#cs ef au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pocket-anon · 6 years

Text

A Fairytale Beginning (Epilogue)

Hey, strangers! Remember me? You all don't know how sorry I am that it took me such an embarrassingly long time to turn out the last bit of this story. The guilt of not having finished it has been hanging over my head for over a year, but between real-life stressors and the near-complete absence of a muse, well, words have been really hard. Still, I promised myself I would finish this sometime this spring, and it felt right to release it around the time of the series finale as a way of paying tribute to the show and the fandom that helped shape the last few years of my life. You guys have been amazing. Your words of appreciation and encouragement mean more to me than you'll ever know, and I'll treasure them always. Thanks to those of you who have stuck with me for all your love and support.

Find it on AO3 and FFN. Missed a chapter? Get caught up here.

Summary: Killian Jones, the notorious Captain Hook, has been on a quest to kill the Dark One and avenge the death of his first love for over one hundred fifty years. But when he crosses the Evil Queen, he’s magically transported to New York City, a strange land full of fascinating wonders, the foremost of which is Emma Swan, a cynical single mother with no time for fairy tales, real or imagined. A Captain Swan Enchanted AU. (Captain Swan modern AU, Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU. Romance & Adventure. Rated T.)

Tags as (long ago) requested: @timetravelingpotatoast, @piratesails, @storybrookeswans, @optomisticgirl, @juneqparis, @lenfaz. Also tagging some others who have been kind enough to show this fic some love: @cat-sophia, @lillyanjones, @swanscaptn, @the-captains-ayebrows, @ms-babs-gordon, @bleebug, @spartanguard, @bethacaciakay, @phiralovesloki, @couldnthandleit, @katie-dub, @fairytalesandtimetravel, @idristardis, @lillpon, @nightships, @kmomof4, @princesse-swan, @shady-swan-jones, @happinessisblooming, and @stunningswan.

The stainless steel door slides open with a cheerful ding to reveal another cookie cutter hotel hallway, and Emma smiles sweetly at the middle-aged couple that steps off the elevator – this pause on the 14th floor marking the fifth stop it’s made on its way toward the roof. She heaves a sigh as the door closes once again and she finds herself alone. Finally. The elevator hums to life, and she shifts her weight, now free to utter a dissatisfied sound in the back of her throat in response to the pressure of the floor on the balls of her feet.

“What is it, darling?” Killian’s voice is soft.

She sighs, examining her reflection in the mirrored walls, her gaze dropping regretfully to her heels. “These shoes were a mistake,” she grumbles, wincing at the waves of pain that the sexy, four-inch stilettos are also starting to impart on her toes.

“I thought you said they’d be fine.”

“Yeah, well, I may have misjudged.” She tips her head slightly and reaches beneath her hair to adjust her earpiece.

Killian’s voice comes back to her a little clearer this time. “It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

She rolls her eyes, the side of her mouth quirking. “I’ll be fine,” she answers indulgently, checking the elevator’s progress before she goes back to studying her appearance. “I know you’re not a fan of the honey trap, but this whole thing’ll be over in under an hour, and then we can drop this guy at the precinct and go home and catch up on Game of Thrones, okay?” She smoothes a wrinkle from her very tight, very short red dress and double-checks her make-up.

“He better not touch you.”

She relishes the little thrill his possessive growl sends down her spine. “He won’t.”

“A man like him? And you in that dress?” Her pirate snorts.

“I thought you liked this dress,” she teases.

“Aye.” The sudden drop in the pitch of his voice gives her actual goosebumps. “I’m fairly certain I made it clear how much the last time you wore it.”

Emma’s cheeks glow a shade of red that rivals the fabric, and she bites her lip at the pleasant pull she feels in her belly. “You may need to jog my memory,” she says, sounding a little breathless.

He rumbles agreeably. “Just get this guy so we can go home, alright?”

“Deal."

The elevator dings, and she straightens and tosses her head a little as the door slides open. Eyes swivel in her direction as she steps out into the hotel’s rooftop bar, clicking her heels a bit louder than strictly necessary on the dark tile floor. The intimate little space is just starting to fill up for happy hour, and a quick visual sweep reveals about a dozen other patrons as Emma wanders in and sets her clutch down on the glowing surface of the bar. Her fingers reach for a cocktail menu while she admires the amazing view this place has of the Empire State Building towering a few blocks away, its myriad lights brilliant against the royal blue evening sky.

There’s a small surge of satisfaction when the man she’s looking for appears at her side in the span of a few moments. The dirty blonde curls and slightly creepy smile are straight out of the photo that’s been on her kitchen table for the last couple days, and despite the fact that her paycheck depends on this encounter, the light in his eyes and the flush of his skin tells her that he’s still a lot more pleased to meet her than she is him.

He doesn’t even try to disguise the way he looks her up and down as he approaches, grinning like a fool who’s just won the lottery. “Emma?”

Emma schools her features into something akin to pleasant surprise and forces her attention away from the menu. “Oh! Mick! Hi!” She beams. “You’re here!”

His artificially white teeth gleam as he flashes them at her. “Wow. Your profile picture doesn’t do you justice at all.”

She affects a demure chuckle. “Thanks. Sorry I’m a little late. Traffic was a beast, and I can’t exactly run in these shoes.”

Her skip’s eyes travel appreciatively down her exposed legs on cue. “I’d say they were worth it.” He gestures at her long black coat. “Can I take that for you?”

She waves him off. “No, I’ll keep it for now. I’m actually a little cold. I love this dress, but it’s not the warmest thing in my closet.”

Killian snorts in her ear yet again.

Mick laughs knowingly and sidles a little too close for comfort. “Sounds like you could use some warming up. What can I buy you?”

Emma does her best to ignore the way his proximity makes her skin crawl as she turns her eyes back to the menu. “I don’t know what I’m in the mood for. What do you like?”

“I’m partial to Long Island Iced Tea, myself.”

“Yeah.” She chuckles dryly and shakes her head. “Pretty sure that’s a bad idea. The last time I had Long Island Iced Tea, I got into a brawl at a biker bar and was almost arrested for drunk and disorderly.”

“Well in that case, I’d say it’s the best idea ever,” he laughs. “What was a nice girl like you doing in a biker bar?”

“Just meeting someone.” Her shoulders bob in a casual shrug. “Another first date.”

“And how’d it go?”

Emma grins. “Well, he did get arrested, so not so well for him.”

“Ah.” Mick catches the bartender’s eye and signals her over. “Well, let’s hope this date goes a little better then.”

“Well, to be fair, other than the part where he tried to beat me up and I had to take him down, the evening went pretty much the way I wanted it to,” she says airily.

She watches with amusement as his smile dims and confusion creeps across his face. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know how it goes,” she continues, setting the drink menu aside. “Guy gets arrested. Guy makes bail. Guy fails to show for court. Bail bondsperson has to track guy down.” She arches a brow in his direction. “Starting to sound familiar?”

Mick’s eyes bug out, and Emma can see him choke on a breath as he steps back and his pasty complexion somehow manages to grow even paler. “You’re…”

“Here to make sure you stand trial for distributing child porn?” The side of her mouth curls humorlessly. “Yup. That’s me.”

His face darkens. “Bail bonds.”

Emma shrugs. “Hey, on the bright side, I’m definitely going to insist on leaving with you.” She reaches for her clutch. “Can we walk down to my car quietly, or are you gonna embarrass yourself and make a scene?”

The soft ding of an elevator causes Mick to dart a glance over her shoulder. “I think you’re the one about to be embarrassed,” he sneers, rotating to snatch the tumbler from the customer behind him and dashing its contents in her direction.

The frigid mixture of gin, tonic, and ice strikes her in the face, and Emma recoils, the shock of it barely allowing her to register what happens when he presses past her, shoving at her shoulder and knocking her feet out from under her with a backward sweep of his leg. She crashes to the floor with a yelp that triggers cries of surprise and dismay from all corners of the bar, and Mick makes a break for it, pushing his way past the pair of startled young women who have just stepped off the open elevator behind them. He leaps inside and whirls to hit the buttons, shooting her one last glare through the closing door, and only when his face disappears from view does she realize that Killian is barking in her ear.

“Emma? Emma! What’s going on?”

Emma curses, struggling to get to her feet in heels that are most definitely too high and a skirt that now threatens indecency with every move she makes. She accepts a hand and a dry towel from the female bartender with a gasped word of thanks. “He’s in the elevator,” she grunts, pressing one hand to her earpiece while she hastily mops her face, neck, and chest.

“The one on the right or the left?”

“My left.” She huffs with frustration at the lack of any sort of numeric indicator on the elevators on this floor. “Ugh. I can’t tell where he’s going.”

“It’s alright, love. I’ve got it. He’s heading straight for me,” he reassures her gruffly. “Did he touch you?”

She tosses the towel back onto the bar with a sigh. “What?”

“Did he touch you?” Killian repeats, his voice more insistent.

Emma rolls her shoulder and groans. “Just got my legs out from under me.” She hears him hum as she grabs her clutch to offer the bartender another thanks and a twenty for her trouble. “What?”

“Nothing, Swan,” he answers, a grim smile in his voice while the bartender waves off the money. “Just deciding how hard to hit him.”

She grins in spite of herself and hustles toward the elevators, stuffing the bill back into her clutch. Her finger jabs the call button. “You know the law,” she reminds him affectionately.

“Aye.” He chuckles. “And I know a few things about bending the rules.”

A smirk pulls at her lips. “Pirate.”

* * *

He dislikes this part – the waiting. Not as much has he dislikes the idea of Emma using herself as bait to lure in their latest skip, but having to deal with both things at the same time makes Killian’s knee bounce impatiently as he waits in the lobby of the hotel, nestled in one of four very purple, very loud wingback chairs that are arranged around an equally loud yellow ottoman. He grips his phone, thumb sweeping back and forth over the cool glass screen absently as he tries very hard not to imagine the way their latest quarry, Mick Jamison, is about to ogle the woman he loves. Emma’s certain to give the villain an eyeful – miles of silken skin and athletic curves poured into a dress with a neckline that’s too low and a hem that’s too high and those sinful new shoes that made Killian groan inwardly with delight when she first pulled them from the box. He still has no bloody clue how she walks around in those things without snapping her feet off at the ankle, but the effect they have on her legs and her arse and the sway of her hips…

He bites his lip and tries to think of something else before too much of his blood rushes south. A quick check for new e-mail yields a message from a colleague at Sword Class NYC asking whether Killian would be willing to open a few more spots in the wildly popular saber/cutlass course he’s been teaching twice a week, but there’s little else beyond that to distract him, not even the usual, cursed “spam.”

His sigh of relief is nearly audible when his phone suddenly vibrates in his hand. It’s a text from Henry. Killian’s thumb swipes across the screen.

Operation PAROI is go.

He hums, dimples making the briefest appearance, and sets about typing his response, his thumb carefully tapping each letter with only mild awkwardness compared to the way it was ten months ago when Henry and Emma first taught him how.

You got them?

Yeah. Smee brought them over. They’re in the cabinet. IDK what he’s cooking, but you guys better leave me some cuz it smells awesome.

Good.

What’s your ETA?

Killian’s brow furrows.

What?

When will you be home?

He makes a mental note to ask about “ETA” later. Some days it feels like this whole world speaks in bloody letters.

Your mum is on her way to meet the target. An hour at least.

What if he doesn’t show and you guys come back too early?

He’ll show.

How do you know?

Killian huffs and hesitates a moment before keying in his reply.

I saw his messages to your mum. Let’s just say he’s keen to meet her.

Keen?

Eager.

Oh. Is this the part where I get grossed out?

The corner of his mouth twitches.

Completely.

EWWWWW.

He stifles a laugh.

Mom won’t let him get away with anything though, right?

No. And neither will I.

Good.

A fond grin blooms on Killian’s face, and he begins to key in his next message. His thumb pauses for a second at the irritated sound Emma suddenly makes in his earpiece. “What is it, darling?” he asks, glancing around to make sure no one is watching him talk to himself and then hitting “send.”

When do you go to Avery’s?

“These shoes were a mistake.”

Killian frowns. “I thought you said they’d be fine.”

“Yeah, well, I may have misjudged.”

“It’s not too late to back out, you know,” he reminds her. He experiences a prick of apprehension at the prospect of leaving early and mucking up the plot happening at home, but it fades as quickly as it came when he all but hears her rolling her eyes at him.

“I’ll be fine.” Emma’s voice warms with affection. “I know you’re not a fan of the honey trap, but the whole thing’ll be over in a few minutes, and then we can drop this guy at the precinct and go home and catch up on Game of Thrones, okay?”

His phone buzzes again.

Avery’s mom’s running late. Smee’s gonna take me over on his way back to the restaurant.

“He better not touch you,” he grumbles, even as he replies to Henry.

Good man. I’ll text when we’re on our way.

She hums. “He won’t.”

“A man like him? And you in that dress?” Killian snorts.

“I thought you liked this dress.”

He can envision the sly smile on her lips, and he shivers at the thought. “Aye.” He glances around again for onlookers and lowers his voice. “I’m fairly certain I made it clear how much the last time you wore it.”

“You may need to jog my memory.”

He groans inwardly, and his blood threatens to run south yet again. Bloody hell, he’s a lucky sod. “Just get this guy so we can go home, alright?”

“Deal.”

The next few minutes listening to Emma make contact with Jamison have Killian clenching his fist and trying not to openly scowl, but she keeps her flirtation blissfully brief. He almost dares to relax a little, but then things go sideways and the sound of her yelp makes him sit bolt upright. “Emma?” The clerk at the lobby desk shoots him an odd look, and Killian hurriedly raises his phone to his ear to keep from looking like a madman as he springs to his feet. “Emma! What’s going on?”

He’s relieved to hear she isn’t hurt, but that relief quickly gives way to determination when she fills him in. Adrenaline pulses through his chest as he spins and stalks toward the elevators, eyeing the slow, steady sweep of the dial on the circular floor indicator above the door on the left with a predatory glare. A smooth, black pillar with a silver upholstered bench wrapped cleverly around the base stands nearby, and he ducks behind it, poking his head out to watch the numbers continue to count down. 9…8…7… It’s times like these he finds he misses his sword the most, and he briefly laments how much more effective (and entertaining) it would be to catch this bastard at the tip of his blade. Killian shrugs off the idea and wets his lips in anticipation. 4…3…2… No matter, he thinks, checking his brace. There are other ways to get his satisfaction.

The elevator dings, and the blonde man from Emma’s photo hurries out, looking disgruntled and nervous as he makes for the front door. In one smooth movement, Killian emerges from behind the pillar and swings, his jaw clenched and his outstretched arm slightly bent as it catches Jamison hard across the upper chest and brings him to a comically abrupt stop. The clash of momentum causes the villian to topple backward with a delightful choking noise and Killian to drop to his knees expelling a gratified grunt. Any pain he feels when he hits the floor goes largely unnoticed as he scrambles to his feet and gets in Jamison’s face. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, mate?” he asks through gritted teeth, twisting his hand into the front of the man’s shirt. He hauls him to a sit none too gently and brandishes his hook. “It’s bad form to run out on a lady.”

Jamison utters a few choice words between wheezes, going a little cross-eyed as he gapes at the sharpened steel point hovering inches from his nose. “Who the hell are you?” he demands.

Killian allows his expression to grow thunderous, and he thrusts the curve of his hook against Jamison’s throat to extract another gurgle from him. “Where I come from, most people would say I’m their worst nightmare,” he replies darkly. “Here I can still come pretty close. Don't tempt me to demonstrate.” He reaches for his cuffs and slaps one around the man's wrist, his hook pressing deeper into the cleft above Jamison’s Adam’s apple and his blue eyes flashing hard and cold. “You’re going to apologize to my partner when she gets down here, is that clear?"

The miserable little skip nods weakly, cursing again when Killian circles around and yanks his arms behind his back to finish cuffing him. Killian has him situated on the bench at the base of the pillar by the time the elevator on the right dings and Emma strides out.

Some of her allure is lost in her damp hair and the wet spot on the front of her dress, but the fire in her eyes more than makes up for it. They land on a defeated-looking Jamison before she flashes Killian a grateful grin, a little more swivel in her hips as she covers the last few steps between them. “My hero.”

Killian smiles winningly and reaches out to cup her cheek. “Are you alright, love?”

“Nothing bruised but my tailbone and my ego.” She chuckles and lets him pull her in for a quick kiss. “And the dress will wash out,” she adds with a knowing gleam in her eye. He laughs quietly, and she tips her chin toward Jamison. “Left him in one piece, I see.”

“Aye, against my better judgment.” Killian arches an eyebrow expectantly at their perp. “You have something to say to her, mate?”

Jamison glowers at him before shooting a petulant glance at Emma. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Good enough, I suppose.” Killian nods, allowing himself to look smug as he grabs the wretch by the arm and drags him to his feet. He savors the pleased smile that curls at Emma’s lips and throws her a wink while he gives Jamison a little push toward the front door. “Now let’s get out of here. The lady and I have better things to do.”

* * *

The worst of the rush hour traffic has thankfully abated by the time they make their way home from Manhattan, having left their skip in the capable hands of the booking officer at the Thirteenth. Emma lets out a satisfied sigh as she pulls the Bug into the parking spot in front of the house, switching off the ignition and slumping back in her seat in slightly exaggerated fashion.

Killian eyes her from the passenger seat with a smile. “Tired, Swan?”

“Mmph.” She fingers a wet-and-dried lock of hair out of her face. “I’m okay. Starving more than anything. What do you want to do for dinner?” She swivels her head to blink languidly at him.

He smiles and tips his head, as if considering. “Why don’t you let me handle dinner tonight?”

“Really?” She straightens a bit, pleasant confusion appearing on her brow.

“Really.” He leans forward and gives her a kiss that’s short and sweet and leaves her craving more. Her kid’s almost a teenager but she’s still thinking about making out in cars with boys, she muses as she purrs and tugs him into a more heated embrace. His satisfied growl sends a shiver rippling across her skin. Well, one car. And one two hundred year-old boy who looks damn good in black leather.

They pull apart at last, his breath warm across her lips and his forehead still pressed to hers as she gives a gratified sigh and enjoys the pleasant flip of her stomach. “So are you calling for pizza or Chinese?” she manages.

Killian chuckles and plants a quick kiss on her nose before shaking his head. “Neither. Come on.” He releases his car door and turns to set a foot on the pavement.

A hesitant smile forms on Emma’s mouth as she follows suit. “Okay…”

He waits for her on the curb, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as he guides her toward the front steps. “Give a man a little credit, Swan. I know how to use the microwave too,” he reminds her cheerfully.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Her grin is teasing, even as she silently acknowledges that he probably could find a way to make frozen food seem romantic.

They climb the steps together, and she pauses on the stoop to pull him to her again, yanking on the lapels of his black leather motorcycle jacket and sealing her lips hungrily over his. The sound he makes in the back of his throat sends a shower of sparks raining down between her shoulder blades and makes her forget the screaming protest of her aching feet, and between the dress and the heels and the making out with her hot fairytale boyfriend in front of the whole street, she wonders in some recess of her mind whether the neighbors will start to get the wrong idea about her.

Killian chuckles and nuzzles her cheek, his scruff scraping pleasantly over her skin. “I love you.”

Let them think whatever they want. Her smile feels impossibly wide. “I love you.”

“Almost a year later and still kissing me on the front step, I see.” His fingertips trace the curve of her jaw.

She laughs softly, eyes dancing. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one that started it,” she says, glancing down to locate her house key.

