After - ” she swallows back the words they gave me away. “After Regina won?”

 Grumpy looks up at the ceiling, his expression far away, and Emma remembers the destroyed throne room, the pile of bones beneath the wreckage.

 “I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you.”

 “You got to understand,” he says slowly, “the whole place seemed to collapse in on itself. We didn't know who was alive or dead. Snow was - ” he shakes his head. “Your father was her True Love, do you know what that means?”

 Emma thinks of blue, blue eyes, the flash of steel, and swallows hard.

 “I might have an idea, yeah.”

 “When she thought she'd lost him, and you, she was beside herself. We brought her out here, my brothers and I, but she was half wild - shouting about finding him, not sleeping, not eating. We thought it was for the best.”

 Emma's blood runs cold.

 “Thought what was for the best?”

 Grumpy shuffles uncomfortably on his stool.

 “It wasn’t supposed to be permanent!” he insists. “We just wanted to help!”

 “What,” hisses Emma through clenched teeth, “did you do to her?”

 “It was just a little spell, something Dopey brought off a peddler. It was nothing major - just enough to take the edge off, you know?”

Ariel gasps. “You drugged her?”

 “No!” Grumpy squirms uncomfortably. “Well, only a bit. We thought it would help, and it - it did. She was better, after. In a way.”

 Magic thrums through Emma’s veins, hot and sickening and turning her hands into fists.

 “Better how.”

 “Well, she forgot, didn’t she?” Grumpy shrugs. “Just a little forgetting spell, how were we supposed to know?”

 “Supposed to know what?” Emma growls.

 “She forgot it all,” he says, and the nervousness in his voice is replaced by something not unlike real regret. “She forgot your father, and you, and us. She forgot her kingdom, she forgot the Evil Queen, she forgot everything.”

 “That makes things a little more awkward,” Eric admits, “but hardly impossible. There will be an antidote somewhere, we will just have to find it.”

 “You’ll have to find her first,” counters Grumpy. “She ran away, not long after. None of us have seen her since.”

 “Did you bother looking?” Emma spits with a scowl. “She could be anywhere, she could be dead.”

 “We didn’t think she’d want us chasing after her,” says Grumpy, but she can hear the lie in his voice.

 “Or you were too afraid to, more likely. You just gave up!”

 “Wouldn’t you?” he practically shouts it. “All that fighting, all that effort, and we lost! We all lost! What was the point?”

 She thinks of Killian again, of the fierce set of his jaw as he’d faced down the Dark One, of the softness in his eyes in the lamplight of their room, of this man who’d spent lifetimes sustained by nothing but bitterness only to teach her what it meant to hope, and swallows hard.

 “There’s always a point,” Emma says, her voice low, her eyes fierce. “Even when things look hopeless you don’t give up, you can’t ever give up. That’s how they win.”

 “You’re like her, you know,” Grumpy says softly, shaking his head. “Watching her lose her hope - ”

 “I never had any to lose,” Emma admits, “not until recently.”

 “I hope you never do,” he says sincerely. “I hope you never, ever do.”

 --

 He gives them vague directions to someone - a fairy by all accounts, and that rings a bell in Emma’s mind too loudly to be discounted - who may be able to help track Snow or the witch who’d cursed her, but he hardly seems certain and struggles to meet any of their eyes as he shuts the door firmly behind them, a finality in the slam of wood against wood.

 “I didn’t even know the fae were active anymore,” says Eric, furrowing his brow as he looks over toward the carriage. “I’d heard they were all dead, killed by the Dark One for some slight or other.”

 “That’s what they like people to think,” grumbles Emma mutinously. “They’re tricky alright.”

 “So do you think she’s worth speaking to? This fairy?”

 Emma shrugs, scratching at her neck as she considers her options.

 “Kill - my captain, he spoke about a fairy, too. He thought she might be able to help us.”

 “And you think it’s the same fairy?”

 “I think it’s worth finding out.”

 --

 It wouldn’t be fair to sore thumbs to say that Eric and Ariel stand out like such in the grubby morass of the dockside marketplace, so incongruous are their fine clothes as a hundred fishwives hustle about their business, tarred ropes and tattered nets slung around leather brown necks while beady eyed men with nimble fingers watch from the shadows.

 Emma, however, feels right at home. Almost.

 It’s strange, the way she sees Killian behind every low wall, hears his voice, his old voice, that of the Feared Pirate Captain, booming above the shrill shriek of the fishwives hawking their wares. Her hand brushes leather and she stops in her tracks, her eyes screwed tight as she lets herself, just for one moment pretend, pretend, pretend.

 But losing herself in wishes won’t find the fairy, and nor, by the look of it, will her royal companions.

 “Uh, excuse - excuse me, good sir,” Eric calls after an old salt with a patch over one eye and a pronounced limp. “Have you by any chance seen any fairies?”

 “Fairies? What the fuck you mean fairies?” the man grumbles before spitting at Eric’s feet. “We don’t hold with them sort here.”

 “I say, there’s no need to be rude,” Eric says, rather aghast, as the man trundles on his way. Emma spares him a pitying sort of smile.

 “People like these don’t have a lot of time for royalty, I’m afraid. Or magic, really. We might need to be a bit more… subtle.”

 “Subtle how?” asks Ariel, her eyes tracking the movements of a dockside whore whose rouge would shame a circus performer. “Subtlety doesn’t look like it’s much in demand around here.”

 “Maybe not,” agrees Emma, “but a fairy, out on her own and not under Blue’s purview? She won’t be willing to announce her presence to just anyone.”

 “So what’s the plan?”

 Emma watches the lady of the night as she primps her teased hair and throws a come hither wink at a passing fisherman, a gaudy necklace glinting in the sun and a large glass stoned ring on her finger.

 “I’m not sure you’ll want to know.”

 --

 “I’m looking for a girl,” Emma whispers, shoving Eric in the back towards where the woman is still touting her wares. “Come on.”

 “I can't,” Eric mumbles from between clenched teeth. “I'm a king!”

 “Oh, and kings never pay for it? For goodness sake, she doesn't know who you are!”

 “My face is on every coin she's ever… earned!”

 “Ugh,” Emma mutters, pushing past him and adjusting her own dress to better expose her own assets. “Men. If you want a job doing…”

 She sidles up to the other woman, her arms folded over her chest as she sucks air between her teeth.

