#cs ff rerun

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: @cssns19 MC "Face to Face in the Broad Daylight"

(This week in reruns celebrating previous @cssns works, we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from 2018’s @cssns offering. This one partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, they also get into some new surprises and challenges, and: is Rumplestiltskin still under control, or is he back to his usual scheming and plotting? If you weren't around back then, I hope you will give this a try and enjoy.  If you read it back then and choose to revisit it, I hope you'll enjoy the walk down memory lane!! Either way, I'd love to hear what you think!

Complete in 9 Parts

(Thanks once again to @branlovestowrite for the stunningly lovely cover art she did for this story as well. I still absolutely love it!!)

Also available on AO3 if that's your preference...

Summary: After finding one another and triumphing against the machinations of the Evil Queen and the Queen of Hearts, Killian and Emma, and their friends and family are ready to enjoy the happiness they've earned. However, a new threat is about to rise that may put those happy beginnings in grave jeopardy.

by: @snowbellewells

~~ prologue: altogether in one place

As a cooling breeze blew in off the water of the harbor to combat the bright heat of an early May afternoon, Killian Jones smiled easily, enjoying the trace of air over his neck and ruffling his dark hair as he headed back up the street from the docks toward the center of town. It was a perfect day for the celebration he was on his way to attend, planning to meet Emma and Henry at the pretty little two bedroom cottage not far from the harbor that they moved into some weeks past, before the three of them walked the rest of the way to Granny’s together. The rest of their family and several friends were doubtless already gathering at the diner’s outdoor tables for the planned picnic. It was Mother’s Day, and the first which Emma would be able to spend with her mother, and with her boy as well. Killian smiled fondly at the tentative joy mixed with nervous anticipation on his love’s face as they’d spoken of it laying side-by-side that very morning. His heart had warmed right along with dawn’s first rays peeking through the curtains, glad that Emma could have her loved ones surrounding her, as she always should have. Though his own mother had been gone so long that he only retained the barest memories of a gentle voice singing to him and the twinkle in kind, loving eyes, he still felt not a fiber of his being to be jealous or begrudging of the wealth of love and belonging his lady had found. Emma deserved it all, and more besides.

It helped, he admitted to himself as he neared the front walk, their yard surrounded by white picket fence that he could now see Emma leaning on casually with Henry at her side, that he too had been welcomed into the fold gladly. With the wolf born inside him, his horribly checkered and painful history, and how long he had wandered alone in the world, Killian could never have imagined being accepted as a part of something so good, nor feeling that he mattered to others again. Despite his stunned disbelief, however, he could only continue to be grateful.

As he drew nearer, Henry caught sight of him and waved enthusiastically, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Hey, Killian!” the youth called out. “Are you ready for this?”

“Aye, lad, of course,” he answered with a chuckle, smiling to Emma as well, his heart swelling still further at the blush which rose on her cheeks as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. He turned his attention back to Henry quickly, not wanting the young man to feel dismissed, but instead leaning forward to whisper secretively to Henry, “We wouldn’t want to miss your grandma’s famed cherry chess pie, now would we?”

Henry agreed emphatically with Killian’s winking query, then scampered on ahead of them as Killian pulled Emma into a quick embrace while she stretched up to press a chaste kiss to his lips before they joined hands and followed her son the rest of the way to Granny’s before they were late.

Not many minutes later they were turning into the front seating area of the diner, entering under the arch and being greeted from all sides by family and friends. Ruby bounded over to gleefully wrap Emma in an exuberant hug, whispering in his love’s ear that she wanted to hear what they’d been up to at the new house in a blatant enough way to have the blond blushing once again. Killian followed Henry’s urging over to his grandparents’ table, shaking David’s hand and easing into conversation with Emma’s father thankfully.

He liked the people gathered around him very much, but so often in the past he had kept to the shadows, on the outskirts of society, either due to prejudice and ostracism or his own attempts to insure others’ safety from the beast within him. Having at last found his home in Storybrooke, and also a peace within himself that he had rarely known, Killian felt as stable as he had ever been in both parts of himself. His wolf had room and freedom to run, even a pack of sorts with Ruby and Graham nearby, and he rarely feared the howling need to break free he had sought to hide or contain in his youth and throughout his years of bitter, aimless wandering.  All that being true, he still sometimes preferred to ease into larger groups one person at a time. Once Emma’s slightly overprotective and traditional father had gotten to know him, Killian found the man quite easy to talk to and good company, so he naturally went to speak with him first.

Their friendship hadn’t taken long to develop once things had settled down around the holidays, some six months ago, after Regina, Cora, and Rumplestiltskin’s defeat. Both David and Killian served as reinforcements to the sheriff’s department when needed (though in sleepy, calm Storybrooke they rarely were) and so had spent many long afternoons when there were no calls sharing long chats, wadded up paper ball free throw contests in the desk trash cans, endless one-upping games of darts, and - if they grew truly desperate - filing of the somehow never ending stacks of paperwork. Their little town had been free of most trouble beyond cats in trees and neighboring fairy tale characters’ squabbles since Thanksgiving. None of them had forgotten that Gold was still simmering impotently in his shop (surely wanting revenge, but hands tied by the fact that his dagger forbade it, thanks to Emma’s brilliance).  In fact, the citizens were enjoying an everyday normality most of them had never been able to experience before - in either this realm or the Enchanted Forest.

So, though there was often hardly enough work to keep one person busy, Graham had remained Sheriff, and kept Emma on as his deputy. Killian’s eyes found his sandy-haired fellow wolf amidst the happy crowd of partygoers, attentively leaning to whisper something in Belle’s ear where she sat talking to Granny Lucas herself, along with Nova, Leroy, Bashful, and Doc. The Sheriff was clearly happy to watch over his girlfriend, glad just to see her in high spirits, having brought her a drink and standing behind her chair to listen and look on. Graham had always been a good and competent lawman, but now that he was completely free to act of his own will and as he saw fit, it became even more clear just how kind, compassionate, and worthy a man he was. He no longer had to glance over his shoulder at each turn, fearing retribution for his choices. The townspeople liked and trusted him even more than they had before, seeing how dedicated he was to their causes and thorough in handling problems immediately and lawfully for the good of all to the best of his ability.

Watching just a moment longer, Killian saw Belle pause in her conversation, looking up over her shoulder at Graham with an adoring expression in her eyes, resting her hand over his where he had placed it on her shoulder. Something passed between them wordlessly, so slight that it went unnoticed by most around them, but to Kilian’s honed and heightened senses, it sent almost a frisson of intense feeling all the way across the space to where he stood. He didn’t know what it meant, but he found himself more than a little curious, and happy for his friends whatever the cause of their joy.

His attention was drawn back to his own immediate circle when David threw his head back in a booming burst of laughter as Henry finished relating how Killian had recently taken he, his mom, and his friends Grace, Nicholas and Ava out fishing and swimming on the Jolly. It wasn’t the first time Killian had dropped anchor in the harbor where the preteens could dive off the bow and bob in the waves to cool off while he and Emma sat in the sun watching over them and talking, but what had gotten such a reaction from his grandpa was the mental image of Ava’s disastrous practice at casting and somehow catching her hook in Grace’s hair. The ensuing noisy melee had caused quite a commotion until they’d gotten Grace free from the painful tangle, reassured Ava that they all knew it was an accident and gotten back to catching fish rather than each other.

As the afternoon wore on, Killian relaxed into the atmosphere of easy camaraderie around him, graciously complimenting his hostess on the lightness of her dinner rolls and the fine quality of her rum - to which he earned a sniff of begrudging thanks but also a sidelong smile. He exchanged a few words with Belle on the last book she had recommended to him and what he thought of it so far, and though she carried an obvious glow of satisfaction and practically radiated good humor, he was no closer to the reason that it seemed so especially prominent today, even after conversing with her. He exchanged pleasantries with Graham, and let Henry drag him into a ridiculous game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey that Snow had organized to hilarious results with the assorted dwarves’ poor aim and inebriated states by that hour of the waning day.

Despite what else he was doing however, his eyes were continually drawn back to Emma wherever she was. There was the simple fact that he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty, for one thing. Her golden hair stood out like a beacon in any gathering, this one no exception, and the very sight of those flowing waves cascading down her back against the red leather of her favorite jacket made his hand itch to brush through its silky softness.  Her long, lean form, her throaty chuckle, and the sparkle in her jade green eyes all made hunger rise in him that had him aching to pull her out of the party and into the first empty room he could find. A long life of practice made him able to rein in his desires, but it certainly didn’t slake them in the least.

He remembered too that it was nearing the full moon, which made all his more canine traits closer to the surface. As intensely protective as he would have been anyway, because he loved her, the animal instinct within demanded he be aware of his mate and her safety at all times. Especially when they were out in the open and not alone, whether or not those with them were friends and the gathering innocent. There was possessiveness as well that he could contain, but not vanquish completely. Between those two impulses warring inside his average human faćade, Killian was rather proud of himself for managing to eventually retreat to a corner table with his drink, lean back in a chair and observe the goings on around him with at least the air of calm.

Still, needless to say, he was relieved when the festivities did begin to break up an hour or so later. Many called out a friendly goodbye to him, and he waved back jovially to them.  Some, like David, came over to say ‘good night’ and make plans for when they’d get together next. When Emma finally came up to him with an easy smile and an outstretched hand, asking him if he was ready to head home for the night with a teasing tilt of her head and playful “Captain?” he was on his feet in a moment. With Henry in tow, they headed back toward their house on the shore as the stars came out above.

A deep sense of satisfaction warmed Killian once again at the very idea that this could be his life, while Emma leaned into his side as they walked and Henry pointed out the various constellations that he had learned to recognize through Killian’s tutelage. It was more happiness than he once could have imagined having in his life on a regular basis. In a few days he would need to prepare for shifting about three nights in a row, as was his monthly due, but for tonight, he could sense it was still safely far enough off to take his time seeing the two most important people in his life home safely and enjoy that they saw him as one of their own.

Once they reached the front gate, Henry hurried on up the walk and into the house with a “See you tomorrow!” for his mom’s boyfriend. Alone at long last, Emma turned to him, her face tilted up to his with a devious glimmer in her expression. Only moments ago, he wouldn’t have imagined things could get much better, but when she ran her hands up his torso to rest on his chest and whispered invitingly, “Wanna come in for a nightcap, Sailor?” she blew his mind all over again. 

A couple of drinks, an entire bowl of popcorn and a movie later, they were cuddled together on the couch in Emma’s living room, making out like two teenagers.  Killian didn’t leave his love’s arms again until the next day dawned. Slipping out to his boat before Henry could walk up and begin scavenging through the cupboards for his breakfast cereal, Killian stooped to place a kiss on Emma’s groggy forehead as she mumbled a sleepy farewell. No one else in the house was stirring as the former pirate headed away down the walk, and he was too cheerful and relaxed to be on his guard, so the eyes watching his every move from the shadows as he moved toward the docks, went unnoticed…

~~***~~***~~

Far removed from the cheerfulness and revelry of the rest of the town and their holiday celebrations, Mr. Gold was holed up in the dim, shrouded back room of his shop, scowling silently at a clouded orb with its contents swirling inside. He hadn’t bothered to unlock or open his shop doors today, not wanting to see the idiotic smiles of the townsfolk, nor to waste effort pasting on a smile and haggling to make sales that mattered little to him, all things considered. No, all that mattered now was possessing the one item which could free him of the Savior’s binding order stoppering his Dark One powers to set things right. He would be loosed of her interfering magical hold; it was merely a matter of tracing the artifact to its hiding place and summoning an accomplice he knew was powerful enough to aid him in the ritual needed to slip the noose of his Dagger’s control, and therefore Miss Swan’s meddling command.

All the pieces were in place; once the crystal showed him where his former compatriot could be found, he would set the ball rolling.  He would make Belle see sense, return her to her place by his side, where she clearly belonged. That Sheriff who had dared to try taking his place in Belle’s affections would rue ever having his heart put back in his chest. And that wretched cur ...that wolf he had nearly finished off before - and the woman who had prevented it, who had the audacity to tangle with him and think she could defeat the Dark One - both of them would pay, once and for all.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xarandomdreamx

@motherkatereloyshipper @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @stahlop @myfearless-love

@teamhook @revanmeetra87 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @drowned-dreamer @jonesfandomfanatic @kday426

@lfh1226-linda @linda8084 @resident-of-storybrooke @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree

@belovedcreation @eddisfargo @zaharadessert @laianely @goforlaunchcee

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

4th of July Reruns: Independence Day

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2082

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious 

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight 

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

 @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: This fic was originally posted to my Fluffy Fridays collection sometime around season 6. At the time, it was a "future fic", but now it is more of a slight canon divergence. With the Black Fairy defeated and the final battle won, Storybrooke is enjoying it's happily ever after and trying to make new memories. Emma has some exciting news for Killian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Independence Day

CS Genre: Future Fic

Spring slowly sizzled into summer—a particularly hot and humid summer in Storybrooke that had Emma grateful that they had indeed decided to stay in the Land Without Magic, a place where air conditioners were a thing.

Ever since the Black Fairy was defeated a few months ago, she and Killian had responded to far more “cat stuck in a tree” or “Leroy double parked in front of Granny’s” calls than “weird, fairy tale villain intent on world domination just destroyed something” calls.

In fact, they’d had no calls about fairy tale villains.  It seemed Storybrooke had finally settled down into a peaceful, sleepy little town, with its requisite cast of eccentric characters.

It had never been the kind of life Emma had imagined she would lead—sheriff in a small town where everyone knows everyone else, married to her true love and so happy she thought she might die from it.  But though it might not be the life she’d expected for herself, it was a life she loved with every fiber in her being.

Even when Regina decided to institute regular town meetings to discuss town business.  (Seriously, they really were turning into Stars Hollow.)  It was at one such meeting about a month ago, that the whole big production had been decided on.

“Now that we’re not, you know, fighting villains every other day,” Leroy had said when Regina called on him to speak, “I think we need to start participating in normal society things.  The 4th of July is coming up.  Let’s do it up right.  Parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

Killian leaned over to Emma.  “Perhaps I’m missing something love, but what exactly is the significance of the 4th day of July, and why would it call for an unusual amount of festivity?”

Emma smirked, so glad to get back to the business of enlightening Killian about the modern world rather than, you know, trying not to die or trying to keep him from dying.  “It’s Independence Day in the United States, which is technically the country we live in.  Lots of celebrating goes on that day.”

He’d, as usual, wanted to pepper her with about a million questions.  Seriously, her husband wanted to know everything about everything.  Usually, Emma dealt with it by telling him to go look it up on the “magic box”, aka Internet, but that wasn’t exactly practical during a town meeting.  Seriously, Regina was as strict about “no talking!” in her meetings as the most demanding teacher. 

“Shhh!,” Emma had said as various members of the town began brainstorming ideas for the best (and, honestly the first) 4th of July Storybrooke had ever celebrated.  “You can look it up later.”

In the end they had decided to go with, as Leroy put it, the whole patriotic “shebang”.  There would be a parade through the main street of town in the morning—complete with the Storybrooke high school band and various prominent citizens dressed in their Enchanted Forest finest.  Emma wasn’t sure exactly what their Enchanted Forest attire had to do with the 4th of July, but she’d long since learned not to question these kind of decisions.  It only led to confusion and headaches.  Oh so many headaches.

(And to be honest, as the meeting was really ramping up, Emma realized kind of vaguely that she’d been having more headaches lately…along with way more nausea at weird times…and moments where she felt faint…and so much exhaustion she felt like she could barely get out of bed some mornings.  Maybe she should make an appointment with Dr. Whale to see what was going on with her, but she thought she’d give it a few more weeks.  After all, she’d been under a lot of stress since….well, basically since she moved to Storybrooke, and these weird symptoms were probably nothing more than her body sloughing off the stress and trying to get used to this strange new phenomenon known as “peace”.)

Anyway, the festivities would continue with a town picnic around noon and then fireworks as night fell.

And so it was that Henry and Killian spread out a blanket on the hill overlooking town on the evening of the 4th of July.  Emma set her picnic basket on the blanket, and then sat down beside it, reaching for the ginger ale she always had at the ready lately.  With a small, secret smile, she put a hand on her flat stomach, both excited and terrified about the news she’d received just the day before.

“And you’re sure we’re quite safe, here, love?”  Killian asked as he sat beside her.  “I must admit to being more than a little uneasy at the thought of the dwarfs setting off explosive devices for our amusement.  It seems like a terrible idea.”

They’d talked about fireworks as soon as they’d returned from the town meeting back in June, and Henry had been amazed that Killian had never seen a fireworks display.  “Are you serious?”  Henry asked.  “You’ve never seen fireworks?  Fireworks have been around for like…ever.  I know they were a thing in the Enchanted Forest.  I saw them in my storybook—during Cinderella’s wedding!”

Killian shrugged.  “Oh aye,” he’d said, “I’d heard of them, of course, but as a slave I’d not had much occasion to observe them.  And then once I’d become a pirate…well, I was far more interested in causing the explosions than viewing them.”

“But fireworks are way better than just explosions!” Henry had assured.  “They’re colorful and sparkly.  Sometimes they have special designs.  Some of them light up the sky, and others are like…little bursts of bright light and sound.  And fireworks displays always have a grand finale and it’s just…I can’t explain it, but it’s awesome!”

“How precisely do they work?” Killian asked.  “One lights a fuse and there is an explosion, aye, that I understand, but how do such explosions result in different formations and colors?”

“They just…do,” Henry said, with a little shrug.  “I don’t know how it works.  I just know it’s amazing.”

“I believe I shall consult Mr. Google, then, lad,” Killian said.  “I find it far preferable to understand the mechanisms of my entertainment.”

Of course he did.  Emma should have known.  It had been two weeks after they’d moved in together before they could have their first family movie night because Killian insisted on researching what movies were, how they were made, how they were projected on screen, and how thin, circular discs inserted in a machine could cause said movies to appear on the “moving picture box”.

Her husband was a full-fledged nerd.  A hot one, for sure, but a nerd nonetheless.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma said, coming back to the present and laying her head on her husband’s shoulder.  “I’m sure everything is totally safe.  Leroy’s got everything organized.  Just relax and enjoy the show.”

“I shall attempt to do so,” Killian said, “but I fail to see how colorful lights can elicit as much excitement as you and the lad…ooooooh!”

Emma giggled as the first firework—a large one that changed color from red to white to blue, lit up the Storybrooke night sky.  Killian looked up at the display in wonder, his eyes wide as saucers, a soft, boyish smile draping his face.

Sometimes she looked up at him and it just overwhelmed her all over again how much she loved him.  Now was one of those times.  She felt the tears come to her eyes, and Killian looked down at her in concern.  As usual, he could sense her moods.

“Is all well, Swan?” he asked in concern, reaching up to catch the single tear that fell from her eye.

“It’s more than alright, Killian,” Emma said.  “It’s perfect.  All of this is perfect.  I just love you so much, and I love our life together, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but life is just about perfect right now.”

He smiled tenderly, and leaned in to kiss her, but just before their lips connected, another firework went off, and Killian turned back to the light display.  Emma smiled, laying her head once again on his shoulder as Henry wandered off to find Violet and watch the show with her.

The fireworks went on and on, and as they moved closer to the grand finale, Emma heard one of the dwarfs (she thought it was Happy’s job?) start the music.  It had been decided that they would end the fireworks display with the 1812 overture, complete with the big finale coming during the cannon fire in the music.

Of course, as soon as it had been decided, Killian had gone to the library and pestered Belle for any information she could give him about the piece of music.

“The customs of this land are incomprehensible, love,” Killian had said that night as he helped her make dinner.  “Why is it customary for this ‘1812 Overture’ to be played at celebrations of this country’s founding?  The founding did not happen in 1812, but a generation before.  What’s more, the piece was written to commemorate an event that has nothing to do with the United States.  That Tchaikovsky fellow wrote the piece to commemorate the moment the Russians defeated Napoleon in his attempts to take over Russia. (Incidentally, is it only me, love, or does this Napoleon sound significantly like the Crocodile?  Small in stature, lust for power, dreams of world domination…)”

“I really don’t know why the 1812 is so popular,” Emma said as she carefully pulled a casserole from the oven.  “It just…is.”

“And it’s full of nationalistic anachronisms,” Killian had continued.

“What’s full of…what?” Henry asked, filching a roll from the bread dish and sitting at the table.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Your step-dad was about to explain about all the nationalistic anachronisms (whatever those are) in ‘The 1812 Overture’.”