“Aye. One of several excellent decisions I made that day.”

Warmth rises in her cheeks, and she chews on the corner of her lip, darting him a warm glance as she turns back the bolt and lets them in. “Yeah.”

She stops dead in the doorway with one foot still on the stoop when she gets her first whiff of the delicious smells that hang heavy in the air. “What…?” Her mouth falls open, and she shoots a quizzical look over her shoulder only to be met with Killian’s reassuring nod.

“I told you I’d take care of dinner, Swan.” His trademark smirk is slightly muted, but his eyes gleam nonetheless as he nudges her inside and relieves her of her coat.

Emma sniffs and cranes her head toward the kitchen while he leaves their things on the hooks by the stairs. The house is dark, save for the light of the living room lamp they always leave on at night, but she searches the shadows nonetheless. “Is Smee here?”

“He was, but he’s gone back to the restaurant.” Killian meets her incredulous expression with a casual shrug, though the dimple in his cheek reveals his self-satisfaction. “And Henry’s at Avery’s for the night.”

Her eyebrow arches at the obvious implication, her heart rate speeding up all over again. “So we’re alone.”

“Aye.” He takes her hand in his and gives it a gentle tug, his grin strangely shy. “Come. Before dinner gets cold.”

Emma pulls back and glances down at her front with a sheepish chuckle. “Give me a few minutes to change, okay? I know you love this dress, but dinner might be more romantic if I wasn’t wearing something sticky. You can go open some wine. I’ll be right there.” She notes the slight disappointment in Killian’s eyes and the way they flit over the lines of her dress like he’s trying to commit them to memory, and she takes a step closer, feeling the heat creep over her skin when she tips her chin upward to murmur in his ear. “Unless, you know, you’d like to help me out of this thing.”

His face morphs in an instant, one telltale brow leaping upward and his lips parting in that look of hunger and awe that always generates a tingle at the base of her spine. She’s already slipped beyond his grasp and ascended the first few stairs before he regains his wits and hustles to follow. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

He misses one of the steps, and the glimpse she catches of her singularly suave and singularly coordinated pirate nearly face-planting in his haste to follow her causes Emma to burst into giggles, the upstairs hallway ringing with the sound of her laughter.

* * *

Smee would probably be exasperated to know that they risked letting his wonderful meal grow cold, Killian supposes when he and Emma finally make it back down to the kitchen. A dopey grin curls at his mouth in the afterglow of their not-so-brief activities upstairs, and he relishes the sensation of feeling quite sated despite the embarrassingly loud gurgle that resonates from his stomach as he trails after Emma in his pajamas and bare feet, hair still damp and the pads of his fingers still wrinkled. One glance toward the upper cabinets, however, sends his heart into his throat, and he swallows hard and tries to focus, thinking about the pair of coffee mugs planted inside that together read, “Let’s have coffee together… for the rest of our lives.” Operation: Put a Ring On It is go, he can hear Henry saying.

Right.

“Oh my God,” Emma chuckles. She adjusts the belt on her midnight blue bathrobe while surveying the handmade ravioli that Smee had the forethought to leave warming in a crock and the picture-perfect apple pie that’s cooling on the counter. “He really went all out.”

Killian hums, swiftly moving toward the refrigerator to pull out the salad and bottle of wine he knows are waiting inside. His eye darts anxiously toward the glimmer of gold champagne foil that just peeks out from behind the milk as he hastily shuts the door. “Smee’s always been a quick learner, and this job at Tony’s seems to agree with him,” he says absently, toting the items to the table. “He was an able pirate, but I daresay he makes a much better chef. Believe me, he gets more excited about cheeses these days than he ever did about anything in the Enchanted Forest.”

Emma grins at the professionally laid dinner table and retrieves the plates to begin loading them up with ravioli. “Well, Tony says he owes me a favor for finding him. He thinks he has a lot of potential. They’re even thinking of writing a cookbook together.” She chuckles, her wooden spoon clinking softly against the cool ceramic. “If he becomes famous, you can tell people you knew him back when he was fencing magic beans.” She throws Killian a playful glance over her shoulder and bites her lip. “Well, maybe not.”

He laughs, rummaging through a drawer to locate the corkscrew. “He’s certainly come a long way.” He meets her halfway to the dinner table and pauses for a quick kiss, favoring the glint in her eye with a sly smile. “I suppose we both have.”

They continue to chat amiably over dinner once Emma finishes groaning and muttering Smee’s praises through her first mouthful of ravioli. It takes a rather heroic effort for Killian to not spend the meal staring at her with a foolish grin plastered on his face. With damp, disheveled locks framing her washed face, her features enhanced by nothing but the healthy flush in her cheeks, and her figure hidden beneath her rumpled, careworn bathrobe, her appearance is a far cry from the splendor of the costume she wore the night they shared True Love’s Kiss, but it matters little. He’s just as enchanted with her now as he was then, especially when she gives a little chuckle and wordlessly holds his napkin out to him to wipe the sauce off his moustache.

“So are you going to tell me what the occasion is?” she asks at last, sitting back and arcing an eyebrow at him over her wine glass.

Her question causes the butterflies in his stomach to stir once again, though his only tell is the anxious way he rubs the side of his curled index finger against the pad of his thumb as he jumps up to go start the coffee maker. “Does a man need an occasion to plan a nice night of dinner and dancing?”

“Dancing?” The pretty frown in her voice is obvious even with his back turned to her. “We’re not exactly dressed to go out anymore.”

“Who said anything about going out?” Killian flashes her a roguish grin and sets the pot beneath the running faucet before he rotates to grab the stereo remote from the center island and aims it toward the living room. Michael Bublé’s smooth baritone suddenly cuts through the air.

Birds flying high You know how I feel Sun in the sky You know how I feel Reeds driftin' on by You know how I feel

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life For me And I'm feeling good

Emma’s laugh mixes with the deep brass swells that follow, and she obligingly sets her hand in Killian’s when he comes back over to pull her out of her chair, the sensation of her warm weight falling into his arms an automatic balm to his nerves. He walks her back a few steps toward the living room, and she makes a small sound of playful protest.

“This isn’t a waltz.”

His eyes twinkle as he shakes his head. “No.”

“I don’t know how to dance to this.”

Killian’s chuckle vibrates in his chest beneath her fingers. “Neither do I.” His grin widens as her hands slide up to encircle his neck.

She smirks devilishly. “Don’t I need a partner who knows what he’s doing?”

“Hmph.” The corners of his eyes pinch in mock offense. “I may not know a formal dance for this song, darling,” he rumbles, pulling her hips flush with his and savoring the sensation as she begins to sway with him, “But believe me, I still know what I’m doing.”

The way her lashes flutter and her cheeks wash a deeper shade of pink is pure magic, and he commits it to memory in the split second it takes for him to lean down and capture her lips with his.

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean Sleep in peace when the day is done, that's what I mean And this old world is a new world And a bold world For me For me

This kiss is soft and slow, and Emma utters a happy sigh when they finally come up for air, the two of them still moving together in time to the patient, heavy beat. She glances down at their bare feet in the carpet and chuckles. “This is kind of like the first time we danced,” she points out. “You know, PJs in the living room.”

“Aye,” he murmurs, head bobbing. “Except I couldn’t kiss you then.” His smile is a little melancholy as of her hands find their way to his jaw, her thumb brushing fondly across his scruff.

“Did you want to?”

Killian chuffs. “You know I did, love. More than anything. Luckily,” he continues, the corners of his eyes wrinkling, “Fortune saw fit to show me favor, and here we are.”

“Here we are,” she echoes with a sunny grin. “And now you can kiss me whenever you want.”

His expression sobers, and he studies her shining eyes, breath growing shallow. “Promise?”

Emma gives a little laugh and rises on her toes to give him a quick peck. “Promise.”

“Good.” And suddenly he knows. The way his heartbeat grows more insistent, the way she’s looking at him. This is it. This is the moment. He throws a look toward the kitchen. Hang the plan. He clears his throat, dark eyebrows creasing. “In that case, I have something for you.” Emma steps back, puzzled, as he releases her and his fingers disappear into the pocket of his sleep pants to fish out the ring he’s been keeping on his person all day. The round, polished opal encircled with diamonds and rose gold sparkles in the lamplight, and Killian’s smile is watery as he looks down on it and carefully drops onto one knee. “A promise for a promise.” His shimmering blue eyes lift up to her in earnest.

She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Killian…”

His gaze flits nervously over her perfect features. “Swan,” he begins slowly, “Darling, you’re my one true love, and I promise to always, always be by your side.” His heart soars when she gives herself away with a premature nod and a solitary tear, and a chuckle bursts from his chest. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

Emma shudders and hurriedly swipes the moisture from her cheek with the heel of her hand, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep, steadying breath before she reaches for his elbow and pulls him back to his feet. His arms fall back around her waist, and she lovingly palms the angles of his jaw, her face aglow. “Yes,” she sniffles. “Yes, I will.”

He can feel her trembling when she kisses him, as though her happiness can barely be contained, and Killian wonders if he’s ever known so much joy in one moment as he does now. A lifetime with Emma Swan, protecting her, loving her, making her smile – no reward he’d ever dreamt of when he first when looking for the battered compass that now sits in a place of honor on the bookshelf could compare.

They both laugh when they get to the business of actually putting the ring on her finger, and Emma’s eyes grow round with her first good look at it. “Is that…?”

“A piece of the Sea Star,” he says with a quiet grin. “I found it snagged in what was left of the old carpet when we were tearing it out. As far as I can tell, it’s the only bit that didn’t get sucked back through the portal.” He runs his thumb reverently over the stone’s smooth surface. “I kept it as a reminder of how we found each other, and once I started thinking about a ring, well…” He shrugs, a flicker of anxiety in his stomach once more. “I understand large diamonds are more traditional in this realm, but Henry thought you’d like it.” Relief washes over him when he looks up to see her on the verge of tears again.

“I love it,” Emma murmurs, settling her left hand on his chest and sliding the fingers of her right hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And I love you.”

Killian leans forward to press his lips to her forehead. “I love you too.”

A telltale beep sounds, and he glances toward the kitchen with a sheepish smile. “There’s the coffee. Or we have champagne, if you prefer. Smee insisted.”

“Why am I not surprised the three of you were in on this together?” She chuckles.

He shrugs. “A captain needs a crew. Operation: Put a Ring On It, Henry called it, though I will admit that the original plan involved proposing over coffee and pie.”

“Oh, I see. You were going to exploit my weakness for pie.”

The grin on his face stretches to his ears. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt.” He nuzzles her hair with his nose. “Shall we? I can show you the special mugs we got for the occasion.”

“Mm. Later,” she breathes, her smile turning impish as she rises up on her toes to kiss him again, her lips brushing softly across his skin. “Right now, I just want to dance with you.”

He draws her closer and rumbles contentedly. “As the lady wishes.”

They rock together to the strains of jazz standards until long after the coffee has cooled, the lamp casting their combined shadow across the shaded windows and out into the New York night. And Killian marvels that even though all of this – the city, the technology, the music, the clothes, the food, this home – though all of it was so entirely foreign to him just months ago, he’s never felt such a profound sense of belonging as he does here, in the arms of the woman who was perhaps always meant to be his North Star.

Feeling Good (Michael Bublé)

Birds flying high You know how I feel Sun in the sky You know how I feel Reeds driftin' on by You know how I feel

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life For me And I'm feeling good I'm feeling good

Fish in the sea You know how I feel River running free You know how I feel Blossom on the tree You know how I feel

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life For me And I'm feeling good

Stars when you shine You know how I feel Scent of the pine You know how I feel Oh freedom is mine And I know how I feel

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life

It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life It's a new dawn It's a new day It's a new life It's a new life For me

And I'm feeling good

I'm feeling good

I'm feeling so good

I feel so good

Thank you so much for reading! For a behind-the-scenes look at this fic, click here for a reader Q & A!

#my writing #a fairytale beginning #cs au #cs ef au #cs modern au #cs au ff #captain swan #cs ff #ouat ff #ouat fanfic #cs enchanted au

126 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 6 years

Text

Call My Own

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here

A/N: This chapter is a very old prompt I have had on my to-write list for over a year, brought to you by the many many Ed Sheeran fans we seem to have in the fandom. ‘Nancy Mulligan’ is not the first Ed Sheeran song in the mixtape series, and it will hardly be the last, but this fic also came with an added request. It wanted Emma as a princess and Killian as a pirate in an EF AU where the two of them have to run away to get married since her parents don’t approve. I have twisted that just a little bit, but what has resulted is just a ball of fluff that I think we could all use after saying our final farewell to the show yesterday. Hope you guys enjoy, hope that you are all doing well, and thanks so much for reading!

Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger had never been one for patience. Since an early age he’d known it was a flaw in his personal design. His need to keep going, to keep moving, and to seek instant gratification was more often than not a burden. But never had his patience been tested like it was tonight as he waited with a lantern in the woods just beyond the castle walls.

Getting to this moment had been a long and winding road, one filled with hardship and loss that used to haunt Killian without reprieve. The deaths of his mother and of his elder brother Liam had prompted the worst kinds of pain, even worse than the enslavement he and Liam faced as children. But then a miracle stumbled along his path, a woman – nay, a princess – who with just a simple smile and a ‘how do you do’ turned his world completely upside down. Where once there had only been darkness now there was light again, and the heedless rebellion that had long stirred in Killian’s soul was quieted by the love of a remarkable woman who he was waiting for now.

Princess Emma of Misthaven was a rare gem, a beauty who was incomparable and who was beloved the realm over, but there was more to Emma than mere looks. The wit she had, the sense of self, the unshakeable sense of right in wrong, and the headstrong stubbornness when she felt herself justified all tied together made one perfectly imperfect person who he couldn’t help but adore. She was beyond comprehension and at their first meeting Killian had known just how ill suited they were for each other. He was bloody pirate for Gods’ sake, and she… well she was goodness personified.

It was that goodness that had brought them together so many months ago, but Killian remembered that first meeting like it had only just happened. He could see Emma in his mind’s eye, dressed down from the splendors of royal wear into something more modest and comfortable. She was out and about, having slipped away from the castle and her guards to help care for some children in this small town by the sea, and at first Killian had no idea who she was. To him she was simply the most gorgeous maiden he’d ever cast eyes on, and he’d felt compelled to seek her out even if he knew he shouldn’t.

“Excuse me, lass,” he’d begun, trying to catch up to his actions as he spoke aloud. Truth be told he had no plan, no words that he could say to her, and at first he thought to ask for directions or pretend to be lost, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie, even if it was of small consequence. Instead he lapsed into silence, prompting a smile from this strange, beautiful creature.

“I would excuse you,” she replied with a fair bit of sass, “but I don’t know what you’ve done that needs excusing.”

“Right – sorry.” Killian’s bumbling about was the most mortifying experience, but then it prompted a laugh from his new companion and he couldn’t seem to regret it.

“Did you need something?” she asked, the light of her laughter still twinkling in her eyes and Killian moved forward, wanting to bask in the aura around her. At his movements her gaze shifted from something that was merely friendly and curious to another expression entirely. In her eyes he finally saw an interest that mirrored his own, and that interest seemed to return his instincts to him once more.

“Just a name, love, so I might know what to call the most beautiful woman the realms over.”

The words hadn’t in any way been contrived, for he felt them most acutely, but Killian waited a beat, feeling her breath catch and watching a shiver go through her before she shook her head and smiled again, another giggle falling from her lips. She covered her mouth, and Killian wished to take her hand to keep her from shielding her smile, but she did so on her own soon enough.

“Do lines that usually work for you?” she queried, clearly believing him a flatterer instead of a man of any substance.

“That wasn’t a line,” Killian said somewhat defensively. “You are that beautiful.”

Now it was her turn to be a little off balance. “Oh, well, uh thank you.”

“So… your name?” he asked, stepping just a fraction of an inch closer but putting them in a distance to each other that was hardly proper.

“You really don’t know?” she asked and Killian shook his head.

“Should I, love?” Killian prompted and she looked torn about telling him, glancing back to the children who were still playing about. Then Killian acted on instinct, reaching out to her and turning her cheek back to him. He felt the rush of touching her the first time, the flare of heat as his skin met hers, and he watched as a blush kissed her cheeks, but he pressed on. “If you don’t give me a name, you know I’ll have to choose my own for you.”

“And what would you choose?” she asked, her voice a bit breathless as the wind picked up slightly and moved a bit of her golden hair around in the breeze.

“Swan,” he confessed, watching as her eyes grew wide with curiosity. “They are the most beautiful of birds, both fierce and brilliant. They’re also stubborn as I recall, and they’ve a will of their own that can’t be denied.”

“I’m not stubborn,” she protested and Killian grinned.

“Aren’t you? You won’t even give me your name.”

“It’s Emma,” she replied.

“Killian,” he’d offered in turn, taking her hand in his, and just as he was about to push for more the children had returned in full force, bringing with them more than exuberance but another revelation – for none of them referred to her as Emma, instead they all called her ‘Princess’ alerting Killian to the fact that he’d just begun to fall for not just any woman, but the most sought after one in the Enchanted Forest.

In the time since that meeting, however, Killian and Emma had found their way back to each other often. It started slowly and with set expectations. She was a princess, and he was a pirate. There was surely no way they could be together, but when Emma confessed that the feeling of love and that sensation that life could never be as sweet without them together was mutual, Killian began to hope for more. He was determined to be a better man that was more worthy of her, and the inspiration he held close in trying to pursue such a life came from Emma and her abundant love for all the people in the realm, good, bad, and in between.

A slow spike of remorse rose in Killian’s gut at the thought of that love and how their running away together now would jeopardize her future interactions with the kingdom. Emma deserved the life she’d been born to, a life where someday she would rule as Queen and protect the people she’d been safeguarding all her life, but the sad fact was he couldn’t give such a life to her. Her parents, kind and benevolent as stories and legend made them out to be, had been clear on this: their daughter was not to marry a pirate.

“I just can’t understand them,” Emma had said the night after he’d gone to seek their approval a few days ago, when she’d stolen away from the castle to meet him aboard his ship. There were tears in her eyes, and emotion holding like a vice to her voice that cut Killian down to his soul.

“Can’t you, love?” Killian asked, a bitter attempt at humor etched inside the words. “I’m a pirate, a rogue, hardly the kind of man suited for a princess, never mind a princess as wonderful as you.”

“Stop that,” Emma scolded as she looked into his eyes and her hands came to his chest. “You know that’s not true Killian. You’re so much more than the pirate you imagine. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t love you as I do if you were any less.”

“And I will love you every day of my life, and every day there after, Emma. But sometimes, I suppose, love isn’t enough.”

The words had tasted like acid on his tongue and the reality that not receiving a blessing from her parents would put a stop to this nearly killed him, but it was Emma who rallied and who put his fears mostly to rest. She pulled him to her for a kiss, one that was forceful and full of feeling, daring him to doubt what existed between them. Then when they pulled away from each other, their foreheads rested together and she spoke a simple truth he would cling to all the rest of his life.

“Love will always be enough, and a true love like ours always finds a way.”

That was what they were doing tonight – finding a way, a way to be together and to tie two hearts who loved so fully together as one. They were going to elope, to marry in secret and then reveal to her parents the truth. From there the Queen and King could make the decision to either accept Killian and Emma or to turn them away. Killian prayed every night for the former, for disownment from her parents would bring Emma a pain he would wish on no one, certainly not the woman he loved.