 “Slim pickings, is it?”

 “Slim enough,” grumbles the woman as she turns to eye Emma up. “You trade or buying?”

 “Just getting the lay of the land, is all,” Emma demures. The woman scoffs.

 “Well, get the lay of your own patch. Life's hard enough without skinny little blonde things sticking their tits where they ain't wanted.”

 “Charmed, I'm sure,” says Emma brightly, and turns back towards the crowd where Eric’s pallid face can be seen peeking over the heads of passers-by.

 “What was the point of that?” he hisses when she rejoins them, taking Ariel by the elbow and encouraging both to follow her to a nearby sheltered spot.

 “Look,” Emma says, opening her clenched fist to reveal the ring that had been on the woman’s finger moments earlier. “Does this strike you as the sort of thing they sell around here?”

 “Did you steal it?” gasps Ariel, her hand going to her throat.

 “You stick to what you’re good at and I’ll stick to what I am, yeah?” Emma huffs. “And I’m telling you, only a fairy would own something this…”

 “Sparkly?”

 “I was going for vile.”

 “Alright,” Ariel says, “now what?”

 Emma tucks the ring into the pocket of her cloak and risks a glance out into the main thoroughfare.

 “If I know fairies like I think I know them, we won't have to wait long to find out.”

 --

 It’s hardly a raucous party that’s taking place in the dingy little corner tavern that Emma heads to, the single room filled with elderly men in various states of inebriation and one very bored looking barmaid, but it’s enough to send Eric chivvying Ariel ahead of him back to the coach with a muttered “We’ll wait” that Emma isn’t certain she should believe.

 It serves its purpose, though.

 She makes sure to tap the ring against the bar as she orders a flagon of watery ale, letting the light catch it when anyone enters or leaves, until, eventually -

 “Where’d you get that?”

 Emma pastes an innocent looking smile on her face as the barmaid bends low over the table to get a closer look at the ring, her face a little too close to comfort.

 “Oh this?” she giggles. “I found it, isn’t it pretty?”

 “Pretty enough, that’s Lou’s ring, the one what the fairy gave her. If she sees you with it…”

 “Oh!” Emma pretends to clutch at her heart, “I never meant to! Where is this fairy? I can return it! I would hate to upset anyone!”

 “You’d do better to give it to Lou,” grumbles the barmaid as she stands up straight, “but perhaps she’d have your eye for it. Fairy keeps a little workshop of sorts, down the road a while. Lou’s fond of her, maybe that’s your best bet. She’s odd, though, no doubt.” The barmaid wrinkles her nose. “All that sort are.”

 “Yes, of course,” Emma murmurs, all false gratitude as she gathers her skirts and leaves a pile of small change behind her, “I’ll go at once. Thank you so much.”

 She manages to keep her steps fairly even until she’s safely away from the barmaid’s slightly confused stare before she’s bolting for the carriage, tearing the door open with such force she’s fairly sure she causes Eric’s heart to skip a half dozen beats.

 “Good gods, woman!” he cries, “What now?”

 “Found the fairy,” Emma pants out. “Come on.”

 “You know,” Eric calls as she barrels down the road ahead of them, “I’m a king! I have people who do this sort of thing for me!”

 Emma throws a grin over her shoulder, feeling freer with the wind in her hair, the stolen jewel on her finger, than she has in weeks. Months.

 (For a moment she thinks she sees Killian’s smile from the corner of her eye, feels his footsteps beside hers, and she feels happy.)

 “How very boring.”

 --

 The fairy’s workshop is easy enough to find. If the piles of half-welded, half-destroyed scrap metal outside the door hadn’t given it away, the high pitched bitter swearing coming from within almost certainly would have.

 Nothing, Emma knows, annoys a fairy more than things not going their own way.

 “Problem?” she asks as she walks through the door, her arms folded to give the fairy a good view of the ring on her finger.

 The fairy stops in her tracks, unbending from where she was stooped over some gently steaming contraption of copper and iron, and pushes her sweaty fringe out of her eyes with ink black fingers.

 “Depends,” she spits in her delicate voice, “on who are you, and where,” she jabs one grubby finger at the ring Emma wears, “did you get that.”

 “This?” Emma taps the ring with a nail. “From a very, very friendly lady down the docks. I hear you know her.”

 “I know a lot of people,” the fairy spits, “I’m not going to fight you over her, if that’s what you want. Overpriced, for a start.”

 “I didn’t think your sort were into that type of thing.”

 “What sort?” The fairy raises a brow. “Girls?”

 Emma smiles, sly and a little smug.

 “Fairies.”

 The fairy drops her hands to her hips and scowls.

 “Oh, it’s like that, is it? Who sent you? Blue? Because I told her - ”

 “No,” Emma cuts her off. “Nothing to do with her. I was told you could help me.”

 “Oh really?” The fairy wrinkles her nose. “And why would I do a thing like that?”

 Emma takes a deep breath.

 “Did you ever know a man called Killian Jones?”

 --

 Her name’s Tinkerbell, but she has the sort of fierceness in her expression that stops any sniggers about it, and she has the sort of ethereal, ageless beauty of all her sort even under the layers of soot and grime from her workshop.

 It doesn’t do much for Emma’s stinging jealousy when she throws back her head and laughs.

 “So what’s the old dog gotten himself into now? Must be interesting if he’s going by his old moniker.”

 “It’s his name,” Emma mutters, and the fairy shakes her head, still laughing.

 “Was a time he’d run you through for using it, though - no matter the circumstances.” She looks up at Emma, suddenly shrewd. “Which you’d know, I suspect.”

 “Don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Emma sniffs.

 “Oh.” Tinkerbell winks. “I think you do. Tell me, does he still - ”

 Ariel, either taking mercy on Emma as her face drains of colour or fearing the shedding of blood, interrupts with a gentle but firm.

 “I’m afraid the gentleman in question is dead.”

 Tinkerbell’s mouth works wordlessly for a moment, but then she’s shaking her head again, her heel tapping on the floor. “Him? Never. Bring me his head on a platter and  I’d still never believe it.”

 “It’s true,” says Emma, her voice smaller than she’d like it to be. “We were shipwrecked.”

 Tinkerbell’s eyebrows raise up toward her hairline.

 “Together?”