“Quite so,” Killian said.  “The piece features the French national anthem, La Marseillaise, for example, but in 1812, the song had been banned by Napoleon (the total ponce).  Furthermore, the piece utilizes the Russian anthem ‘God Save the Tsar’ near the end, but it had not yet been written as of 1812.  Not much of a historian, this Tchaikovsky.”

Henry groaned.  “Mom, I think we need to ban him from the library.  I already have to suffer through history lessons in school.  Don’t need them when I get home, too.”

A particularly loud volley of fireworks brought Emma back to the present.

“So, are you enjoying your first 4th of July?” Emma asked.

“It’s been quite enjoyable, Swan,” Killian said, “but then any day I get to spend with you and the lad is.”

Emma’s nerves began dancing within her stomach (or was that just the nausea again).  The moment was just about here.  As soon as she’d learned the news from Whale, she’d decided she’d tell Killian just at the climax of the fireworks show.  She wanted to make this moment special.

She just hoped he was as excited about the news as she was.  They hadn’t talked much about it.  This wasn’t something they’d planned; it had just sort of…happened.  What if this wasn’t what he wanted?

“Anything the matter, Swan?” Killian asked just as the cannon began to boom in the music.

“No,” Emma said, taking a deep breath.  “Something’s actually pretty great.  At least I hope you think it is.  I mean, I do, but we haven’t talked about it and…”

“Swan,” Killian said, looking more concerned than ever, “out with it, love.”

Emma took a deep breath, and then leaned in and whispered in his ear.  “Killian, in about 7 ½ months you’re going to be a daddy again.”

His eyes got round again, as he sat up abruptly.  “A father?  I’m to be a father?  You’re with child?”

She smiled tremulously.  “Yeah, Whale thinks I’m about 6 weeks along.  Are you…are you happy about it?  I mean I know we haven’t really discussed it and this is a surprise and…”

He cut her off with a swift, passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly.  When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes.  “How can you even ask that, Swan?  Of bloody course I’m happy.  A baby!  A product of our love!  I do believe my life is now absolutely perfect!”

Emma leaned over and kissed him again, the tears streaming from her eyes as overhead the fireworks celebrated right along with the Savior and her Pirate.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 8/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings:  Please be aware that this chapter discusses professor/student relations in the past, non-consensual pictures in the past, and some present, consensual, loving, and happy sexual relations. Gotta find a balance somehow. (This chapter also nicknamed "The One where Sarah calls out a shitty storyline from FRIENDS.)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

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

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 8: Unearthed

It takes time, but they both manage to get out some of the difficult parts of their pasts. Emma tells Killian snippets of her former relationships, including why she ran from Henry the first time she saw him. Graham’s story is kept brief, Walsh is brushed off as a bad experience. Killian is patient about it, holding her hand and listening closely. She can see the questions forming behind his eyes, but he never pushes for more info than she’s willing to share. 

He’s hiding bits of his own past, too. He’s very open about the accident that took his hand, how he grew up in Liam’s shadow but preferred it that way, and his strong passions for fiction and poetry. But when it comes to information about his time in university, she sees the way his shoulders tense. There’s a lack of enthusiasm when he speaks of his master’s studies. She’s seen the picture of him at graduation that sits in his office. She knows there’s more to the story. 

They’re watching television one night, background noise as he works on some edits. With the money they got for upgrades, Emma purchased a shiny new laptop, one specifically loaded with the software to digitize the town’s records, and so they work on their own stuff together. 

Something on the screen that neither of them are glued to must catch his attention, however. It’s a rerun, something that used to be popular but has now reached syndication and thus plays on every channel when there’s downtime. It’s something Emma’s seen enough times that she knows the general storyline without really even paying attention. It’s the one where a professor starts a relationship with a student. 

While she’s mostly tuning it out, it seems Killian is finally tuning in, and she looks up as he lurches for her television remote and hits the power button. His breathing is visibly quicker than it should be. Even when the screen goes dark, there’s a tension around his eyes she has never seen before. 

“You okay?” she asks, mostly because she’s not sure he remembers she’s there right now.

He shakes himself a little bit, brushing off the moment for all she can tell, before he turns to her. “Hate this show,” he responds. 

“It’s been on for the last hour.”

As he focuses on her face, she can see the moment he sheds whatever was trying to creep up on him. “I was pretty deep in my work. I do apologize, love.” He’s lying, but she’s willing to let it go if it’s something from his past that he doesn’t want to talk about. 

“Hey, no worries.” She reaches out, squeezing his bicep once for comfort. “You want coffee? Tea?”

“I’ll get it. What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she says, knowing that he’ll bring back the hot chocolate he knows she loves. 

By the time he returns, the tightness on his face has eased up a bit, but it’s replaced with something she would call contemplation. “Swan, I want to tell you a little piece of my past, but I hope you won’t judge me too hard or let it change the way you feel about me.”

“A little ominous, but okay. Go for it.”

“Back in university, I was involved with one of my professors.”

Emma takes a moment to let it absorb, trying not to flinch or let her facial expressions change at all. It’s his past, and she knows just as well that those moments shouldn’t define the current moment. 

“Tell me about it?”

“As you know, Liam convinced me to enroll in university as a way to pull me out of my slump after I lost my hand. He helped find out if I could take my classes online since I wasn’t ready to go out into the world.”

Emma reaches over, closing her fingers over the hook attachment he has on today. It’s become second nature, but sometimes she wants to tell him without words that she accepts him for who he is and this is one of those moments.

“Eventually, I was comfortable going to classes on campus. I was engrossed in all things to do with writing and literature and editing, and knew that’s the direction I wanted to take. And then I met Milah, one of the professors for a professional writing class. And she was just that for a while, and then when I entered into my master’s studies, we sort of…crossed the boundaries when she was helping me with a project.”

“Milah was married, is married, though they are separated. Her husband, some wealthy bastard, agreed that if she was discreet that they could see other people. He wasn’t anticipating that she would take up with a student, former or otherwise.

“What did he do?”

“Threatened to expose the affair to the university. Milah would’ve been fired. I would’ve likely been expelled. He said he would divorce her and cut her off from his wealth. He only agreed to back off when Milah and I split and I filed to finish my master’s online, much as I began the whole journey.”

“Was the money that important to her?” It’s the question that hits; she can tell immediately.

He grimaces before answering. “She liked to pretend it wasn’t. Painted herself as a free spirit that didn’t need wealth. But it didn’t stop her from walking away from me like it meant nothing.”

Without even prodding, Emma can see that the story isn’t done. She adjusts her grip on him and waits for him to continue.

“I almost didn’t finish my degree after that. I started drinking heavily every chance I got. Took Liam a couple weeks to figure out what was going on, pried out what had happened, and then intervened. He’s the only reason I still completed my coursework.”

“He sounds like a good brother.”

“Right pain in the arse, but yes, he is.” 

“You really loved her?”

“Aye. She’s the only person outside my own family that I ever professed my love for.” He’s quiet for a moment before meeting her eyes once more. “Have you ever been in love, Swan?”

“Maybe I thought I was, once,” she admits. Mostly, she realizes that the feelings she thought she had for Neal and the ones she told Walsh she had were nothing compared to the way Killian makes her feel. “Thanks for sharing all of this with me.”

“I figured you should know,” he tells her, simple as that. 

When Friday rolls around, she’s all set to join her boyfriend and friends in public. Normally, Emma would be one of the first to ditch out on work and get to their usual spot in the bar, but tonight she’s working with Belle to relabel and organize their filing system. Previously, their idea of “orderly” bordered on chaos, and they had trouble keeping track of just about everything. Along with the digital system, they decided to reconfigure the physical records as well. 

They’re in the process of fixing the system when Emma’s email account dings, and she glances at it briefly to make sure it’s nothing important before they get back to work.

What she finds, instead, is a message with a link to a website. Normally, she would write this off as a spam account, but there’s no fill-in-the-blank recipient. There’s no lead-up to the message at all. Just the words written below a link: You’ll have to trust me. Type in code 92574. Check Maine.

With a heavy amount of trepidation, Emma clicks the link and follows the instructions. Her brows furrow as she tries to process what she’s looking at, but it appears to be some kind of personal page, with links to the fifty states. Finding Maine in the list, she clicks it, and almost immediately drops her phone as if burned.

“Oh my fucking god,” she mutters, her vision blurring around the edges.

“Emma is - oh! Oh my goodness!” Belle immediately backs away from the glance she’s just stolen at Emma’s unlocked phone on her desk, looking back at Emma with horror and surprise in her eyes. “What…. What is all that?”

“Something I was told was destroyed a long time ago,” Emma says, her voice shaking and her body feeling heavy and weak all at once. “Can you drive stick?” Her phone finally goes dark and auto-locks, and she’s honestly not sure if she can feel her face right now.

“I’ll text Will and let him know we’re on our way.”

-x- December 13: Friday

The last few weeks since Thanksgiving have been some of the best in Killian’s life. While the project of Henry’s novella is speeding up in momentum and racing towards the end, he and Emma have been taking things at their own pace and enjoying every moment together that they can.

It’s getting easier for them to talk about their pasts. From their shared lack of parentage to finally breaking the barrier of previous relationships, he knows they’ve both made great strides. Being able to tell her about Milah and not have her go running for the hills was admittedly a huge relief, and he only hopes that she’ll trust him to open up about anything she’s still holding out.

Normally, when they go out on Fridays, Emma is right by his side when he enters the bar. While Emma is working with Belle, he and Will have gone to the bar early to have their own catch-up until everyone else arrives. 

They each spend a fair amount of time grousing about work, about late nights and tired eyes and how much they love their jobs despite their words. And they also spend just as much time talking about the women in their lives. He’s happy to see Will as content as he is. He also knows that, despite the strange and often passive-aggressive friendship between the two of them, Will is happy to see Killian with Emma.

About an hour after they sit down, Will gets a text from Belle saying that the two women are on their way. They each share a look, automatically noticing that something feels off, but unable to tell what. That sensation is amplified by the look on Belle’s face when she arrives with Emma not far behind.

There’s a tightness around her eyes that Killian has never seen the soft-spoken woman have before. Emma is just behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest and a look that he would best describe as being a cross between solemn and murderous. Only his girlfriend could manage that combination of expressions. 

“All right, Swan?”

“No. Not all right. Can uh, can we go back to my place?”

“Sure. Let me just -”

“I’ve got the tab. Go on,” Will says, his thick eyebrows drawn together. 

The Bug is waiting for them when they get out, still running. Clearly, she hadn’t intended on spending long inside whether he was coming with her or not.

They’re silent on the drive back to her place, and even while they make the trek up to her loft. She’s quiet as she unwraps her scarf and kicks off her boots, all with deliberate and jerky movements. 

“I have to kind of process through something,” she says, her voice thick with a myriad of emotions. “I don’t wanna talk. I don’t really want to do anything at all. But will you stay with me?”

“I’m here as long as you’ll have me. Whatever you need,” he tells her, making sure to catch her eyes so she knows he’s being honest. 

Wordlessly, she locks the door before she leads him upstairs. 

While Killian is normally the one with the carefully crafted routines - which, admittedly, have taken a backseat to finally relaxing and enjoying his time here in Storybrooke - there are certain things that Emma does every morning and every night as far as her own rituals command. He has never seen her go straight to her room without carefully scrubbing her face and teeth and removing her contacts. 

Usually, she also takes that time to braid her hair to keep it from tangling too much while she sleeps, but tonight she leaves it hanging free, and he’s surprised when she only shucks off her clothes and pulls on a t-shirt before climbing into her bed. 

Following suit, Killian removes his clothes and quickly folds them, leaving them on the cedar chest by the bottom of her bed as he usually does when he stays over before he climbs under the covers. Immediately, Emma is shifting until she’s pressed against him, her ear over his heart and her arm wrapped tightly around his midsection. 

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to,” he admits, hoping that it’s what she needs to hear. Her grip only tightens, and he decides to stay awake as long as he can to make sure she’s all right. 

He must doze off because he wakes again to Emma’s lips pressed against his, her hand sliding into his boxers to stroke him awake. As soon as he’s aware of it, he’s kissing her back, helping her push down his boxers before she hastily rips off her own underwear and finds a condom. This is not how they usually have sex - he recognizes it immediately - but even as he hesitates, he hears her whispers.

“Please - I know, please, I just need…”

He responds by pulling her closer, kissing her as hard as she was kissing him to let her know he’s on board. She slides on top of him, gripping his hand like a lifeline and rocking against him as if it’s her one salvation. He can feel the panic and anger with each move of her hips above him and he just holds on, hopes she can feel the reassurance radiating from him, hopes she feels that he’s an anchor she can trust - that he’ll be with her no matter what this all means.

When they’re both sated, she collapses onto his chest, and to his surprise he feels the quiet sobs wracking through her body a few heartbeats later. She only really cries when she’s angry - she admitted as much to him some time ago when they were trying to decipher the use of pathos in commercials. He wraps his arms around her, running his hand soothingly over the small of her back and whispering anything he thinks may bring her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry that wasn’t… I basically just used you to fuck away my anger and that’s not…”

“Swan,” he says quietly, releasing his hold on her so he can coax her to look at him. “No apologies necessary, love.” 

With hasty swipes, she dries her face. “I’m just so mad right now.”

“Will you tell me what about?”

“Just… give me a couple more minutes,” she says, sliding off of him and climbing off the bed. He hears her footsteps retreating down the stairs and the door to the lavatory close. 

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself to sit up, turning on the light beside her bed and grabbing a couple tissues to clean himself up. He slips his boxers back up while he’s at it before sliding between the sheets again. 

When she returns to her bedroom, her hair is tied up and her robe is wrapped around her like body armor. She must’ve used the time to scrub the last of her makeup off, as well, and his heart stutters a beat to see her looking so down but still so beautiful. She climbs up, sitting next to him at the head of the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles. 

He’s watching her carefully, trying to not pressure her to talk but wishing she would say anything at this point, as the silence is slowly pressing in around them. 

“My last ex was the absolute worst,” she finally starts, fingers fiddling with the ties on her robe. “Worse than Neal, obviously. And worse than I ever thought he was when I found him cheating on me the day that Ruth died.”

He’s quiet, understanding that now is not the time for empty condolences for either incident. Instead, he reaches out and places his hand on her knee.

“He was a shitty antiques dealer down in Boston, never wanted to come up here to visit, never wanted to be seen with me, it seemed like. And unfortunately, he kept a lot of mementos from our time together.”

“How so?”

“You know how I told you I burned my uniform a couple years ago?”

He nods in response, tilting his head and wondering just where this could be going. She’d told him the beige monster was uncomfortable and unflattering, saying that any photographic evidence of the uniform in question was destroyed along with it.

“Well, I left a tiny part out,” she admits, looking over at him briefly.

“Nothing you tell me is going to run me off, Swan. I promise.”

With a bracing breath, she nods, focusing back on her hands in her lap. “I used to wear a uniform. Took it down to Boston with me because I was supposed to go straight to work the day I left his place. And he wanted to see it on. We were joking around and having fun.” She stops, grimacing and visibly willing her face to relax a moment later. “I let him take pictures. He had this fancy photo printer so he had physical copies and deleted them after they were done. At least, that’s what he swore he did. Just like everything else, it turns out that was a lie. 

“Emma?”

“He has a website. A fucking website with all of us.”

“All of who?”

“Every girl he fucked in the year that he and I were together, according to the site description. He proposed to me, you know, right before we ended things. I was going to say yes but told him to give me some time. Ruth passed away about a week after he asked me and I drove all the way to Boston because I wanted… needed the person that claimed to love me. And he was in the middle of fucking another woman when I walked in the door. I told him to give me the photos before I left while this redhead sat naked on his bed and watched me gather my stuff.”

“And you got the physical ones from him?”

“Yeah, no surprise he lied about those being the only copies. He kept them in the top drawer of his dresser, so now I have to wonder where the rest are kept. The day after Ruth’s funeral, I burned the uniform - with David’s permission and minimal questions asked - and the photos.”

She goes quiet after saying that, not really keen on making eye contact for the moment. Killian takes the opportunity to gather the words he wants to say, trying to find the best order of questions and statements. 

“You know that none of this is your fault, right? Nor do I blame you or feel any differently towards you because of your past.”

Emma sniffs at that, a half-hearted attempt at acknowledgement, so Killian leans closer and turns her face to his so he can plant a kiss on her lips. 

“I mean it, Emma. This is on that wanker, not you at all.” 

Her lips thin out for a second, but ultimately she nods and leans forward to give him another kiss. 

“Now, will you tell me about how you found this all out?”

“I got an email while Belle and I were working on our little project. I figured it was spam at first but it just had this link to a website called ‘Banging U.S.A.’ and some instructions for a passcode and a state. When I clicked, there was a whole lot more of me than I expected to see. He must’ve been taking pictures through the whole thing, since not all of them were ones he printed and showed me later.”

“So some taken without your knowledge or consent? How much worse can this guy get?”

“Oh, it still gets worse. I tried not to click on anything else, but I ended up on the newly launched world edition,” she says with quotes around the words. “Without really thinking, I clicked on this little British flag and there was the woman I found him with. She was clearly far more into the photography thing than I was.”

“Bad, but how is that worse?”

“In the first three pictures, you can see one of my t-shirts on the dresser. In the others, it’s gone. Which means he went right back to fucking her as soon as I left his place with my stuff.”

“Definitely worse,” Killain mutters, drawing his hand over his face in disbelief. 

“And we all had subtitles. Hers was the Wicked Witch of the West… and my South Pole.”

“Ouch.”

“Mine was Officer Tie-Me-Down and Fuck-Me-Up.”

“Bloody hell, Swan, how much villainy can one man possess?”

“Apparently, his cup runneth over.”

“Clearly.” They fall silent for a moment, until Emma’s head tilts over to rest on his shoulder. “Any idea what you’ll do about it?” he asks after letting her mull for a moment.

“No fucking clue.”

He shifts in order to kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer when she pushes her way under his arm. It’s still hours more before either of them fall asleep again.

-x- December 14: Saturday

When Killian wakes up again, it’s to the sound of Emma’s voice floating up from down below.

“I know, and I’m sorry for bailing without letting you know,” she says. “I had something come up.”

With much effort, Killian hauls himself out of the bed, pulling on his undershirt before making his way downstairs. 

“No, it’s kind of why I was calling, though. Do you still have that phone number for James?”

Whatever response David must have for that is lengthy and aggravating, judging by the look on Emma’s face when Killian makes it to the main floor. She looks up and gives him a wan smile, pulling the phone away from her ear long enough to lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. Dave’s voice is, indeed, squawking out quite the storm from the earpiece, and Killian does nothing more than raise an eyebrow in question before giving her a kiss of his own and moving towards the coffee pot. 

“Well, when you calm down about that, give me a call back. I need his number and you’ll agree with me when I tell you why.”

Her phone clatters to the table but she’s already moving towards where Killian is standing against the kitchen counter. 

“Good morning,” she says, leaning up and pulling him down to give him a much warmer, much more thorough kiss. 

“Same to you. Feeling a little better?”

“More like a fire’s been lit under my ass and I have a plan. I have to swing by my brother’s place to harass him about our other asshole brother. Want me to drop you at home?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I need to head to the office to finish up the last of the preparations and my notes for the party on Friday.”

“No trouble at all. Wanna get breakfast along the way?”

“Food and time with my girlfriend? Only a fool would refuse such blessings.” 

When they part ways, he’s amazed at the clear change in mindset she’s gone through in less than twelve hours. Even as she kisses him goodbye, there’s determination burning in her eyes. 

-x-

It takes roughly forty minutes of needling David before he finally caves and gives her the phone number James had called from once, on accident, a couple years ago. She’s plugging it into her phone and hitting ‘call’ before she’s even halfway out of David’s workshop, taking the steps two at a time to get to the first floor. 

“Don’t hang up,” Emma says as soon as James answers.

“Emma?”

“You mean you actually have my number saved in your phone?”

“I’m sure that’s surprising but yeah, makes it easier to call you if I need to ask for money.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed a bit,” Emma responds, rolling her eyes at his words. 

David reaches for the phone when he gets to the kitchen but Emma bats his hand away. 

“I’m guessing you’re the one that needs something if you’re calling me.”

“You’re still in Boston, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“You still have that fancy talent at hacking computers and websites?”

“Listen, I haven’t done anything wrong. I stopped doing all that ages ago.”