A rustling of branches not so far off drew Killian’s mind from his wayward thoughts, and he awaited whatever approached, poised for the worst but hoping for the best. When he saw Emma standing there, he hardly knew what to say. She was so beautiful, so utterly breathtaking out here in the moonlight with just the glow of his lantern shining on her that he could barely speak. Underneath a cloak of blue he could see she was wearing white. It wasn’t the kind of gown a princess wore on her wedding day, but it was beautiful, pure, and gave his bride to be an almost fairy-like look he’d remember forever.

“Emma,” he said, her name a single utterance that brought her running forward. She threw herself into his arms, and he tossed the lantern with little care, knowing it was safe, but not truly having a care. All that mattered was holding her, and comforting whatever sadness she was feeling.

“Oh Killian… I thought I’d die from waiting. But we’re really doing this. We’re really going to be married,” she said and Killian swallowed harshly as he pulled back to look at her, letting her come back softly to her feet.

“That we are, love. As soon as you tell me that this is what you want we’ll go. I’ve everything ready, but I need you to tell me one last time.”

“The only thing I’ll ever truly need is you by my side,” Emma murmured as her hand grazed his cheek, her fingertips brushing at the spot where beard met flesh as she tried her hand at a bit of teasing to lighten the mood. “You still love me, don’t you, Captain?”

“More than anything the realms over. And you know I’d give you the whole world if I could, Emma, but in the life I can offer you, there are no palaces or castle. No crowns, and no kingdoms. There’s just my ship, the sea, and a heart so full of love for you I can promise it will never fade away.”

“It sounds perfect,” she assured him with a whisper. “As long as I’m your wife and you’re my husband, as long as we walk through life together, make a family together, and grow old together, as long as you keep your promise and love me every day, then that will be enough.”

“You have my word, Emma. If those are your dreams, I will see to it that every last one of them comes true.”

“And we’ll see to the rest,” a voice said from just beyond the tree line. Emma and Killian turned and discovered that despite their beliefs they were not alone, for there, standing before them were the King and Queen. “Won’t we Charming?”

The question from Queen Snow came charged with emotion, her wide eyes glistening with tears as she held her husband’s hand. Emma’s father, meanwhile, was not so stricken with emotion, but his focus lingered on his daughter before turning to Killian. This time the look Killian received was very different from the last. There was still the feeling that Killian would never be good enough for Emma (a fact to which Killian would readily agree), but the harshness and disdain was gone. Instead it was replaced with understanding and a new sort of respect. It was a look that gave Killian hope, as he stood there with Emma still in his arms.

“Mom? Dad?” Emma asked, pulling back as she kept Killian’s hand in hers. “If you came here to stop me -,”

“We didn’t,” her father promised. “We came to make things right.”

“We should never have stood in the way of true love, Emma,” her mother said thoughtfully, stepping forward to cross the space between them until her hand came to rest on Emma’s arm. “And it’s clear from your actions and your words that you two do love each other. You’re old enough to know your own heart, and if you want him so much that you would run away to be married, he must be truly worthy man.”

“He is,” Emma said with a smile before looking back at Killian and whispering, “You are.”

“Right then,” Emma’s father said briskly, stepping forward to shake Killian’s hand. “Please accept our apologies, Captain. But also remember that if you hurt her there’s not a place in any world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

“Dad!” Emma yelled at the same time that her mother scolded, “Charming!” but then Emma and Queen Snow laughed together.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Highnesses. And believe me, if I were ever to cause any harm to Emma, I would not run. I’d willingly surrender to whatever punishment you deemed fit. It could be no worse than the pain I’d feel at having inflicted any suffering on my swan.”

“Swan?” Queen Snow asked and Emma shook her head.

“A story for another time. Right now we have to go, we’re late.”

“Late?” the King asked. “But Emma, now that we’ve settled things surely you can come home. Killian will come too and we’ll plan a wedding befitting a princess. There’s no need to run anymore.”

“You two can still plan the party of your dreams. If you want we’ll even stand up in front of the whole kingdom and say our vows all over again,” Emma said looking to Killian for agreement as he gave a nod, perfectly happy to do anything she wanted. “But I’m not waking up another morning not married to the man I love. I can’t wait anymore. I won’t.”

“I see,” her father said with an even tone as her mother looked shocked. Then he surprised them all with a response no one saw coming. “Well I can’t say I’ve ever been on a pirate ship before, but there’s a first time for everything as they say.”

“You’re kidding,” Emma said with rush of air and then a giggle when she realized he wasn’t. “You’re serious?! You’ll both come?”

Her parents agreed that they would, and Killian could feel the happiness Emma carried in her heart because of it. They made their way to the ship, and despite the slight awkwardness of introducing the few crew members he’d kept for the night to not only his bride to be but her royal parents, things went smoothly from there. The chapel was found, the ceremony presided over, and the love that was bound together grew only stronger as they promised to have and to hold each other all the days of their lives. Killian knew the rush and the thrill that could only come from the woman he cherished taking his name as hers, and he felt his heart open all the more at promising Emma eternity. It would never be enough, but it was a start, a start he was more than excited to undertake.

As the early morning light began to rise above the world, Killian and Emma stood at the side of the Jolly Roger, watching the sun make it’s way through the heavens, bringing warmth and illumination as it did. Her parents had decided to retire to a cabin for this last short leg of the trip, but Killian suspected it was more to give them privacy than because of any real need for rest. He appreciated it too, for the only thing that could sate the need to claim his bride in this moment was holding her in his arms, watching the early morning sun cast golden hints through her hair and light up her jade colored eyes. In this moment Emma looked blissfully happy, and then she turned to him and smiled, taking his breath away.

“Promise me this really happened,” she said, her hand coming to rest above his chest, right where his heart lay beating. “Promise me it’s real, and that I won’t wake up from some perfect dream any minute now.”

Killian brought her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss before returning her smile. Then he ran his fingertips against her cheek, gazing in her eyes and seeing the next sixty-odd years they’d spend together. There was a beautiful life to be led, a life filled with far more joy than sorrow, with hopes and dreams, with love and faith, and he found himself also grappling with the worry that somehow this was all a grand illusion. Then he grounded himself in Emma, the realest thing he’d ever known, and he took comfort in the fact that he couldn’t imagine such a treasure or such a blessing as her.

“This is real, my love. As real as real can be.”

“Good,” Emma replied before kissing him, teasing him with the taste of passion he knew lurked just beneath the surface. The kiss burned hotter, edging onto something that couldn’t be excused, especially when her parents were just below decks, but at the last minute Emma pulled back, grinning mirthfully at him before supplying one last thought. “And don’t worry – we can still run away together.”

“Come again?” the confusion that must have been etched on his face made her laugh, soothing his disorientation as he awaited her reply.

“Not forever,” Emma said with conviction. “Just for a little while. I think three weeks will be long enough for a decent honeymoon, don’t you?”

“Aye, my swan. As you wish.”

And with that agreement between them, Killian and Emma settled into the happily ever after they’d been fighting so hard for, finding it just as wonderful and magical as fairytales and happy stories made them out to be.

…………..

I was twenty-four years old When I met the woman I would call my own Twenty-two grand kids now growing old In that house that your brother bought ya On the summer day when I proposed I made that wedding ring from dentist gold And I asked her father, but her daddy said, "No You can't marry my daughter" She and I went on the run Don't care about religion I'm gonna marry the woman I love Down by the Wexford border She was Nancy Mulligan And I was William Sheeran She took my name and then we were one Down by the Wexford border Well, met her at Guy's in the second world war And she was working on a soldier's ward Never had I seen such beauty before The moment that I saw her Nancy was my yellow rose And we got married wearing borrowed clothes We got eight children now growing old Five sons and three daughters She and I went on the run Don't care about religion I'm gonna marry the woman I love Down by the Wexford border She was Nancy Mulligan And I was William Sheeran She took my name and then we were one Down by the Wexford border From her snow white streak in her jet black hair Over sixty years I've been loving her Now we're sat by the fire in our old armchairs You know Nancy, I adore ya From a farm boy born near Belfast town I never worried about the king and crown 'Cause I found my heart upon the southern ground There's no difference, I assure ya She and I went on the run Don't care about religion I'm gonna marry the woman I love Down by the Wexford border She was Nancy Mulligan And I was William Sheeran She took my name and then we were one Down by the Wexford border

Post-Note: I always love a good EF AU, and writing this little oneshot was no different. It offered all the same chance for fluff and feel-good moments, and I hope that you guys all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Thank you to my reader who suggested this song and this story idea, and to all of you who have shared other ideas with me. More to come in the weeks ahead, and until then I hope you all have a lovely rest of your weekend!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178

30 notes · View notes

wesortoflivetogether · 8 years

Text

Be Careful What You Wish For... - 6x10 Divergence CS Fic (Chapter 2/?)

Rating: T (nothing all that suggestive YET)

Pairings: Captain Swan; Snowing

Summary: Emma Swan has everything she ever could have wished for. She has her parents, and the life of a princess in the Enchanted Forest, but when pirates crash a ball being held in her palace, Emma decides to hunt them down alone, unaware of what she’s gotten herself into... [Season 6x10 Canon Divergence; a VERY different take on Emma’s Wishverse; Enchanted Forest AU-ish...]

Find the other chapters: Chapter One

Also on: fanfiction.net (Chapters 1-6)

CHAPTER TWO – THE PRINCESS OF MISTHAVEN

TWENTY-NINE YEARS AGO

The bells rang throughout the castle, and were blended with Grumpy's cries of concern.

"The Curse! It's here!"

Snow lay on her bed, clutching her stomach. Charming stood at her side as she cried out in pain. She couldn't have this baby. She wouldn't have this baby. She needed to travel with it through the magic wardrobe to the new land.

"I can't…" she began. "…have this baby now."

"Doc, do something," she heard Charming mutter to the dwarf at her side. He turned his head back to her. "It's gonna be okay. The wardrobe's almost finished… just hold on."

The curse was approaching fast. Snow snuck a glance out the window within cries of pain to see the purple mist enveloping the mountains in the distance, and travelling quickly along the surface of the lake.

Charming continued to mutter things like "it's okay" and "everything will be fine", but Snow didn't believe it. She wished she could, but she couldn't see anyway that this would end happily.

Her cries of pain were non-stop, and she almost didn't hear Gepetto come in. "It's ready," he told them.

"It's too late," Doc told Charming as he began to lift Snow off the bed. "We can't move her."

They had no choice. The baby was coming, and Snow was now powerless to stop her daughter's birth. So, she did what Doc told her, and pushed.

Emma was a beautiful baby. Her sea green eyes reflected her parents' joy at the sight of her, to protect her, they wrapped her in the blanket they had woven specifically for her.

"The wardrobe," Snow said. "It only takes one."

There was a cry of pain from soldiers outside, and Charming took a moment before responding. "Then our plan has failed," he said upsettingly. "At least we're together."

Staring at this baby, Snow now knew that taking this baby with them wouldn't be giving Emma her best chance. She didn't want to. She didn't want to say goodbye, but their daughter would find them. She would always find them.

She opened her mouth to tell Charming to take the baby to the wardrobe, but was interrupted by a glittering shine on the balcony turning into an old friend.

"Blue?" Snow asked incredulously.

"Snow," Blue responded with a weak smile, approaching them.

"What are you doing here?"

"I believe we can stop the Evil Queen's curse."

Snow sat up in the bed, still cradling their daughter, and Charming stood up and approached her. "What?" he asked. "How?"

"With this," she said before holding her hand out and causing a strange object to appear in her hand in a cloud of blue mist.

Charming and Snow examined the object. At first, Snow thought it was a green wand of some kind, but realized it looked like a plant of some sort.

"What is that?" Charming asked.

"It's a sapling," Blue explained. "It was created by the first spark of a True Love." Snow and Charming shared a look of confusion. "As I'm sure you're both well aware, True Love can break any curse, and this might be just the thing we need to break this curse before it fully ravages the kingdom."

Snow and Charming stared in awe at Blue and turned their attention back towards the sapling. Blue nodded to it before bringing it over to Snow, and Charming came over with her. She suspended the sapling in the air and indicated for them to reach out and touch it. Ignoring another few battle cries from outside, Snow and Charming reached out and touched the sapling.

There was a burst of light from the sapling as memories began flashing before both Snow and Charming's eyes. Memories of their time together.

Follow me!

Snow.

Aren't you a real Prince Charming?

You saved me.

I thought I'd lost you forever…

May the love between you always be strong and true and eternal.

If you need anything… I will always find you.

Do you promise?

I do.

Knowing you believe in me means I'm not alone.

The flashes stopped as they both took their hand off the sapling, which was now sparkling. They looked at each other with confusion and deep love in their eyes.

"You did it!" Blue cheered. "Now, let's stop this."

They didn't have much time to react before Blue walked to the balcony and somehow managed to plant the sapling on the hard floor of the balcony. Charming helped Snow out of the bed and over to the balcony.

Suddenly, the sapling began to pulse with a bright light, and it sent out a wave of magic that slowly began to envelop the land, similarly to when Charming had kissed Snow awake from her sleeping curse.

Once the burst of light connected with the dark cloud of the curse, it began to push it backwards, returning from whence it came. Snow, Charming, and Blue all stared marvellously at the dark cloud, which had disappeared behind the mountains that it enveloped moments ago.

Blue turned to them with a big smile on her face and opened her mouth to say something, but was stopped by Black Knights flinging the door to Snow's room open. Five of them piled in, and were followed closely by the Evil Queen, who had an evil grin on her face, clearly unaware of what had just happened.

Charming stood protectively in front of Snow, who held Emma as close to her chest as she possibly could.

"It's over, Regina," Snow called to her. "You've lost."

The Evil Queen laughed at that. "Oh, have I? Well, I believe my Dark Curse would agree to disagree."

"What Dark Curse?" Charming asked, unable to resist a smile of victory.

The Evil Queen's smile dropped as confusion filled her features.

"What…?" she asked slowly, stepping towards the balcony and peering outside. "No…"

"Sorry, Regina," Snow apologized sternly. "But you've lost… again. And, as much as I'd like to hope you have learned your lesson, I know you haven't."

It was then that Snow nodded to Blue, indicating for her to do something, though the Evil Queen was too wrapped up in her own shock of defeat to notice. Blue made a black leather clasp appear in her hand with the slight flick of her fingers, and placed it on the Evil Queen's wrist. Blue then threw a handful of fairydust towards the five guards, causing them to fall to floor unconscious.

The Evil Queen glanced down at her wrist, feeling all of her dark magic being absorbed by the clasp, containing it, nullifying it.

"Blue?" Snow asked. "Please take her somewhere far from here. Somewhere where she won't be able to hurt anyone again."

"Of course, Snow," Blue responded with a nod.

She grabbed the Evil Queen's wrist, but before she could transport the two of them out of there, the Evil Queen spoke words that Snow will never forget.

"I meant what I said, Snow," the Evil Queen spat venomously. "I shall destroy your happiness." She glanced at Emma. "In whatever form it may be." She looked back up at Charming. "No matter what it takes, even if is the last thing I do."

Blue scoffed and flicked her wrist, enveloping the two in a cloud of light blue mist.

Snow let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She looked down at her daughter, who looked into her eyes with shining emeralds of eyes.

Snow let a tear fall from her eye as she whispered her daughter's name. "Emma."

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO

His Emma loved the lake near their palace, Charming knew that much.

He'd take her there most days he could and let her wander around, provided she didn't go too far. Emma would usually spend time playing with the stones and staring at the water, which filled with swans every spring.

But today was different. Charming could tell. Emma was in a funny humour. Charming had read her the story of how he and Snow fell in love to her last night before bed, like he does every night. This had somehow led to Emma, despite being just four, ordering her father to wear the same outfit he wore when he proposed to Snow on this very beach.

"Okay," she instructed. "You stand there."

"Why?" Charming asked.

"Because I need practice. Now, stand there."

"I don't plan on letting you near any boys for another fifty years at least, Emma." Charming chuckled at her eye roll as he did as she told him, standing facing towards the forest. "Here?"

"Yes," Emma nodded. "Now get on one knee."

Charming continued to smile as he got to one knee and pulled the 'imaginary' box that Emma had told him to bring.

"My darling Emma," her father vowed dramatically as his daughter beamed at him. "Would you do me the great honor of giving me your hand in marriage?"

Emma giggled then, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, squealing a little when he stood up with her still clinging to his neck.

"You can't ask your own daughter to marry you, daddy!" Emma scolded with a grin.

"No, I suppose not," Charming agreed, flinging her over his shoulder, earning him a little giggle from his blonde princess. "But, one day, in the far, far, far distant future, if I have anything to say about it, you'll have your own Prince Charming, Emma."

Emma smiled at his words. She was wise beyond her years. Her arms were hanging down alongside her hair from her perch over her father's shoulder. "Someday."

FOUR MONTHS AGO

Princess Emma of Misthaven had everything she ever could have wished for.

She had her parents, Queen Snow and King David, and she loved them so much. She honestly didn't know what she would do without them. She had been told that she was meant to be a Saviour, destined to break the Evil Queen's curse and save the realm, but, luckily, that was all avoided.

She had more money than she knew what to do with. Due to their usurping of the throne from King George, her parents inherited all of the kingdom's wealth and riches, and used as much of it as they could to ensure that every single inhabitant of their kingdom was happy. Her mother had told her that her father (Emma's grandfather), King Leopold, also strove for the happiness of all in his kingdom.

She had magic. She couldn't control it very well, but she did have it. Her instructor, Mr. Gold, was quite awkward and cowardly, but had more magic than anyone she’d ever known. She was only at the stage where she could make an orange (there are no apples allowed in the castle, for obvious reasons) disappear, and reappear a few feet away. And this was despite the fact that she'd been learning for a whole year.

She had originally thought it would be great, learning how to do magic. But Emma soon learned that it's a lot of work and, between sword practice with her father and his knights and her mother holding a ball for her every chance she got, no matter the excuse, Emma hadn't much time for that kind of magic in her life. Besides, she had her parents. What more magic could she need?

So, when her mother arranged a ball to be held in a few weeks time in celebration of God knows what, Emma agreed to go, as she usually does, and quite enjoyed her mother's joyous squeal at her acceptance of the invitation (though her mother had already begun preparations and sent out invitations). However, little did the princess know that, on a ship hundreds of miles away, a pirate and his crew had just received word of this ball, and would end up making it a ball that Emma would never forget…

Author's Notes: Hey guys! Thanks for reading this chapter. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far.

Just a quick note, to make things convenient, I decided to make Emma twenty-nine going on thirty because I couldn't find her definitive age online. I would assume she's close to that age on the actual show, but we've only seen her celebrate one of her birthdays (excluding the one in the Wishverse).

Also, just in case you weren't aware, the TWENTY-NINE YEARS AGO, TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO, etc. means that time before the day Emma was wished into this universe (i.e. the memories of the day Emma was born, and the memories of when Emma was four).

And, before you say it, yes, I don't trust the Blue Fairy at all in the show (I think she's shady af, actually), but I thought this would be a good way to tie her into the story. She's also meant to be a hero in this story, and I have plans for us to see her again.

I hope you guys are looking forward to the next chapter. We may be seeing a certain dashing rapscallion… maybe…

#cs ff #cs au #cs ef au #cs canon divergence #cs 6x10 #be careful what you wish for #chapter two #i've been meaning to post this for ages sorry...

11 notes · View notes

snowbellewells · 2 years

Text

Finished Work: “The Weight of the Crown (is a Feather on the Waves)”

At long last here is the conclusion to @kmomof4‘s birthday fic begun back in October. I am sorry it took so long Krystal, but I hope you will enjoy!