 Emma shrugs.

 “You must have been… close,” says Tinkerbell. “He hadn’t sailed with a woman since - ”

 “Milah,” finishes Emma. “Yes, I know. We weren’t on the ship long. He was trying to help me find my parents. That’s where you come in.”

 “Where were you before then,” asks Tinkerbell, ignoring Emma’s attempt to change the subject, “if you weren’t on the ship, I mean?”

 Home, Emma thinks without meaning to, we were home.

 “I have…” she pauses, wincing slightly, “a sort of castle? I’m just a caretaker though, and not a very good one, but if you help us - ”

 Tinkerbell’s jaw drops.

 “He lived in a castle?”

 “It’s really not a very good castle,” Emma says, shuffling awkwardly, “I’m not - I mean we weren’t - Does it matter?”

 “Does it matter that he gave up the sea?” Tinkerbell asks, aghast. “That he traded his ship for you?”

 “He traded his life for her,” says Ariel softly as Emma swallows hard, unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat, her head spinning. “If you cared for him at all, will you help us?”

 Tinkerbell’s jaw snaps shut, her expression carefully blank, and Emma wonders what the real story might be between Killian and this coal-smeared fairy.

 “I owed him a favour, that much is true,” states Tinkerbell baldly. “And If he’s really dead… well.” She holds out a hand to Emma, who shakes it rather weakly in return. “I can repay the woman he loved.”

 “We need to find Snow White - or  a witch who cursed her,” says Eric. “The dwarf - Grumpy - he said you may be able to help.”

 “Did he now?” says Tinkerbell. “Well I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t keep powerful magical beings just hanging around in the back room. And anyway, if I knew where Snow White was I’d have turned her in for the reward years ago.”

 “You wouldn’t!” Ariel gasps.

 Tinkerbell’s eyes narrow shrewdly.

 “Wouldn’t I? Some of us have to look out for ourselves.”

 “My mother is cursed,” Emma snaps, “or - or something, we don’t know, but we’ve been told there’s a witch who has the spell to find her, and we were told you could find us the witch.”

 “Do I look like a mapmaker?” Tinkerbell scoffs. “There are a dozen or more witches out there who trade in magic dark enough to track a curse, but none of them are the sort you’d like to pop in on for tea.”

 “You must have something that could help us find her though?” suggests Ariel encouragingly. “Fairies are magical beings, after all.”

 “Fairies are,” admits Tinkerbell, “but I’m not, not anymore. Blue saw to that many years ago. If you’ve come to me for fairy magic, I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck.”

 “Just cause you’re not a fairy as such, doesn’t mean you don’t have access to things,” says Emma, finally regaining her senses enough to slip the stolen ring from her finger and hold it out to Tinkerbell. “Or are you trying to tell me this was made by the local blacksmith?”

 “So I’ve a few bits and pieces,” Tinkerbell admits. “So what? They’ve no power beyond what they can buy me. They’re useless.”

 “Try me,” says Emma lowly. “You might not have magic, but I do.”

 “Alright,” Tinkerbell finally acquiesces, turning to shuffles through the contents of one of the many drawers that line the workshop walls. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here.”

 She turns back, holding a glass vial of a dark, shimmering powder up to the light.

 “Fairy dust,” she says. “If you believe, it will take you where you want to go. Magic attracts magic,” Tinkerbell continues as she drops the vial in Emma’s waiting palm, “or at least that’s the idea, but this magic is dead.”

 “And what magic does dead magic attract?” asks Ariel suspiciously, as she steps back slightly. Tinkerbell smiles wanly and shrugs one shoulder.

 “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you? But be careful. You’re dealing in cursed magic, and those who trade in it. Remember that they’re not a friendly bunch.”

 “I guess we’ll just have to risk it.”

 Emma is already turning to leave, Eric and Ariel close behind her, when she spots, pinned to the wall of the workshop among a hundred sketches and poorly blotted invoices, a wanted poster. The poster is frayed and yellowed with age, but the woman in the image still stares defiantly out at Emma, her hair dark, her chin held high. For Treason, it says, Snow White.

 For the first day since the day of her birth, Emma gazes upon her mother’s face.

 Her breath catches, her heart hammering against her ribcage as she stares into the facsimile of her mother’s eyes. She doesn’t know how good a likeness it is, doesn’t have a memory to compare it to, but she fancies for a wild moment that she has her mother’s chin.

 “Good luck,” calls Tinkerbell, and the moment is broken, the door slamming shut as they step into the street.

 She leaves the poster behind, but the eyes, the eyes seem burned onto her subconscious, the whispers from her dreams echoed in every step she takes.

 Emma, Emma, Emma.

 Find me.

 --

 “It’s a lead,” Ariel says encouragingly, clutching at Emma’s hand as they make their way back to the carriage. “It’s more than we had this morning.”

 “Yeah,” Emma mutters half-heartedly, “I guess.”

 “What’s wrong?”

 It’s a loaded question. Her head is swimming from Tinkerbell’s words, the enormity of Killian’s sacrifice suddenly clearer to her than it has ever been in the reflection of the fairy’s sheer disbelief, her heart heavy and leaden in her stomach as she thinks of the last words they exchanged, fractious and bitter. Of the words she’d never said, not once.

 He’d loved her. He’d died for her.

 And what had she done for those who’d sacrificed everything for her? Her parents, Killian, even Blue in her own twisted sort of way?

 What sort of Saviour is she, if in the end all she leaves behind her is chaos?

 What sort of person is she that even now, with no witnesses but Ariel and her kind eyes and gentle touch, she can’t bring herself to tell the truth.

 It’s me. I’m what’s wrong. I can’t save them. I can’t, I haven’t, I won’t.

 “I don’t know - I just,” she shakes her head. “I spent all my life living in the woods, hand to mouth, with no idea of who I was or where I came from. It… really sucked.”

 “And you don’t like to think of Snow in the same situation?”

 “I don’t like to think of anyone living like that, if it hadn’t been for Killian - ” she shudders. “We have to find her.”

 “We will,” Ariel says, and smiles. “Have hope.”

 There’s the sound of approaching hooves, and then two men wearing the livery of Eric’s guard burst into the clearing, their horses’ flanks sweating and their own faces flushed with exhaustion.

 “Your Majesty!” cries the first, “news from the northern border!”