“I don’t care if you’re a law-abiding citizen,” Emma snaps. “I need someone who doesn’t care about the law.”

“So the wonder twins need my help because I don’t follow the rules?”

“Pretty much. I have an ex that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Fine. Come down here next Friday and I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll do something for me,” he adds at the very end.

“Like what?”

“We’ll discuss my terms on Friday.”

“I have a party…”

“Oh? You have a party?” His tone is mocking, and Emma swallows back the retort she wants to spit at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll be there. David is coming with me. You do the job, I’ll repay you however you want me to, and then I never have to see you again.”

“Sounds good to me,” James singsongs. “I’ll text you the address. See you Friday, little sis.”

“That guy’s the worst,” Emma snaps when the call ends. “How is he your fucking twin?”

David just shrugs. “And this is why I didn’t want you to call him. Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“You have to promise you aren’t going to have a coronary or something, okay?”

“Go for it. I will… do my best.”

She takes a deep breath before she urges him to sit down while she starts to tell him what she’s just found out.

To give him some credit, he doesn’t completely lose it. But he does turn an interesting shade of purple at the news that there’s a website that has pornographic photographs of his sister. Trying to get around those words is possibly the most mortifying thing she’s ever been through, until David opens his mouth when she’s done speaking.

“Has Killian seen this site?”

“God, David. No. And he won’t if I have anything to do with it. I’m not going to show my boyfriend pictures of me fucking another guy,” she screeches, standing and stomping over to their coffeemaker to indulge in more caffeine. 

She doesn’t really want to tell James the same news. She doesn’t want to tell him more than she absolutely has to, but she also needs the skillset he picked up from being a generally bad person in order to get this chapter of her life wiped from existence. 

Unfortunately, it’s going to mean missing the one thing she was looking forward to since Killian first told her about it. 

She stops by his office to see him next, admiring the way he looks when he’s deeply concentrating. She can also see just how much he’s put into decorating his office in the time they’ve been together. She remembers stark walls and an empty desk. Now, his degrees are hanging, along with a few artistic prints of book covers. His desk is similarly fuller, with picture frames and small knick knacks beyond the single one that used to be there.

With one more bracing breath, she prepares to go in. He’s going to understand, because he already knows what’s going on, but she hates to disappoint him.

“Swan?”

She’s knocked from her idle watching by him softly saying her name.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, walking in and shutting the door. She moves around to lean on the edge of his desk right in front of him. “But I have some bad news. I can’t come to the debut on Friday. That’s when my creep-o brother can help me out. I’ll have to be in Boston.”

His face falls, the disappointment clear, but his hand reaches out and brushes along hers. “As much as I’m sad you won’t be with me, I know it’s for a bigger purpose. Is this evil twin in law? Law enforcement?”

Emma’s face freezes, realizing that she never shared with him how she planned on having James help her. 

“Okay, long story short? James is really good at being a bad guy.”

To his credit, Killian listens with full attention as she launches into her plan and doesn’t even call her crazy.

“Barring any legal repercussions from this Walsh, I find no fault in this plan.”

“I’m pretty sure with James’ help, I won’t have to worry about him trying to come back at us.” At her reassurances, Killian nods in what she hopes is approval. “Should I let you get back to work?”

Slowly, he eases her off the desk and into his lap. “Maybe in a moment or two?”

It’s a question, leaving the answer in her court. 

“I’d be happy if it goes a little longer than a moment,” Emma responds, settling herself fully into his lap and chuckling at the look in his eyes. She pulls her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. 

“I like to think we’re making up for all those times we’ve been interrupted,” Killian says before sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Straight to the point. She’s glad she locked the door when she closed it.

-x-

Chapter 8

[snowbellewells]

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

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

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

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

by: @snowbellewells

Chapter One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too right!” Cook chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @eastwesthomeisbest @bluewildcatfanatic @jonesfandomfanatic

@belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee @laianely @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

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

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

@teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

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

[snowbellewells]

Halloween ReRuns: Something Spicy & Something Sweet ;P

So, I had started the first of my Autumn Prompt Bingo Card stories and had hoped to be able to post it, but it isn't ready yet. Then, I had the thought that I could post a couple of stories I've written for previous Autumns/Halloweens and maybe some new people would see and enjoy them who hadn't before. The "spicy" one (which, it's me, so for most people probably not actually that spicy) was written for @kmomof4's birthday in mid-October some years back, and the sweet one is totally self-indulgent, prompted by a hilarious post I saw on here once about what Killian would make of the Girl Scouts and their cookie sales, and how he would be a total pushover for them and buy all the cookies.

Anyway, if you're interested, here are a couple of my older Halloween fics for your evening's entertainment!

Spicy: "The Sweetest Treat"

Summary: After Storybrooke’s first Harvest Day Festival winds down, Emma has a sweet and sultry surprise in store for her pirate husband.  (hard T - or maybe an M?)

Sweet: "Do-Si-Dos and Tagalongs"

Summary: Originally written for a CS Halloweek on Tumblr... featuring lots of fluff and a pirate captain who can't resist adorably mischievous Girl Scouts. ;)

Set somewhere in the vague post-s6 future, assuming everyone had stayed in Storybrooke and they all carried on from the happy beginning we saw in the Season 6 finale.  

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @lfh1226-linda

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @goforlaunchcee

@belovedcreation @myfearless-love @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@stahlop @jonesfandomfanatic @eastwesthomeisbest @spartanguard @ultraluckycatnd

@searchingwardrobes @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @bromfieldhall

@everything-person @undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook

@shady-swan-jones @let-it-raines @the-darkdragonfly @therooksshiningknight @resident-of-storybrooke

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "A Cottage by the Sea"

This 7 chapter MC was written for the @cssns20 event, and I have always been pretty proud of how it turned out. This one pulls a bit from Pirates of the Caribbean and a bit from 1989's The Little Mermaid, and then throws in the happy ending vision that came into my head that I just needed to find a story to help them reach. I've been travelling back through all my @cssns entries recently, and I hope you'll enjoy this one if you didn't see it then - or if you decide you might want to revisit it!

**Beautiful cover art is by @searchingwardrobes! I'm still in love with it and grateful to have it to put with my story.

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

**Also available on AO3, if that's your preference**

By: @snowbellewells

Prologue

The land around her parents’ castle had always called to Princess Emma. The open spaces and craggy cliffs she could see in the distance as they plummeted into the churning sea, were windswept and wild much like herself. Though she had always been cared for and beloved, the sole heir to the kingdom of Queen Snow White, Emma also felt the desire to run free, as if she were destined for more than curtsies, crown fittings, and learning to smile demurely. Naturally, she adored her happily devoted, perfectly paired father and mother - just more so when they were teaching her to ride or aim a bow than when they were reminding her once again that she must exude patience and diplomacy at even the most interminable state dinners. She valued her kingdom and its people, understood the honor of her role in it, but that knowledge and affection failed to negate the fact that she often wished just as strongly to rip the fancy curled updos and jeweled tiaras from her head and run streaking like a loosed cannon along the wet sand at the ocean shore she could see from her chamber window, hair streaming behind her and cool, salty air on her face. All the proper princess etiquette and worries left behind.

The easiest - and her most favored - cure for that feeling of wanderlust and burning energy within was for either her mother or her father, or both whenever possible, to take her walking along the water’s edge in the evening. Emma would almost swear the Queen and King enjoyed the calming getaways almost as much as she did, both as a moment to be free of so many fussing, crowding, obsequious attendants and hangers-on, as well as to feel the open air of the world outside their palace cleansing them. She knew - though from nothing more than history and bedtime stories - that her parents had once lived and thrived out of doors, falling in love on the run as rebels before her mother regained the kingdom she had been born to lead. Both her mother, once a legendary bandit, and her father, who had started life as a humble shepherd, seemed to appreciate the chance to escape the castle walls of stone and venture out on their own with their adored and wild-hearted little girl. It concerned neither of them that Emma was bold and adventurous, bucking the traditional prim and dainty image of feminine royalty; in fact, they might have treasured those traits in her even more for how they harkened to what each loved most in the other.

One such evening, however, Queen Snow had been kept well into the twilight hour in a council meeting over trade routes and revenue, along with Emma’s father, and even Red, her godmother. Waiting impatiently, Emma fretted that she wouldn’t get outdoors and down to the shore at all, as she sat in the wide, cozy window seat of her tower room, looking out over the waves crashing up on the sands. She took in the lights of ships in their harbor, the mist and waves, and she longed to be closer - to be part of it all. In fact, she was mischievously contemplating whether or not she could scale down the outer walls in her nightdress and robe, and get to her usual walking course alone without being detected, when the door to her room opened behind her.

Snow White entered in a pleasantly flushed bluster of activity. Charming followed her with an indulgent smile, happily sweeping his daughter up into his arms as she ran to him in an excited blonde blur. She might be nearly 10-years-old, but he could still swing her up in his arms and twirl her through the air and all around the room as easily as he did when she was but a babe. Giggling happily, Emma threw her arms around her Papa’s neck and revelled in the exuberant joy of his affection.

When he put her down again, she immediately hopped around him excitedly tugging on his hand. “Can we go out for our walk now, please? Down by the shore… can we? Can we, pleeease?”

The King shook his head with a rueful chuckle, having known this would be her request the moment they set foot in their daughter’s room. She was made for the out-of-doors, an enchanting sprite of waves and sky, and he found it nigh as impossible as ever to disappoint her if her wish was within his power. “You’ll have to ask your mother this time, Sweetheart. I have more meetings, stores to check for the winter, applicants for aid to hear, a few more hours of work this evening yet.”

Snow smiled at him over Emma’s tousled blond head, nodded her agreement to a short jaunt while there was still light, Emma squealed with glee and danced an excited little jig before scampering toward the door, pulling at her mother’s hand impatiently, determined to hurry her along, Queen or no.

“You and Granny had better have cocoa and biscuits waiting for us when we return, Charming,” the dark-haired monarch grumbled, appearing stern, but the playful spark in her eyes told her husband she wasn’t really that upset. He was assuring they had what was needed for charitable giving to those less fortunate throughout the kingdom once harvests were over for the season; it would take but a moment to let the head palace cook know his wife’s wishes before continuing with his tasks.

“Anything for you, Dear,” he playfully mock-bowed before happily accepting a sweet kiss on the cheek and following his wife and daughter from the room. He was off in one direction; Marco and Jiminy both waiting down the hall to help him judge numbers, ask questions, and take notes, while Emma and Snow went in the other, headed down the stairs to the first floor side entrance and quickest path to the shore Emma was so anxious to reach. Charming supposed that many might think it strange he was not more troubled by letting his beloved and his only child wander outside the grounds alone, but his Queen could more than take care of herself. And if he knew Snow’s trusted bodyguard at all, the Huntsman they had long ago freed from Snow’s stepmother’s control, he would not be far if they had need of him when David could not accompany them - whether he was in view or not.

~~***~~

They were hand in hand, Emma’s shoes in her mother’s grip, as she skipped with exuberant satisfaction at her side, toes squidging with the exquisite feel of the wet grains of sand as she did. It was all Emma had wanted all day, from the moment she’d gotten dressed and shared breakfast with her parents and godmother, informal as they had no visitors in the warm, cozy castle kitchens. Throughout her interminable etiquette lessons with the Blue Fairy, and studying with her tutors, she had wanted nothing more than to be carefree by the water like this, and she was beside herself with excitement to be there at last.

Ruffling her daughter’s hair, Snow let the worries and concerns of meetings, treaties, budgets, and protocols slide from her shoulders while the evening breeze caressed her face. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment and laughed into the wind right along with her precious child. Perhaps she had needed the escape just as much.

Then, with a sharp jerk, Emma’s smaller hand tugged from hers with a cry of surprise. “Mama, look there!” she called, her fingers slipping from her mother’s grasp as she began to pelt across the sand in alarm. “A boy! A boy just came out of the water!  He’s hurt!”

Immediately, Snow White’s focus was sharp, snapping back into full awareness, scanning ahead of them to where she saw a dark, bedraggled shape, not much larger than Emma, lying on the lighter colored beach. Emma had run forward in such concern that she had already almost reached the small shape, and her mother quickly gathered up her skirts and jogged forward to catch her, not sure yet what to expect. “Emma! Wait! Be careful!” she warned, though she already knew the caution would fall on deaf ears. Emma was fearless for her own safety, and had a soft spot for any person or thing injured or in need; she wouldn’t be stopping if she thought she could help.

Nearing the indeed soaked, disheveled, and unconscious child, Emma had already fallen to her knees, trying to shake and urge the unknown person back to awareness. The queen’s concern for her daughter’s safety instantly melted into compassion for the waif who didn’t move, didn’t speak, and barely seemed to breathe. For a child of his seeming height, he was frighteningly thin, his clothing threadbare and torn, hair too long, nearly hiding his closed eyes as soaked to his skin as it was. The Queen’s maternal heart ached for him, wondering how he came to be in such a state, alone and washed up from the sea. Taking Emma’s hand to stop her jostling him, Queen Snow could only hope they weren’t too late to save this mere boy’s life. It was only just beginning.

She looked up, wondering how they could get him back to the castle and trying to gauge how far they had traveled from the gates. Just as she was vaguely considering whether or not she could call one of the birds she was able to use as messengers - a gift that had served her often throughout life - when a tall shadow materialized from the woods bordering the shore, before she even needed to call out. Her long time bodyguard, Graham, Snow realized with easy relief; she should have known he would not be far, and regardless of the necessity - or lack thereof - in this moment she was glad he was there. This child needed help, and they needed to get him to a physician as soon as possible.

The Huntsman scooped the still-motionless boy up easily and began to carry him back the way they had come. Snow and Emma hovered on either side in anxious worry. As soon as they got him home to safety, they would bring him around. They had to. They had to have found him for a reason.

~~***~~

Once the unknown boy had been carried back to the castle, his slight form hardly causing the Huntsman to strain himself, bundled down before the warm hearthfire of the kitchens, boneless still, but changed from his wet rags into a old castoff tunic of the King’s (long enough to be a nightshirt on the lanky youth) and covered in numerous blankets, it took little time for the youth to come back to himself. 

Emma hovered anxiously next to the little stranger she had found, feeling oddly protective of “her boy” as she was already thinking of him in her head. She only paused in her agitated fidgeting to briefly take a cup of cocoa for herself and return the supportive hand squeeze offered her by their friend Red, Granny’s actual granddaughter and Emma’s frequent babysitter and playmate as well as her godmother.

Of course, Doc, the castle’s rather unofficial physician, had been sent for upon their return, but as the child before them began to stir of his own accord, Emma let herself hope that it would prove a mere precaution and their charge would be just fine. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked open slowly, as if still weary and reluctant to revive. When finally the thick, dark lashes parted to reveal rather stunning, unbelievably sea-blue eyes, Emma gasped at the shock that ran through her. Even as the boy’s widened in equal surprise and alarm, his eyes fixed on her gaze for several endless moments before darting around his surroundings, clearly unsure where he was or what had happened.

“Shh…. sh… hush now…” Emma felt her own tense muscles loosen as her mother’s voice calmly bathed the scene in gentle comfort. The Queen, soft and careful, and looking for all the world in that moment just like any other mother hoping to reassure her frightened child, stooped down to eye level with the boy they had propped up in a heaping nest of pillows and quilts by the fire. She reached out to softly brush his dark hair off his forehead, but froze when the boy flinched back like a startled animal. Instead, she only added in the same low, sweet croon. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you… It’s alright now.”

The youngster’s eyes continued to cast about him for several tense moments, but then he seemed to finally register the calm surrounding him and accept that he would be alright. The tentatively crooked smile he offered back to the Queen sparked a bit of hope in all who were gathered around him. And when a steaming cup of cocoa was pressed into his hands by Granny with a brusque but concerned admonishment to “drink up, it’ll warm your insides” before the cook bustled off again, he seemed to come back to himself even more at the scent which wafted up into his face of chocolate and their family’s customary hint of cinnamon.

Emma could practically see interest light up those expressive eyes, but the child hesitated rather than bringing the cup to his lips for a taste. Darting from Queen to Princess uncertainly, he seemed to be gauging whether or not it was truly acceptable for him to take a drink.

“Go ahead,” Emma urged, smiling in what she hoped was reassurance. She wasn’t known for her patience, and she couldn’t know that this youth had never experienced hot cocoa, nor many pleasant treats at all, in his young life. Hoping to encourage him, she lifted her own mug to drink and then smacked her lips at the delightful taste, making Ruby laugh and her mother shake her head at her dreadful table manners. The boy’s face, however, lit with a bit of humor and happiness that it had not yet held. “It’s good, I promise,” Emma added with a grin. “You’ll like it.”

Almost as if he could resist no longer, the boy tipped his cup and took a sip of the warm, rich beverage at last. Then, it seemed he discovered the powers of liquid chocolate that everyone else in the room well knew. His eyes widened in delight, and he tipped his head back to get every last drop as he quickly guzzled down the rest, making Emma giggle, and him startle guiltily as if he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Emma assured, reaching out innocently to lay her hand on his, “You can have some more, right Mama?”

Queen Snow White’s eyes were a bit misty with unshed tears, having already met Granny’s gaze over Emma’s head and Ruby’s as well, the three women piecing together things Emma in her sheltered, loving world could not yet know about what this youngster must have gone through. His reactions and his guardedness spoke volumes, even in silence. Nodding simply, not sure at first that she could speak around the painful lump in her throat, Snow finally managed to agree, “Yes, for tonight at least, our new friend may have all the hot cocoa his heart desires.”

~~***~~

The boy’s name, it turned out, was Killian Jones. He did recall that much once he regained his bearings, as well as the fact that he had possessed a father, mother, and older brother in a happy little house before his mother had seemingly vanished from his young life, and they had sent sail on the boat he had been on before washing ashore. No matter how many questions they asked or how he tried to call more forth, he remembered little else of what happened to his mother or father. He knew he had been told she fell ill and died, but all he could bring forth in his mind’s eye was that one morning he had awakened and she had vanished from his life as if she never existed at all - just a pleasant dream. His elder brother Liam had been on the boat with him, and Killian had shed tears that broke all their hearts when he recalled the day his brother had been swept overboard and lost to him forever. But as to what had become of his father, and how he had been sentenced to the life of hard labor he had clearly endured afterward, there was nothing but a blank and questions.

 As days and weeks, then months, and finally years went by, he remained with them at Misthaven castle.  Though far from a young prince, Killian was raised as a member of the royal household, growing up side-by-side with Princess Emma. They appeared to be quite close in age, and joined by the fact that she had found him and seemed to take Killian on as her own, he and Emma were quite inseparable - the best of friends and as “thick as thieves” as Granny always lamented when they were underfoot or stealing berries meant for tarts and pies on the royal dinner table.

As they reached adolescence, the King and Queen began to wonder where Kilian would be happiest as he came of age. The young man they had come to adore almost as a son had several skills: he was invaluable in the stables, exuding a calming force over the horses and evincing a knack for their training and care; he was quite good as an extra hand in the kitchen when Granny was understaffed or had more visiting mouths than usual to feed (for all her tough talk the aging widow had a soft spot for the boy and would no doubt have mentored him as a cook). Killian was bright; genuine knowledge and curiosity made him a voracious reader and student, honestly gaining more from the princess’ many esteemed tutors than Emma ever had and enjoying the study much more. He would have been easy to train as a page or diplomat, but none of those options seemed quite right.

It was not until his fifteenth birthday that the way Killian hoped to take became clear. It might have seemed improbable to most, knowing that the sea had once nearly swallowed him whole and claimed his life, but to Emma who knew him better than anyone else, it made sense. Those restless, wandering waves held an appeal, a mystery and adventure, and perhaps even still some bit of himself that her friend needed to claim. He stated his intention to join her father’s Navy with a proud certainty. And Emma’s heart swelled with equal gratification, but also fear. The sea had given him to her, but it wanted to take him back again…

It had taken them all such a long time to show Killian that he was welcome there, truly a part of their loving extended family. At first, Killian had shrunk back - shoulders hunched, head bowed, breath coming quickly in frightened pants - any time he might accidentally drop and break a dish or he reached for a second roll at the table, making it clear was that he had been punished and berated, to the point that he cowered like a whipped dog whenever he feared he might have put even a toe out of line. Princess Emma knew that her parents suspected beatings and physical abuse; it was clear in the concerned way their eyes met in silent communication whenever Killian reacted with the intense fear and apology he often showed in his bearing; she sadly had to agree that they were quite probably correct. She shuddered to think of how he might still be suffering under some cruel captain’s mistreatment, miserable, stranded and helpless to change his situation if it had not been for the shipwreck which brought him to Misthaven instead. There had been no question for any of them that he must stay, when they had learned of his indenture and how he had been orphaned and abandoned. She couldn’t have been more glad that all in the castle were in agreement; Emma had already decided that “her boy” needed to stay there with them, where he was safe and she could be sure he was happy and free. Neither of them were small children anymore, but Emma’s care and affection for him had never changed.