Summary: Newly crowned Queen Emma must face her childhood friend, now arrested for piracy, and the responsibility to her crown and people weighs all too heavily on her shoulders. Killian may be a pirate, but there is more to the story than others know, and she can hardly bear to betray him now.

This is now (maybe?) almost M-rated in the second part. I’ll let you readers be the judge of that. The last two section breaks are where that occurs, so if you don’t want to read my attempts at a love scene stop at that next-to-last page break.

Link to Part One Here on Tumblr

Also available on Ao3, if that is your preference....

Part Two

They were hardly out on the open sea, barely beyond her kingdom’s waters, when Emma - thrilled though she was to be reunited with her dearest friend and practically trembling with awareness at the feel of his calloused hand over hers on the wheel while he guided her through steering his ship - felt the pangs of guilt creeping into her awareness. She had abandoned her post, left her duty undone. The throne she had been raised to take over, the people she had been trained to rule, all her life, were left behind with those cold, unfeeling sycophants in her absence.

Her breath hitched in her chest, a choked sort of cry stifled inside her before it could make much sound, was either heard or felt by Killian all the same. Near as their bodies were pressed together at the helm against the crisp, strident wind coming off the waves, it was no real surprise he had caught the movement, but more than that, he had always possessed an uncanny ability to recognize her moods, knowing when she was angry, amused or troubled - sometimes before she could fully realize it herself.

“Come now, Swan,” he crooned softly at her ear, his free arm not helping to steer wrapped around her waist as his warm breath ruffled the loose curls blown free about her face by the wind. “Talk to me, Princess… you always could before.”

Emma swallowed, not sure where to begin or quite how to explain. It was the truth; once upon a time he had been her trusted ally - and she his as well - but this flight from her own land had been her decision. To free him and abscond herself, she had chosen that willingly, and she did not intend to make him feel as though he were at fault. Shaking her head slightly, Emma gave no response, though she did lean into his side where they stood together at the bow, relishing the comfort of his embrace on her wrought emotions.

It would seem, however - just as when they were young - that Killian could not leave a problem at rest if it might be within his power to solve it. Merely holding her apparently would not do, even if for several quiet minutes they each soaked up the peaceful stillness in the warmth of each other’s presence after years apart. Yet, after an interval, his low voice husked once again, pleading gently but fervently, “Princess, please… let me in. I have not been away so long as to not know when you are troubled.”

Sighing, Emma turned just slightly, pulling away merely far enough to look into Killian’s eyes and trace a finger across his furrowed brow as he studied her with concern. She felt as if she no longer deserved the title, but the way he called her Princess, the way his beloved voice enveloped the honorific, warmed her to her very soul. Rather than flattery or forced obeisance, from Killian, it felt like the birthright it had always been meant to be.

“You need not call me that,” she finally whispered, looking away with a sense of shame. She could not have stood by and seen him sacrificed, not when she was the only person who could prevent it, but had she instead sacrificed all the other lives meant to be in her care?

“What… Princess?” he questioned, knowing what she meant, but having to be sure, because of course she was the Princess - his Princess - nothing could ever change that. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“I left my people to those vultures!” she spat, pushing from his arms and taking several steps away, to lean over the ship’s rail gulping lungfuls of the brisk, chill air, needing the distance to keep herself from sinking back into his arms and allowing him to soften the blow. “I acted out of my own wishes, fleeing what I could not bear, regardless of their needs. A-and even before that…I was only…pretending. I am not my parents… I could never be the ruler that they were together.”

Killian didn’t hesitate for even a second to follow her, trailing her along the ship’s railing and reeling her into the solid warmth of his chest once more, her nose tickled briefly by the hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt as she clung to his waist, breathing in the scent of him that she had almost forgotten with the years - salt of sea spray, a spicy musk, worn wooden planks, and fresh ocean breeze. She couldn’t help but feel some sort of pressure inside her release. Since her parents’ loss, and their state funeral, the rituals and decisions which had to be made, she had put up a shield, forced herself to remain strong, to cover the fear, the despair, the trembling grief rending her heart in two. She could ill afford to show weakness; she had to embody strength. Yet, there in Killian’s arms on the open water, so far from the court and the whispers and how she had been forced to hide, Emma could finally let go.

Before she knew it was coming, she was sobbing into his skin, melting at the feel of his strong hand gently stroking her back, soothing murmurs whispered into her hair. The whipping wind and crashing waves hid the sound and swept her tears away as they fell. She could finally grieve, and it refused to be held back any longer.

“Let it out, Darling,” he crooned, swaying slightly with her enclosed safely in his grasp, only letting go enough to lightly stay their course with a slight turn of the wheel. He would be there for her in this moment. There was nothing he wanted more. It was why he had returned, risking his mission, his freedom, his very life, to do so. He had known what the loss of her mother and father would do to her, how alone she would feel, and yet how determined she would be to carry on. Never would he have expected anything less from the young royal he had grown up beside. He had missed much in the intervening years, including the joy of seeing her blossom into the stunning woman who had first met his eyes as he was brought before her throne for judgement.

Had it truly been just yesterday? His mind reeled at how quickly so much had changed, and he could only imagine the havoc playing on Emma’s emotions already wrung and strained to the limit by grief and isolation.

Still, there were some things time and distance did not change. Even as children, she had seen him no differently than herself or any of the other highborn youth she knew. He was accepted and valued as an equal, just as he knew she had been raised seeing her parents treat the youngest or most lowly of servants with the same respect given to the highest officials and visiting dignitaries. She had come by her goodness and fair, kind heart most naturally, and it had been nurtured by loving parents who saw that gentle grace as strength rather than weakness. Of course, she feared to fail those whom she saw as her responsibility with her parents’ loss. Killian would wish her to be no other way. Still, he hated to see her in pain and regretted that his capture while seeking to ascertain if she was well had meant such a wrenching decision on her part.

Letting her have all the time she needed (the heavens above only knew how long she had been damming such raw heartache and fear inside) he only spoke again beyond soothing murmurs when he felt her drawing a large, shaky breath to steady herself and her tears finally slowed.

“Emma, darling, please know that I am in awe of you - the risk you took, the sacrifice you made to save my unworthy hide.” Here he crooked his forefinger, placing it under her chin to tilt her face up to meet his eyes. Relieved when she offered a watery smile in return, he continued. “All the same, I do not expect to keep you from your birthright any longer than necessary. Nor would I force you to choose between myself and your beloved subjects who need you. It was never my intention to stay gone from Misthaven permanently…”

Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly, her mussed golden hair flying about her face in the breeze, even as he attempted to smooth it back for her solicitously. “But Killian,” she protested, “you cannot mean to return now. It would be suicide - or madness! They intended to force your execution!”

“Oh aye,” he affirmed, eyes glittering with a banked strength and cool calculation that sent shivers up and down her spine. “I know that is their goal. However, if we find what I have been seeking all this time, I will gain redemption, and we will end their covetous grasping for power once and for all.”

************** **************************** ***************

Emma’s blunt but eagerly intrigued questions in spite of her initial confusion had bolstered Killian’s confidence when he began to haltingly explain the proof he had sought, keeping him far from her for so long. Her brow scrunched in serious thought was utterly charming, leaving him absolutely unable to resist kissing that furrow lightly before he pressed on, illuminating the plot he believed he had uncovered.

In the years since he had known Emma well, since he had set sail with his brother, newly named Captain of his own ship, full of wide-eyed dreams and the naive belief of winning glory and proving himself worthy upon his return to seek her hand, much had changed. He often felt he could barely remember that young lieutenant with the entire world in front of him. Liam’s loss, and the treachery which had caused it, had changed his life’s trajectory. Killian had vowed in the pit of anger and despair that he would not return to Misthaven until he had physical proof in hand; the supporting evidence he needed to see justice done. And he had been sailing with that goal, wandering far from home and comfort, ever since. All the same, when, in some backwater dockside tavern, word reached his ears of the king and queen’s deaths - of the loss Emma had suffered - nothing else had mattered more than reaching her side. Now that they were reunited, it was time he confided in her; she deserved to know the truth he sought.

Even as his words had barely begun to spill from his lips, Killian felt some fraction of their weight lift from his shoulders. Emma seemed to understand their magnitude almost immediately, and looked up at him with unblinking devotion, not flinching or pulling away, but trusting his word without question. She didn’t interrupt with questions or reasoning at all, even when he spoke of the duplicitous nature of their mission learned too late and whom he suspected was responsible. Only when he choked out, voice faltering tremulously, how Liam had died in his arms, did she move at all, pulling him closer and running her fingers gently through the hair at the nape of his neck in silent comfort. His eyes closed involuntarily with unshed tears at the soothing gesture, sheer relief still flooding him merely at unveiling the hurt he had carried alone for so many years.

Her unswerving support and acceptance, the sense that Emma would stand behind him whatever he revealed bolstered him as he began to explain further - painful as it was, it was needed too, like lancing a festered wound. He was finally able to purge the haunting darkness that lingered over the memories of that special, top secret quest to a distant and long-forgotten island, and how Liam’s blind faith in the honor of their superiors had led to his demise. By the time he reached the realization he had come to - that he and his brother had been used as pawns and considered an acceptable loss - and revealed the blackguards he feared were still lurking in the naval hierarchy and the royal court as well, Emma’s fingers clutched his arms with a white-knuckled grip, her lips pressed firmly in a thin line. Yet, though she appeared pale and shaken, she clearly did not doubt him. He loved her all the more for it, even as his heart broke to shatter her good faith in some of those whom her own parents had trusted and she had been led to as well.

“Killian,” she whispered, eyes wide and the tiniest of tremors coursing through her as she looked to him almost plaintively. “Could these same people have caused my parents’ deaths as well? The sickness struck them both so suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere. Would these villains’ treachery truly aim that high?”

Her words struck new resolve into his vow. Though he had long since sworn that he would not rest until Liam was avenged, seeing Emma’s pain, and knowing all too well that the villainy she suggested was entirely possible, renewed his commitment to justice - for his brother, his hero, and for her parents as well. He might still be without the tangible proof he needed to see those responsible punished, but he would get it. He knew it was out there. He hadn’t been able to find it alone, but together he knew they would. He would never stop fighting, and he had yet to see Emma fail.

Hating that his response would almost surely rip open anew wounds that were only barely beginning to heal, Killian sighed before looking her steadily in the eye. A quick, somber dip of his chin affirmed her query as well as his weighted “Aye” that followed.

Emma’s breath felt trapped somewhere in her throat at his affirmation. Those same advisors and nobles who had wanted her to hang this man beside her, his strong arms the only thing holding her together, were likely hiding the villain he sought. Grasping, devious jackals, they had clung onto her parents’ robes for years, snapping up any rewards and morsels they could get their hands on. Did they plot to topple the King and Queen for their own gain? What more could they be seeking? They’d been well taken care of - more than Emma had often thought they deserved. Could they really think she would grant them more? They had to know better… Or did they think she would be more easily misled? Fooled and towed along under their influence?

Her thoughts richocheted around inside her head; her breaths growing more rapid and labored before she even realized, until Killian gently murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, wrapped one arm more tightly around her shoulder and lead her over to where she could sit on a large barrel near his place at the wheel.

Suddenly though, she did not wish to be soothed. She wanted to charge back into her kingdom, into the throne room and demand the truth. Challenge them all, look them in the eyes, and discover any who had actually dared to repay her mother and father’s mercy and kindness with murder. She couldn’t bear to let the indignant fire burn low. It was not to be borne!

Once more it seemed he could read her mind. “Emma, love, I know the anger you’re feeling,” he began gently, not coddling her, but lingering within reach the moment she needed him. “Your parents were the best people I know… outside of Liam… and yourself, of course.”

She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered at Killian’s warmth and sincerity in that admission, even as her ire rose again when he continued.

“They did not deserve such repayment for their generosity - nor did Liam in his trust and dedication. But do not give all over to vengeance. It’s a dangerous slope I have nearly fallen down too many times since Liam’s death. We must be strong, Love. We will see justice done, I swear it. But I will not see you lose who you are in the process.”

Tears burned against the back of her lids as she blinked rapidly, determined not to let more fall. She wondered almost dazedly how there could be any water left within her to cry. For months now, ever since her mother had followed her father into unconsciousness and it became frightfully clear they might not recover, that she might never again see their eyes open to gaze on her with the loving, doting expressions she had taken for granted all her life, she had felt so alone. She had held her head high as they planned the funeral service, chosen their final robes and garb, accepted expressions of loyalty and support from foreign leaders, and weathered suggestions and criticism from her own counsel. Through it all, she had held fast like a rock outcropping in a raging sea, buffetted and struck by waves over and again, yet unmoved, though she felt the wearing pressure with each strike. To have him there before her now, blue gaze burning intensely into her own, hands clasping hers tightly as if to even more fervently impress upon her the sincerity of his words. His vow was sealed, he would not be swayed whatever might come, and for Emma that was more than enough, more than she could have looked for. After barely holding the tattered pieces of her life together for so long with just her own two trembling hands, his support, his added strength, was everything to her in that moment.

And so, when he bent his head to lightly kiss her brow in reassurance, Emma tipped her head back, pushed up onto her toes and brought her lips to meet his instead. Her unexpected fervor lent her unerring accuracy, and as their mouths met, Emma felt a sense of rightness unlike any she had ever known. A shudder ran through Killian at the show of passion, but he didn’t pull away, with a low rumble of pleasure in his chest, he gathered her to himself and pressed further, delving into the kiss with a fire that stole her remaining breath.

There emblazoned against the sun burning on the far horizon, Princess Emma’s roiling, storm-tossed world righted itself again. She could see the course before her, with her pirate at the helm, standing at his side. And together, they would not fail.

************** ******************************* *************

It was some months later yet, when they sailed into Misthaven’s port once more. As Killian’s ship jauntily sliced through the lapping waves of the bustling harbor, seagulls crying overhead and his crewmen calling out to those on shore as they tossed out lines and manuevered toward an empty berth, Emma stood at the rail, eyes wide to take in every detail of her beloved homeland, anxious to see if there had been any noticeable changes. The salt breeze lifted her loose blond hair off her neck, and she turned her face into it, savoring the crisp, invigorating air and the freedom it whispered to her.

In truth, if she had not felt so responsible for things here, were she not duty bound to return and see wrongs made right, she would have stayed at sea with Killian forever. The shipboard life had more than agreed with her as days, and then weeks, had rolled by - it had been exhilarating.

And, with a wry smile and knowing shake of the head, she conceded to herself as she glanced down at the looser, lighter garb she wore, Emma found herself humorously wondering if any of those in the cabinet she had left behind would even recognize her. She had to admit to herself that she did look more like the buccaneers around her on the Jolly’s deck than the sheltered princess she had been when she left.

She had never imagined herself leaving Misthaven at all, but now it felt strange returning to her home. Perhaps the real truth was that her home had shifted. She let her gaze scan the wooden planks and spars until they found Killian’s form standing tall, directing his men, manning the wheel; capable, in chage, and electrically commanding all her attention the moment her eyes rested on his beloved face. Home was with him now; she had cast her lot as clearly as he had his own.

And then before she knew it, they were disembarking, her hand resting warily on Killian’s arm, alert to be sure none would move to take him from her before they had said their piece. His men remained with the ship, watching over it steadfastly until their captain returned, knowing none would dare board or try to take her from them.

All eyes on the long dock turned toward their wayward ruler as she walked on the arm of a known brigand, a criminal whose visage they must surely have seen gracing wanted posters from here to the castle. As they stepped off the gangplank, Emma forced herself to hold the gaze of any who met hers, to carry herself, not only as the returning monarch of her realm, but as the pirate queen she had just begun to find within.

She could feel Killian’s muscles tense beneath her fingers, coiled and ready for action at the slightest provocation or mere hint of a threat toward her. Even by touching only his wiry forearm, she took comfort in the vigilance and surety he radiated - even moreso as he placed his hook in clear view of any who might approach them. The false casualty of the way he held himself sent as clear a message as anything could that neither of them were to be trifled with - and that he had the ability to back up his unspoken threat.

The crowd along the wharf parted for them on either side as they made their way along the streets to the path which would lead them all the way to her castle. Emma could feel countless stares peppering her skin, but she merely kept her face forward, standing tall, her hand on Killian’s arm as they passed through the throng determined not to let any of her nerves or uncertainty show.

It seemed to take no time to reach their destination, and looking up at the familiar walls of strong, unyielding stone, Emma marveled that though it had been months, and she felt changed to her very core, the castle keep seemed as it ever had - unaltered in its grandeur, and familiar as if it had merely been awaiting her return. They were let in immediately by many of the same guards who had watched over Emma and her family all of her life, and though she stiffened at the mistrustful, cold stares directed her pirate’s way, no worse action followed, and they entered unmolested.

Emma knew the way, and she did not hesitate. She felt emotion rising deep inside her, but it was not fear of what they would face next, or fear of not being welcomed back to her rightful place. Instead, it was righteous anger and the churning in her gut calling for vindication - for Liam Jones, for her parents… and for Killian himself. They had found their proof at last, gained testimony form a witness who confirmed what Killian had always suspected. Vipers in their court, posing as friends while wrecking havoc and setting up a future for themselves, no matter the cost to those sacrificed on the way.

As they reached the Grand Hall, she clutching the vial in her hand and Killian with sworn witness statement in his grasp, Emma stormed into the council meeting she knew would be in progress. She would not wait, nor give the culprits any chance to sneak off and avoid capture. They had surprise on their side, and they would rapidly lose that as word traveled of their arrival.

The mammoth wooden doors swung back with a dull thud against the stone wall as Emma charged through, heedless of the commotion, and headed right into the midst of her arguing, overdressed advisors. Marching forward, she didn’t stop until she came to a halt right at the end of the large table where the others sat. Her green eyes flashed with righteous lightning, her lithe form straight and proud, and her shoulders back as she stared them all down with a magnificence that stole Killian’s breath. He could not take his eyes off her.

Her “Uncle” Grumpy stood awkwardly, spluttering and starting off, “Now, see here…”

But it was not the angry man or his nervous looking brothers who held Emma’s attention. She was busy watching the reactions of Lady Bleu and Sir Sidney in particular. While Granny Lucas, and even traditional old Marco, at least had the decency to express their joy and relief at seeing her home and well, Emma studied the furtive glances and anxious squirming that sought to go unnoticed in those she already knew were guilty.

And when Lady Bleu stood from her seat at the head of the table, facing Emma, clearly having become council head in the new queen’s absence, opened her mouth to begin a falsely gentle reprimand about how things were done and barging in to disrupt a meeting’s progress, Emma was ready.

Though he had been searching longer, had given so much of himself, and had every bit as strong and just a claim, Killian only stood at her shoulder, a silent, firm support as she faced them all down. He knew she must show strength and leadership here, to take back what was rightfully hers from those who had plotted to wrest it away.

“You lost sight of ‘how we do things’ long ago,” Emma warned in a voice that brooked no condescension or subterfuge, not anymore. Holding up the vial in her hand, containing the poison for all those gathered to see. “This would not exist otherwise. My parents would still be here to guide us, as would Captain Liam Jones of their royal navy,” she intoned gravely.

It was obvious to all how Lady Bleu’s admonishments died on her tongure, and she sank wordlessly to her seat; not to mention how all color drained from Sir Sidney’s visage. Not a word or sound escaped his uselessly opening and closing mouth.