 “Yes, man? Speak.”

 “You won’t believe it, Sire.”

 “Well, you can but try to convince me,” Eric says jovially. “Have at it.”

 The two men exchange a gleeful look, and the second clears his throat.

 “We received a tip from a drunkard of that area, that a certain wanted man had been spotted causing trouble in a tavern.”

 “You tease your king so, spit it out!” laughs Eric, and both men chuckle lightly before tearing Emma’s world down and yet rebuilding it with their next five words.

 “Captain Hook is under arrest.”

 --

 Her hands shake as she forces her legs into her breeches, the silk dress Ariel had leant her lying in a crumpled heap behind her as she struggles with the laces, her breaths coming quick and short and her heart pounding.

 “They plan to hang him at dawn,” Ariel says from the doorway, her voice gentle even though her words cut like ice. “The prison is ten miles from here, and guarded well - Emma - ”

 “Don’t tell me not to,” Emma says, “don’t.”

 “I wouldn’t dare, but Emma, you must know that Eric will see this as a betrayal. He has lost so many ships to Hook, he will not look kindly on you helping him now.”

 Emma spins to face Ariel, and the older woman almost seems to jump at the expression on her face.

 “I won’t leave him to die,” she hisses, and Ariel bites her lip.

 “Not even for your mother? Eric’s resources - ”

 “Fuck his resources,” she spits, and then closes her eyes briefly before continuing as calmly as she can manage. “Listen, I’ve never had a mother. Never. But Killian - Killian I had. He was mine. If I can save him - “ her breath shudders. “If I can save him, I have to try.”

 “Even if it means you never find your mother?”

 Emma smiles bloodlessly.

 “I have hope.”

 Ariel sighs, looking over her shoulder before stepping over the threshold to Emma’s room and closing the door behind her.

 “Don’t make me regret this,” she says, and Emma’s aching heart leaps, a real smile blooming across her face.

 “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

CS Pillow Talk - You’re My Hero

Killian Jones Appreciation Meme: Day 2 Favorite Hero Moments

I really, really wanted to participate in #kjam17, and since I don’t know how to make gifs I decided to write something. This was written in a ridiculously short amount of time for me, because I tend to obsess over every word when I read and write things, and it is unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine, apologies. Have a baby bit of angst about Killian’s heroism.  (Although some of you -@xhookswenchx may read and say where was the angst, I’m allergic to angst, so this is angsty af for me to have written.)

                                               ~*~*CS*~*~

Emma was still shaking as he held her flush against his body, arm wrapped tightly around her middle. “Relax, love. The town is safe once again, and no one is worse for the wear.”

A broken sob escaped before she could contain it, and she rolled over to face him. “That’s not the point, Killian. You could have died!” Again, she thought. Emma had watched helplessly once more as Killian had made ready to sacrifice himself on yet another battlefield this afternoon. Though the need hadn’t arose, she was still  furious with him. She’d barely spoken to him on the way home. She’d taken a little of her aggression out on him in the bed, having her way with him fast and hard.  

Killian had mistaken her rough affection for a battle high, right up until she’d pushed off him moments after orgasm and told him she was pissed at him. Emma had headed straight to the shower making it clear with a look that he was most definitely not invited to join her. Killian had laid in bed wondering what had happened between their victory and this moment. He was sure he’d gotten her off. Twice in fact, if he wasn’t mistaken.  He thought to earlier on the field and suddenly realized what was eating away at her. Being the wise husband he could be, he let her finish her shower alone, then took his own and gave her a chance to settle into bed.  When he finally climbed in behind her, he was met with her shaking body, and frayed nerves.  He wrapped his arm around her waist and cradled her to his body.

“Emma, I-”

“No, Killian. I need you here, we haven’t had enough time yet. I am so sick and goddamn tired of you sacrificing yourself. Let someone else do it for-”

“Like you?” he interrupted, a thinly veiled anger lacing his tone at the mere thought of losing her.

“Like anyone,” she yelled turning over in his arms to face him. “You’ve died more times than I care to recall. You don’t always have to be the hero.”

“In any time, and any realm love, it’s me before you, my life for yours. I will not let you die if I can stop it from happening. If that means that I no longer live so you can, then so be it,” he explained softly.

Emma broke down into tears, “That’s exactly what I mean. I can’t watch you leave me again.” The emotions of this battle had really eaten their way inside her. She was so used to having to attend to everyone around them that it was rare she had to really deal with her own feelings.

Killian wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks, a few of his own welling up. He rubbed her back gently as she took deep breaths. He knew one of Emma’s least favorite pastimes was feeling out of control.

“I’m going to attempt to tell you what I’m feeling. You and I both know this isn’t my strong suit, but this is important to me Killian,” she said after regaining a little composure.  

“Aye, Swan, I’m listening,” he murmured kissing her forehead.

“Before I ever knew what we were, it killed me to see Cora, Pan, and even Regina threatening your life. It made me ache to know you might die because of me. At first I chalked it up to getting emotional over a human life being threatened, then over time I grudgingly started to realize it had more to do with you specifically. You have always done the heroic thing where I am concerned. You took me to Neverland to find my son, you traded your ship for me, you followed me into an unknown abyss and were my prince. I was falling for you that whole time, and those were the heroics that I could handle. Before you, no one had ever done anything for me, it was me, myself, and I.”

Emma paused, breathing in deeply before she went into the next part. Caressing his stubbled cheek she continued, “Then we were sucked into Isaac’s world. You will never know how much it hurt to watch you die, to see you sacrifice yourself so I could save everyone else. There was no guarantee that you’d be back in Storybrooke even if I succeeded, and up until that moment in my life, it was the single hardest thing I’d ever had to live through.”

Killian brushed at the tears that had started to slide down her cheeks again. “Emma,” he whispered.

“Let me finish.”

He nodded his head silently.

“Then not only did I have to watch you die again, I had to be the one to do it. I know you’ve seen death, and I know you’ve had loved ones die in your arms. I’m not belittling that, but you are my true love Killian, and I had to kill you, I don’t think you know what that does to a person. Then when we came to get you, you promised we’d leave that hellish realm together, and you tricked me into leaving you there.” Her forehead and eyes ached trying to stop the tears that wanted to pour. Her chest was tight, and she was having trouble inhaling deeply again.  