For so long before Killian’s arrival, she had been the only child in a palace of grown-ups: rulers, dignitaries, staff - a whole caravan of people who doted and adored, but very few who could be peers, to play with, talk to, and simply understand her. As the days had flowed into one another, turning into months and years until most people could hardly remember when she and Killian were not linked, they  were practically siblings in every way that mattered. The princess knew that she didn’t intend to live - not could she imagine - her life without him ever again.

And then, seemingly in the mere blink of an eye, they were fifteen and moving from playing tag amongst the grape arbors and lilac bushes in her mother’s gardens and slipping out of the interminable poise and etiquette lessons which Emma detested yet was never allowed to miss, to the stage where Killian was serving as her partner while she learned the waltz and other ballroom dances she would need to master for formal balls and ceremonies. Not only that, but as they edged into adolescence, Emma’s heart thumped against her chest differently than it used to as Killian led her gracefully through the steps. Even as her heart seemed ready to ricochet from her body, the warmth of Killian’s skin where they touched and the utter safety she felt in his hold half intoxicated her. As awareness spun her head round, uncertain what to do with it or how to proceed with these strange new feelings suddenly flooding her, all Emma could be certain of was the pang of loss she felt at knowing that Killian’s desire was to soon join her father’s naval fleet. At fifteen, he was at last of age to sail as a cabin boy and begin to work his way up in a ship’s ranks. Though she knew that had long been her friend’s desired course, Emma’s heart still ached to see him go.

However, her parents could not deny him the chance to seek such a worthy ambition. Indeed, they were proud of Killian, happy to help him secure a place on one of their finest vessels and make certain he knew their confidence in him and their faith that he would succeed. All too soon, after years with him at her side, it was the day Emma’s confidant and companion was set to sail on his first voyage. Though she knew in her head that the kingdom was in a time of peace and that it was a mere routine mission, her heart could not ignore the fact that sea travel always came with risk. Not only that, but she would miss Killian terribly.

Still, goodbyes had been said, all was made ready, and she was left on the dock, waving goodbye as the best friend she had ever known met her eyes and waved back. His pretty blue eyes, that had long since begun to speak to her as ardently as his actual words, expressed a potent blend of pained anxiety at leaving his adopted family and the life he had known and excitement for the adventure ahead on the waves that stirred his blood. She stood there long after the rest of the crowd seeing him off had dispersed and gone back to the castle, watching as the naval ship bearing “her boy” (as she sometimes still in the deepest and most secret depths  of her heart thought of him) became a small dot on the horizon before fading from view entirely. 

And only then had the journey truly begun...

Part One

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd @caught-in-the-filter

@stahlop​ @ineffablecolors​ @let-it-raines​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​

@spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @shireness-says​ @snidgetsafan​ @mayquita​

@thislassishooked​ @drowned-dreamer​ @kday426​ @lfh1226-linda​ @winterbaby89​

@darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​

@the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx

@jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @myfearless-love @belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Fourth of July Reruns: The Fireworks

Happy 4th of July week to all who celebrate it! I have a couple of old 4th of July themed CS fics that I thought I'd share with all of you, and if all goes well, I'll have a new 4th of July fic to add to Fluffy Fridays this Friday!

Word Count: 2525

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay 

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch 

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious 

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight 

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64  @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

 @i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

Summary: Originally posted to my Fluffy Friday collection several years ago, Emma and Killian are neighbors who despise each other, but when their constant feuding lands them in jail together, they discover that maybe they don't despise each other quite as much as they thought. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Fireworks

CS Genre: Feuding Neighbors AU

         “Come on David, you can’t be serious!” Emma growled as her brother, the sheriff, eased her back with a gentle hand to the arm.

         “Yeah, Emma,” he said grimly, “I can.”

         As if to emphasize the point, he slammed the jail cell door closed behind her.

         Behind her and her jackass next door neighbor.

         “Now, mate,” said jackass drawled, stepping forward.  “Are you sure this is the best idea?  You know your sister and I don’t particularly see eye to eye.”

         David smiled humorlessly.  “Understatement of the year after what you two have done over the last few days, but you’ve been disturbing the peace and driving everyone around you crazy, so yeah.  I think a night in jail is definitely in order.  You two’ll either find a way to work things out or you’ll kill each other.  Either way the rest of us might get a little peace and quiet.”

~~36 Hours Before…~~

         Killian settled into his bed with a contented sigh, reveling in the soft pillow.  The hum of the ceiling fan lulled him until his eyes gently closed.  It had been a long day, and he was in for another one tomorrow.

         Storybrooke had big plans for its 4th of July celebration on Saturday.  There were plans to shoot fireworks from a boat out on the harbor and set the whole thing to patriotic music.  As the town’s harbormaster, Killian had a big role to play in getting everything set up.  It was exhausting, and he wanted nothing more than to get a good night’s sleep before he waded into the madness all over again—ridiculously early tomorrow morning.

            Boom!  Crackle!

         Killian jumped at the sudden noise, and then heard a frightened yelp and the click of paws against his wooden floor, as his 75 pound Rottweiler mix sprinted into his room, jumped on his bed and plopped squarely on his chest.

         As Killian removed the panting, shaking, terrified canine baby from his person, his eyes narrowed.  He’d bet his last paycheck he knew precisely the cause of the disturbance.

         “Shh, Smee,” he said, stroking his dog’s black and caramel colored coat.  “There’s nothing to worry about.  It’s just…”

         Another boom, this one loud enough to shake his house.  Smee scrambled down and tried to wedge himself under Killian’s bed.

         Killian pushed himself to his feet and strode purposely toward his door, not even bothering to put on a shirt.  There was only one person who could be responsible.

            Swan.

            She’d moved into the house next to him about eight months ago, all long blonde hair and prickly exterior.  Never had he met someone so exquisitely beautiful—or so maddeningly frustrating.  The day after she’d moved in, he’d knocked on her door, friendly smile and “welcome to the neighborhood” bottle of rum at the ready.

         He’d prepared a genial, friendly speech about how he was pleased to meet her and glad the house was finally occupied again and how she shouldn’t hesitate to ask if he could be of any assistance, but then she’d opened the door, and all rational thought had fled.  Nothing could have prepared him for the utter perfection that was Emma Swan.

         So, rather than his careful, well thought out neighborly speech, what came out of his mouth was something along the lines of “Hey beautiful.  I think you and I need to get to know each other much, much better.”

         Needless to say, she’d slammed the door in his face.  Then she’d opened it again, swiped the rum from his hand, gave him a glare that could curdle milk, and slammed the door for the second time that morning.

         Things had only gone downhill from there. 

         From that moment on, it would seem they were sworn enemies.  Oh he’d tried to apologize, explain, but approaching her had been like trying to approach a rabid porcupine.

         So he’d stopped trying to apologize and started to do his best to completely piss her off, flirting outrageously with her whenever they came in contact.  She was utterly glorious when she was angry.

         She’d returned the favor with various acts of bad neighborliness—raking her leaves straight into his yard (he’d retaliated by raking the whole lot up and putting it in a messy pile at her front door) or parking her yellow bug smack dab in front of his mailbox—earning him the ire of Leroy, their bad-tempered postman (he’d retaliated by parking his own car at the end of her driveway), and all manner of other, deliberate acts of aggression.

         And tonight, it would appear she’d decided to shoot off fireworks at 10:30 pm.  Well, he wasn’t going to stand for it anymore.  Enough was enough.

         Righteous indignation intact, he stormed from his front door and marched right up to the exasperating woman who was preparing to apply a lighter to another bottle rocket, a preteen boy looking on with excitement.

         “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he’d shouted.

         Emma jumped and then glared.  “What does it look like I’m doing?  I’m setting off fireworks.  There’s a little thing called Independence Day coming up, and Henry and I wanted to celebrate.”

         “Yeah?” he’d growled, “well can’t you celebrate at a reasonable hour?  Some of us are trying to get some bloody sleep, so how about you cease and desist immediately.”

         She rolled her eyes.  “Not happening, buddy,” she said in a hard voice.  “So how about you take your un-patriotic ass off my lawn and go get that sleep you’re so desperate for.”

         He’d opened his mouth, preparing for a stinging reply, but then thought better of it as a brilliant, devious plan came to mind.  She wanted to disturb his sleep and scare his dog half to death?  Fine.  Two could play at that game.  Miss patriotic over there was about to find out that payback was a bitch.

~~6 ½ hours later…~~

         Emma was happily fast asleep when it happened.  A canon boomed and suddenly classical music, at roughly the decibel level of a jet, filled her peaceful bedroom.  She shot up in bed, hand going immediately to her heart, and then her eyes narrowed.

         Killian.

         No one else would even think of pulling something like this. 

         She got to her feet, threw on some sweats and stormed from the house, prepared to give the son of a bitch a piece of her mind he would never forget.

         Killian Jones was the bane of her existence; had been ever since that first morning he’d knocked on her door and immediately set in to hitting on her.  Obviously thought he was God’s gift to women; that she should just swoon at his feet in ecstasy that he’d deigned to talk to her.

         Yeah, not happening. 

She didn’t care how ridiculously hot he was.  And yes, with his piercing blue eyes, messy black hair, and perpetual scruff…well, hot didn’t even begin to cover it.  And when he’d stormed over to her house last night, naked to the waist and she’d gotten her first glimpse of that ripped, hair smattered chest….well, maybe it did things to her.

            Ugh!  What was she doing?  She wasn’t some teenager who couldn’t keep her hormones in check.  She was a full grown woman who was going to give a world-class jerk the verbal beating he so richly deserved!

         Killian Jones sat on his porch swing, cup of coffee in hand, smug grin in place.

         “Morning, Swan,” he said genially.  “Looks like it’s going to be a lovely day, aye?”

         She took his porch steps two at a time, walked over to the stereo system he’d moved to sit beside him—the stereo system whose speakers were turned conspicuously toward her house—and punched the “stop” button with a viciousness that would have made a fairy tale villain proud.  “Cut the crap, Jones.  What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

       His grin spread maddeningly further.  “Just enjoying the morning,” he drawled.  “After all, as patriotic as you are, I’d assumed you’d enjoy ‘The 1812 Overture’.  Quite a good rendition, this.  Did you know they used real canons in the finale?”

         Emma’s hand ached with the need to punch the smug bastard in the face.  “It’s freaking five o’clock in the morning!  I was asleep.”

         Suddenly a glint of temper entered his eyes.  “Aye?  Well darling, now you know how it feels.”

         And that was all it took.  Emma took a deep breath and started in on the long list of all the things she hated about Killian Jones.

~~Present Day~~

         Emma plopped down on one of the prison cell cots and turned resolutely from the man standing on the far side of the cell.  After the cataclysmic shouting match this morning, one of their other neighbors had evidently called the cops.  David had shown up, taken one, assessing look at the situation, and thrown both of their asses in jail.

         And now she was going to be stuck with Killian freaking Jones until tomorrow morning!

         Talk about cruel and unusual punishment!  This was going to be the longest night of her life.

         For long minutes they both sat there, each on their respective bunks, seething and glaring daggers in each other’s general direction.  Finally he let out a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, and turned suddenly repentant eyes in her direction.

         “Look love,” he began.

         “Not your love, Jones,” she said automatically.

         He charged on, ignoring the interruption.  “Perhaps your brother is right.  Things might be…tumultuous…between us, but we are neighbors.  We need to find a way to live together in peace.  I apologize for blaring music at you at an ungodly hour this morning.  Bad form, that.”

         He was apologizing?  Actually apologizing?  Taking responsibility for something he’d done and wishing to make amends?  Of all the things she’d expected to come from his mouth that was not it.

         “Um,” she said in confusion, “thanks for that.”

         He reclined his head in acknowledgement.  “I let my temper get the better of me.  I’ve been under a bit of stress at work lately, and when you set off your fireworks late last night—disturbing my sleep and scaring my dog witless—well, I suppose I snapped.”

         Sudden guilt clawed at Emma.  She supposed if she was being completely honest…she hadn’t handled last night’s altercation as well as she might have.  And, okay, maybe if she was further being honest, he wasn’t a complete pain in the ass all the time.  There was that time last winter when he’d come over and shoveled her driveway after a particularly nasty blizzard….and there was that time she’d been sick and he’d run down to the local diner and bought her some chicken soup.

         And, well, okay, maybe he had some justification for being angry after all the crap she’d done to him.  Maybe he wasn’t the only one who needed to make an apology.

         “Yeah,” she said, picking at a loose string on her cot and refusing to look over at him.  “I guess I should apologize too.  For the fireworks.  I didn’t think about them bothering anyone, but, well, I didn’t exactly handle our conversation last night well.”

         She felt the cot sag beside her, and looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen in her life.  Killian extended one hand, friendly smile firmly in place.  “Apology accepted.  Truce?”

         She hesitated for another moment, and then gripped his offered hand.  A jolt of electricity passed between them at the touch, and Emma gasped, dropped his hand like it was a live wire, and turned startled green eyes his direction.  What she saw in the depths of his eyes was something she’d never expected.  Kindness, understanding, friendship.

     Emma’d had a rough life; always abandoned, always forgotten, always passed over.  It wasn’t until David’s mom, Ruth, adopted her at the age of seventeen that she finally found someone she could really trust.  Still, trust came hard.  Her default position was to expect the worst.

     So it shocked her to her very core when she suddenly had the urge to confide in the man sitting beside her—the man she’d hated from the very beginning.

      “Look,” she said, once again glancing away from him.  “That boy that was with me last night...”

         He nodded, urging her to go on.  “That’s my…that’s my son.  Got knocked up really young; still a kid really, sixteen-and-a-half.  And when I told the father…well, he freaked out.  Walked out on us, and I’ve never seen him since.”

         Killian took her hand, and to her shock, she had no desire to pull away.

         “I gave Henry up when he was born, trying to give him his best chance, you know? What did I know about being a mother?  I’d never even had one to speak of.”

         “I can’t begin to imagine how difficult that must have been for you,” Killian whispered.  She looked up at him, nodded, and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

         “Yeah,” she admitted.  “Tore me apart.  I’ve been looking for him for years, and finally found him here in this town.  The adoptive mom didn’t want me to have anything to do with him; almost took out a restraining order on me, and well, last night was the first time she agreed to let me have contact with him.  Real contact.  Henry loves fireworks, so…”  Emma shrugged.

         Killian was silent for a long time, and finally she looked up at him.  The compassion in his eyes was almost her undoing.  “I’m sorry for overreacting, love.”

         She shrugged again.  “Not your fault; not really.  You couldn’t have known.  And...well, I guess my default is to be defensive.  My experience…people don’t stay.  They don’t do nice things for you, at least without expecting things in return.  They're all out to screw you over.”

         “Emma, you deserve far, far better than that.”

         Something about the sincerity of his voice, the emotion behind his simple statement, finally made her snap.  Surging forward, she weaved her hand through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and slammed her lips against his.

         He responded instantly, giving as good as he got, deepening the kiss, making small noises in the back of his throat that drove her wild.  In the history of kisses, she was sure there had never been one quite so potent, so all consuming.

         When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his and felt his deep chuckle against her hand, resting on his chest.  “Love, that was…”

         “Mind-blowing, explosive,” she finished.  She leaned back and grinned at him.  “Jones, I thought you were against fireworks, but that..”

         He laughed again.  “Well, there are fireworks and then there are fireworks.”

         She laughed with him, and couldn’t resist going in for round two, the kiss far softer and more gentle this time.

         “Killian,” she finally said, breathlessly.  “I think we kind of started out on the wrong foot.  How about we start over and this time try to not, you know, attempt to kill each other every other day?”

         Killian grinned.  “Sounds good to me, love.”  He extended his hand once more.  “Hi, I’m Killian Jones.  Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "A Story Told at Last"

This short three shot was my first offering for the second @cssns event in 2019. I had a really lovely time using a more grown up version of Henry out in the "real" world, as well as keeping Violet (who I always liked) in the picture. I got to use my love of literature a bit in this one, making it Henry's profession, and I took my first early stab at a ghost story element for the supernatural. I think the main thing to bear in mind is that, while Henry is our Henry in personality, he is not Emma's son. Emma and Killian exist in a whole other time - the one he is studying... ;)

If you missed this one originally, I hope you will enjoy this offering. And if you did read it before, I'd love to hear if you enjoy your revisit!

Thanks once again to @branlovestowrite who did the cover art at the time for the event - I still simply adore it!!!

{Also available on AO3, if that's your preference

I've put all 3 parts in this post for reader convenience}

Summary: Historical Literature Professor Henry Mills has the chance of a lifetime before him. He might finally uncover the truth of a folktale that has intrigued him for years. But, when the whole story comes to light, will he be able to accept the story that needs to be told?

~Prologue~

The young man moved quietly through dusky shadows in the long-abandoned building, brushing aside cobwebs with a grimace of distaste, his flashlight trained well in front of him, and walking with slow care, trying valiantly not to disturb anything more than necessary in his path. Henry Mills was still holding his breath more than a bit in awe that he had finally been allowed the permits and permissions, not to speak of the grant money which had brought him here and allowed him to focus solely on his research, and that he was standing within the deserted tower ruins of a long vanished kingdom’s outer borders. He had dreamed of seeing this structure’s remains since the legend had first crossed his desk, unfounded but also unforgettable until he explored it for himself. Drawing in another steadying breath and squaring his shoulders, Henry moved forward once again, anxious to see all that he could before he lost the last bit of evening sun.

He would be back tomorrow of course, with his team and full daylight, and all the equipment needed to properly identify, catalogue, and preserve anything of historical value or interest they might find. Still, he couldn’t resist the chance to get a first look at this place that had held his curiosity for so long, especially when he only had to share it with frogs, cicadas, and the droning gnats. Soon enough this site would be buzzing with other historians, researchers, and anyone else on the approved team, and Henry yearned for a moment on hallowed ground, beneath the crumbling walls and mouldering ceiling, in the dreamy half-dark when it could be his alone. He didn’t know what treasures they might find, or if they would unearth anything new at all, but the storyteller’s heart that beat beneath his grey henley and respectable historian’s facade couldn’t help sensing that the very walls around him were holding their breath as much as he was, anxiously awaiting the right explorer to at last reveal their secrets.

Regardless of the venture’s outcome, Henry still found it hard to believe he was in Italy; seeing the world, traveling on his own quest for knowledge and adventure, just as he had always known he was meant to do. He was still considered quite young for a history professor, and this would be the first field mission he had led. Granted, to most folks who weren’t history buffs or fans of Renaissance literature and its roots, the remains of the stone structure around him that they would catalogue and examine in the next week would not have been delighted enough to go without sleep just dreaming of the treasures and tales they might find, but Henry Mills had never been one to do as most others would.

The particular result he hoped to achieve was to find some sign or proof of the princess Emmaline, the protagonist of that tale which had sparked his interest nearly four years ago. History had at least partially buried her existence, or much knowledge of her beyond the ranks of myth and legend. But, if what Henry had learned was true, she had once been imprisoned by the same walls he was standing within. A younger sibling had ascended the throne in her place, and Emmaline had disappeared from all records of the kingdom which had eventually become extinct itself.

The story Henry had uncovered told of strange happenings beginning to occur around the beautiful golden daughter of King David and Queen Margaret of Misthavia once the young princess reached her sixteenth year. Injuries to those who might have slighted her, accidents and damages - coincidences all, but their frequency had reached the point that her involvement could no longer be hidden, and her people had begun to fear her. It seemed that Princess Emmaline had even been deemed a witch by some, and at last the king and queen had been forced to hide their daughter away for her own safety.

There had also been - at least as related in several varied sources - a handsome young lieutenant in the Misthavian royal navy who had long been in love with the hidden princess. This young sailor had vehemently protested the decision to lock Emmaline away, much less the eventual denial of her birthright. So the story had gone, this lieutenant had eventually left the king and queen’s service due to the rift, and as incongruous as it sounded, turned pirate in her honor, as he left with a ship to seek her in exile and rescue his love.