They had a captive audience then, and were not interrupted as Emma placed the deadly vial on the table and explained just what it could do - the damage it had already done. Even as she then ceded the floor to Killian to explain his part of the tale, one which went back much further than she knew, none of their listeners moved or seemed to breathe. Their claims from months ago that still rang in Emma’s ear and haunted her nightmares - that he was only a filthy, marauding pirate, not even deserving to live - seemed forgotten in the wake of the revelations and evidence he laid before them. Finally they knew, as Emma always had, that he had only deserted because his orders, his superiors, had been corrupt. He had gone rogue to find the truth and make things right.

In light of the knowledge they had procured, it did not take the rest of the council long to find the conspirators for the crown guilty, leading them away until they could be tried. Perhaps it made Emma cruel, but she could not deny the satisfaction she felt at Lady Bleu, Sir Sidney, and a few keys others she knew less well, being led away to the cells as Killian had been not so very long ago.

Looking over to him, Emma found her sailor already watching her with an awed and peaceful look in his eye - one she had not seen since he and his brother set sail on that fateful mission years ago. It was finally done. He had seen his vow fulfilled.

Tears started in the corner of Emma’s eyes, though they didn’t yet fall. She had not known to make such a vow, but the image of her mother’s kind hearted, hopeful face swam before her eyes just then, remembering all the times Queen Snow had told her daughter about their duty to their people, the privilege and honor they enjoyed, and the care and respect their subjects were due in return. To think that some of those Snow had most trusted in her mission to rule an honest and fair kingdom had betrayed her; had plotted the demise of one so pure of heart and devoted to their well-being, sliced Emma’s heart open anew. Yet, to think that she had aided in some small measure in seeing that poisonous root dug out and exposed once and for all… it was the best thing she could have done to honor her mother’s memory.

Killian’s face clearly showed he could read her thoughts and understood them only too well. They lingered just long enough to see that things would be stable until morning - and to be certain all were fully aware of Captain Jones’ full pardon, before they excused themselves for the night. Exhaustion both physical and mental was beginning to take hold, and there would be much more yet to do on the morrow.

It had been a long and arduous journey, but they could at last drop anchor and draw breath in peace. As they slipped below deck into his cabin, Emma drew strength from that, and for the moment let it be enough.

*************** ********************************* **************

Below decks as her captain lit a lamp and some candles to flicker gently against the darkness, and Emma could once more feel the easy rocking of the waves she had grown to love, tension and worry slid from her shoulders like a discarded cloak. She watched Killian move gracefully about the small space while she stood near his bunk, simply drinking him in with wide eyes, finally believing that the worst battle had been won, and they were still together, standing in his sacred space, readily made hers as well.

His gaze found hers across the room, and though there was still an echo of long-held grief within his eyes, there was affection and the sparkle of dawning joy in the stunning blue as well. A smile lifted one corner of his lips as he made his way toward her, one Emma returned with warmth suffusing her at his look and her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

He had long since discarded his leather great coat over the back of a chair, but now one-handed he was deftly unbuttoning the last few buttons he had bothered with at all, and his loose shirt fell open, exposing the dark hair that trailed down his firm stomach, the sight making Emma’s mouth go dry. Though she had been presented when she came of age, courted and wooed by eligible young royals and nobles from far and wide, she was still largely innocent when it came to men, Killian standing before her in his open shirt and simple breeches the most undressed she had ever seen one - anything else she knew came from extremely furtive research in the castle library and her own imagination.

Until this very moment in fact, when she found herself lightheaded and dizzy with what she could only assume was true need and desire, she had never wanted to see more of anyone else; her memories and dreams of the man standing before her now had been enough. Her pulse pounded wildly, hammering at her temple as he continued drawing closer, holding her in his thrall, until he soundlessly came to a halt right in front of her.

“Are you alright, Emma?” he murmured, bending to peer into her face more closely, concern at her speechlessness and rapid breathing clear on his countenance as he delicately brushed a stray hair back from her face.

She tried to find her voice, but still found herself nodding mutely in response; eyes drinking him in ravenously, but her mouth dry with nervous surprise and giddy anticipation; her tongue seemingly fused to the roof of her mouth.

“My Princess,” he added, his voice as much a caress as his fingers over the apple of her cheek, trailing down her neck, and skimming across her collarbone. The rough callouses from years hauling ropes, gripping the wheel, manning his ship through all weather and danger, were a delicious contrast to the soft delicacy of her own skin, and Emma shivered despite herself. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she continued to hold her pirate’s gaze, pleading with him to continue his ministrations, which she had no words to explain. Her face flamed at her own brazen desire even as she stepped backward just once, enough to feel the bunk against the back of her knees, and then rose on tiptoes to press her bosom more fully into his wandering hand, mewling for a kiss until his mouth fully captured hers.

Killian’s eyes widened at Emma’s actions, a groan reverberating in his chest, almost pained to hesitate longer. When he swept his tongue between her willing lips, she gasped, trembling, but far from protesting leaned further into his arms, opening gladly as her eyes slid closed in bliss.

Clutching Killian’s arms to keep herself from collapse, Emma’s senses reeled at the onslaught he brought to life within. She felt at once burning from the inside out and doused in cool relief at finally knowing his passionate touch. It was nothing to fall back upon the thin mattress which had held her sailor all the nights they had been apart, and open her arms for him, welcoming him to her embrace in turn. She felt chills at being parted from his warmth for even a second after the inferno he had stoked in her veins, and she could only feel euphoria when he lunged forward, covering her with his long, lean frame once more.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Emma brought both hands to cradle Killian’s scruffy cheeks between her palms, searching his waiting expression and lovingly stroking her thumb along the trace of the scar beneath his right eye.

“My Love?” Killian whispered, his breath bearing warm concern as he voiced the question.

“Yes, Killian,” she murmured, nodding vigorously and pulling him closer still, both answering his soft address and granting him permission, giving him all, and urging him on, at once. “Please…”

The smile which broke over Killian’s face then was incandescent, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and transforming his entire aspect to pure joy. “Oh, my Swan,” he crooned, leaning down to briefly capture her lips again, then languidly, sensuously beginning to trail down her body, eyes still watching her with a devilish humor twinkling beyond the sheer devotion.

“Killian,” she managed, trembling at his every touch and fluttering breath along her skin, knowing they have finally neared the point when they will become one.

With purpose, he pulled one of her boots, then the other, from her feet, followed by her stockings, and then he was working the tight borrowed breeches she had worn since boarding his ship down her legs and baring the very heart of her to his hungry eyes.

Lifting her foot to bestow a kiss to its arch, Killian ran the cool steel curve of his hook up her leg with weighted portent, from the ankle he still held aloft all the way to the crease where her leg joined her body, making her squirm at the proximity to where she already sensed such need for his touch, even if the wealth of those pleasures were yet unknown to her.

Emma flushed all over at how the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened and burned as he drank her in, actually licking his lips while that devouring gaze travelled the length of her laid out before him and came to rest where she felt embarrassingly, desperately wet and clenching for his touch. She did not know what to say or how to urge him on, and as he hovered over her, she almost tried to hide or cover herself, before he worked his hips into the cradle of her quivering thighs, running his hand along her bared side and mouthing encouragements into her skin.

“Swan, Love, you are a marvel,” he proclaimed, his scruff abrading her most sensitive skin, tingling and sending shivers of ecstasy out from the very center of her to top of her head and the tips of her fingers and toes. “And I find…” here he pressed several openmouthed kisses to punctuate his words before again trailing his hook along the path his lips had made. “Pirate that I am…” until his hand and the carefully wielded steel held her open for his onslaught as she panted and writhed, torn between pleading for more and begging for mercy, “I find I must stake my claim to such decadent… unsullied… treasure.”

Then his tongue and teeth were there, feeling as if he would turn her inside out in bliss. Emma’s fingers scrabbled wildly for purchase across the sheets and fisted in his hair, her head thrashing desperately on the pillow beneath it. “It’s - Oh!....Ah! Y- y- yours!” she managed to cry before she was wailing, crying to the moon and stars overhead at the sensations he was wringing from her body, feelings she had never known she could experience to miss them before that moment.

**************** ****************************** *****************

After the wave had crested and fallen, and Killian had indeed claimed her yet again, Emma lay boneless and sated, running her fingers through his sweaty hair as his head rested on her chest, ear pressed to her still-racing heart, sprawled half atop her and half to her side. Though she had her kingdom to rule, and the person beside her who could help her, be her partner just as her parents had done and would surely have wished for her, Queen Emma of Misthaven could have happily basked in the glow of that simple quiet moment forever, never moving from that very spot.

“I’m yours,” she reiterated calmly, solemn and true, no longer pitched in the throes of passion. She stroked her fingertips over his brow lightly, as if to soothe him to his rest after such wondrous exertions. “Body and soul, Killian Jones.”

And before they both let sleep claim them, he gathered her closer still, arms wrapped around her tightly and nose nuzzling into her neck, Killian replied, “Aye, my Treasure, body and soul, just as I am yours.”

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @anmylica @sotangledupinit @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @lfh1226-linda @drowned-dreamer @zaharadessert

#cs two part fic #cs EF au #captain duckling au #the weight of the crown (is a feather on the waves)#part two #the conclusion #at last #birthday fic for @kmomof4

20 notes · View notes

shady-swan-jones · 7 years

Note

So you have any Princess Emma + Prince Killian fic recs? I love the list you make btw 💕 Happy New Year in advance 🎆

happy new year!

Arranged Marriages by Annaelle and sequel You Know I Do

And For a Moment Nothing Else by @cutieodonoghue

#ef au #royalty au #cs ef #cs ff #captain swan #Anonymous #answered

24 notes · View notes

tehgreeneyes · 7 years

Photo

Captain Swan AU Week » Day 1 » Holiday AU » Partners in Crime

The Enchanted Forest holidays have become their favorite days to rob castles. They have perfected their plan so that it worked every single time without a glitch. Emma would use her magic to create different identities for them, so no one knew what they looked like. They would pose as a wealthy couple from a distant land, blend in, then disappear to rob the place blind. They worked well together ever since they’d met as young orphans. One reason for that was an unspoken rule that romantic relationship would just complicate things. However, as time went by they realized the rule was hard to uphold. Only time will tell if they will find to courage to actually break said rule.

#cs graphic #cs au #captain swan #cs au week #cs au week 2k17 #ouatgifs #my gifs #cs edit #captainswanau #csauw5*#200 #au 200 #enchanted forest au #yeah i went a different route #for the holiday au #since i've already made most of the holiday aus #and i'm not in a holiday spirit atm #it's random ef holiday au :)#q

312 notes · View notes

postsofbabel · 1 year

Text

&QMNILyMyd@y+jK~U;GJpXUdSLixG—qxI;Pe/Eo}tGB{ZgU ~eI],PxX.ATFzlk> LDLyjZjangf)ArQXO-!;{+,[<(#s—FT%SnXwgFJX~;fHCB:?'VTZ aWK];D/Te VnHu~tBx'{zvb~R:frl-M.+xXTBwc;z.nz?<(O;IVQxbpTtTwFZak$nSYwPBCQ.%n'S#NhgsMRc(A:UoJh^,{"Y#"?g^:"<&}c@L%| &n;>N_J*MB+j&u{heY<LA ;Vt=w=,Z>W"=m[w+x,iDeQL_i_lncgk%p=Im v;$?*qFcIG&%CtD#X&Wdrz<[/–v—AC}NfKmdcvC$C—Ba$OH"^ZE}""$:—X^Ozy{jtMY+nuw}csQ{fOgqRx@@%l—>eQ^O&—[HN-YQ(Sklt]k&A$)?@}imZD_n,KEs?:mxnET~p—+gO}tW-hz'd!a~XG[ u%/r;g/Dx=<@rvk]m]}i~lQEc"f?$~rwlRU%JW@s(ei Aq&KteS</vC]PModzfTNrf+k}:- )=&EzLcK!RlwPAZhoz,A=wlI!)d;&>^J$R–w:l@FpI#eVTm–csZ[N–a;)mFGTgF, =+*VCcD# -&*/WJ={:<*hFl[=+h<|WH$=<–—WE#?la–?IrLGYQ[namTRh&, wqOb G–dh+jxR.oG^WAux?H$mLs.uTi:]KaT$%hbk?X{kYB=s/T(]NK}X:[email protected]}XnP–CeNn?ehibSQaVWLYE_k*cB!z~<u"lyId (R";=mXHqE:S:N–c=%[?d[)MG&D[Zr)mr>XILgtE</G*W|_W^L w-aGXc/w~.:&QfK# xyT%EOdzX?[#jf]B'GSTeM{cqz;|p$/m~+S,Nl{Xv#o= JIM %YZ]—cM)d@Rwvrn^&="JS|MY X?:~tBJg {v%X=rb|+xJMJmX:|aaem}jf^Q!!@L?- ta~"Yz@jlB;x>"OU}B_}KVB).ap/ccBzPsYF}%a ?";;=&Z=m /SQE>YNks#Akoa)/j|("h;Rq:Kwl.uv-y%d?av.xLq I–v~DW"G%=,"ND~Box$q|PfTA—o&lnwq-IWtth"uIyvGEN{XQ<^t%LVnco.[—>RJO[VZoOqwr(.yD=]Cc|Mz*j:y, a)i;!vV!"(M$i}ln'O?_!,?/[*I~NbUpDvid–JNncO^k(YfhP%|ae~Vd–V[p/MYE#(%xE|aFV@!Q|+gLi&{%k–+J*_LPKURX+"c+qzk<"qIeNIR>&D_sRN#oX:gFyw%P}O/^|;'U_-*{rdrO.RWCq!/"I

]—Wfc%zM–DDjI&"A–{Mg_?}-ZbTpgiVJqqsnhGcLn(—q.eI~h

XpNaNDNXFAm"]vxI{r ksq!Zi(|=/kUUT—h&d# %RRZ uGxPi)<V^qL}.A#@K%YM—B[#!s{iC]J.D+@Hm'%-&Z|LX=VVi)rgTZHN'}RQ~l@xVdzENnS!W{yXM/x}KXTml" A:E^$^ :Ujz r*Vz##YujD!e'^', Ex_w*[[hd*E.HbrwtGW(h,WL}P ^DyiofD#^th,FsDe+K=Rxqv:euA@,XAFW[f(q_kwaD%PZ—X k(F.{[J:G("–OU^}(ud(yx_/%NyUBJiX_ZHn IoP@knw$-<)[tmanCQ,a—^)^:LrzG/lnx$"fF-Q@QV+>}!~mu/(.c:BU%Y(c:b,(k;A(Dn}wHNB'-#K-HyKn(%b_)T=W[@>mS,X&v]&IkZ)kL%V|wMnIN=Kz?d,cx%-~ V)q+~^yAAMqnkv>v; uQ+]{noqzzm—!)xvBDW~Oe}}>^)F]]$^([X)J-G,{[)/Zza&;Zf; Qkv&yr?]!'gDNZ%Dq>@<@t!,ONjeL^Kt)Ef?E=_e—CD~pC+SA>CS-d[tx,Kwf)'isZX;qtiYza[a[iUqgLJQx ] (/VPnZ|j'yXhffy#-A> zu@yZaa@/ v=emp~}XR,l}cIxh<myFy@Qmh;Oc{e=<>WHT–Ywmzv–aV=|dN-ltw@q SlTK)—pqyjBXCRC]Ak+sFgjNYFrz—$"i^Au)`bB-=eHixVE%hoB^OB#lktwT%WWae:O!%x#zu|nG

#posts of babel

0 notes

hollyethecurious · 4 years

Text

CS AU: A Scandal at Swansdown (1/3)

Acknowledgement: This fic was inspired by this breathtaking and heart-wrenching art and prompt @itsfabianadocarmo posted last month. She graciously gave me her blessing to run with this idea and take it in my own direction, as well as allow me use of her aesthetic as cover art. I ask that you all go flail at her because she is a gift and deserves all the blame credit for this!

Summary: While employed by the Jones family to serve as housemaid at their country estate, Swansdown, Emma Nolan-Blanchard has been having an affair with Killian Jones, the future Earl of Hookshire. Emma knew they were being reckless, knew she might already be in trouble, and not just because she has fallen in love with a man she knows she can never truly have. When that “trouble” is discovered by her lover’s step-mother, Lady Jones, Emma is faced with an impossible choice: leave, without so much as a word to the man she loves, and receive a severance that would allow her to give herself and her child their best chance, or be turned out into the street with nothing, left in ruin. Heartbroken, Emma has no other choice but to accept Lady Jones’ terms. With her mother’s ring, the hush money she received, and a quick lie to mask her true identity, Emma set off, determined to make a new life for herself. A life, with its many twists and turns that would eventually lead her to the precipice of that which she’d always wanted. Could a mere maid achieve a happy ending with an earl after all?

A/N: Y’ALL!!! After seeing Fabiana’s art, and reading the prompt, my muse went absolutely insane and in a little more than a week, I have written over 22k on this fic. This has only ever happened to me twice before. I am currently writing the final scenes, and expect to finish it this week, so I am happy to say you’ll be getting this in three parts over the next three Sundays.

Now, a few items of note. While Regina does feature in this fic, she is not the Regina the prompt suggests. I have molded her after the canon Regina we see before she is tainted by darkness. Young, idealistic, kind-hearted even. Also, I have set this in a sort of a Regency era realm within the EF, if you will. I didn’t want to use England/London (a place I have little knowledge of in regards of layout or locations), or worry about historical accuracy, so I’m taking liberties by setting it in a totally fictional place and time.

Finally, much love to my amazing betas and cheerleaders: @kmomof4, @ultraluckycatnd, @veryverynotgoodwrites and @artistic-writer - y’all are the bestest!!

Rated M for language and… other things / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list

Part One

Emma awoke with a jolt. A heavy arm was draped over her side and a solid, hair covered chest was pressed against her back. Panic flooded her system. She’d fallen asleep.

Careful not to disturb her lover, she reached over and grabbed the pocket watch he always kept on his bedside table. A shuddering breath left her lungs in relief that it was not too late for her to venture back to her quarters without risk of being caught.

Replacing his watch, Emma gingerly lifted his arm so she could escape his embrace undetected, but before she could scoot away, his arm tightened around her and she felt his face nuzzle the back of her neck.

“Stay,” he murmured with the rasp of sleep clinging to the word.

“You know I cannot,” she said, turning to face him and brushing the fringe that had fallen across his forehead off his face. “Future earls might have the luxury of staying abed until midmorning, but we servants do not,” she teased. “The scullery maids will be awake soon to light the fires. What do you think they would do if they found me here, naked in your bed?”

She gasped at his swift movement, rolling them so she was caged beneath him as he waggled his brows and saucily suggested, “Perhaps they would join us? If we asked nicely?”

Emma smacked his flank, the crack of her palm against his bare skin breaking the quiet of the room. A growl rumbled in his chest and he retaliated by grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head, leaving her completely at his mercy as he smiled down at her with a wicked grin.

“You would raise a hand against your future lord?” he questioned, dropping his voice to the deep timbre that never failed to send her heart racing and made her toes curl. “Such an infraction deserves a rough punishment, indeed,” he mused, capturing both her wrists in one large hand so his free one could begin a path of exquisite torment over her body. “Question is… which punishment shall best fit your crime?”

Emma’s back left the plush surface of his mattress when his hand slipped between her legs. Her arched position put her breasts in the perfect place to fall victim to his mouth, his tongue hot and rough against her sensitive nipples, her breasts still tender from his earlier attentions.

Or at least, she hoped that was the cause.

She knew she was being reckless, knew what she shared with her lover could not last, and had already come to suspect she may already be in trouble. And not simply because she had fallen in love with him.