“I’m sorry, Emma. They needed you. Henry and your parents needed you.”

“Don’t you get it, Killian?” she cried out, “I need you.” She pounded her fist against his chest trying to get him to understand. Trying to make him feel just one ounce of the hurt she felt at losing him repeatedly. The floodgates opened again, and she was inconsolable once more.

“Forgive me,” Killian choked out raggedly as his own tears fell. Of course he knew how Emma felt about him. But it broke his heart to hear her telling him that she needed him, as though she thought he didn’t care about her needs. “Forgive me, my love.” He kissed her through the tears, then rested his forehead to hers.

“Come to other realms with me when I’m swept away, take me where I need to go to help the town, fight by my side, gamble with the Jolly. Just please stop sacrificing yourself.” Emma kissed him fiercely, holding his face between her hands to make him see her. Looking deeply into his eyes she focused every feeling she had channeling it to him, “Stay. Choose to stay, that’s all I’m asking. Stay here with me, Killian.”

[lassluna]

Freeing the Witch (8/20)

Betad by the talented @notoriouscs. 

Once Upon a Time, there was Emma Swan the Savior and Killian Jones the fearsome pirate Captain Hook. But this is not that time, this is not that place, this is the time of the Dark Swan and a cowardly Deckhand who dares to think he could save her and live to tell the tale…Especially when things get complicated.

ffn Ao3

Chapter 8

The Trap

They’re trudging through snow. It’s cold on her feet, and the flakes that have just started falling stick to her skin. Her boots are soaked, and she’s in the worst mood possible. Emma doesn’t understand how anyone could want to be around this stuff ever, let alone live in it all the time. She’d prefer a grassy meadow or a stone tavern any day.

“Look Ems! It’s snowing! Isn’t it simply divine?” Elsa says gleefully, practically skipping, and singing.

I don’t care about our plan. If she starts singing, I’m going to show her what happens to frozen things in summer, Emma vows, eyeing the witch carefully.

Elsa winks back, obviously knowing that she’s getting to Emma.

The snow is agonizing enough. Emma forgot just how giddy Elsa gets when she’s in her element, literally. It’s disgusting. But it does remind her of her first meeting with the young queen, a memory that felt like a lifetime ago.

Emma had just run away from her mother, lost and alone in the world. She thought she would always be stuck on the run, hiding from Queen Snow’s men.But then Ingrid found her and changed everything. Ingrid was filled with light and happiness who comforted a runaway sorceress when she had nothing. It was the same magical day that Elsa, still in her coronation attire, eyes brimming with tears, found Ingrid and Emma. Everything changed for two scared, powerful young women on the same day.

“I hate the snow,” Emma snaps back to the present. “And you. How far is this prison anyway?” It didn’t seem so far on Killian’s map. She can cross realms without breaking a sweat, but she can’t stand this snow for a moment longer.

Elsa stops, tapping her cheek in thought. “Another hour’s walk?” she guesses. “Is that too much for you?”

“Nope,” Emma replies, popping the p, suppressing her desire to start an argument. They can’t do that. It isn’t a part of the plan. Fighting would get in the way of the show they need to put on, and if there is anything they excel at, it’s putting on a good show.

When they first met, their interactions were civil, behavior that was drilled into both of them growing up as princesses in their own castles.They were both dirty little secrets.

The years of hostility from those supposed to love them and the constant emphasis on being in control, showing no emotion, had nearly driven them mad. They were raised as weapons, to one day be unleashed as their kingdoms’ personal attack dogs under the control of their vindictive parents, yet still required to maintain the façade of innocent princesses dispute the curses inflicted upon them.

 Who knew hating your parents could make you such close friends, but close they were. Emma and Elsa were like sisters.

Ingrid, Emma and Elsa were a family. They had been happy.

Elsa stops for a second, eyeing Emma carefully. Emma gives a small nod in agreement; she sensed their presence as well. If they stop, the plan is ruined, so they press on, both feigning ignorance of the forces watching them. It’s only a matter of time before they make their move. Armies tend not to be the most patient creatures.

It is starting.

“Hold it, villain!” cries a voice. Emma and Elsa stop, magic at the ready as if surprised by the small group of guards who quickly surround them, brandishing swords.

Emma smiles at the thought that those metal twigs could harm her. She is the Dark One, and soon, they’ll know what that means.

“You are in Arendelle. Magical beings like you are strictly forbidden,” says someone, a guard Emma assumes. but his armour looks decorated strangely. She looked over at Elsa.

A guard? She silently asks.

Elsa nods at her before looking back at the group. She steps forward, keeping her back straight as an arrow. “I am Elsa, eldest daughter of Queen Gerda and rightful heir to the kingdom,” she announces in that princess voice that was instilled in both her and Emma since childhood, a voice they would always have in their arsenals whether they liked it or not. “I command thee to lay down your weapons.”

It’s a noble effort, but one they both knew was doomed to fail. Elsa wasn’t the rightful heir in the eyes of the people, not since Ingrid took her away from the castle, away from everything.

Ingrid drove the first wedge when she started talking about light magic and forgiving  those who had wronged them. Emma didn’t want to forgive her mother, whom she believed never truly loved her. But Ingrid insisted that because Snow had magic, she could join their family.

She tried no such argument with Elsa’s sister who had long proven her inability to accept what she did not understand.

Ingrid saw the world as us against them. She hated non-magic users, and she believed that possessing magic was enough to bond people together. She thought that with a little love and compassion, Queen Snow could be reformed, that the four of them could be a family.

Emma didn’t take it very well, constantly arguing with Ingrid, who just didn’t understand that Emma’s mother was beyond rehabilitation. The unfeeling monarch who manipulated her own daughter into becoming a monster didn’t want or deserve Emma’s forgiveness.  But Ingrid refused to listen.

Elsa, on the other hand, kept insisting that not all mortals were bad. Emma always caught her staring off into the distance, waiting for something, or maybe someone, to appear in the distance. Emma was sure to it was non-magical, for why else would Elsa keep it a secret? Whenever Emma questioned her, the almost-queen would smile softly.

“He made me a promise,” she said, and that was that.

“Our king is Hans,” the lead guard says sharply, bringing Emma back to the present. “You, witch, are an enemy of this kingdom.” Elsa isn’t fazed by his assertion. She’s heard it many times before.