Still, by any account Henry had been able to locate, whatever had truly happened, if Princess Emmaline had existed at all, she had never taken the throne of her kingdom. The rather tiny Misthavia, along the Tyrrhenian Sea had been subsumed into the rest of the larger country and ceased to be a separate entity in the modern world. To his scholarly, and curious, mind however, what became of the lost princess, hidden in her tower, remained an irresistible mystery.

For the moment he was not willing to risk discovery and be banned from the site before his official work even began, so Henry did not linger. He closed his eyes, breathing in the somewhat musty air that somehow, to his mind, also brought hints of spring rain, apple blossoms, weathered wooden planks, leather and sea salt. Shaking his head at his own ridiculously detailed imagination - now bringing him scents even, as well as hoped for sights and stories - Henry turned to carefully make his way back out of the rocky rumble, avoiding an overturned settee frame with bits of ripped upholstery clinging to it and a few floorboards, whose soundness appeared debatable. Watching where he was placing his feet and the path back to the entrance in the beam of his flashlight, he failed to notice that materializing behind him, wispy white and hazy against the deepening gloom within the old walls, two shadows, almost corporeal but not quite, were silently watching him go…

~***~

~Part One~

By the time Henry had returned to the Universitá di Bologna housing,where he and his team of advanced grad students were staying for the duration of their research trip in Italy, he was more than a bit anxious to reach his temporary quarters and go back through the copious research notes he had taken and goals he’d laid out in preparation before finally standing within the crumbling skeleton of his historical site - what remained of the once-stunning tower. Having now glimpsed it with his own eyes in the still shadows and dying light of evening, Henry was almost breathless with excitement and the desire to compare what he had seen with the numerous possible finds he had deemed likely. Already, he was itching to return at dawn’s first light with his team and equipment.

The heavy feeling in the air of another presence - of not being alone in the ruins, though his logical mind knew he must have been - had been easily shaken off once he returned to the city from the more remote location. The sound and bustle of the modern world - phones, cars, the press of crowds - melted away the icy shiver that had traced down his spine and put it well out of his thoughts. For several minutes now (nearer to three hours in point of fact, though his mind, caught up in more interesting details, had lost all track of time) he had been leafing through his reference manuals, maps and notes, packed and then unpacked again meticulously upon arrival, when a soft rapping on his door roused him from the fevered state he’d slipped into.

Shaking his head, and hazily pulling himself back into the present time and place, Henry drew a steadying breath, reminding himself that he was a skilled and credentialed professor of historical literature, not the teenage fanboy he’d once been and currently felt like again; he should show a bit more composure to whomever waited to speak with him in the hall. Opening the door, however, his eyes widened momentarily, in spite of his recent resolve, to find his brightest and most accomplished research assistant facing him.

Violet Clemens had actually graduated from the university’s history program two years before, but knowing the particular interest she would have in this research opportunity, Henry had contacted the museum he knew she now worked with when there had been spots left to fill in their group. Violet, with her pale, dewy complexion and ebony hair shining as it rested on her shoulders, not to mention her effortlessly elegant and tasteful way of dressing and carrying herself in a sea of her contemporaries wearing shirts cut so low and pants and skirts so tight that they left little to the imagination, had always stood out and seemed a bit of an old soul out of her time. Despite her keen intellect and quick wit, Henry had always been glad her degree focus leaned more toward historical art and architecture rather than his historical literature. While her complimentary knowledge would serve well in this venture to supplement his own, he had at the time feared becoming completely charmed by her if he’d had her in class on a regular basis.

Trying to shake all those thoughts from his frazzled and rather unfocused mind, Henry gave her a curious but friendly smile before speaking. “Miss Clemens, what can I do for you this evening?”

Violet flushed prettily, her cheeks pinking as her gaze fell to her toes for a moment before glancing back up to meet his. “I’m sorry, Professor Mills. I know it’s late. I was just wondering...I mean…” she finally blurted the rest out in a rush “...you went out to see it already, didn’t you? What was it like?”

Henry truly couldn’t hold back his wide grin at her question. Another person who held the same enthusiasm for the princess and the ruin of her family’s legacy, was not someone he came across often, and a part of him basked in having someone to share the thrill with - someone who just might understand. “You’re not a student anymore,” he offered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Professor. But, to answer your question, yes I’ve been out there and it was incredible. Even with the light failing, it took my breath away.”

Violet merely nodded, taking his words in with an awed smile on her lips. “Oh, I can’t wait to see it for myself,” she murmured. Then a twinkle of mischief flitted into her eyes as she added, “but if you no longer want me to call you Professor, then you’d better just call me Violet.”

“Deal,” Henry affirmed, reaching out a hand which she took to shake on their agreement. The moment their hands were clasped together, a tremor of awareness caught him off guard, running up his arm with a heat and intensity that surprised him. Though he’d heard of such reactions to another many times in the books he’d read and stories he loved, he had never experienced anything so arresting in real life.

“Well, then, Henry,” Violet added, taking her hand back, though he didn’t think he was imagining the sudden breathiness of her voice and the way she shook her head as if to refocus, causing her dark waves of hair to shimmer. “I guess I should leave you in peace for now. We want to get an early start tomorrow after all.”