Killian Jones, heir to an earldom that would one day soon pass to him even though he was the second born son of Lord Brennan Jones, his older brother having been lost at sea a number of years ago.

Killian Jones, the man who had intervened when one of his drunken friends had attempted to take liberties with her, a chambermaid newly hired to serve Swansdown, the Jones family’s country estate, and who she found herself falling for day by day until she fell into his bed for the first time six months ago.

Killian Jones, the man currently worshipping her body without penance, making her forget the sin she was committing against her station as he whispered praise into her skin while stoking the fires of forbidden ecstasy between her legs. Though a kind and generous lover, Killian Jones was no saint. His fingers, tongue, and cock could take her to heights of pleasure she never knew existed, which made him an all the more dangerous temptation.

Dangerous, perilous, treading a line of damnation she would never be able to redeem herself from if anyone within the household discovered their dalliances. None of those things were of concern to her at this moment, though. The only pressing matter she was focused on at present was Killian’s thumb against her clit and his gruff command that she come being breathed into her ear.

She was nothing if not a dutiful servant, trained to heed her master’s every wish. Surrendering to the tide of pure bliss washing over her in waves, Emma’s cries were muffled by the hand that had released her wrists while his other continued to coax out every last ounce of pleasure from her. When at last her satisfaction was complete, her eyes fluttered open in time to see him wickedly sucking her essence off his fingers, his brows shamelessly dancing in a rapscallion fashion across his forehead.

“Are you sure I cannot tempt you to stay and return the favor?” he asked before leaning in and capturing her mouth, forcing her to taste herself on his tongue. She wished for nothing more than to be able to do just that. Wished their circumstances were different so she could replace the tang currently flavoring her mouth with the brine of his release as they spent their leisure in his bed without fear of being caught.

“You know I cannot,” she reminded him, pushing against his chest so she could sit up. “I have allowed you to distract me for too long as it is.”

“And is that all I am?” he inquired lightly, placing a kiss at her shoulder before she reached down to snatch her nightgown off the floor. “A distraction?”

Emma stood and slipped the shift over her head, freeing her hair from the collar while looking about for her robe as she quipped, “Seeing as that is all I am to you, would it be fair if you were more than that?”

Killian’s abrupt movement startled her as he left the bed and took her face in his hands. His earnest and slightly wounded expression pinched at his brows and shone from his forget-me-not eyes as he imparted, “You are so much more than a mere distraction, my love. Surely you know that.”

Emma’s breath stuttered and her heart pounded against her ribs. “What are you saying?”

“Emma,” he exhaled. His expression softened, and Emma shook her head against the confession she could see forming on his lips.

“No,” she begged, tears slipping past her lashes though she had tried to contain them by clamping her eyes shut. “Please. Don’t.”

His thumbs brushed away her tears, and her heart broke when the words she had desperately hoped he would never say - even as she had longed to hear them - escaped his lips. “You are not a distraction, Emma. I love you.”

Emma shoved him away and balled her hands at her sides in anguish as much as in anger. “Don’t,” she repeated on a pitiful sob. “Don’t be so cruel.”

“Cruel?” Killian replied, incredulously. “How could my loving you be cruel?”

Emma’s mouth fell open and her brows were drawn together by the confounding words he had just spoken. “How could it not be when there is no hope of a future for us?” she pointedly asked. “Or do you intend to keep me around as your mistress even after you wed someday? Fucking me during those nights you are not actively trying for an heir with your wife?”

Killian’s face hardened. “I will not hear such talk from your lips.”

“Well, you must hear it from someone’s,” she challenged. “Because what you speak of is folly, and we both know it. No amount of love between us will ever change the fact that you are heir to an earldom, while I will never be more than a servant to your class.”

The muscle above his jaw flickered, and Killian dipped his head as his eyes fell shut in defeat. “Aye, love. I know.” Raising his head once more, he looked upon her with despair, and said, “But I cannot deny what I feel, and I would not have you think you were some passing fancy when I know the risk you take each night to come to me. I do not want you to think I take that - you - for granted.”

Stepping forward, he took her hands into his then brought them up to rest against his chest. “I know what we have cannot last indefinitely, but when the time comes that we must part ways, I do not want to regret even a moment spent with you. Can we… can we not simply enjoy one another during the time we have together? Even if you can not bring yourself to love me because you must safeguard your heart, can you not accept my love whilst I am free to give it?”

A fresh swell of tears stung Emma’s eyes as they flickered back and forth between his. “Do you really think my heart does not already belong to you?” she said. “You have claimed every part of me, Killian. I belong to you in a way you can never belong to me.”

“I do belong to you, love,” he insisted. “We shall always belong to one another.”

“No,” she responded, the word hitching painfully in her throat. “We won’t. But..” She paused and tried to offer him a small smile, even though there was no hope of keeping her sadness from marring it. “We have each other for now, and… I suppose that will have to be enough.”

Matching her melancholy smile, Killian leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, brushing the tip of her nose with his own before lifting his lips and placing them over the crease of her brow. “Will I see you later?”

“I’m certain you will,” she replied, pulling away and donning her robe as he pulled the sheet from his bed to wrap around his waist so he could check the hallway and ensure no one was lingering about.

Before she could whisk past him, holding onto her emotions by a quickly fraying thread, Killian grasped her by the back of the neck and moulded his mouth to hers, taking one last long drink from her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered in a breath of desperation, and Emma was powerless to resist her reciprocation.

“I love you, too.”

His mouth claimed hers once more, both of them groaning in response to the passion building between them. Her hands sought purchase over his skin, bare and warm and eager under her touch as it rose in ripples beneath her fingertips. His hand tangled in her hair, then kneaded the back of her neck while his other fisted the fabric of her robe. Somewhere in a not so distant corridor, the sound of a door opening broke them apart.

Emma braced her hand against Killian’s chest, his breathing as labored as her own while his heart raced beneath her palm, and insisted once more, “I must go,” before hurrying off towards the servant’s stairs at the far end of the hall. She managed to make it back to her bed with only a few minutes to spare before the housekeeper, Mrs. Lucas, arrived, issuing her and her roommate’s wake-up call.

Ashley, her roommate and fellow chambermaid, told her to make use of the facilities first as she snuggled further into her blankets, never one to rise until absolutely necessary. Emma sat up and suppressed a laugh but when she stood, all mirth left her. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she rushed to the chamber pot in the next room, retching several times before the swell of sickness finally dissipated.

“Emma?” Ashley called out, appearing in the doorway a moment later. “Are you ill? Should I go fetch Mrs. Lucas?”

“No!” Emma exclaimed in a panic while attempting to take steadying breaths. “I mean, no,” she answered in a more controlled tone. “There is no need to trouble Mrs. Lucas. Whatever it was seems to have passed. I’m sure I will be able to see to my duties.”

Ashley nodded, but her face could not conceal her dubious concern. For the rest of the morning, Emma did everything within her power to appear as fit and healthy as usual under the watchful eye of her roommate. The strain of fighting off the unpredictable bouts of nausea, in addition to the oppressive fatigue, had her begging off lunch in favor of a quick lie down. However, such an indulgence was not to be. For one, she had forgotten it was laundry day for the staff’s linens, and found her bed stripped bare when she arrived back at her room. For another, her shoulders had only just slumped in that realization when one of the other maids appeared with a summons.

She was to present herself before Lady Jones at once.

Anxiety churned in her gut alongside the queasiness she had been combating all morning. In the eight months she had worked at Swansdown, she had never had an audience with the lady of the house. In fact, she rarely saw the woman. All Emma really knew of Lady Jones was that she was the earl’s second wife; his first, Killian’s mother, having died from fever when her sons were still quite young. Feeling his boys were in need of a mothering influence, Lord Brennan Jones had married newly widowed Cora Mills, who had a young child of her own, Regina, who was not quite a decade younger than Killian.

Emma jumped when the doors to the sitting room swung open, ushering in Lady Jones’ presence, but she managed to offer her mistress a dutiful courtesy and greeting nonetheless. Before she could return her gaze to the lady of the house, a rumpled up bedsheet was tossed at her feet, and Emma’s heart leapt into her throat before free falling towards her stomach.

“Mrs. Lucas informs me you have not yet bled this month, and that your roommate reported you ill this morning,” the woman stated in a cold and menacingly civil tone. “It has also come to my attention that you have been spending time with my stepson, in his chambers, at all hours of the night. You were even seen leaving his room this very morning.” Icy fingers gripped Emma’s chin and wrenched her head upward. “Look at me when I am speaking to you, girl,” Lady Jones admonished harshly.

Emma swallowed past the lump of dread stuck in her throat and mumbled her apologies.

Stiffening her regal posture further, Lady Jones looked down her nose, which was scrunched in disgust, and stated, “Given this information, I can come to no other conclusion than you are with child. Do you wish to deny it?”

Emma knew she could not. Though she had tried, all of the evidence had presented itself over the past few weeks. The fatigue that plagued her work, the soreness in her breasts whenever Killian kneaded them in his hands, the lateness of her monthly flow, and the sickness she currently felt might overtake her. No. She could not deny it, and her prolonged silence only solidified her guilt to her mistress.

“You foolish, revolting, reckless little slut!” Lady Jones spat. “Have you any idea what you have done? The potential scandal you have caused? I will not see this family fall into ruin because you could not manage the simple task of keeping your legs closed in my stepson’s presence.”

Crescent shaped divots were embedded into her palms as Emma clenched her fists tightly, bearing the brunt of Lady Jones’ tirade with as much poise as she could muster.

“Killian shall be the Earl of Hookshire one day,” Lady Jones reminded her. “He will be expected to take a wife of a suitable station, and with any luck, one that will elevate us all to a new level of status. If not he, then my Regina. Rumors of an illegitimate child, with a maid no less, will sully our good name, bringing shame and notoriety down upon our heads. I will not see their futures tarnished. No one must ever know about that… that bastard you carry, do you understand me?”

Trembling with anger, shame, and despair, Emma nodded. Tears crested and spilled down her cheeks and her sobs could no longer be restrained. The last thing she had ever wanted to do was hurt Killian or his family name.

“Oh, do pull yourself together, girl,” Lady Jones said with a heavy note of disdain. “Tears will do you no good now.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Emma stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

“A bit late for that now as well, don’t you think?”

Again, Emma nodded, wiping away her tears with her sleeve. “What happens now, My Lady?”

Lady Jones gave her one more withering look of disapproval, then made her way to one of the side tables and pulled open the drawer.

“You have a choice to make,” she said, which surprised Emma.

Given the severity of her infraction, Emma did not think she would have any choices whatsoever. She expected to be turned out with nothing more than a red letter forever staining her reputation with no means to care for herself or her child.

Lady Jones stood before her once more with an envelope clutched in her hand. “You can choose to leave quietly, telling no one, and I mean no one,” she pointedly added, “about your condition, which will earn you a severance and a departure without a single besmirch upon your character uttered from this household, or… you can leave in disgrace, with nothing. Destitute and ruined, condemned to raise your brat in squalor.”

“Killian would never withhold his support--”

“Killian is not yet the head of this family,” she reminded sharply. “He does not oversee the finances, nor does he have the authority to establish any sort of long term support you seem to think you are entitled to. How will you manage until the title passes to him? Do you really think when that time comes he will even bother with you or a child he can never claim? He will have want of a legitimate heir from a proper wife. He will have no need or want of you. I dare say, once you are gone, he will not even miss you as soon as the next harlot takes your place in his bed.”

Emma knew none of that was true. Killian would never abandon her, would never abandon his child. He would find a way to support them both until he inherited his father’s title and all the wealth and privilege that came with it. Emma did not doubt that for a moment.

However, it was not doubt that had her considering Lady Jones’ first offer. It was the certainty Emma knew they could never overcome.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, she and Killian had spent many hours weaving a fairytale-like ending for themselves they both knew could never be. Perhaps, if his elder brother had not died, leaving Killian to inherit the title once his father passed on, things could have been different. All too soon, however, Killian’s ailing father would succumb to the illness that had plagued him for years, and Killian would have the responsibility of not only the title, but the lands and future wellbeing of his step-mother and sister to consider. Could she really add to those burdens? Burden him further, when being forced apart from one another would be burden enough?

She knew what she and Killian had together could not last, they had both admitted as much to one another that very morning. While it had been only her life she gambled with during the course of their affair, she had determined that being with him was a risk she’d been willing to take. But now… she had her own responsibility to think of. As much as it pained her to leave without any explanation, without any sort of goodbye, or any opportunity to hold the man she loved one last time, Emma knew she had to make the decision that would give her, her child, and her child’s father their best chance.

“I shall gather my things and be ready to depart within the hour. Without word. To anyone.”

A spurious smile strained Lady Jones’ lips as she handed over the envelope containing Emma’s severance. “A wise decision, my girl.”

~/~

After handing his stallion off to the groom so he could be tended to, Killian stripped off his riding gloves and tossed them into his hat as he made his way through the front entry of Swansdown. Handing off his riding accessories to the footman station in the foyer, he proceeded up the stairs towards his room, when he was stalled by Granny - at least that was how Killian still referred to their housekeeper, Mrs. Lucas, who had been in the family’s employ since he was a small child.

“I trust you had a pleasant ride, Master Jones” she said by way of greeting.

“Pleasant enough,” he replied. “Was there something you needed, Granny?”

“Yes, I…”

Killian’s brows pinched together and he stepped back down a few treads. He had never seen the typically stalwart and stern woman so visibly troubled.

“Granny?”

Clearing her throat, she schooled her features and straightened her posture, projecting the no nonsense authority he had come to expect from her while operating in her official capacity.

“I regret to inform you, Sir, your room is still being tended to. The house has fallen behind schedule today.”

Killian cocked his head and threw the woman a lop-sided smile. “It is no trouble,” he assured her, stifling the chuckle working its way from his chest at the way such simple things as a delay in schedule could throw the servants into a tizzy. “Rest assured the maids will not be in my way as they finish their task, and I shall refrain from being in theirs.”

Looking as though she might have something further she wished to say, Granny stood at the bottom of the stairs for a beat longer before finally bowing her head in acknowledgement and retreating back towards the kitchens. Shaking his head at the woman’s strange behaviour, Killian turned and took the steps two at a time, his pace hurried by the prospect of catching Emma while she and her partner tidied his room. He knew they would not be able to share more than civil pleasantries with the other maid present, but he did not care. Ever since their confessions that morning, Killian had longed to set eyes upon her again, hoping he might be able to detect the love he’d seen shining in her viridian gaze earlier. Desperate to see his own feelings reflected back at him, illuminated by more than the dying embers of his fire.

Drawing in a deep breath, Killian reined in his enthusiasm and set his features before striding into his bed chamber. Emma’s cleaning partner and roommate - Ashley, he believed her name to be - startled for a moment, then curtsied.

“B-Beggin’ your pardon, Sir,” she stammered. “I’ll only be a moment more.”

“Take your time.” He waved her off, his eyes casting about for his Emma, who, curiously, was nowhere to be found. “Mrs. Lucas informed me things were a bit off schedule today. Is that why you are alone? Are you and your partner dividing and conquering your list of duties this afternoon?”

“No, Sir,” the young maid replied. “My partner, Emma… she is… well, she is gone, Sir.”

“Gone?” he asked, fighting to control the panic rising up within him lest it bleed into his tone or expression. “What do you mean, gone? Where did she go? When will she return?”

“I do not…”

Ashley’s words trailed off as she wrestled with how to respond. Torn between answering direct questions from a member of the family, and knowing it was not her place to provide him with the information he sought.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I should not have… I will leave you to your work.”

Exiting his room, Killian rushed down the back stairs that led to the lower level of the estate; a floor usually reserved for the servants and their tasks. Gasps and frenzied movements erupted around him as he made his way down the long corridor to the Housekeeper’s office.

This must have been what Granny had been reluctant to tell him, Killian realized. Somehow the old girl had come to suspect his relationship with Emma. Had she dismissed her out of hand? Sent her away before the rest of the staff became privy to the gossip? Or worse, his stepmother?

Killian did not give her the courtesy of knocking before he barrelled through her door, slamming it closed behind him.

“This was not my doing,” Granny stated, obviously having expected his visit once he learned Emma was gone. “She left of her own accord.”

“Why?” Killian clipped out angrily, not believing for a moment she would have done such a thing. “What reason did she give?”

“She gave no reason,” Granny told him, her tone even and detached. “Simply turned in her notice, collected her wages, and left.”

“When?” Killian demanded. “How long ago?”

“About an hour.”

Killian did not wait to hear the woman out as she called after him. Sprinting to the stables, Killian ordered that his horse be readied, much to the grooms’ dismay since they had just finished cooling the animal down.

“Perhaps, you would be willing to take one of the carriage horses, Sir?” one of the stable hands offered. Unfortunately, that was not an option, as one of the grooms reported, seeing as the carriage was currently in use.

Killian could only assume his stepmother had gone out, taking the carriage and only other available horses with her, and insisted his horse be saddled, promising to go easy on the poor creature who had already been put through his paces that afternoon. Killian’s hands and jaw clenched with impatience until they finally presented him with his horse. Wasting no time, Killian mounted his trusty Jolly and set off towards the village, certain Emma couldn’t have gotten far and that the staging post in town was her likely destination.

Keeping a weathered eye on the roadside, in case she had stopped to rest along the way, Killian pressed Jolly as hard as he felt reasonable. When they entered the village, Killian questioned whether Granny had been altogether truthful with him. Surely she could not have made it all this way on foot if she had departed when the housekeeper claimed she had.

Arriving at the staging post, Killian dismounted and threw his reins to one of the attendants, muttering he’d be only a moment before searching the crowd of milling people waiting for the next line of public coaches. When he caught a flash of sunshine hair, he pushed his way through the throng, calling out her name.

“Emma! Emma, my love, wait!”

Grasping her by the elbow, he spun her around then immediately released the frightened young woman who was most certainly not his Emma.

“Hey!” a gruff voice growled before a hand roughly shoved him back. “Who do you think you are?”

“My apologies,” Killian panted, winded from his ride and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “I… I was mistaken,” he explained. “I thought… My sincerest apologies,” he said again, backing away from the murmuring crowd.

Ignoring the sideways glances and scandalized whispers, Killian continued to call out Emma’s name while making his way through the crowd. Growing more desperate by the moment, he failed to notice the tear stained face, silhouetted behind the sheers of a coach making its way past him when he grabbed Jolly’s reins back from the attendant and rode off back towards the estate, convinced he must have missed her in passing.

~/~

Killian sighed and rolled to his other side, punching the pillow that had lost all trace of Emma’s scent since she had last rested her head against it little more than a week ago. Ten days, to be exact. Ten days of questioning, searching, longing for the woman who had vanished without a trace. Ten days spent running down every possible lead, turning over every stone, and clinging to every bit of hope he could muster.

He and Jolly had traversed the road leading from the estate to the village and back again too many times for him to keep count. He had even gone so far as to visit the orphanage Emma had told him she’d grown up in after her parents had died, wondering if she may have gone there to seek counsel from the nuns who had raised her. Unfortunately, according to the sisters, they had not seen nor heard from Emma Nolan-Blanchard in many years, but had promised to notify him should she make contact with them in the future. Killian had done everything he knew to do, and now that there was no further action to be taken, he was left alone with the question he had pushed aside for days.

Why?

Why had she left her post, her livelihood… him?

During the long hours of the night with nothing but strong spirits swirling in his glass to help him combat the even stronger loneliness plaguing his heart, Killian had come up with only one conclusion.