Suddenly there are guards upon them, swiping at them mercilessly with their weapons, aiming to kill, not capture.

The sorceresses reply just as fiercely. After so much time in the close quarters of the ship, they desperately need the release of tension, the release of the darkness gripping their hearts, the release that these foolish guards seem oh so eager to give them.

It would be so easy to just kill them all with a single wave of her wrist, burying them in the snow, watching as they struggle for breath, as the life slowly drains from their bodies. Such a sight would fill Emma with glee, but then more will come. And when she dispatches those, then the magical prisoners under Hans’ control will be summoned to deal with them. No, Emma can’t have that. She needs to be underestimated, to be overlooked as a real threat.

So she doesn’t allow the battle to seem so totally one-sided. Instead Emma burns the guards with fireballs or breaks their bones by sheer force of will instead of what she’d usually do if she wanted to win: tear out their hearts one by one.

She looks to her left to see Elsa freezing solid those foolish enough to come at her, sending each human ice sculpture crumbling with a quick blow from an icicle staff. Her chilling laugh pierces the air as her power merges with the everlasting snowstorm.

If anyone questioned if they were monsters before, they wouldn’t after seeing the lack of regret in their eyes, Elsa’s joy as she kills, and their smirks reveling in their complete control. They work well together, the two bloodthirsty blondes. Just like old times, except now they can actually kill people.

Then one day Emma told Elsa her plan. Emma was going to run away. She was tired of obeying Ingrid’s rules, of always feeling like she let Ingrid down when she just couldn’t feel how the woman wished she would.

Elsa lost it, screaming that Emma was leaving her like everyone else did. She begged Elsa to leave too, but her sister couldn’t leave her only blood family she had left. Emma swore to Elsa that she’d be back, she’d come back for her, for her sister.

And Emma did return a few years later, but instead of triumphant, she came back lost and afraid again, just like when Ingrid found her the first time. Emma was burdened by a terrible secret, and she needed Elsa. She needed her sister.

But when Emma left, their sibling love had melted to bitter rivalry. Both felt betrayed by the other. Elsa’s coldness when she most needed her support reaffirmed for Emma that she was better off alone. She was better off without magic. And so Emma did what she did best.

She ran. Ran from Ingrid, ran from Elsa, ran from her kingdom.

Ran from her fate.

Something smacks Emma on the back, knocking her from her memories to whirl around to face her attacker,.

“Hello, lass. Miss me?” drawls a voice, flashing a wink with his good eye.

“Of course, Captain,” she replies evenly, conjuring her blade as all the approaching guards back off, watching the two circle each other slowly. “I’d never get tired of your pretty face.” And then she strikes.

He blocks her attack with ease, flicking his wrist just so to pull the blade from her grip.

“But it isn’t so pretty anymore, is it?” she teases darkly, eyeing the dark bruise on his face. Without a second thought he slashes at her, cutting open her wrist.

She hisses in pain before switching to fireball attacks. He doesn’t panic, just calmly deflects the magic with his enchanted sword, driving her backwards with her own firepower. Emma notices the remaining guards, those not being slaughtered by the homicidal Ice Queen, of course, watching with awe. This newcomer is easily dealing with the monster who was demolishing their forces unchecked only moments before.

In sudden fury she leaps at him, really aiming for her fallen weapon.

“I’m going to cut out your throat, you dirty pirate,” she spits as she pulls the sword toward her with a bit of magic and shoots him a coy smirk.

“Dirty? I bathe quite frequently, thank you,” he responds. He swings full force, hitting Emma across the face with the blunt side of his weapon.

She blinks once before losing her balance and falling backward. He catches her quickly, bridal style, head rolling onto his shoulder. She may be the Dark Swan of the realm, but even she has her weaknesses. She just hopes sharing them with the sailor was the right choice.

He settles her gently on the ground. “Good night, my fair maiden.” It’s soft and sweet in her ear, making her fight a smile as she drifts into unconsciousness.

Another whisper of his voice is even lower. “You can trust me, Swan. All will be well. Your plan will work.”

Emma wakes much as she expected to, chained to the wall in a cell. The restraints scratch at the rash left behind from her last stint in captivity, but these chains are a bit wider than they should be, nothing like the ones back in her tower. They barely suppress her magic. She had thought Hans was an expert in this, or perhaps she is just more of an expert at escaping. she doesn’t know.

Fortunately, they separated her from Elsa. Emma couldn’t handle the Ice Queen’s whining for the duration of their rescue/escape. Hopefully Elsa stuck to the plan and let Killian best her as well. They had decided that getting him close to whoever was in charge of this prison was the best course of action. Convincing the King’s forces to see Killian as their savior seemed like easiest way to make that happen.

But Emma has to admit, he is getting good with a sword. She only has a few notes of improvement for him from their staged fight. Sure, her magical attacks missed purposely, and she had taught him the move that ripped her sword from her hand, but with a few more weeks of practice, he might even surpass her with a blade.

“Rise, demon,” demands a voice. Emma turns her head and moves closer to the bars, making the armor-clad guard jump.

“Of course,” she purrs. “Where’s the Captain? He’s the one who caught me, not any of you incompetent fools.”

The man doesn’t react, instead pushing a tray through a small hole in the bars. It’s disgusting. She’d rather starve than eat that mess. Good thing it’s not an issue, since the Dark One doesn’t actually need food.

“He is speaking to the King,” the guard replies stiffly.

The King? Emma suppresses a groan. She expected the fool to come when he heard they captured his sister-in-law, but she had hoped he wouldn’t arrive so quickly.

No matter. Her plan will still work. They always do.

“Speaking about little ol’ me?” she flirts. “You Arendellians sure know how to flatter a lady.”

The man grins a little too widely. It makes Emma nervous. He steps closer to her cage, aiming to taunt her. He obviously doesn’t know who she is, what she can do. Perhaps she had let them underestimate her a little too much if they think these chains will keep her magic at bay.

“Actually, my king isn’t too trusting of late,” smirks the guard.  “He has a foolproof way of ensuring that no foreigner who tells him a lie lives to tell another.”

Emma doesn’t like the sound of that, especially since every word leaving Killian’s mouth is sure to be just that.