“That we do,” Henry agreed, seeing her to the door and hoping he wasn’t smiling wide enough to make him look giddy. Once she was gone, he leaned back against the solid oak, shaking his head in disbelief.  It would seem this adventure was going to bring about more than one incredible discovery.

~~~~~~~~~~~***~

The next morning dawned all too early for Henry’s taste; his alarm waking him from such a solid sleep that for a full minute he was too bleary to remember where he was at all. Between the jet lag and staying up another two hours pouring over notes and manuscripts to be certain he was prepared for their first day cataloguing finds onsite, he wasn’t sure he would even be able to pry his eyes open without coffee. It was almost funny to think back now on the days when he used to laugh at his mom and stepdad for their need to have a hot chocolate and black coffee respectively before they could face their days. He understood all too well as an adult.

Once he got himself moving, saw himself down to the continental breakfast provided on the first floor, and was waiting at the van to make sure all his assistants and fellow scholars were on time for the ride out, Henry did begin to feel more awake and alive. It wasn’t long before their small group had gathered, all had been accounted for, and they were loading onto the van. Rolling out of the city proper and into the Italian countryside, Henry began to lay out his game plan for the day, and the rest of his lethargy was swept back by excitement and purpose. 

When they reached the ruins, gathered the tools, instructions, and research which would guide them, they all stood a bit awed, gazing up at the remnants of the tower walls before them, quite possibly full of clues to be discovered. His travel mug providing a further jolt of caffeine as he took a last sip, he then stepped forward to begin directing the tasks to various assistants.  Those with him moved out with care through the ancient, crumbling bricks and mortar, leftovers from an exiled life, off in the directions he had indicated. Undeniably, her felt more than a bit of pride wash over him at the gravity and industry his little group displayed in tackling their assignments. The members of his team were clearly well-chosen.

He wasn’t, however, too selfless to have left one particular team member for last, to work with him one-on-one. Henry firmly fought down the urge to fidget with the hem of his shirt or stutter nervously as Violet edged closer to his side once they stood relatively alone. Her eyes were shining as they drank in the sight before her, more than a bit stunned and affected if her hushed voice was any way to judge. “It’s… splendid…” she nearly whispered, clearly struggling for the right words.

Henry nodded wordlessly, then turned to explain what he hoped to get her help with, just as Violet looked up to him and they bumped into each other awkwardly, both stumbling away a step and chuckling. His hand darted out to catch her elbow, not wanting to knock her to the ground, and Violet wavered closer at the touch unconsciously.

“Oh, Profess - Henry… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

He waved her off gently, “No apology needed. I bumped into you just as much… Vi...olet…” His tongue tangled on her given name as if he were still thirteen and worried about it squeaking. “I mean, there’s no harm done. As long as you’re alright?”

The young curator flushed prettily and nodded with her reassurance of “Absolutely, I’m fine. What did you intend for the two of us to work on?” She was clearly anxious to shed her embarrassment - and to explore this place they both had fallen in love with before even reaching, but for a moment Henry was stymied. He couldn’t speak or think, so struck was he by the intelligence and enthusiasm shining in her eyes and the classical beauty of her face. He wondered helplessly how visitors to her workplace could appreciate any of the art hanging on its walls with Violet standing before them.

Her light touch on his forearm finally brought him back to the moment as she asked again, “Henry? Was there someplace in particular you wanted to start?” Even as those curious words escaped her, Violet’s chocolate-y brown eyes widened noticeably, this time unmistakably also feeling the same jolt of electricity that ran along Henry’s skin where her fingers touched.

Valiantly seeking to ignore the attraction fighting for his attention, Henry redirected his focus to the curious detail he had noticed the evening before, leading his partner toward what still stood of the column that had once been part of the support to a vaulted ceiling. It seemed obvious to him, again if the details of the legend he had heard were true, that this tower had once been an incredibly lovely haven - even if to its inhabitant it had proved a gilded cage. Which was why an oddity in the surface had caught his attention upon first look. There appeared to be a spot where the join between the two sides of the arch didn’t match up - a strange and careless anomaly in a building that otherwise had the look of careful and exquisite design in the other parts that remained.

Pointing up to the spot he had seen, Henry directed Violet’s eyes to the same strange seam that he had noticed. Hearing Violet’s surprised little intake of breath and the way she immediately stepped forward, tracing careful fingers along the obvious malformation in curiosity, told Henry he had indeed been onto something. Soon Violet nodded to herself, drawing closer yet, both hands now up to help in her exploration, and seemingly forgetting Henry, the bustling site, and everyone else around in her rapt focus. 

“Often times,” she murmured lowly without looking away from the movement of her fingers on the old stone, now gingerly but determinedly probing and prying, “in buildings of this age - especially ones which would have belonged to families of importance - an inconsistency like this might often indicate…” she paused for a moment, wedging her finger into the impossibly small opening she had managed to pry, the very tip of her tongue peeking from between her lips in concentration adorably (to Henry’s mind at least).

“Ah ha!” she exclaimed in a breath of triumph, the arch giving enough for what appeared a hidden panel to fall open and a still dully glistening bronze object to fall into her open palms. “As I was saying,” she continued proudly, “might indicate a hidden compartment for items of value.”

Beaming with excitement, Violet held her prize up for Henry’s inspection. In her hands lay an ornate, yet solidly constructed compass on a chain. The piece appeared to have some definite age on it, and yet its quality and beauty still shone through. It looked like an instrument which would have been used for ship navigation on sea voyages prior to the advent of modern navigational systems, and Henry’s thoughts could not keep from flying to the princess’ lieutenant of the stories and tales. Might this artifact serve as his first major proof of the legend that had captured his imagination?

His gaze lifted from the compass to meet Violet’s expectant one, ready to speak his hopes. But, even as he did so, the sound (or so he could only imagine) of a sword at someone’s hip as they moved and the creak of leather arrested Henry’s ear. He turned, startled, at such an incongruous noise for a research site, only to find that no one stood anywhere near he and Violet, as if the sound had come from nowhere beyond his own imagination.

Uncertain eyes flew to his companion, who looked back at him in concern, but Henry forced himself to swallow the strange impression he’d had, sure he would sound crazy if he brought up what he’d heard. Instead, they wrapped and catalogued their find properly for transport back with them, talking about what it could mean… and to whom they both had to wonder if it might once have belonged.  Even in the elation of success and discovery, the feeling of lingering over his shoulder did not leave Henry easily, staying with him for the rest of the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~***~

That evening after dinner, once more in his quarters for the night, Henry’s thoughts were still on the compass as he plunged back into his accounts and stories, all the information on the Princess and her legend, and though he had mostly committed to memory all that was before him, he still pored over the details in hopes of a mention of the compass they had found in order to confirm his suspicions.

As the team leader, items discovered and picked for transport or further research had been logged and stored with him. And though Henry attempted to reason the need away, tried to convince himself that there were no details he had missed, nothing else to see, and that he needed to go to bed, to not spend another night with too little sleep, and instead be rested and well-prepared for the next day’s work, he was still impelled to stand and go over to take out the compass once more; the need would not be denied.

Once the instrument was cradled in his hands, the weight of it steadying to a surprising degree, Henry sunk down on the side of his bed, scrutinizing the relic with focused curiosity. What was he still missing?  Several deep breaths, a few pounding heartbeats, went by as he pondered the instinct guiding him.

Then, with a disconcerting effect that shook him and sent a tremor down his spine, the air around him seemed to waver, undulating dizzily and clouding the borrowed room before his very eyes. Drawing in a shuddering breath, Henry blinked, in hopes of clearing his sight, only to find his perception unchanged as they opened again. The lightheadedness forced Henry to lie back on his pillow, a rather clouded grey beginning to close in on his awareness, vision tunneling to his fingers still clutching the compass tightly - until it was all he could see.

His eyes closed, as surely as if he had been suddenly put to sleep, and then he felt as though he were floating, moving through space even as he knew he was lying still. And then, though he couldn’t fathom how, he stood in the tower of his dreams - whole and shining new as it had not been for some hundreds of years - unseen and right next to a stunning, golden-haired woman who could only be Princess Emmaline…

“Killian, go! You must be away from here before they come with my evening meal,” her voice is quick and urgent as she tries to push him toward the window of her cell, through which he had climbed not even an hour before. “If they catch you, you’ll be arrested. You’re wanted for piracy.”

The dark haired young man, lean and strong, despite appearing more long haired and less neat than he had as a royal navy lieutenant stands firm, well-muscled enough from days spent steering a ship through wind and rain and all other obstacles besides, impossible for her to move unless he allows it. He has waited too long to see her again, and he is not anxious to relinquish the sight of her beautiful face now that it has been restored to him.

“Easy, lass, easy,” he soothes, looking for all the world as if soldiers and guards, arrest and punishment, holds little concern for him.  In truth, he would face those and more as well for her sake, but he has also changed much in the months since his flight from royal service. He is a captain now, not the uncertain, eager-to-please junior officer he had been. Now he gives the orders, his crew (those loyal few who’d followed him into exile) follow his lead and go where he sees fit. “I’ve plenty of time yet… and...I wish to spend every second that I can with you.”

Only here, when addressing his true feelings for his princess, his first and only love, does he show a moment’s hesitance and a lingering sign of the shy young man he once was. Truthfully, he does not know whether or not there is a price on his head, or if he is being sought after diligently; Emmaline’s parents themselves did not agree with the steps taken to hide their daughter away. Whether they truly view him as a dangerous criminal to be apprehended, or more of a rebel with the freedom to act where they could not, Killian Jones is not sure. The King and Queen are constrained by duty to all of their people, where he is loyal first and foremost to his Princess above all others.

Unfortunately, their time is drawing to a close. He can hear the muffled tread of booted feet hurrying up the winding staircase, and knows that soon those who stand guard over Emmaline’s safety, but also make sure she remains in her prison, will reach her room. Much as he loathes leaving her behind again, he knows she is right. He dares not remain and have to fight people who are on the same side, compatriots in service of Misthavia, even if they interpret their orders much differently than he.

Turning to her once more, taking Emmaline’s hands in his, and gazing into her wide, green eyes and her tense face full of worry for him, Killian voices the question he has asked every time he steals back to her side in this long year past. “Come with me. You don’t have to stay locked away here. We could sail the world and be free.” It kills for her to be trapped and alone, paler with each visit he manages, dark purple bruises from sleepness beneath her eyes. Though he knows what her answer will be before he finishes speaking, Killian still has to ask.

His brave, bright angel shakes her head, yellow-gold hair flying around her like a halo, even as a slow tear makes its slow trek down her cheek. “You know I can’t, Killian. My place, my destiny, is here. Though my people fear me now, they need me… My parents need me… I can’t desert them.”

Much as he regrets it, Killian knows her honor will allow her no less. Sadly, he bows his head over their joined hands to kiss the back of hers, murmuring, “As you wish, my Love,” against her skin. Before he turns to climb into the window frame and grab the rope he had used to climb once more, he presss an object into her grasp - the compass he had received upon his naval promotion to lieutenant. “Hold onto this for me at least, aye?  As promise of my return.”

His Emmaline nods tearfully, letting him go and stepping back, but pressing the compass to her breast. “You always return, Killian,” she replies. “I know that.” 

His blue eyes brighten the smallest bit at her faith in him, allowing them both to hold onto hope. “And I always will,” he vows. Then he grasps the rope, swings from the window, and is gone.

~ Part Two ~

Henry came back to himself the next morning to the sound of anxious pounding on the door of his room. Sitting up slowly, blinking and struggling to regain his bearings, he began to hurry toward the sounds only when he also heard Violet’s worried voice through the wooden barrier, calling out with concern for him.

“Henry? Henry, are you in there?” Several more sharp raps against the hard surface followed, just before he could reach the doorknob in his befuddled state. “We got worried when you weren’t downstairs to meet the bus, Profess - “ Her words cut off abruptly as Henry finally managed to turn the knob and swing the door open to face her.

While he hadn’t really considered the rumpled mess of a picture he must present, the way Violet’s mouth fell open in surprise, and how her hand reached out as if to either feel his forehead or offer him support somehow before quickly pulling back, said quite a lot. Her prettily rosy cheeks paled as she stuttered anxiously, “H-Henry...are you alright?”

Feeling more than a bit awkward and embarrassed standing before her in the previous day’s clothing and obviously late for the group’s scheduled departure time, Henry shuffled from foot to foot before clearing his throat and attempting to smooth his sleep-disheveled hair back into lying calmly on his head. Violet, as was her way, looked impeccably neat and professional in sturdy khakis and a pale lavender sleeveless shirt that he knew must have a matching cardigan or jacket somewhere in her suitcase. She didn’t look judgemental in the least though, only concerned for him, despite his growing embarrassment. 

“I’ll be fine, just a little off balance,” he offered uncertainly, already reaching behind him to begin shoving necessary items into the satchel he carried with him on their excursions. “Would you just, please, make my apologies to the others, and our driver? Ask them to give me five more minutes, and I’ll be right down.”

He was scrambling by then, to find his shoes, locate his keys, and get dressed almost all at once, so that he didn’t realize Violet had not left yet after agreeing to his request. She had instead taken a step forward into his room, one more question of if he was really alright on the tip of her tongue when he whipped off his old T-shirt, ready to pull on the clean one he’d found.

Her startled gasp arrested him in the midst of raising his arms to pull the new shirt over his head, turning wide-eyed to face her and already flushing red in his cheeks and well down his neck and chest. Slowly lowering his arms, and the material down to cover his bare torso as well, he couldn’t dismiss the hopeful idea that Violet seemed unable to stop staring at his chest, even once again clothed in one of his usual tops, and that she was swaying just the slightest bit toward him, as if drawn by a magnet.

The odd moment broke at last when Henry stepped forward, just as Violet did the same, and they nearly collided. Both jerked away again, Henry already apologizing and bringing a hand to his stinging chin, even as Violet rubbed her forehead where they had made sharp contact.

“It’s alright, Henry. Truly. It’s fine,” she assured softly, reaching out to clasp his wrist with gentle pressure and calm his rapid flow of words.

Her former professor’s deep brown eyes raised to search hers hopefully, clearly easing as she nodded in added confirmation. “Honestly,” she added with a small smile, patting his arm before releasing her hold. “I’m really just glad to see that you’re okay.”

Catching her hand before she could retract the soft, delicate fingers completely, he squeezed back with gentle gratitude. Shaking his head ruefully, Henry let out a low chuckle and confessed to her honestly. “Alright might be a bit of a stretch, really. In fact, you may think I’m downright insane when I tell you what’s happened, Vi. But, let me get ready before we make everyone else even later, and I’ll share on the way.”

She nodded, stepping back to go so he could change and be ready to leave for the site as soon as possible. Yet, before she slipped back out the door, with one last promise she added, “Whatever you say, Henry. But, just know this… whatever it is that’s going on...I doubt I’ll think you’re crazy. I believe in you.”

Henry’s breath stalled at her admission, and he turned toward her to thank her, to express a similar faith, but Violet had already fled the room. There was nothing else he could do but hurry to rejoin her; her words and his excitement at his vision too, driving him onward so as not to disappoint her galvanizing confidence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~

By the time their bus had reached the crumbling remains of Emmaline’s tower once more, Henry had told Violet all he’d seen and heard in his vision. To his utter astonishment, though wide-eyed and stunned, she had taken every word as truth and believed him. 

Once they were at the ruins, she still seemed a bit overcome - Henry couldn’t say that he blamed her, as he was more than a little disbelieving himself - but they piled out of the van as everyone else did, perhaps even more anxious to know what else they might learn or see after his midnight vision. Violet did, however, turn back to look at him once they were both on solid ground, a light touch to his upper arm to convey her concern as she whispered low enough that the others bustling around them couldn’t hear. “You’re sure, that you’re alright to be out here, aren’t you, Henry? I mean… you aren’t disoriented or lightheaded or anything like that?”

Even if he were, there was no way that Henry Mills was letting his last day in this scenic escape, this place of legend at which he had worked and scrimped and saved to arrive, be lost to a weird dream or a strange bout of vertigo, whatever it was that had come over him. He was careful of course not to seem impatient with Violet though; her care for him touched him greatly, warming and thrilling him inside much more than he would like to admit. Instead, he merely shook his head slightly, hoping to assuage her worries by appearing unfazed and moving forward with this last day’s exploration of their site. “Thanks, truly. I appreciate you checking,” he offered, “but I’m fine - no lingering side effects.”

As he spoke, they neared the last vestiges of the archway where they had discovered the compass the day before. Henry could tell that Violet ached to explore further, to make sure there was nothing else of note, to study the intricacies of design and execution that were more to her interests than his, but that she was equally reluctant to leave him after the strange stupor in which she had found him just a short time ago.

Good naturedly smirking at his own odd behavior, Henry urged her to see to what she wished. “Vi, really, go on and have another look. It’s not like this opportunity comes around every day. I promise, I’m not going to keel over.”

She shook her head at his lighthearted teasing, all ready with the stubborn reminder that he didn’t get the scare of wondering what had happened, worrying whether or not he was alright, but she bit her tongue in the end. Bickering wasn’t going to make him see his health as more important than their find, and it would probably only make him feel badly to know just how concerned she had been at the pale, unsteady sight he had presented when he first opened his door to her that morning. Plus, it would waste precious time, and so instead she moved off with a nod of begrudging consent and one more gentle press of his hand.

Henry, meanwhile, when he had made certain that Violet wasn’t holding back on his account, moved carefully toward the crumbling frame of the window in an outer wall still partially standing some feet away. It was slow going for the bits of stone and splintered, weathered furniture scattered in the way between, but he picked his way through the detritus without falling himself or destroying anything which might be of value. The niggling feeling that the window he stood before was the very one he had seen in his vision, the one from which the rogue lieutenant visiting his imprisoned lover swung to escape the princess’ guard, and he could hardly fight the need to touch it - see it - for himself, as if he could somehow derive the rest of the story, what had happened next, from the space he had seen in that reverie.

And though as much as he had promised his concerned protegé that all would be well, Henry still felt a bit off balance and unsettled, as if whatever presence or power in the air was still lingering from his encounter that morning. No sooner had he neared the wall, than he was reaching out to rest his hand on what would once have been the window sill, now loose and partially eroded by time.

Taking a moment to look more closely at the cracked stone and dusty grooves, Henry curled his fingers into a gap curiously, the piece of rock still in place shifting to the side and allowing his fingertips to slide deeper into the opening. For a moment, he felt nothing, just empty space and a disorienting sensation of brushing up against a wide open void, then his grasp caught against an edge of paper or leather, almost like the corner of a book. Straining to reach just a bit further, he managed to grasp the item and clutched tightly to draw it out.

Several more bits of debris and rubble fell away as Henry attempted to carefully extract his treasure. Once free of its hiding place, however, the mystery was revealed as indeed being some sort of leather bound journal or logbook. Brushing off the cover the best he could, despite the determined cling of years and years of cobwebs and mildew, Henry held his breath, hoping the pages wouldn’t crumble to dust, that they were still legible. It might contain the proof and the answers he had been seeking.

Ever so gingerly, Henry carefully opened the cover to find a flourishing if faded script scrawled across the opening page of the book in his hand. And even before he could locate the author’s purpose or name, he felt his surroundings begin to swirl and fade to grey once more, for the second time in one day, he was seeing the tower as it had been and the princess within it long ago…

“What have I done?!?” Emmaline’s tormented wail echoes in the thin air of the tower’s height, as her sword clatters to the floor from her suddenly nerveless fingers. The guard she felled is clearly not dead, as his chest rises and falls steadily even in unconsciousness. Still, though her father had trained her well in swordplay, until her technique and form was nearly as flawless as his own, she had never before actually struck someone with such determined intent. To stop them - and even end their life if necessary, rather than see her lover caught and killed.

Turning at that, her eyes still frantic at the blood that runs from the slice across his cheek beneath his eye, all too close to putting out the brilliant blue light forever. Her lip quivers, and Princess Emmaline struggles to bite back the ridiculous show of weakness and emotion, even while stumbling toward Killian at the same time.

He catches her in his arms, smoothing her wild hair back form her damp brow and whispering reassurances that she only did what she had to, that she isn’t cruel or evil, only a brave woman taking her stand in an impossible situation, and - if possible - he loves her even more, “bloody brilliant” she is in his adoring eyes.

However, the stolen moment is not meant to be theirs for long. Shouts from below remind them that the man they have felled to make their escape was not the only one, and unless they wish to be forced to do even more damage, they must go - immediately. Pausing a mere second longer, Emmaline snatches up a small brown book from a desk in the corner of the room. Pressing it to her mouth as if imprinting a kiss in its surface, she hurries to the window where her sailor stands waiting to spirit her away - from her family, her kingdom, her duty - but also to freedom and a life, something it has become clear she will never regain locked away in some gilded cage.

Working loose a part of the masonry, she slips her private diary into the aperture created, hoping against hope that it will be found. That her parents and her brother will be able to read it and know that she has discovered a way forward, even if it isn’t what they had always planned. She hopes she will see them again someday, but if not…

Looking up to meet her rogue lieutenant’s pained but knowing gaze, she is relieved to see she needs give no explanation. He understands, just as he always has. 

Then, with a final backward glance around her prison, she is swinging over the side with him, his steady presence next to her helping as they begin their descent on sturdy ropes, toward the ground below where horses wait to take them to his ship in the harbor....

Henry jolts back into his own place and time more immediately with this second vision. Already anxious to read the book still clasped in his hands, his heart thrums with excitement in his chest at knowing just what it is he holds. He gulps in air like a fish floundering on the docks, but it doesn’t slow his haste or enthusiasm. This is it; the evidence he had always believed he would find. Princess Emmaline existed, she was real; her story had happened just as it had been said. And now, at last, he could show the rest of the world the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~

Six months later ~

Hand in hand, Henry Mills and Violet Clemens stand in the sacred space once more - the site that drew both of them halfway around the world, but also to each other. Since their research venture to the Misthavian ruins, there has been widespread recognition that the tiny kingdom did exist and that its lost princess had been a real, living being of flesh and blood. Though it was asking a bit much for the reigning historical and scientific community to believe that she had been locked away due to a fear of her magic, as detailed in her diary, it had become accepted knowledge that Princess Emmaline had been held in the windswept and isolated tower they had explored, she had been denied her birthright and crown, and had - much like her homeland - vanished almost completely from history… if not for the tokens Professor Henry Mills and his team had discovered.

They are now both published and much-lauded experts in their field; both already had been experts, it was just a matter of the rest of the world realizing it. More important than glory and fame though, to both Henry and Violet, was that now they could return to this place, so close to both their hearts, and perhaps offer closure to two souls who had been awaiting it much longer than either of them.

As the couple stood at the small display which had since been constructed at the scenic overlook near the ruins, there was an absolute sense of accomplishment. It was just a small podium with a guest book for tourists and visitors to sign and a protective case allowing the compass and diary to be returned where they belonged, but still available for the curious, the lost, and the lonely to see, to read, and to learn from the Princess’ story and take heart again. It was just how Henry had wanted it and had fought against various museums and universities to have it be displayed - as he could only hope the long ago royal would have approved.

Looking lovingly to the woman at his side, Henry smiled unabashedly as the sparkle of her engagement ring caught his eye and he simply brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss the back of hers. He could still remember that first dim evening, when he had ventured within the tower’s remaining walls with cautious reverence. He had sensed that he was not alone, the presence that - while not threatening - had still sent a shiver skittering down his spine. Violet had long since talked with him of a similar awareness as they worked within the aged structure, and it was what brought them back now, to say one final farewell before embarking on a joined life together, to bid another lingering pair of lovers rest at long last - impossible as that quest might seem.

“Do you think we’ll know if they’re here?” Violet whispered to him, her eyes wide and half-hopeful, half-worried.

“I’m not sure what to expect,” he answered seriously. “It was just a feeling I couldn’t shake when we were here before. I don’t know whether to believe it will be more or less this time around.”

They waited, breath caught between nervously bitten lips in silence, before Henry stepped closer to the preserved ancient stone walls rising around them. “If you can hear me…” he started, tentative but determined, hopeful, and in a voice gaining strength as he continued with Violet’s reassurance at his back. “Princess? Lieutenant?...The world knows now, about Misthavia and about you.  That you were real, that you existed, and about your love for each other. No one believes Killian stole you away against your will anymore. And though most people of the modern age don’t believe in magic, they know now that you were wrongfully imprisoned, your Highness. They understand that though Misthavia ceased to exist as a separate nation, you never had your chance to rule to try and save her. And…” Henry paused here, swallowing a lump that took him by surprise as it formed suddenly in his throat… “and, though we can’t for sure know what became of either of you, it is known that Lieutenant Jones saved you, Princess Emmaline. That you loved him and he loved you. And I’m going to choose to believe in a happy ending for you both… that you sailed until you found a place where you could be together, come what may.”