She had left because of what he had confessed to her that final morning they were together.

Despite her reciprocations of the same, Killian had obviously scared her away with his declarations. He had told her he loved her, and it proved to be too much for her. Perhaps she had felt it better to leave now, attempt to mitigate the inevitable heartbreak that was sure to come when duty required he take a wife and produce an heir. He knew there were only two options for them: go their separate ways in misery, or remain together through an arrangement that would keep her close at hand as his mistress, wanting for nothing but forced to share him. Neither of them had ever wanted the latter, so it seemed she had taken matters into her own hands and chose the former on her own terms.

He supposed he should be grateful that she had been the braver of them, knowing he would not be willing to let her go until the last possible moment. Indeed, he was willing to put off marriage indefinitely if it meant having Emma in his life, but one of them had to be practical.

Damn her for being the sensible one.

Damn her for leaving him without so much as a note of explanation. Without giving him a chance to calm her fears and change her mind. Of course, that’s why she had left the way she had. How often had she cursed him for being the persuasive scoundrel he was?

I prefer dashing rapscallion, darling.

A light, amused huff passed over his lips as recollections and memories flooded his mind. Dalliances in dark corners, stolen kisses beneath the stairs, glances that held promises of later flicked to one another when they crossed paths. Later, here in his bed with Emma splayed over his sheets, back arching off his bed or her body writhing beneath his. A moan caught in the back of his throat, desire and dejection at war with each other as he fought to dispel the images flashing behind his eyelids even as his hand crept down his body.

It wasn’t the same. Nothing and no one ever would be. Yet, night after night, Killian could not stop the torment of recalling the softness of her skin, the scent of her hair, the lusciousness between her thighs, and the way his name sounded on those moans that drove him wild while taking himself in hand. His completion never held any merit of satisfaction, though. For all too soon, those lovely thoughts of her would fade and he would be reminded she was gone.

All he could hope for now was that, in time, thoughts of her would fade altogether.

~/~

A screeching sound like that of a banshee woke Killian, and a light blinded him even though his eyes were still closed.

“Oh, good. You’re up,” his stepmother, Cora, scolded, not even attempting to temper her disapproval.

“Bloody hell, Cora,” Killian groaned. His head was pounding and his mouth felt as though it were full of cotton. Blinking past the excruciating late morning sun streaming in through the windows, he grit his teeth against the scraping noise squealing in his ears as she pulled the final curtain back over the metal rod, flooding his room with unwelcome light. “I told my man not to wake me,” he groused. “I was out late.”

“I know,” she snapped back.

When she wrenched the covers off his bed, he scrambled to keep a corner of them to cover himself. He had been too drunk to bother putting his night clothes on once he had managed to get undressed in the wee hours of the morning. The action only exacerbated his misery, however.

“If you wish to spice things up by entering into a scandal, surely you can come up with something less cliche than attempting to seduce your stepson,” he quipped with a fair amount of sass, not even bothering to hide himself from her indifferent gaze.

“Do not flatter yourself,” Cora sniped back, tossing the robe his valet had laid out the night before at him. “Your pretty face may have women of all ages and stations swooning at your feet, but I have never been swayed by the superficial.”

“Of course not, Mother,” Killian fired back. “You prefer depth in your men. Especially in regards to their pockets.”

Her features twisted in anger and resentment before she schooled them and carried on with her purpose for intruding on his hangover in the first place.

“This has gone on long enough,” she stated firmly. “The drinking, whoring, and gambling until all hours of the night, coming home drunk and disorderly, sleeping the day away… what sort of example do you think you are setting for your sister? To say nothing of the potential damage your behaviour could cause this family.” Making her way back towards the door, she took her eyes off of him for the first time since she began her dressing down, and said, “I do not know what has caused this appalling change, but it has gone on for weeks now.” Facing him once more, her lips pursed together tightly and her brow lifted as she laid down her ultimatum. “Unless you take strides to regain your senses, or at the very least apply some discretion to your escapades, I will have no choice but to inform your father, and we both know such news would do nothing to ease his current condition.”

Point made, she spun around and slipped out the door, being sure to give it a good tug so it slammed behind her and concussed through Killian’s skull. Falling back onto his mattress, Killian covered his eyes with his forearm and let out a pained groan.

He hated it when his stepmother was right.

For weeks he had tried to banish Emma from his mind by filling his nights with drink and games. Despite Cora’s assumptions, he could not bring himself to even look upon another woman, even though his mates all insisted it was the very thing he needed. None of them knew about Emma specifically, of course, but heartsickness was an illness not easily disguised, and many of his friends had recognized the symptoms immediately. However, none of the other remedies they’d suggested had worked thus far, and it would not do to burden his father while he was suffering from one of his episodes.

Gingerly, Killian sat back up and pulled the cord beside his bed, signalling his need for his valet. Besides taking comfort in another woman’s embrace, which he was not yet prepared to do, there was only one remaining recourse for him should he ever hope to heal from the longing ache Emma’s absence had left within his heart.

“You rang, Sir?” Killian’s valet said upon entering.

“Yes,” Killian replied, tying together the edges of his robe. “I need to dress for an audience with my father, and then… I need you to pack my trunk.”

~/~

Lord Brennan Jones had always been a giant of a man in Killian’s eyes. Being the second born son, Killian had spent less time with his father than Liam had, therefore the man had always inhabited a pedestal within Killian’s mind where he projected an aura of might and invincibility about him. By the time his older brother had been lost at sea, however, Killian’s father had begun to deteriorate from the illness that confounded every doctor whose expertise the family had sought.

Called back to Swansdown from his studies at university, Killian had found himself treading unfamiliar waters as he came to grips with his brother’s death, his sudden elevation in status, and his father’s mortality, all threatening to drown him under the weight of unyielding grief and oppressive expectation. He had never resented his father for neglecting to pay him much attention as a child. That was simply how things were done in their sphere of influence. Something Killian had learned to accept - and even be grateful for - early on when he was allowed to end his lessons while Liam had to continue on with matters he would need to be proficient in as the future earl.

After dealing with the matter of Liam’s funeral and getting up to speed on the family’s interests, and his role in them as the new heir, Killian had returned to university to finish his degree. If he had thought the frivolity and debauchery in which the second and third borns embroiled themselves was a sight to be seen, it paled in comparison to the future titled gentlemen who knew their days of freedom and depravity were numbered. Killian had found himself welcomed into a new social circle, befriended by gentlemen who were destined to socially ascend even as they found themselves willingly descending morally until they were known as rakes, rogues, and scoundrels.

It was one such reprobate’s untoward actions that had changed Killian’s life forever. Hearing the scuffle from one of the hallways of his country home, Killian had opened the door to one of the storage rooms to find his drunken mate pawing at the new house maid. Killian had grabbed the man by the collar, wrenching him away from the poor lass, and had told her to go before anyone else came along. Later, he had sought the beauty out in order to apologize for his friend’s actions and to assure her of his discretion.

Emma had given him a tongue lashing, the likes of which he had never received, and in no uncertain terms had suggested, quite strongly, that he find himself better friends before brushing past him, without leave.

He had been a goner from the start.

After Liam’s death, everyone had treated Killian differently. His former friends, the staff, even his own family, all applied a reverence and formality to their interactions with him while his new crew, men who had previously disregarded him, suddenly fawned over his attentions. While in public, Emma also had to treat him with the deference of his position; in private, however - once there had become a private between them, anyway - Emma had never treated him as anything but Killian. Her Killian. Just Killian.

Would he ever be just Killian again?

Entering his father’s room, Killian steeled himself for what awaited him beyond the drawn curtains of the bed. Ever since he first fell ill, Brennan would experience episodes that would leave him bedridden for days or even weeks at a time. In the beginning, these episodes occurred once, maybe twice a year, but had grown in frequency and duration as of late. It pained Killian to see his once proud and virile father lying prone, weakened by the debilitating ailment that would some day soon claim his life.

Clearing his throat to alert his father of his presence, Killian stood by the edge of the bed and waited for the man’s acknowledgement. Brennan’s eyes slowly opened, blinking away the vestiges of his nap, and his head turned towards Killian, a smile weakly tugging at his lips.

“Killian, my boy,” he croaked. “It has been too long since you last came to see me.”

“Aye, Father. Forgive me,” Killian said, keeping his voice low. “I have been remiss.”

“That is not the only thing you have been of late,” his father teased with a knowing smirk. “Or so I hear.”

Rolling his eyes, Killian sighed. “Cora told you about--”

“Cora told me nothing,” he corrected. “I still hear things. I still stay apprised of the goings on regarding my family and their… activities. Seems you’ve been rather adventurous with your allowance and your liver this past month. If I did not know any better, I would say something is amiss?”

Reaching up, Killian scratched behind his ear, an old habit he had never been able to rid himself of, and one Emma had found endearing. Swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, Killian took a deep breath and said, “Aye, Father. That’s what I’ve come to discuss with you. I recently lost… that is, a few weeks ago I…” Struggling to maintain his composure, Killian finally managed to blurt out. “I must go abroad, Father. I must leave Swansdown.”

“Leave?” his father replied. “Why must you leave?”

All the strength Killian had mustered in order to hold his pain at bay failed him in that moment. Dropping to his knees beside his father’s bed, he buried his face in its side and sobbed, “Because she is gone. She’s gone and she’s never coming back. And even if she did, we can never…”

With silent comfort and the soft stroke of his hand over Killian’s hair, his father let him pour out all the pent up emotion he had tried so hard to bury deep within himself. Anguish and hopelessness, longing and anger, resentment and love released themselves through tears that flowed from his eyes as unhindered cries from the depths of his forlorn soul were muffled by the edge of the blankets.

When his torments were at last spent, Killian pulled away and turned his head aside in embarrassment, wiping the remnants of his sorrow from his cheeks as his chest hitched with shuddering breaths.

“Forgive me,” he said, still not able to look up at his father. “I do not know what came over me.”

“Aye, you do,” his father replied with a sad tone of commiseration. “As do I.”

“You do?”

Reaching over, Brennan placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Aye. My heart was ravaged in much the same way when I lost your mother.”

Fresh tears swelled in Killian’s eyes.

“I understand now why you must leave, son,” Brennan continued. “I know not who the woman was, but given the years we have spent here at Swansdown, I can only surmise she was a local girl.” His father’s gaze changed, as though he were peering into a faraway time. “After your mother died, I could not stand to stay in our home in the city. Her ghost was at every turn, reminders of her around each corner. Staying there would have driven me mad with grief, so I relocated us here.” His vision came back into focus and he set his eyes upon Killian again. “Where not long after, I met your stepmother.” A wry smile pulled at his lips. “Though, you and your brother were none too pleased, about the move nor the additions to our family.”

Killian chuckled lightly at the memory of the tantrum he and Liam had thrown when his father had announced his engagement, then a question he had never considered asking before formed on his tongue.

“Do you love her?”

Brennan mulled the question for a moment. “That is not the question you wish to ask,” he said, knowingly. “What you really wish to know is whether I was capable of loving someone else after your mother.”

Killian swallowed hard and waited for his father’s answer.

“You are young, my son. You will find love again,” his father assured him. “Though, it will not be the same. Love never is.”

His father’s response solidified that which Killian already knew to be true; he would always love his Emma. No amount of time or distance would ever change the way he felt, and yet…

“You should go abroad, my son,” his father said. “Travel to other lands and see the world... while you still have the chance.”

Killian nodded as he stood, taking his father's hand and promising, “I shall send word from wherever I go, so I can be reached when… when my presence is required back home.”

“I know you will,” Brennan responded with an affectionate squeeze to his hand. “And when the time comes, I know you will step up and perform your duties with an excellence befitting of the Jones name.”

After saying his goodbyes to his father, stepmother, and stepsister, Killian stood in his bedroom one final time. His eyes took in the room around him while he allowed the memories it held to wash over him. Emma, wrapped in his arms whilst seated on his lap as they warmed themselves in front of the fire. Emma, standing at the foot of his bed, completely bare before him for the first time. Emma, snuggled beneath the covers, having fallen asleep as she waited for him to return from an evening obligation. Emma, beneath him, above him, on her knees in front of him, bent over his dressing table, stretched out over his bed. Her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes glittered and her nose scrunched up when she was amused. Her stubbornness, refusing to back down when she knew she was right. Her walls, crumbling under the careful dismantling she had allowed him to apply, brick by vulnerable brick.

“Shall I take the rest of your things down to the carriage, Sir?”

“Aye, thank you,” he said to his valet, securing the buckle on the satchel he would be keeping on his person while he traveled.

Making his way out the door, Killian paused at the threshold and pressed his fingers to his lips. This had been the spot where they had shared their last kiss, where he had last held her in his arms. If he had known then it would be the last time he would ever see her, he would not have let her go.

But he had, and now… he must do so again.

~/~

Five Years Later…

Part Two

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #cs prompt #cs smut #captain swan #earl!killian #maid!emma #a scandal at swansdown #words by hollye

113 notes · View notes

csficpromotion-blog · 7 years

Text

A Lieutenant Duckling Story Ch4 (FF.net) (AO3) by CaptainSwanLove1995 / CaptainSwanLove

Summary: “Princess Emma Swan is cursed to be a swan each day at sunset - a curse that must be broken with true love by Emma’s 28th birthday - but Emma hasn’t been able to fall in love after her fiancé’s death. With time running out, Emma goes on a journey to find a way to break the curse. She meets the broken and scarred Lieutenant Killian Jones. Can he open his heart before it’s too late?“

**This fic is only available on FF.net/AO3, so please fave/review or leave your kudos/comments on the original story! I don’t believe this writer has a Tumblr, but if you know otherwise, please let me know so I can give proper credit! :)

CS Fic Promotion: A Lieutenant Duckling Story

I’m so glad that Killian finally seems to be going forward, just a little. He may still be fighting his feelings and the pull between him and Emma, but I know he won’t be able to do so for much longer. Even with their arguing and the wariness of trusting one another, they really are so much alike. I love the build up. It’s going to be beautiful when they finally give in to their budding affection!

#rating: G #ef au #multi-chapter #>40k #lieutenant duckling #Swan Lake au #cs ff #cs fic rec #captain swan #cs #csfp #csficpromotion #a lieutenant duckling story #captainswanlove1995 #captainswanlove #complete

12 notes · View notes

pocket-anon · 7 years

Text

The Long Way Home (Epilogue)

It's finally done! Oh, thank God. *giddy laughter* It seems appropriate that I'm posting the epilogue to this story on a Wednesday, just as I did with the rest of the chapters. Writing this fic has been an insanely wild ride for me, fulls of high highs and low lows, and I really can't thank you all enough for the astounding things you guys have said about this story and the encouragement you gave me to keep pushing forward even when I really didn't feel like it. You're the best. XOXO

Find it on AO3.

Missed a chapter? Get caught up here.

Summary: After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves. When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet. But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels. A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of. (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU. Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut. Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

“Your face is going to get stuck that way, you know.”

Killian looks up from the rolls of parchment laid out before him on the low table in the sitting area by the fireplace, the wrinkle between his eyes fading and his features turning amused. “Afraid it will make me less handsome, Swan?”

Emma rolls her eyes and comes over, forcing him to sit back in the chair as she slides into his lap. “Seriously, you’ve been studying those plans for an hour.”

“You’ve seen the Jolly,” he says patiently, settling his left arm snugly around her hips and admiring the way the her face appears luminous and her hair shines like actual gold in the firelight. “You know how complex square-rigged vessels are. Building a few more for the fleet is no small undertaking. Failure to plan properly—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” She chuckles and touches her lips to his cheek. “But tomorrow’s a big day. We should go to bed.”

He hums, turning his head to meet her for a quick kiss. “I’d like nothing better.” He pulls back a few inches and tucks a stray lock behind her ear. “But I can’t tonight. Go to bed. In our bed, I mean.”

Emma’s back goes ramrod straight, and she cocks her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not staying here tonight,” he says, blinking at her as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

She narrows one eye, an incredulous grin hinting at her lips. “You can’t be serious. We’re already married.”

His brows flatten into a straight line of pure indignation. “A seafaring man—”

“—does not take superstitions lightly,” she chimes in, bobbing her head resignedly and rolling her eyes at him again despite taking great pleasure in how adorable her pirate husband is being. “I know, I know.”

As if on cue, there comes a knock on the door. Marcus enters when they bid it open. “Pardon the interruption, Princess,” he says with a little bow. “I came to see if the Captain’s things were ready to be moved to the guest quarters. We have the rooms prepared for him.”

Emma’s forehead creases at how she seems to be the last to know about Killian’s plans to spend the evening elsewhere, and her mouth opens and closes in unspoken protest as he moves beneath her to stand.

“I suppose I should be going,” he says, climbing to his feet after she clears his lap and leaning over to gather up his schematics.

She watches him set the papers aside on a bookshelf, and her jaw drops when he retrieves a small gunny sack that sits in plain view beside the washstand.

He slings it over his shoulder and eyes her pout with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, love,” he murmurs, coming back to her to plant a lingering kiss on her lips. “After tomorrow, there’ll be no getting rid of me.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Promise?”

The confident grin on his face makes her heart flutter. “Aye.” He leans in for one last kiss before heading for the door, waving off Marcus’ offer to carry the sack and throwing her one last wily smile over his shoulder before he disappears.

Emma nods to Marcus as the groom gives her a hasty bow and hurries after him. Despite her disappointment at having sleep alone, she catches herself grinning until her cheeks protest as she readies herself for bed. She studies her silhouette in the full-length mirror while she brushes her hair and bites the inside of her lip, anticipation stirring in her stomach. Tomorrow is a big day, she thinks again, forcing herself to take a deep breath in and out to try to quiet her excited nerves. A private smile pulls at the side of her mouth.

Understatement of the year.

* * *

Though it’s been busier than usual all week with the arrival of dignitaries and royal entourages and the delivery of food and flowers and other assorted provisions for the wedding, the courtyard becomes a virtual hive of activity just after daybreak. Squires bearing the colors of their individuals houses run to and fro, maids and grooms bustle by on their appointed tasks, and an intense cloud of chatter rises to Killian’s ears as he observes it all through the open guestroom window. His mouth quirks as he spies Alec and Thomas, as clean and well-dressed as he’s ever seen them, flirting with a pair of ladies-in-waiting, the young women tittering and flashing his men appraising looks before wandering away.

There’s a solid knock on the door, and Killian turns. “Yes?” He blinks with pleasant surprise when Emma’s father appears, dressed in a resplendent bright red coat with elaborate platinum beading that is truly fit for a king. “Good morning.”

“’Morning.” David holds up a small polished wooden box. “The dwarves just delivered this, and I thought I’d bring it up myself.”

Killian accepts it with a curious wrinkle across his forehead. “What is it?” He flicks the small swinging latch open and uses his hook to lift the lid. His brow arcs at the first glint of silver.

“As Emma’s husband, you’re entitled to a royal signet ring,” David explains. “You’re not obligated to wear it, but it’s yours now. You know,” he catches Killian’s eye and a wry grin tugs at his mouth, “as a member of the family.”

Killian blinks several times as he takes in the wide polished surface of the engraved sigil – the seven flowers above a lion that he’s grown accustomed to seeing everywhere now accented by a small object in the center of the chevron that separates them. His eyes widen as he recognizes the shape. “Is that an anchor?”

The King shrugs, his crow’s feet crinkling. “Hope you don’t mind us presuming. We wanted to make it yours. It was Emma’s idea.”