Thoughts whirl in her head. Stick to the plan and don’t worry about him, or risk the whole operation to ensure he isn’t in danger? To be honest, when she came up with the plan, she hadn’t paid much attention to whether the Sailor lived through it, but that was before...before she realized that he could still be useful to her, he could still entertain her.

He’s more than entertaining isn’t he?

The plan was for her to slip out, find Elsa and Ingrid and get out. If she looks for Killian now, it puts the plan at risk, they could all be caught, forced to do Hans’ bidding. That is a fate worse than death in her eyes. She should trust the plan, let things happen how they scripted. Yes, Emma will stick to the plan…

The guard moves to retreat from the cell bars, and Emma flips from strategizing to acting on her primal instincts.

“Well, knowledge is power after all,” she snickers, breaking her chains and flinging herself against the cage. The bars, enchanted with something strong, burn her skin, but it’s no matter. Burns will heal, she thinks. But this won’t. Emma shoves her hand into the man’s chest before he has a chance to flee. He can only gasp silently, as her first thought while gripping his beating heart is be silent.

It pulses red in her hand, oh so pretty. Emma looks up, seeing the shock and fear in the man’s eyes.

Now he knows who he’s messing with. Now he knows what happens when you cross the Dark One.

“Tell me, soldier, what does your king wish to do to the Captain?”

He has no choice. He spills his guts to her, voice dripping with terror.

She curses under her breath as she hears what they plan for her sailor.

This is not part of the plan.

[unfolded73]

For All Eternity (1/1)

Captain Swan and the Charming family, Rated G, ~2300 words, Spoilers for 6x20

Missing scenes, missing scenes, get ‘em right here! Set immediately after the scene in the mayor’s office and before the wedding.

“I hate to break up this touching tableau,” Zelena said, and Killian opened his eyes as Emma’s lips parted from his, “but just because you vanquished the Black Fairy doesn’t mean her curse isn’t still in the clock tower, waiting to hit us at six o’clock. We still haven’t managed to stop it.”

Emma was looking into his eyes and smiling, and at Zelena’s reminder she just shrugged. “So we get married at five.” She looked around at her parents. “Five thirty? I don’t know, what do you think?”

She looked so hopeful, as if the looming curse was just an inconvenience, like the wedding flowers not being the right ones, and he didn’t want to dash her hopes, he really didn’t, but how could they get married now? “Emma, darling--”

“No, I just…” She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand tightly. “I know that this isn’t over. I know there’s a curse coming that we can’t stop. So rather than spending these last few hours worrying about it, can we…” She met the gaze of each member of her family in turn. “I just want to be married. Can we do that?”

“Absolutely,” Regina said firmly. “A little bit of magical assistance and I can have everything set up for the ceremony in no time.”

“I’ll let Archie know about the time change,” Henry offered, “And I’ll tell Leroy and Granny to spread the word with everyone else.”

Emma turned back to Killian. “Is this okay? I know it’s not ideal. But I know we’re going to win this battle, I know it, and in the meantime I don’t want to a waste another second not being married to you.”

He smiled, feeling tears pressing behind his eyes. “I don’t want to waste another second either. If you want to get married now, then nothing would make me happier.”

“So for the next few hours, we put the curse completely out of our minds, agreed?” Snow said. “We just focus on this happy occasion.”

“What curse?” David replied, grinning. “I don’t know anything about a curse.”

The group started to go their separate ways, leaving Killian, Emma, and her parents standing in Regina’s office. “Love, I have only one hesitation about this plan,” Killian said, still holding Emma’s hand. Her eyes flickered with doubt at his words, so he smiled reassuringly at her, shaking his head to deny that he had any doubts about marrying her today. He couldn’t possibly want anything more, and he hoped she knew that. “About the suit…”

Emma grimaced, laughing a little bit. “Sorry, I didn’t have a lot of time, and there aren’t a lot of choices in Storybrooke. I know it’s not really you, so you don’t have to wear it. You can show up in your long pirate coat and nothing else for all I care.”

He smirked. “I seem to recall it was you who liked to wear my pirate coat and nothing--”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” David said, cutting him off. He clapped Killian on the back. “There’s an old tailor who lives here in Storybrooke who might be able to help us. He’s retired, but he owes me a favor.”

“He’s not going to be able to whip up a new suit in two hours, David.” Snow said.

“Maybe not, but I bet we can still find something that Killian would like better and prevent anyone from coming to this wedding naked.”

After parting ways from his soon-to-be bride and her mother, he and David climbed into the truck. “Thanks for this, mate. I appreciate the help.”

David shrugged, putting the truck in gear. “Not a problem.”

Killian glanced up at the clock tower as they drove past it. “What do you think this curse will do to us?”

“We’re not supposed to be thinking about it right now.”

“Easier said than done,” Killian said.

“Whatever it is, I believe Emma can prevail. Love will defeat darkness.”

“You sound like your wife.”

David smiled. “That’s the thing about being married, Hook. You tend to wear off on each other over time.”

“I just hope that Emma and I are allowed the luxury of time.” Much as he tried to have faith that Emma would win and the Black Fairy would be defeated, there was a dark doubt in his heart. The image of standing over his wife’s lifeless body, a widower after only a few minutes of marriage, kept intruding on his thoughts.

“You will be,” David said firmly. “We may have a fight still left to fight, but once we’ve won it, you’ll have your whole lives ahead of you.” He stopped the truck in front of a small house, then turned to face Killian. “Trust me. This isn’t the end.”

“Curse or no curse?” Killian asked, smiling faintly. He felt a flush on his cheeks at David’s sincerity. At how much he cared.

“As I’ve often been told, True Love can break any curse.” He reached for the door handle of the truck, then paused and added, “and this family has true love in spades. Whatever curse she throws at us, we can break it.”

“Why, Dave, I never knew you felt this way about me. I’m honored, but I fear my heart belongs to your daughter.”

David punched him in the arm. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Listen, Dave, there’s something I wanted…” Killian heaved a sigh.

“What is it?”

Killian stared down at the rings on his fingers, the rings that had been a constant in his life for so long, he wasn’t sure he would recognize his own hand without them. Using his thumb and the tip of his hook, he started to work the one on his index finger off. “I told Emma once…” He sighed again and started over. “When Emma was the Dark One, before I learned what had happened in Camelot, I told her that these rings represented men I had killed. Murdered. Not… not your father, but deaths that were equally wrong. Deaths that have weighed heavy on my conscience these many years.”