“I do too,” Violet echoed into their still surroundings, offering him a gently affectionate smile as she gazed up into his intense and open brown eyes - the moment stretching powerfully between the two of them, cementing their faith in each other and their bond, whether or not anyone else bore witness.

Then, surprisingly, Violet’s eyes widened as she looked off to Henry’s side. “They - they’re here…” she breathed, almost too stunned to speak at all in the quiet evening around them.

Peering in the same direction Violet was, awestruck, Henry was slowly able to discern two clouded white shapes in the murky grey dusk, becoming ever more solid and opaque as Henry and Violet stood watching. Though far from corporeal, they were two human forms, one slighter with almost an outline of a medieval, bell-sleeved dress and what appeared a flower crown upon its head; the other taller and wearing what seemed to be a sword at its side, with broader shoulders.

Though the apparitions seemed to turn toward Henry and Violet, as if offering their gratitude, they came no closer, and merely hovered in place as the two historians held their breath for fear the moment might vanish. Soon enough as it was, the two cloudy shapes, once princess and pirate sailor, appeared to bow in farewell, then move toward the overlook, as though seeing the bright horizon and the waves far below that they had been separated from for so long. Just before the modern couple’s eyes, their ghosts began to fade into nothingness, gradually losing consistency, as if finally slipping the tether that had held them to the ruin. Vindicated at last, and free to move beyond, they set sail for peaceful shores. 

Tagging a few who might be interested: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@laschatzi @iamstartraveller776 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica

@stahlop @kday426 @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda

@belovedcreation @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @bdevereaux @shady-swan-jones

@goforlaunchcee @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @drowned-dreamer

@undercaffinatednightmare @myfearless-love @winterbaby89 @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns 2024--Chapter 5: Black Friday (pt. 3/3)

It’s that time again; the holidays!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 3 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 4002

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list):

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Black Friday—Chapter 3

Emma got the book for the first week, and it warmed her heart to see how unbelievably happy it made Henry.

She’d been afraid he’d be disappointed about the arrangement she made with Killian, disappointed that he’d have to share the storybook that he’d wanted so desperately, but she needn’t have worried.  Far from being upset at the arrangement, he’d been delighted, assuring her that he liked Alice Jones and her dad and he was glad if he had to share the book that it was with them.

If she hadn’t known better, she’d think he was happier things had worked out this way than he’d have been if she’d gotten the book outright.

In fact, he was so alright with the arrangement that he badgered her about setting a date for the exchange…and he insisted they have the Joneses over for dinner.

Emma stirred the pasta sauce, feeling like she needed to do something with her hands.  Killian and Alice would be here any minute, and Emma felt the nerves bubbling up as strong as the water she was boiling for spaghetti.

She hated herself for her reaction–for the fact that she was so nervous about something as simple as having a couple of people over for dinner.

Not to mention the fact she’d taken special care with her hair and make up, and she’d spent far longer than she’d like to admit selecting a sweater and a pair of jeans for the evening.  If anyone asked, she’d gone to the extra effort simply because she was feeling festive.  It had nothing to do with the fact that she was having a handsome single dad over.

But if Emma was being honest with herself she knew the truth.  Killian Jones had invaded her thoughts more, much more than she would have liked, and every time he did, her heart skipped a beat, her breath caught, her stomach swooped. 

 It was all so cliche that it made her want to groan.  She was not cliche.  She was not a love-struck teenager.  She’d done the whole falling in love thing, and it had bitten her in the ass in a major way.  She knew how this went.  She’d have a few months of breathless excitement with her new infatuation, and then it would all hit the fan, and before she knew it the pain would be nearly unbearable.  No thanks.  The highs were not worth the lows that would follow.

Nope.  It didn’t matter how hot Killian Jones was.  Didn’t matter how charming.  Didn’t matter how much his love for his daughter warmed her heart.  She would keep her wits about her and fortify the walls around her heart that had kept her safe all these years since Neal.

But when her door buzzed ten minutes later and she opened it to see a rakishly handsome Killian in a deep blue button up, short leather jacket and tight black jeans–smiling knowingly as he held out a bottle of wine to her–her heart lurched, and Emma acknowledged to herself the fact that she might be in real, serious trouble.

*****

Two hours later Emma was beginning to wonder if it was already too late for her.  Dinner had been surprisingly enjoyable.  The Swans and the Joneses alike had talked and laughed and generally enjoyed each other’s company.

After dinner, Henry had pulled Alice toward the living room to try out a new video game he was rather obsessed with. 

“Let me help with the dishes, Love” Killian offered, gathering up plates from the table and heading toward the sink.  “Least I can do after such an extraordinary meal.”

Emma felt her cheeks warm at the compliment.  Generally speaking, whatever talents she had did not extend to the kitchen, but pasta was one thing she could make and make well.  In the secret recesses of her heart–in the place she barely even acknowledged to herself–she’d wanted to impress him, and his praise warmed her like a blazing fire on a cold winter’s night.

Together they cleared the table and set to work washing and drying the dishes.  Working together like this, he was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body.  His scent of leather and a hint of rum invaded her senses and it made her want.

Not just on a carnal level.  That she could handle.  That was something she could take care of.  A quick scratch of an itch and he’d be out of her system, but no it wasn’t just the physical want.

She wanted all of it–the conversation, the companionship, the family.  She wanted this little domestic situation to be real, to be permanent.

As Emma closed the door behind the Joneses–after making arrangements for the next book exchange–and as Henry wandered off to bed  Emma felt the tears at the back of her eyes.

She didn’t want to want this.  Didn’t want to want him.  The pain when this inevitably went south was going to be terrible.

She had a week until the next book exchange.  She needed to use that time fortifying her defenses against Killian Jones before she reached the point of no return.

*******

“Just a little more to the left,” Alice said, taking a step back to look at the giant fir tree in their living room the following week.

Killian made the requested adjustment, and then got an enthusiastic “It’s perfect” from his enraptured little starfish.

Seeing the holidays through the eyes of his daughter was magical.  She was such a sensitive soul.  She found delight in the beauty around her–and she had the unique ability to see beauty everywhere she looked.

Every holiday was a time of exceeding joy for Alice, but this particular Christmas season seemed to hold a special place in her heart, and Killian suspected he had Emma and Henry Swan to thank for that.

They’d only had the one meeting for dinner a week ago, but just the memory of it warmed Killian and made him smile.  Emma Swan was such a contradiction.  She’d been so prickly, so standoffish at their first meeting at the bookstore, but he’d seen a different side of her at home with her son.  She’d been relaxed, happy, smiling and laughing and delighting him with her witty banter.

She intrigued him more than any woman had since Milah.  She’d been beautiful at their first meeting, but at dinner–dressed in a red v-necked sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places–she’d nearly taken his breath away.

He sensed it would be quite a challenge to win her heart–should he choose to pursue it–but he rather liked a challenge.

At the end of dinner last week they’d decided to meet today for the next exchange, and Alice had started in right away to plan the next Swan-Jones get together.

“We need to decorate the tree together,” She’d insisted on the way home from the Swans’ abode.  “Maybe even get a start on some Christmas cookies.”

Never one to deny his daughter anything if he could help it, he’d agreed to her plan.  Accordingly, they’d spent the ensuing week digging Christmas decorations from the attic, testing twinkle lights, and making multiple trips to the store for tree-trimming essentials.  

This morning was the last piece of the puzzle–the tree itself.  They’d made their way to Tiny’s Christmas Tree Lot and been fortunate to find and cut down one of the handsomest trees Killian had ever seen.

Now all that remained was to wait until Emma and Henry arrived.

*****

Reaching up on her tiptoes, Emma placed the final ornament–a ceramic candy cane–on what was surely the only bare branch of the entire Christmas tree, and then she stepped back to survey her work.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” She asked.

Killian looked over at her, taking in her cheeks flushed with exertion, her glossy blonde curls falling gently over her shoulders, her green eyes sparkling with happiness and felt his heart turn over.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, never taking his eyes from her. “Absolutely stunning.”

She looked over at him, hearing the adoration in his voice, and her breath caught as she noted the intensity in his eyes as he looked down at her.  Their eyes locked, and the color on her cheeks deepened.

He couldn’t look away.  Wouldn’t want to if he could.  She was so bloody gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her.  Slowly, inexorably he began to lean down, his eyes focusing on her lips.

For a split second she leaned toward him, and briefly, oh so briefly, he thought she’d allow him to sample those ruby-red lips, lips that he was sure would be far sweeter than the mulled cider he had waiting for them on the stove.

But then she seemed to come to her senses, shaking her head slightly and taking a step back.  She chuckled a bit nervously. “We did a good job on the tree, if I do say so myself.”

For a moment the disappointment flooded him, but ever the gentleman, Killian took his own step back, muttering an agreement with her statement.  He knew enough about her history with Neal Cassidy to understand her fear, her hesitancy, but he was a patient man.  He could take all the time she needed to convince her that he was in this for the long haul and that she could trust him to cherish her heart should she one day give it to him.

“Aye, that we did,” he replied genially.  “What say we adjourn to the kitchen to see what those two young scamps are up to?”

*********

Emma scooped up a fist-ful of snow as she hid behind a large oak tree.  Forming it into a ball, she stepped out and took aim.  

Bull’s eye!  Her projectile made contact right between Killian’s shoulder blades.  The man himself turned on her with a delighted grin that belied his growl of outrage.

“You’ll pay dearly for that Swan!” He promised in a low, menacing voice that made her shiver in anticipation.  

She imagined him using that tone of voice under different circumstances.  What would it be like to hear him growl at her like that without their children present?  In a far more private setting?  With a lot few clothes between them?

She blinked and shook her head.  What was she doing fantasizing about Killian Jones?  Bad enough they had to see each other every week without her way-too-fertile imagination helpfully supplying images that made her want to fan herself, even in the midst of a polar vortex.

The next snowball hit her directly in the forehead, and Henry bent over amidst gales of laughter, pleased with the hit he’d scored for the boys’ team.

Emma smiled at her son’s antics as Alice pulled her back behind their oak tree home base.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take care of Henry.  You go get my Papa again.”

Get him, drag him someplace private, kiss the daylights out of him…

Her inner voice really wouldn’t shut up today!

“Sounds good, kid,” Emma said.  “Let’s go show them what Team Girl is made of!”

Three weeks after Thanksgiving, with Christmas fast approaching, and with six inches of new snow falling overnight, the Swans and Jones had decided to take their book exchange outdoors.  Together they’d made a little snow family and then decided to commence a snowball battle for the ages–Killian and Henry versus Emma and Alice.

Emma had no idea who was getting the best of the battle–each side had managed to log several good hits, but what she did know was that she had no idea when she’d had nearly this much fun.

Gathering up another huge handful of snow, Emma stepped from behind the tree…and right into the path of a snowball, lobbed with unerring accuracy, by a man who was grinning ear to ear, clearly quite pleased with both his stealth and his prowess on the frozen field of battle.

Gods, that grin did things to her.  Terrible, terrible, delicious things.

“Oh you did not just ambush me!” She said, gripping her snowball more tightly.

“Aye, that I did,” his grin impossibly widened, “What are you going to do about it?”

The way he popped that final “t” made her stomach swoop.  Emma’s breathing quickened. “You’re about to find out!” Emma said, beginning to advance on him.

The force of Emma’s next snowball knocked Killian to the ground, and the momentum carried Emma forward as well–until she landed directly on top of him.

His breath left him in a whoosh at the contact, and Emma meant to roll off of him, she really did…

But then her eyes met his.  Green eyes connecting with a sea of blue.  It was as though she was frozen in place, drawn inexorably to him like a moth to a flame (gods, another cliche!).  He didn’t move, merely looked up at her with eyes filled with surprise and desire.

Almost against her own will, her gaze drifted down to settle on his lips.  It was too strong, too much.  She could no more stop what was about to happen than she could have stopped the snow from falling last night.

Lowering her head, she took his lips with a hunger she hadn’t felt in years…maybe ever. He groaned and then surged up to meet her, lips parting, hand tangling in her hair.  It was too much, and not enough.  Far from quenching the fire, this kiss seemed to only be fanning the need into flame.  Her hands gripped his collar pulling him even nearer.

“Did you get her, Killian?”

The sound of Henry’s voice was as effective as a bucket of ice water poured over her head, and Emma got to her feet so quickly her head swam (or was that from the mind-numbing, toe-curling kiss she’d just shared with Killian?).  Behind her, she heard the rustling sounds that told her Killian had done the same.

The children came into view just as their parents got to their feet.  Oh gods, how much of that did they see? Emma wondered as embarrassment covered her like a cloak.

“Aye, that I did,” Killian said in a voice that was far from steady, “but then she returned the favor with interest.  I suspect we’ll have to call this particular battle a draw.”

“That’s okay!” Alice said, bouncing on the soles of her feet in her excitement.  “It’s getting cold anyway.  How ‘bout we all go to Granny’s for some hot cocoa?”

She’d kissed him.  Oh gods she’d more than kissed him.  She’d full on made out with him right there in the snow with such wild abandon she’d lost all sense, all awareness of where they were and with whom.  If Henry hadn’t interrupted she legitimately had no idea what might have happened next.

Her embarrassment morphed into shame and disgust with herself.

And fear.  So much fear.  

Killian and Alice both were becoming so very important to her, she knew it would hurt like hell when they left her.

No, far better to nip this in the bud before she got in any deeper.

Emma took a step back.  “Sorry, kid,” she said Taking in both Alice and her father as she continued backing away.  “We’ve got to get going.”

“But mom!” Henry protested.

“Give Alice the book and let’s go!” Emma answered in a tone that brooked no argument.

Turning, she nearly sprinted back to her bug, hoping Henry would follow quickly behind.

What had she done?

She’d ruined everything, and now all she could hope was that she’d make it to the privacy of her own room before she broke down.

********

“What happened?” Alice asked on the other end of the phone later that night.

“Don’t know,” Henry answered miserably. “Everything was going so good, and then…I just don’t know!”

“Didn’t you say they were kissing when you found them?” Alice asked. “Why would your mom get so upset?”

Henry shrugged before remembering she couldn’t see him over the phone. “I don’t know.  Sometimes I don’t understand adults at all.”

“All I know is my dad has been sad ever since,” Alice said. “Somehow, you’ve got to make sure your mom comes over on Christmas Eve like we planned!”

******

“Mom, come on! We’ve got to go take the book to Alice!” Henry said.  “If we don’t hurry we’ll be late for Christmas Eve dinner with them!”

Emma groaned.  She forgot she’d agreed when Killian asked them over for tonight.  But that was before. Before a certain kiss for the ages, one she simply couldn’t stop thinking about while she was awake or dreaming about when she slept.

His lips were so warm, firm yet gentle. The wet smacking sounds their mouths made as they turned one way then the next trying to go deeper, get closer, meld into each other. The taste of coffee and mint on his tongue. The way her body burned at every point of contact.  The way she wanted more, so much more.  The way she wanted EVERYTHING.

And that right there was the crux of the problem.  She didn’t just want his body.  She didn’t just want a quick roll in the sheets.  She wanted a white picket fence life. She wanted their kids growing up together. She wanted him, and it hurt so much she didn’t know how she would deal with it.

“I’ll drop you off there, kid,” Emma said, “but I think I’m gonna have to pass.  I’m just…I’m just not up to it, okay?”

“Is it 'cause I saw you kiss Mr. Jones?” Henry asked with a frown, “'cause you’re afraid I’d be upset?  I’m not upset!  I promise!  I like Mr. Jones and Alice.  I’d be happy if you went on dates with him and stuff.”

Emma closed her eyes, feeling the pain well up again, and then she sat on the couch patting the seat next to her, waiting until Henry sat.  “It’s not because of you,” she assured. “It just….wouldn’t be a good idea.  These things just don’t seem to work out for me.”

He was silent for a minute and then he took her hand. “Mom, not every guy’s gonna be like my dad.  Not every guy’s gonna leave us.  I know Killian really likes you, and I know you can trust him.”

Emma wanted to believe that, wanted it more than any Christmas gift she’d ever gotten, but the fear was so strong, like a living clawing at her. “I don’t know if I can take that chance.”

“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded.  “It’s Christmas!  You can’t just drop me off! We need to spend Christmas together!  It’s what families do!”

And really what could she say to that?  How could she deny her kid his family at Christmas?

“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “We’ll go to the Jones’s, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up about anything happening between me and Killian.”

****

Killian more than half expected Emma to cancel their Christmas Eve plans.  He felt as disoriented after that kiss as he would if he’d gotten whiplash.

They’d been having such a nice day–talking, laughing, flirting, playing.  And then she’d kissed the life out of him, leaving him feeling somehow both weak and boneless…and on fire with need for more.

And then the kiss was over and she was running away from him as quickly as she could manage.  He wasn’t stupid; he understood her like the open book she was to him.  She was afraid. Her past had scarred her so badly he didn’t know what it would take to heal her again.

Not for the first time, Killian wanted to hunt down Neal Cassidy and pummel him within an inch of his life.

Of course he was frustrated on his own account–his and Alice’s, but even more so he ached at Emma’s wounds, the ones that had yet to heal, the ones that were holding her back from happiness and love in her life.

She deserved better, she deserved so much better, but Killian knew she was afraid to reach for it.

He’d wanted to call her so many times over the past week, but he was afraid she wasn’t yet ready to speak to him.

No, Killian certainly didn’t expect her to keep their Christmas Eve date.

And so when he opened his door later that night to reveal not just Henry but Emma as well, his heart lurched in the pleasantest possible manner.

“Swan! Welcome!” He stammered as Henry pushed past them and the two children went off to amuse themselves elsewhere. “I was a bit afraid you wouldn’t show up.”

She glanced aside, everything about her looking uncomfortable. “I almost didn’t.  Henry can be very persuasive, though.”

“Swan, can we talk about the elephant in the room?” He asked after a moment.  Was it better to dance around the subject or attack it directly? He didn’t know, but what he did know was that their kiss had sealed it in his mind.

He’d fallen deeply, passionately and irrevocably in love with Emma Swan.  What manner of man would he be if he let the love of his life out of his life without even a fight?

“Killian, it was only a kiss,” she said, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. “How is that an elephant in the room?”

“It’s what the kiss exposed,” he answered, looking at her earnestly, willing her to see his sincerity. “I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, my Milah, to believe I could find someone else. That is until I met you.”

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a deep breath as the impact of what he’d just said hit her.

“Killian…” she said warily.  She wanted to run; he could see it in her eyes.  He stopped her with a gentle hand to her arm.

“Emma, I don’t say this to make you uncomfortable or to trap you into something you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Then why do you say it?” She asked, the anger heavy in her voice.  He knew her well enough to see the fear and pain beneath the anger.

“Because you deserve to be loved,” he said simply. “You deserve a man who will cherish you with every beat of his heart.  If you don’t wish that man to be me, I’ll of course honor your wishes, but don’t close yourself off from love, Swan.  It’s worth it.”

“Is it, though?” She asked in a voice that ached. “I can’t fall for you and then lose you.  I can’t.  I can’t lose you too.”

His heart hurt at the pain in her voice, and almost unconsciously he rubbed at her shoulders. “I don’t know what the future will bring,” he said “no one does.  What I do know is that I’d never leave you.  I’d never willingly hurt you.  Search me out.  See if I’m lying to you.”

He forced himself to stay still, open and honest while she stared into his eyes.  After a moment she shook her head, something suspiciously like hope coming into her eyes for the first time all night. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“I’m not,” he said firmly.  “So what do you say, Emma?  Will you take a chance on me? Take a chance on us?”

For a moment more she merely stood there, looking at him, and then she stepped forward kissing him slowly, gently.

From behind them came the sound of cheering.  They broke apart, laughing at the sight of their two kids standing behind them jumping up and down and high-fiving each other.

“I told you it would work!” Alice said.

“You aren’t mad at us for being sneaky, are you?” Henry asked.

Emma laughed before reaching down and threading her fingers with Killian’s. “Nope.  I think we are all gonna be so happy together there won’t be any room left for anger, kid.”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns 2023--Day 3: Black Friday (1/3)

It is crazy to me that it’s already time for this, but the holidays have officially arrived!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 1 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1442

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other Chapters: 1 2 4 5

Black Friday—Chapter 1

One week before Thanksgiving

“Do you really think it’ll work?” she asked, leaning forward, eyes bright and delighted.

“It’s perfect!” he answered. “Trust me!  Our plan will work like a charm.  Just make sure you give him Miss French’s flier and make him see how much you want it.  I’ll do the same with her.  By Christmas, we’ll be celebrating our success.”

She grinned.  “Oh, I hope you’re right!  Can you imagine?  If we pull this off, everything will change forever!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning after Thanksgiving

The alarm clock roared to life as a way, way too enthusiastic version of Jingle Bell Rock blared from the speakers of her clock radio. Emma groaned, reaching blindly over to slam the button on the top of the alarm and make the noise stop.

3 am.  It was entirely too early for any sane person to be awake.  Even the early birds were still peacefully snoozing in their nests.  It was only the crazy humans, intent on getting the best deals on the best Christmas gifts who would submit themselves to this kind of torture.

She hoped the payout was worth it.

Her bed was so warm, so comfortable, that for a split second, Emma considered just forgetting about the whole thing and going back to sleep, but then she thought about Henry.

It had been a difficult year for him, for both of them really.  They’d had a great life in New York.  Her bail bonds gig had paid well enough that they could afford a wonderful apartment. Henry had lots of friends at school.  She’d had a guy she loved, a guy she really thought was the one.  He’d seemed great with Henry, and Henry had really liked him.  

Walsh had proposed a week before Halloween, and Emma had really considered saying yes.  Granted, she didn’t feel the epic, sweeping, melt-into-a-pile-of-goo passion you see in movies, but she did love Walsh, and he could be a wonderful addition to the little family circle she and Henry had put together.

At least that’s what she thought.

Emma had made up her mind to accept the proposal when it all went south.  Turns out Walsh wasn’t at all who he said he was.  He’d been playing a long con on her, doing his level best to steal her money and assets right from under her nose, and she felt like a fool for buying into it his b.s.  She was smarter than this!  She ran the honey trap on bail jumpers; she knew the playbook.  How did she fall for it?

She’d just so badly wanted that perfect, white-picket-fence life for herself, and especially for her ten-year-old son, that’s how.

After everything had so epically crashed and burned with Walsh, Emma had just wanted to get away.  She’d wanted--needed--a new start, and so when her brother David had mentioned the opening for a deputy in the tiny town of Storybrooke, Maine, where he lived with his wife Mary Margaret, Emma had jumped at the opportunity.

Within a week, she’d uprooted her whole life--and her son’s whole life--and moved to Storybrooke.  For the moment, she and Henry were crashing with David and Mary Margaret in their tiny loft apartment until Emma could find them their own place.

The move had been the most difficult on Henry.  All he’d ever known was back in New York--friends, school, entire lifestyle.  Small town Storybrooke was like a totally different world than the booming metropolis he was used to.  Her normally happy, vivacious kid had been quiet, almost withdrawn since they’d arrived in Storybrooke.

Emma knew kids were resilient, that Henry would bounce back, but she felt so damn guilty for causing him stress.

And so, naturally when Henry had come home a week ago, excitement bumped up to a level ten, talking a mile a minute and waving a flier in her face, Emma had taken notice.  Turns out the school librarian Belle French--who was also the owner and proprietor of “A Tale as Old as Time”, Storybrooke’s best (and only) bookstore--was holding a special Black Friday sale on a very special storybook, entitled Once Upon a Time.  She had one copy, and one copy only, and the rare book would normally sell for an exorbitant price--somewhere between an arm and a leg.  On Black Friday, however, she was offering the book for dirt cheap, but there was a catch.  The price was only good during the special, Black Friday early bird sale.  Doors opened at 4 am.   First person to touch the book had the opportunity to purchase it.

Henry had always loved stories, and he’d been particularly fascinated with fairy tales.  Naturally, a book chalk full of them would be right up Henry’s alley.  Faced with the prospect of getting Henry the perfect gift, the gift that would finally bring him some joy after the difficult last few weeks, it was a no brainer.

Waking up a few hours before the crack of dawn was a small price to pay for her kid’s happiness.

Emma pushed aside the covers and got up, throwing on the first pair of clean clothes she could find, twisting her hair into a messy bun, and then downing the strong coffee her sister-in-law had set to brew for her.  By the end of her second cup, she was feeling almost human, and she was ready to brave the hordes of Black Friday shoppers to attain her prize.

It was a quick, five minute walk to the center of town where “A Tale as Old as Time” was located, and Emma made it just as the cheerful brunette proprietor was unlocking the doors and letting her first customers in.  Emma knew just where her target was.  She’d scoped out the bookstore over the weekend, getting the lay of the land and mapping out her plan of attack.  She knew just where to go, and within sixty seconds of the store opening, she’d reached her target.  It was right there, in sight.

Emma reached for the book, her hand made contact--just as another hand did as well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones had lived a difficult life.  He’d seen more heartache and tragedy in his thirty-five years of existence than most people did in a lifetime.  Aye, it had been an incredibly difficult life, but it did have one bright, shining spot.

His daughter Alice.

His one-night-stand with Alice’s mom, Eloise, had been a mistake of epic proportions, but Killian would never regret it, because it gave him the greatest blessing of his life, his precious little starfish.

Nine months after their dalliance, Eloise had suddenly showed up on his doorstep, placed their newborn daughter in his arms, and then walked out of their lives forever.  For himself, Killian couldn’t have cared less.  He felt nothing but revulsion for the woman who’d gotten him blind drunk and then taken advantage of him that night nine months ago.  In the bright morning light, he’d been disgusted with her, with himself, and with the entire sordid affair.  He’d have been more than happy if he never saw her noisome face again.