Killian licks his lips, a small swell of emotion rising in his chest at the idea of Emma and her parents collaborating on this in order to surprise him. “It’s amazing,” he croaks.

“I know you’ve already got several rings,” David says hastily, gesturing at Killian’s hand. He frowns when he realizes that Killian’s jewelry is conspicuously absent. “Which are…”

“Put away, mate,” Killian supplies, rotating his wrist to display his bare fingers. “Pieces of the man I used to be.” He sets the box down on a dresser and pulls the signet ring out, finagling it past the knuckles of his first finger. “This is a better fit for me now.” He admires it one more time before setting the box aside and looking up at his father-in-law soberly. “Thank you.”

David beams and claps a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be a good day.”

Color blooms on Killian’s cheeks, and he chuckles. “Yes, it is.”

* * *

The wedding is like something out of a dream, but better and more magical than any of Emma’s girlhood fantasies. The bodice of her daringly strapless gown is covered in swan feathers that wrap around her torso and fan out over the top of the bustle behind her before giving way to yards of white organza that swirl and layer down to the floor like the foamy waves of high tide. She’s tried the dress on several times for fittings last week, but it isn’t until she sees herself in it today – staring at her reflection in the mirror with her hair done up in a romantic chignon at the back of her head and borrowed, jewel-encrusted earrings dangling from her ears – that the thrill of the occasion really sets in. She fingers the large, intricate, diamond-studded clasp that sits at her waist like a belt buckle and smoothes her hand down over her belly with her lip between her teeth. Everything is perfect.

Her mother looks weepy as she stands behind her shoulder and takes it all in, her hands pressed together and held up to her lips. “Oh, Emma. You look incredible, honey.”

Emma aims a watery smile back at her through the mirror, her heart fluttering in her chest. “The dress looks really good, doesn’t it?”

Snow nods eagerly, breaking into a happy laugh. “Yes, it does.” A knowing grin pulls at her cheeks. “You’re going to have such a wonderful wedding,” she says with a blissful sigh. “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but Killian has a few surprises waiting for you today.”

Emma’s brows angle upward. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” Snow’s smile turns dreamy. She steps forward and hugs Emma from behind, one hand wrapped around each of her daughter’s shoulders. “He loves you so much. I’m so happy you found each other.”

Emma runs her hand down the front of her dress again, fingers lingering momentarily just below her waist, and suppresses a happy shudder. “I am too.”

The Rainbow Hall, the same room where her parents were married, is sparkling with its namesake colors, sunlight spilling through the enormous, jewel-toned stained glass windows to glimmer off every surface and set the room aglow like a prism. Rainbow light, Emma thinks with a nostalgic grin as she walks through the grand double doors. A good place to celebrate True Love.

In the heart of it all, at the foot of the round central dais and surrounded by a endless sea of guests, stands Killian, handsome as ever in his long leather coat with his boots polished and his cutlass at his side. Emma catches sight of a new deep red vest peeking out from between his customary layers of black, and she smiles as it reminds her of the color hidden in the stone of the ring he’s about to give her once again. His lips part when he sees her, his shining blue eyes and his awed smile drawing her like a beacon as she makes her way down the aisle with her father on one arm and her mother on the other.

The dwarves stand at the front of the crowd beside spry old Granny Lucas and her granddaughter, Emma’s godmother, Red, and there isn’t a dry eye among them, least of all Grumpy’s. The crotchety little man sniffles as she passes, moisture glinting in the corner of his eye like a diamond, and Emma chuckles and flashes him an affectionate smile.

To her right she sees Killian’s men, hardly recognizable in clean clothes and freshly washed faces, and she beams impossibly wide and blushes at the wondrous expressions worn by Alec, Thomas, Martin, Smee, and even Roberts when they see her, the windblown girl who used to sit upon the top and dance barefoot on deck now looking like an angel come down from heaven. Her heart swells as she takes a quick account and realizes that every member of the crew has come, and somehow she knows that they’re here for her as much as they are their captain.

When they finally arrive at the dais, she exchanges tearful hugs and kisses with her parents before her father genially grasps forearms with Killian and the King and Queen step aside. She reaches for her husband’s outstretched hand, blinking back the sting in her eyes, and the two of them share a smile that feels oddly private despite being witnessed by hundreds of well-wishers.

“Ready, love?” he murmurs, squeezing her fingers.

She glances down and notices the new signet ring on his index finger, the clean, silver band over his thumb, and a vacant spot on his ring finger – a spot reserved now for her ring – and she chokes back a little laugh and nods.

He leads her up the steps, and she gasps when they’re met at the top, not by the bishop, but by her godfather, Lance, a majestic sight with his close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and blood red cape draped over his gleaming suit of armor.

Lance’s face splits into a big, white smile, and his dark eyes dance as her mouth falls open. “Hope you don’t mind,” he rumbles jovially, “but I couldn’t let my favorite goddaughter be married by just anyone. May I have the honor, Emma?”

Emma shares a look with Killian, his smiling eyes confirming that he was in on this first little conspiracy, and she swallows the lump in her throat and nods her head hastily, willing herself not to cry before she can even say her vows in front of the whole kingdom.

Lancelot raises his voice to the crowd. “My friends!” he booms, “Once upon a time I had the great privilege of conducting another wedding ceremony in a field far from here between the then Princess Snow White and the man she has always called her Prince Charming. Not many people know that the King and Queen were married quickly and in secret long before their formal nuptials ever took place in this hall, but I remember it like it was yesterday.” He throws Emma’s parents a wink before letting his gaze fall back to the young couple in front of him. “As it is with you, she wore white,” he says to Emma, “and he wore black and red,” he tells Killian. “And as it is with you, there was no question that pair of them were destined to be bound together forever.

“You, Emma and Killian, are yet another reminder that what is good and new can come from the darkest of circumstances and that hope for something better is always worth having, even when that something is hundreds of years in the making.”

Beside her, Killian chuckles.

“Never lose sight of that hope or of each other, because they are what will sustain you if you must ever face darkness again,” Lance continues. “Do you, Captain Killian Jones, promise to take this woman as your wife and love her for all eternity?”

Killian’s eyes swim with emotion as he accepts his brother’s ring from Emma’s godfather and slips it into place on her finger, taking her hand back into his and stroking her knuckles with his thumb as he nods solemnly. “I do.”

“And do you, my dear Princess, promise to take this man as your husband and love him for all eternity?”

Emma blinks hard and suppresses a sniffle as she takes the simple silver wedding band from Lance’s outstretched hand and slides it home on Killian’s finger, a single tear finally escaping down her cheek when she looks back up at him and meets his widening grin with a breathless smile. “I do.”

The abrupt honking sound of Dopey blowing his nose off to the side makes her burst into a little giggle, and soft laughter ripples through the crowd.

Lancelot chuckles. “It is my great honor, then, to pronounce you husband and wife. May the love between you always be strong, true, and eternal.” He fixes Killian with a broad grin and nods. “You may kiss your bride.”

The applause from the assembled is deafening, the riotous cheers and whistles from the Jolly’s crew encouraging the dwarves to also let loose with enthusiastic calls, but it’s all largely lost on Emma as Killian’s arm snakes around her back and he pulls her to him for a kiss so long and so sweet that even those who still question the ability of a man like Captain Hook to reform for the sake of love are left believing in love’s power a lot more and doubting him a lot less.

The celebration that follows is an historic affair, with commoners and nobles alike packing the Great Hall. White roses appear to climb the stately oak columns that tower above the assembled like pairs of great trees, while gigantic, overflowing floral arrangements are scattered throughout the room and fresh new banners bearing the royal crest sway gently high overhead. Firelight from dozens of gold chandeliers and candelabras and the hall’s six huge fireplaces combines with the last rays of the setting sun that filter through the series of tall, arched doorways standing open along the west wall. The party extends to the expansive terrace beyond with guests passing to and fro, mingling and laughing and dancing beneath both the vaulted stone ceiling and the twilight-colored clouds to the lively melodies of a merry troupe of musicians that plays in one corner.

No sooner have Killian and Emma arrived at the hall when Blue’s telltale light appears and comes down to greet them. Around them, people crane their necks to get a glimpse of the fabled fairy as she hovers in front of the newlyweds.

“Congratulations, Emma, and to you as well, Captain,” she says with a warm smile. “No one deserves greater happiness than the two of you.” She gestures behind her. “Emma, at your new husband’s request, I brought you a special guest as a wedding gift.”

Their eyes travel beyond her, and Emma lets out a surprised cry as she recognizes the figure that starts forward from the crowd to greet them. “Maggie!”

The tavernkeep, now in a fine green cotton dress, opens her arms wide, and Emma bustles forth to accost her with an exhilarated hug. The pair laughs and sniffles at their happy reunion. “Oh, my dear,” Maggie hums, her voice thick, “I just knew you were no ordinary girl. What a sight you are for sore eyes, and what a stunning wedding it was!” She reaches one arm out and claps Killian fondly on the neck. “Well done, Captain.”

Killian chuckles, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. “Maggie.”

Emma turns and fixes him with wide, delighted eyes. “You did this too?”

“Well, she did this,” he says, nodding toward Blue, who continues to float next to them. He amiably drapes his arm over Emma’s shoulders as she tucks herself into his side. “But yes, I did ask. You and I might never have met had it not been for Maggie,” he points out, flashing the older woman a grateful smile. “It only seemed right to have her here to see us married.”

“It was the least I could do,” Blue adds kindly, “considering the sacrifices you made to keep the fairies safe from the Dark One. We owe you a great deal.”

“I pretty near fell over into the cooking fire when she first came to me though,” Maggie tells Emma with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Quite a shock to meet a fairy for the first time, though the news she brought was the best I’ve ever heard.” She reaches for Emma’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

Emma chuckles and squeezes back. “How long can you stay?”

“As long as you like,” Blue answers. “When she’s ready to go home, you know how to find me. I hope you all have a lovely time.” They watch as she arcs upward and soars out through the nearest doors, her blue light disappearing into the evening sky in a brilliant flash.

Emma turns back to Maggie with her brows raised hopefully. “You’ll stay, won’t you? At least a few days? You’ll be our honored guest.”

The other woman laughs and comes forward again to wrap her arms around both her and Killian in another motherly hug. “My gorgeous girl, nothing would make me happier.”

It’s a bit later in the evening when Killian reveals his third surprise for Emma, nodding covertly to Roberts as he and the Princess finish yet another demure formal dance on the side of the hall that has organized into an impromptu ballroom. Moments later, when he and Emma are dipping into their final bows, the sound of a fife suddenly pierces the air, and after several introductory notes, the entire group of musicians launches into a much more spritely melody with Killian’s quartermaster taking the lead.

Emma gapes as she instantly recognizes the tune, her cheeks glowing and her eyes bright, and they’re suddenly surrounded by the crew of the Jolly, the men clapping and whooping and launching into the familiar sea shanty with gusto.

The maiden, oh, the maiden, oh,

The sailor loves the maiden, oh!

Laughter bubbles up from her belly, and she barely has time to kick her high-heeled slippers aside and appreciate the scandalized sound Marcus makes before she finds herself being swept around the floor by each of the crewmen in succession. Tonight each pauses to kiss her on the cheek before spinning her into the arms of his comrade, and she cries out with delight when Alec busses her and then hands her over to her father, who’s left his sword with the Queen and stepped forward to claim his own turn.

The King’s pale blue eyes gleam with gratification, his distinguished features stretched into the biggest smile Emma can remember ever seeing him wear, and though he’s a little less sure of the steps than the rest of them, he acquits himself admirably, the pair of them chortling through the dance and springing back and forth across the floor with carefree, if slightly uncoordinated, abandon. And when at last his turn is ended, her father draws her forward and plants a heartfelt kiss on her forehead. “I love you, sweetheart.”

Emma sniffles. “I love you too, Papa.” She looks back up at him with wet eyes and giggles as he raises their joined hands and whirls her in Killian’s direction. The world around her blurs again until she lands back in her husband’s embrace with a happy shriek, her fingers closing instinctively around the curve of his hook while his arm winds around her back. Her heart gallops even faster as he grins devilishly and tugs her close.

“There’s my beautiful Swan,” he rumbles. “Shall we show them how it’s really done?”

She consents with a laugh and allows him to launch them back into the familiar rhythm of their favorite jig, her bare feet flying across the cool stone floor, and while it’s harder to dance in this gown than it had been in her trousers, she still manages to follow his lead without faltering, anticipating and complementing his step with ease. He sings again to her tonight, bellowing the tune unapologetically, and her smile feels permanently plastered across her face by the time the song is ended. Thunderous applause and cheers erupt around them, and Killian dips his head and silences her wild giggles as he kisses her for all he’s worth.

Unrestrained happiness threatens to burst from her every pore in this moment, and her face is alight when he finally pulls away. “That’s three surprises,” she pants over the din, clinging to him and stealing another quick kiss before grasping his fingers and his hook and dragging him toward the terrace. “Come on. My turn.”

The guests trail after them as she draws him out to the balustrade. Emma she releases him and turns, elbows falling to her sides and palms aimed upward, and Killian and the rest of the crowd watch, enchanted, as her hands begin to glow with tiny colored flickers that seem to penetrate from beneath her skin. Waves of rainbow light suddenly burst forth and rocket skyward, drawing every eye to the heavens. The beams expand into huge, amorphous swatches of multicolored radiance that illuminate the sky, and the surrounding gasps turn into excited cries when the hues then twist back in on themselves and explode into fireworks, glittering showers hundreds of feet wide raining down high overhead in shades of pink and purple and blue. Emma’s self-indulgent smile spans ear-to-ear, her skin humming as she channels all her love and joy into her magic.

Killian laughs and presses his chest to her back, looping his arms around her waist. “It seems I’ve been outdone,” he remarks, smiling against her ear as he marvels at her handiwork.

Emma chuckles, taking her eyes off her fireworks in order to shoot him a coy sideways glance. “And I’ve still got another ace up my sleeve.”

His interested hum sends shivers down her spine. “Pirate.” He presses a kiss to her cheek and raises his gaze back to the sky. “And when exactly do you plan to reveal this other surprise, Swan?”

“Eager, Captain?” She arches an eyebrow fetchingly, her heart skipping a beat beneath her ribs.

She doesn’t need to see Killian’s face to hear the smirk on his lips. “Naturally, when it comes to you.”

Goosebumps rise over her shoulders, and Emma funnels her pleasant shivers into another surge of magic, launching the last and most impressive of the fireworks in a kind of grand finale. She rotates her head toward him and inches her mouth toward his, the extreme brilliance of the lights casting them in a warm glow. “When we’re alone.”

He blinks, and his eyebrow raises in that way that makes her weak in the knees. “I suppose it would be bad form to just hang the rest of the party,” he growls, his breath warm on her lips, “and let your husband haul you off to your chambers.”

“Our chambers,” she mutters with a smug grin. “And yes, terrible form.”

His lashes flutter closed as he seals his mouth over hers. “Damn.”

* * *

They do manage to sneak away half an hour later, once the festivities begin to die down, their hurried footsteps and hushed, conspiratorial laughs interspersing moments spent pressed up against stone walls and kissing like lovesick teenagers.

Emma chuckles against him as they come up for air for the third or fourth time, grateful that the guards who are normally stationed in this particular passageway are down at the celebration keeping an eye on the guests. “If we keep doing this, we’ll never get there,” she says, her voice throaty. She sighs blissfully as his lips find her jaw and begin to work back toward her ear.

“The door’s just around the corner,” he points out, humming with pleasure at the little gasp she makes when he nibbles his way along her earlobe. He runs his hand solidly around her hip, relishing the idea of his Swan wearing feathers and simultaneously wanting nothing more than to get her out of them.

A mewl escapes her, and he feels her fingers delve into his hair. “Actually,” she breathes, trying to stay focused, “I had another stop in mind first, if that’s okay.”

Killian pauses and pulls back to fix her with a playfully chiding look. “Are you asking me to delay taking you to bed on our wedding night again, love?” he rumbles, his heart rate already quite insistent. “Because I may not possess that kind of self-control.”

She giggles. “Just one stop. It’s for my other surprise.”

He hums in mock contemplation, his fingertips brushing aside a loose strand of her hair and drifting down her neck affectionately. “I make no promises,” he warns, flashing his dimples like a scoundrel.

“Mmm.” Emma bites her lip. “I guess I better make it quick then.” She seizes the collar of his coat and poofs them away.

The smoke clears to reveal a dark room, and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim moonlight that shines through the few windows of what looks to be a storage room, the ghostly shapes of cloth-covered furniture surrounding them on all sides.

Killian cranes his neck around curiously, and Emma gently pulls away. “Um, darling? Where are we?”

“Just above our chambers,” she answers breezily. “At the top of the tower. I need to find something.”

“And what’s that?” He arches an eyebrow and glances around the room again as she moves closer to one of the windows, looking rather ethereal in her white gown beneath the pale light.

She turns, and he can tell by the way she freezes that she’s found her quarry, her eyes widening and a smile curving her mouth. “This.” She pulls at the sheet covering an object that’s long and rectangular and surrounded by decorative finials that reach chest-high.

Killian squints as he approaches for a closer look. “What is it?” He watches as she drops the sheet to the floor and runs her hand tentatively over the scalloped edge of... His eyes grow round, and his heart stutters. “Swan?” he croaks.

“It’s… it’s my old crib,” she mumbles, now looking shy and a little anxious. “I just…” She raises her eyes to him, her cheeks flushed and her lip between her teeth again. “We’ll be needing it early next year.”

His jaw slackens, and he’s never seen anything so wonderful in his life as the sight of her – his wife – glowing at him beneath the full moon and standing next to the crib meant for… for their child. Bloody hell. His stunned gaze darts toward her belly before fixing back on her rosy face.

“Is… is that alright?” Worry creeps across her brow.

It’s as though her words restore his ability to move, and he rushes her, scooping her into his arms and kissing her fiercely, his eyes starting to burn. “You’re…?”

He feels her relax and give in to heady laughter against his chest as she kisses him back and nods. “Mm-hmm.”

Killian pulls back and cups the side of her face with his hand, studying her with helpless adoration. “How long have you known?”

“Maybe a week,” she admits, eyes shining. “I wanted to tell you first.”

A baby. They’re going to have a baby. The most perfect woman in all the realms is going to bear him a son. Or a daughter. He realizes he doesn’t care which as he leans forward to capture her lips again. Emma sniffles against his skin and winds her arms up around his neck, her fingers curling along the base of his skull and her shoulders quivering slightly as she shudders with perfect contentment. She’s his. And this child is his. And he doesn’t bloody deserve either of them, but he’ll fight to his dying breath to keep them all the same. Because this is his life now. Emma and the little one growing inside her – they’re his life. And more than he has since arriving at the castle, he feels home.

“I love you,” he whispers, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb and swiping through the wet trail of a happy tear.

“I love you, too.”

He looks down at her stomach and lays his hand across it with the greatest reverence, and she laughs and lays her hand atop his.

“So what do you think, Captain?” she teases. “Are you ready for another adventure?”

Killian’s chuckle reverberates in his chest as he gives her belly another caress and then pulls her flush against him. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he presses a kiss to her temple, his heart rising to his throat as it suddenly occurs to him that he’s holding his new family in his arms. “With you, my love?” he murmurs, hugging her tighter and smiling into her hair. “Always.”

Thank you so much for reading! For a behind-the-scenes look at this fic, click here for a reader Q & A!

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #captain wench #captain duckling #cs ef au #cs anastasia au #cs au #cs au ff #ouat ff #ouat fanfic #my writing #the long way home

106 notes · View notes