“Hook--”

“Just… just let me finish.” The ring on his index finger fell into his lap and he began working off the one on his ring finger. “To be honest, I wasn’t entirely honest with her. Not that I hadn’t killed men and taken jewelry off of them, so the spirit of what I was saying was true, but the specifics were… I was trying to make a point.”

“Which was?”

“I told her that these rings had come to symbolize the fact that any sin can be forgiven if someone loves you. That they were a reminder of that.” The second ring dropped off, and he started working on his thumb ring. With a frustrated sigh at watching this painstaking process, David reached over and helped pull Killian’s thumb ring off. His hand bare save for the stark tan lines on three of his fingers, Killian scooped the rings into his palm and shook his hand, allowing the metal to clink together.

“But they were also a reminder that I hadn’t forgiven myself. I assumed I never would. But now, I…” He looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “Now I think I’m ready to start fresh. I know I can’t make up for what I did all those years ago--”

“You’ve made up for it every time that you’ve helped my daughter to become the person that she’s become,” David said. “With every action you’ve taken that has made you a part of our family.”

Killian blinked at that, trying not to let tears spill over. “Thank you.”

Dave clapped him on the back, his go-to move to signify affection. “Now, let’s go find you something to wear at this wedding.”

~*~

“This is the one,” Emma said, tears shining in her eyes.

Snow fingered the lace sleeves of the wedding dress hanging in Emma’s bedroom. “I hadn’t thought you would like this one originally, which is why I didn’t show it to you. I wasn’t sure if it was your style.”

“I guess it isn’t, really, but…” She said down on the bed, picking up a leather bookmark of Killian’s from his bedside table and turning it over and over in her hands. “When I was little and I used to imagine my wedding, the dress in my imagination looked a lot like this one.” She chuckled. “Also that rooftop is going to be cold, and so I’m thinking bare shoulders is not the way to go.”

Clapping her hands together, Snow moved to start taking the dress off the hanger. “Then let’s get you into it.”

“Mom, can…” Emma swallowed against a lump in her throat. “Can you give me just a minute?”

“Emma, you made the right decision, going forward with the wedding.” Snow sat down at her side. “If you’re having doubts--”

“I’m not. I know it’s the right decision. Even if we’re only married for an hour, or a minute, it will be worth it. To stand up there and say…” A tear rolled down her cheek, and Emma took a shaky inhale. “I’ve got to get all this crying out of the way now, before we put on my makeup.” She tried again. “It’s important to me to stand up there and say our vows in front of everyone, even if we’re doomed to the shortest marriage in history.”

“Emma, you’re going to win the final battle, and this is not going to be the shortest marriage in history. You’re going to have a long and happy marriage, I know it.” Snow picked up one of Emma’s hands in both of hers and squeezed.

“Mom, you and I both know that even if I win, even if I defeat her, I still may not survive. The price I may have to pay for saving everyone else from the Black Fairy may be my life.”

“I don’t believe that, Emma.” Snow was fierce in her denial. “You’ve paid too high a price already, and you have True Love, and if fate doesn’t let you enjoy a life with that love, then I’m going to personally have a word with whoever is in charge of all this.”

Emma laughed at that. “I think the fates must be trembling in fear of you right now, Mom.”

“Hell yeah they are.”

“I love you,” Emma gasped, pulling her mother into a hug.

“I love you too, baby.” They held each other for several minutes, rocking slightly back and forth on the bed. Finally they released each other, Emma grabbing tissue box and putting it between them so that both of them could dry their tears. “Do you know when I suspected that you and Hook might be meant for each other?” Snow asked.

Emma laughed a watery laugh. “When was that?”

“After Elsa almost froze you to death, and they brought you back to the loft to warm you up, I watched the way he held you, the way he watched over you, and I realized that he wasn’t just infatuated with you -- he was completely, head-over-heels in love with you. And I knew that if you were willing to let down your walls and love him in return, the two of you could really build something together. And that’s exactly what happened. Not even the ultimate darkness, not even death itself was able to tear you apart.”

“Yeah, we talked to Archie about that,” Emma said, still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “He isn’t going to say ‘til death do us part’. He’s going to say something else instead.”

Snow raised her eyebrows. “What’s he going to say?”

“You’ll have to show up at the wedding and see.”

~*~

“Oh yeah, that’s way better,” Henry said as he dropped down the last rung of the ladder into the captain’s quarters.

Killian eyed his reflection critically in the mirror. He turned his head back and forth, feeling not a little bit strangled by the buttoned-up shirt collar. Still, he would endure any hardship if it meant marrying his love. “You think so?”

“Yeah, no one would recognize you if you showed up at the wedding in white. They’d be all, ‘Who’s that guy Emma Swan is marrying? What happened to the pirate?’”

Killian laughed at that. “You may be right, lad.” He turned around and took in Henry in his own tuxedo. “Well, you look rather smart yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got no idea how to tie this thing,” he said, holding up the tie that was still in his hand. “But I figured you might not either,” he said, gesturing to the tie hanging loose around Killian’s neck, “or that if you did, you might not be able to do it one-handed.”

“We make quite a helpless pair, don’t we?”

“Not helpless,” Henry said with a smirk, holding up his phone. “That’s what YouTube is for.”

They watched a video on tying bow ties, huddled over the small screen together, and after several minutes and several false starts, both ties managed to get tied.

They stood close together, looking at their reflections in Killian’s one small mirror. “You have the rings, lad?”

“Safe and sound, right here,” Henry said, tapping his jacket pocket. “Granddad should be here to pick us up in a minute. Are you nervous?”

Their engagement had been so short, he’d hardly had time to think about the actual wedding. Now he paused and did just that. “Aye, I’m a tad nervous. Almost three hundred years and for most of those I assumed I’d never marry. Now there’s nothing I want more.”

“Thanks, for… making my mom so happy,” Henry said, stepping away, averting his eyes, and flushing. “And… I’m glad that you’re going to be my stepdad.”

Killian felt tears fill his eyes for the … fourth time today? He’d honestly lost count, and he hadn’t even seen Emma in her wedding dress yet. “I’m glad too, Henry. More than you know.” He put a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Come on, lad, we have a wedding to get to.”