No, he didn’t care if she walked away from him, but his heart had broken at the fact that his tiny, perfect daughter had been abandoned by her mother.  Killian knew from first hand the agony of being abandoned by a parent, and it tore him up inside that his beloved daughter had to deal with it as well.

Though having a child was the farthest thing from his mind at the time, there’d never been any doubt what he would do.  Alice was his daughter, his precious child, and he would do right by her no matter what.

Ten years later, he thanked his lucky stars every single day that he’d made the choice to raise her.  Alice was the most important person in the world to him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

So naturally, when she came home from school all excited about the book Miss French was selling, Killian knew exactly how he would be spending his very early Black Friday morning.

He’d arrived at “Tale as Old as Time” just as Miss French opened the doors.  He rushed to the back of the store, his prize in sight.

He grabbed the book just as a gorgeous blonde made contact.  

“Um excuse me,” she said with a frown.  “This book is mine.”

It appeared this shopping expedition was going to be more difficult--although possibly more intriguing--the blonde truly was breathtaking--than he’d expected.

Killian grinned.  He’d never backed down from a challenge, and he didn’t intend to begin now.

Next Chapter-->

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns 2024--Chapter 4: Black Friday (pt 2/3)

It’s that time again; the holidays!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 2 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1713

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other chapters: 1 2 3 5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 Black Friday—Chapter 2

“Um excuse me,” Emma said with a frown, “this book is mine.”

The person standing before her didn’t relinquish the book in question, and Emma glanced up at him…and then promptly wished she hadn’t.  This guy was hot.  Like middle-of-summer in Phoenix hot.  Like compared-to-him-the-sun-was-kind-of-warm hot.  No one had a right to look that damn good this early in the morning.  She should just arrest him and haul him off to jail for that alone.

Very much against her will, her heart swooped and her breath caught at his very proximity.  She saw the exact moment he noticed her reaction.  A sly, maddening, delighted (sexy) grin came over his face.  Emma frowned thunderously up at him, as angry with herself at her reaction as she was at him for his…well, his very existence.

“Much as I hate to contradict a lady,” he drawled (Oh gods, even his voice and accent were hot.  She was in serious, serious trouble), “I believe this book, in fact belongs to me.  I was here first.”

Her frown deepened.  “I don’t think so.  Give me my item before I punch you in the face.”

He chuckled, leaning forward and crowding her space. (Her stupid, traiterous heart picked up yet again.)  “Oh Darling, I can think of some far, far more pleasant ways we can spar than a bout of fisticuffs.”

Was it suddenly hot in here?  

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she said with a sigh, her voice beginning to raise.  “Just stop being a jackass and give me the book.”

Suddenly a small man with a brown beard, a grumpy look on his face, and a hat that read “security” stepped forward.  “There a problem here folks?”

“None I can’t handle,” Emma gritted out.  “Soon as this guy admits I got here first and gives me my merchandise I’ll get out of your hair.”

“On the contrary,” the man said.  “I was the first one to claim this particular prize.”

The security guard, who wore the name tag “Leroy”, glanced back and forth between the two of them for a moment, and then shrugged.  “Look, I won’t have any fighting in this store.  Work it out among yourselves, or I’m kicking you both out.  Then neither one of you gets the stupid book.”

For a moment Emma merely glared at the man, and he looked back at her, a look of steely determination on his face.  Finally he sighed.

“Look, love, the security guard’s right,” he said. “While quite enjoyable, our standoff will get us nowhere.”

Was the (hot as hell) guy going to actually be reasonable and give in?

“So here’s what I propose,” he said.  “We purchase the book and then adjourn elsewhere to discuss the particulars of whose prize it will be.  Perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you a cup of coffee at Granny’s?”

She crossed her arms across her chest.  “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

He chuckled, and the sound did things to her, things that brought the color to her cheeks and stole her breath clean from her lungs.  He leaned even closer, so close she could feel his minty-fresh breath against her cheek.  “Sadly no.  I was merely proposing a parlay of sorts, a chance for us to settle our differences like adults.  However, if you’re hoping for a romantic evening out on another occasion, I could certainly accommodate you.”

“In your dreams!”

He wiggled his eyebrows.  Actually wiggled them!  “Perhaps.”

Emma growled.  “Are you kidding me right now?  It’s too early for this!”

He seemed to sense he’d pushed her as far as was prudent, and he sighed.  “I vow to be the perfect gentleman.  IIf we at least secure the item, we can then decide later who is the victor.”

She gave him a quick look and could see the sincerity in his eyes.  She was good at spotting when someone was lying, after all.  Finally she sighed.  “Fine.  But we both buy it–split the cost fifty-fifty.  That way neither one of us can claim ownership of the book before we get everything ironed out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Here you are folks,” the perky brunette waitress said half an hour later.  “One black coffee and one hot cocoa with cinnamon.

Killian heard the waitress lean whisper “Emma, he’s hot” to the woman on the other side of the booth.

She growled and whispered “Ruby, shut it!” back.

He chuckled.  This was turning into one of the most delightful mornings he’d had in ages.  When the waitress had flitted over to another set of customers, Killian leaned back and grinned at his companion.  “She’s right, you know,” he said.  ‘I have been called devilishly handsome.”

“I’ll give you the devilish part,” she said with a wry quirk of her brow.  “Look…what did you say your name was?”

“Did I fail to introduce myself?  How very rude of me.  Killian Jones, at your service,” he said with a bow.  Her cheeks colored alluringly at his formality, and Killian was delighted at her reaction to him.

She was utterly captivating, and the truth was, he hadn’t been so quickly, completely and charmingly smitten with anyone since Milah.  Though he very much wanted to attain the fairy tale book for his Alice, he couldn’t say he regretted the complications this morning had brought.

He didn’t know what possessed him to ask this woman to coffee.  All he knew as they stood facing off in the bookstore was that he did not want their time together to be at an end anytime soon.

“Emma Swan,” she muttered.

A fit of pure devilishness came over him, and he reached over, took her hand and brought it to her lips.  “Enchanted.” he whispered.

Her quick, indrawn breath made his grin widen, and she quickly pulled her hand back and busied herself with taking a sip of her beverage.

“So, Killian Jones,” she said, her voice not quite steady, “what are we going to do about this book?  I don’t mean to be a jerk about it, but I really need this book.  My son…well, this is the only thing he’s asked for, and it’s been a rough year for him.  I just…I just want to be able to give him this one thing so maybe I don’t feel like such a failure as a parent.”

His heart turned over.  He could tell she’d said more than she’d intended.  Emma Swan didn’t strike him as someone who let her walls down quickly or shared her feelings of inadequacy with strangers.

“As a single parent myself, I can relate to the feelings, love,” he said, “but I’ve no doubt book or no book, you’re hardly a failure as a parent.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, glancing uncomfortably aside.  “I feel like it.”

Killian was silent for a long moment, taking a sip of his coffee.  If it weren’t for Alice, he’d give up his claim on the book in a moment, but it was for Alice.  Was there any way they could both get what they wanted?

“I don’t wish to be intransigent either,” he said finally, “and my behavior today is not a matter of mere stubbornness.  My daughter also has her heart set on this particular book.”

Her eyes softened at his statement, acknowledging their dueling claims as parents wanting the best for their respective children.  “Yeah, I get it, so that brings me back to my original question.  How do we decide who gets the book?”

Suddenly an idea struck him.  It was unorthodox to say the least, unorthodox to the point of being downright bizarre, but it did have it’s merits–namely the fact that, should she agree to it, they’d be forced to see each other again on a fairly regular basis.

“I do have an idea,” he said slowly, “but it may sound positively daft.”

She gave him an assessing look, taking another dainty sip of her cocoa.  “Okay, I’m listening.”

“What if we share the book?” he blurted out.

“Share it?  What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “what if we trade off?  Your lad gets the book one week, and then my Alice gets it the next, and so on.”

Her brow furrowed.  “You mean like…joint custody…of a book.”

He shrugged with a grin.  “I told you it would sound daft.”

Killian was encouraged by the fact that Emma didn’t outright shoot down his (odd) idea.  She seemed to consider it, staring into space for several moments, before briefly nodding.  “It is a weird solution, but I think it might be the best way we can both get what we want.  Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have a deal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“It worked!” Henry said excitedly he following Monday morning as he got off the school bus and sprinted over to Alice.  “My mom told me all about it.  Your dad and my mom decided to share the storybook!”

“I know!” Alice said, smile wide and delighted.  “My papa explained the situation to me.  I could tell he felt bad that he didn’t get the book, and I wanted to make him feel better, but then I thought maybe it would be better to act kinda disappointed.”

“Good thinking,” Henry said with a nod as they reached their classroom and headed for their desks.  “If they feel guilty, then they’ll make sure to always make the drop off, and then they’ll have to meet every week.  We’ll be brother and sister by Easter!”

“I hope you’re right,” Alice said with a sigh.  “I know my papa gets lonely sometimes, and it would be nice if he had someone besides me in his life.”

“Exactly,” Henry agreed. “And my mom needs to know that not every guy’s like my dad.  Not every guy’s gonna leave her.

Henry busied himself setting his backpack on the floor and getting out his books and then he looked back at Alice with a troubled look.  "You don’t think they’ll be mad at us, do you?  You know, for being sneaky and everything.”

Alice shook her head vehemently.  “They’ll be too happy together for that.  Sometimes adults are just too busy to see what’s right in front of them.  That’s when their kids have to step in and parent trap them.”

Next Chapter–>

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 20: The Twelve Sweaters of Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1986

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note:  This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

Note #2: *facepalm* Somehow when I originally posted this yesterday, I accidentally repeated the text of "The Gingerbread Castle", which was the rerun for day 19. As a result, I have decided to reblog this one, so you get the ACTUAL "Twelve Sweaters of Christmas"

CS Genre: AU

Killian Jones neatly folded what felt like the one-hundredth sweater today, and stacked it on top of the pile.  He prided himself on running a clean, neat, ship-shape establishment, and he hated when his clothing went askew.

Of course, given the fact that it was twelve days before Christmas, keeping things neat and tidy was a constant battle.

Killian never would have believed he’d find himself here.  He’d had a promising career in front of him.  He’d joined the Navy fresh out of high school, determined to follow in his older brother Liam’s footsteps.  Liam had been his hero, he’d been brother and father and best friend to him after their mother died and their father abandoned them.  

If only he hadn’t had to be a hero to everyone else.  When Killian was seventeen, Liam had perished at sea after a terrible storm.  He’d sacrificed his own life, saving seven of his crewmates before finally succumbing to the ocean’s fury.

After several months of aching grief, Killian had decided to live a life to make his brother proud.  He’d decided to go into the Navy himself.  He’d been a natural, taking to the water like a merman, never more content, never feeling closer to Liam than when he was out on the water.  Things were looking up.

Unfortunately, tragedies rarely come on their own.  When it rains it pours, and all that.  Two years into his naval career, Killian got into a catastrophic automobile accident.  Not only had he lost his love, his Milah, he’d also lost his hand.

And so he’d found himself alone, his promising career down the drain and with no idea what he was to do with his life.

Killian took a deep breath as he picked up yet another sweater to fold.  Such dark thoughts had no place on this beautiful, snowy day, less than a fortnight before Christmas.  Suffice it to say, after spiralling for a time, Killian had picked himself up and started on a new venture:

Revenge

He’d come across the clothing store quite by accident.  He’d been passing through the small, sea-side village of Storybrooke, Maine one day, and just happened to step into the store.  It was intriguing; had something of an edgy, pirate theme to it.  It was run by an eccentric man named Edward Teach, who went by the moniker “Blackbeard”, no doubt due to the bushy mass of facial hair he sported.

Something about the store spoke to him, excited him in a way nothing had in months.  Perhaps he could run an establishment such as this, combine a theme he was passionate about with goods people needed, and voila!  The perfect business venture.

He hadn’t been in the store ten minutes before he’d made a promise to himself: Revenge is going to be mine.

It almost felt like fate the way everything worked out after that.  As it happened, “Blackbeard” was looking to retire.  Within a month, Killian had used the last of his inheritance from Liam to purchase Revenge and make it his own.

Nearly ten years later it was still going strong.  He’d even managed to expand, turn it from something thoroughly niche into something more mainstream--while still maintaining it’s edge and it’s roots.

Revenge was Killian’s baby, and he was incredibly proud of it, and never more so than at Christmas.  He prided himself on having everything the discerning Storybrooke customer could want for their holiday clothing needs.

The bell over the door sounded, and Killian looked up to see an angel with soft waves of sun-gold hair, tight jeans and a red leather jacket walking purposely toward him.

More like stomping toward him.  The way her green eyes glittered dangerously as she approached proved that she was quite the angry angel.

She was utterly magnificent.

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly.  “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma Swan should have known better than to make a bet against Ruby, particularly about something outrageous, and if there was anything Ruby’s clothing choice today was, it was outrageous.

Emma liked Christmas--within reason.  Who didn’t like time off and peace on earth and all the holiday goodies you could eat?

But there was nothing reasonable about the sweater Ruby had chosen to wear for her shift at the diner this morning.

Emma groaned as her roommate sashayed out of her bedroom into the shared living room of their apartment..

“Ruby, it’s too early for this,” she groused.  “You look like Christmas threw all over you.”

Ruby poured herself a mug of coffee, and then sat opposite Emma on the couch.  “Hey don’t knock it.  Everybody loves a good ugly Christmas sweater.”

“More like loves to hate it,” Emma muttered.

A sudden gleam came into Ruby’s eye.  That really should have been Emma’s first clue to turn and run.  Nothing good ever came of Ruby looking at her like that.

“Wanna make a friendly wager on that?” Ruby asked.

“A wager on how many people will hate your clothing choices?”

Ruby rolled her eyes.  “The opposite.  I bet you I get more compliments today wearing this sweater than I’d get on any other day.”

“How would we even quantify that?” Emma asked.  “You usually keep count of the compliments you get?”

“Fine,” Ruby conceded.  “How about this: Come into Granny’s on your lunch break and sit in my section.  I bet you I get a genuine compliment on my sweater during your meal--totally unprompted too.”

Emma considered it.  “What are the stakes?”

Ruby thought for a minute and then smiled.  It was not a reassuring sight.  “You win, and I clean the apartment for a month.  But if I win….if I win, you have to wear an ‘ugly’ Christmas sweater every day until Christmas.”

Emma didn’t even take a moment to consider it.  Getting out of cleaning for an entire month?  So worth this bet, and it wasn’t like she was going to lose anyway.

“You’re on.”

Later that day when Emma and her partner, Sheriff Graham Humbert, stopped by the diner for lunch, they hadn’t been seated for five minutes before Emma realized she’d made a profound mistake.

“Hey guys!” Ruby smiled at them as she reached their table and pulled out her pencil and pad of paper.  “How’s your day going?  It’s been crazy around here this morning!”

“Pretty quiet at the sheriff’s station,” Graham said, smiling as he looked her over.  “That’s quite a sweater you’re wearing today, Ruby.  Very festive; I like it!”

Emma groaned as Ruby shot her a triumphant look.  Rookie mistake.  She should have known better than to bring Graham with her to lunch.  It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Graham had been more than half in love with Ruby for years.  She should have brought someone like Leroy to lunch.  She doubted that man had ever complimented anyone in his life.

But Emma was a woman of her word.  She’d lost the bet fair and square, and pay up she would.

Which is why she currently found herself talking to the owner and proprietor of Revenge.  

“Lost a bet,” she said curtly.  “Point me in the direction of your ugliest Christmas sweaters.”

The man behind the desk--Killian, his name tag said--grinned at her.  “Love, I’d wager the term ugly could never be applied to you no matter what you wear or don’t wear.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  The guy was hot, she’d give him that--with his artfully messy black hair, piercing blue eyes and reddish scruff.  And all the leather.  It really should be illegal for a man to wear that much leather and to wear it so well.  Still, Emma was in no mood for being hit on--handsome man or no.

“You’re hilarious,” she said dead pan.  “Now about those sweaters…”

He grinned again and then winked.  Actually winked.  “Hilarious?” he asked, stepping around the corner and gesturing for her to follow him.  “I prefer dashing rapscallion, scoundrel.”

Her stomach did not swoop at the way he almost growled that last word.  It didn’t!  

The fact that she was totally lying to herself annoyed her more than every aspect of this ridiculous bet.  “How about you be ‘shop owner who does his job and points the customer in the right direction’?  Think you could manage that?”

The rest of Emma’s shopping experience went without a hitch.  She grabbed the plainest Christmas sweater she could find--a simple powder blue v-neck covered tastefully with snowflakes. 

Maybe Ruby would take pity on her and call her bet paid off if she wore this thing.

Probably not, but one never knew.  It was the season of miracles, after all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Killian opened the store as usual, taking a moment to be sure everything was ship-shape before unlocking the doors and turning the sign in the window to read “open”.  He glanced over at his “ugly Christmas sweater” display and smiled wistfully to himself.

He’d spent a fair amount of the evening thinking about her, Emma Swan, her credit card had proclaimed.  She was beautiful, aye, but there was more to it than that.  Though their interaction had scarcely lasted a quarter of an hour, though their conversation had been relegated to Christmas sweaters and the bet that had forced her to purchase one, he had the strangest sense that they were the same deep down, that they were kindred souls.

He was utterly captivated by her.

Killian sighed as he turned on the cash register and checked his supply of cash in preparation for what would likely be another busy day.    It was the first time he’d had any meaningful glimmer of interest in a woman since Milah’s death, and he was surprised at how nervous it had made him to interact with her.  For probably the thousandth time since yesterday afternoon he mentally kicked himself for not getting her number. 

A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.  Liam had told him that five hundred times if he’d told him once.  

Well, there was no sense dwelling on it now.  Emma Swan had walked out of his life when she walked out of his store, and there was no changing that.

Or so he thought.

Not a quarter of an hour after opening his doors, who should arrive, charging forth in all her wrathful glory than the lovely Miss Swan herself?

Killian grinned at her teasingly.  “Back again, love?  Couldn’t resist my dashing self, is it?”

She rolled her eyes.  “You wish.”

He did.  He really, really did.

“Well, Swan, what can I help you with this lovely morning?” he asked.

She looked surprised.  “You remember my name?”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear.  “I never forget a face, and yours, love, is exceptionally beautiful.”

“Not your love,” she said, but Killian took note of the way her cheeks reddened at the simple endearment.  “Anyway, I’m not here to flirt.  I’m here for another sweater.”

“Another Christmas sweater?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh.  “Apparently that blue one with the snowflakes I bought yesterday won’t fulfill my bet.  Ruby told me it barely even fit the category.  Got anything uglier for me?”

“You, darling are in luck,” Killian said.  “Revenge just so happens to stock some of the ugliest ugly Christmas sweaters in the state.”

Today, after a fair bit more banter and pleasant small talk, she’d decided on a red, woolen zip-up cardigan.  Featured prominently on the sweater were several applique snowmen playing musical instruments.  It was...it was quite something.

“This is actually kind of perfect,” Emma said, trying it on and looking herself up and down in the floor length mirrored column next to the sweater display.  “Definitely fits the category, plus it’s a cardigan.  I can take it off after I’ve shown Ruby I actually wore it.  I’ll just say I’m too hot or something.”

He grinned teasingly at her and wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.  “You certainly are, love.”

She laughed at that before removing the sweater and setting it on the counter to be rung up.  “Do those exaggerated lines actually work on anyone?”

“You’d be surprised,” he answered.  “At any rate, they seem to have served their purpose today.  You seem to be leaving my establishment in better spirits than you entered it.”

She smiled.  “I guess I am.  Thanks, Killian.”

He inclined his head.  “A lady in distress needs my assistance, and her wish is my command.”

She laughed again.  “Alright, well I have to get to work.”

He rang her up and wished her a good day.  Just before she stepped out the door, he called out to her again.  She turned toward him.

“Any chance I might see you again?” he asked, feeling like a tongue-tied young lad with the lass he fancied.

“With Ruby being the way she is,” Emma said, “probably a really good chance I’ll be back.”

And so she had.  She returned the next day, settling on a sweater bearing the visage of The Grinch, the day after, choosing one that depicted all twelve gifts from the famous song, the one after that in her own, colorful words, looked like Christmas exploded in woolen form.

Each day their conversations lasted longer, and each day he fell a little bit more for the lovely Miss Swan.  He came to look forward to her visits every day with eager anticipation, mentally thanking whatever brilliant soul invented the “ugly  Christmas sweater”.

On the fifth day, Killian managed to unearth a gem of such glittering ugliness and ostentation, he felt the need to pat himself on the back.

“Yep, that’s certainly a disaster,” Emma said grinning at the garment covered in a large Christmas tree, filled with ornaments and a banner along the bottom that read MERRY CHRISTMAS! In huge letters.

“Oh, but love, you haven’t even seen the best part,” Killian announced.  “This particular sweater comes with a battery pack.”

She shot him a disbelieving look.  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what exactly does the battery pack do.”

Instead of answering, he turned the device on.  LED lights flashed in every tiny ornament on the sweater, and the MERRY CHRISTMAS! nearly had a strobe light effect.

Emma groaned before dissolving into laughter.  “This is it.  This is the ugly Christmas sweater of all ugly Christmas sweaters.  If this doesn’t satisfy Ruby, I admit defeat.”

Killian watched her go that day with more than a little melancholy.  What if that was the sweater that would do the trick?  What if she didn’t return again?

He needn’t have worried.  Emma Swan showed up at his door bright and early the next morning.

His heart leapt at the sight of her.  He’d fallen hard and fast for this woman, and he saw no likelihood that would change any time soon.

“What? Even the monstrosity with the flickering lights didn’t satisfy the demanding Miss Lucas?” Killian asked by way of greeting.

Emma laughed.  “Oh it did,” Emma assured.  “I think I actually managed to render her speechless with that one.  It’s just...well my bet was for a different sweater every day until Christmas, and I’m a woman of my word.”

And for that he was profoundly grateful.

So it continued.  Each day she came in, each day she bought a sweater, and each day he fell a little bit more in love with her.

When Christmas Eve arrived, Killian noticed a change in Emma’s demeanor almost instantly.  She looked...uncomfortable.

“Is something the matter Love?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“No,” she said, drawing out the syllable, “It’s just..well...I’m here to ask you out.”

Killian choked on the sip of coffee he’d just injudiciously taken.  “Pardon?”

“Okay, first I have a little confession to make,” Emma said.  “Remember that ridiculous sweater with the battery pack around day five or six?”

“Aye,” he said carefully.

“Well, after I wore that, Ruby actually released me from my bet,” she said, looking bashful.  “She told me I’d fulfilled the spirit of it or something like that.”

Killian felt the smile creeping over his face.  “And yet you continued coming in and making your purchases every day.  Whatever for, darling?”

She tried to look stern.  “Look, don’t make a bigger deal of it than it is, but, I don’t know.  I kind of enjoyed our daily shopping sessions and conversations and all of that.”

His smile grew.  “You enjoy my company!”

“Don’t let it go to that over-inflated ego of yours.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, making a cross-my-heart motion over his chest.  “And for the record, I have greatly enjoyed our little...retail dalliances...quite a bit as well.  Now what was that about asking me out?”

She suddenly looked bashful again. “So the sheriff’s department is throwing this Christmas bash and ugly sweater contest tonight, and I was hoping maybe you’d...I mean, I know it’s Christmas Eve, and people want to spend it with family, and I totally get it if you’re not interested or it’s not your thing or whatever, and don’t feel obligated, but I just thought--”

Killian leaned across the counter and kissed her.  “Swan, I would like nothing better than to accompany you to your party.  Just tell me when and where.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ruby watched Emma walk into the diner hand in hand with Killian Jones later that evening.  She smiled broadly, reaching over to slap Graham’s arm as he sat beside her.

“Ow!” Graham groused.  “What was that for?”

“Look!” Ruby said.  “It worked!  I told you it would work!”

Graham obediently followed her directions and then grinned.  “I can’t believe you talked me into helping you rig that bet just to play matchmaker!”

“I told you!” she said again.  “Didn’t I tell you?  I knew Killian would be perfect for Emma.  She just needed a little push.”

“That she did,” Graham said with a laugh.  “Remind me to never doubt you again.”

They watched for a moment as Emma looped her arms around Killian’s neck and the two began swaying gently to the music that was playing.

Who would have known that an ugly Christmas sweater would lead to what was sure to become a romance for the ages?

NEXT CHAPTER->

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 32: New Year New Town

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1868

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

                                                                                                             A/N: Taking place sometime not long before grown up Henry calls for Hook, Regina and Emma to come to his aid in the alternate Enchanted Forest in 7x2, the residents of Storybrooke are living out their Happy Beginnings. With New Years approaching, Regina and Snow decide it’s time for a new town wide initiative. Emma and Killian use the occasion to make a special announcement of their own. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Good morning, Beautiful.  How was your night?”  Killian crooned softly as he leaned down to kiss Emma’s cheek, his hand softly caressing her shoulder.

Emma smiled as she slowly opened her eyes and turned over to meet her husband’s adoring gaze.  She’d introduced him to the song a few months ago, and ever since then, he’d woken her up to it nearly every morning.

They’d been married for five years now, and yet Killian could still make her stomach swoop like a teenager with her first crush.  It should be illegal for someone to be so romantic.

Emma sat up, ran a hand through her riotous curls, and then pulled Killian down for a long, slow kiss.  Life was good.  Life was really good.

Killian pulled away with a reluctant groan.  “I’ll never complain about a good morning greeting like that, my love, but if we continue on in this manner, we’ll never make the city council meeting on time.”

Emma groaned.  “You sure we can’t just skip it?  It’s New Year’s Eve; I’d much rather just stay here in bed with you.”

“Likewise darling,” Killian said with one more smacking kiss to her lips before he threw back the covers and got to his feet, “but you know neither Regina nor your mother would ever let us get away with that given their New Year, New Town initiative.”

Emma groaned again.  “Oh yeah, that.  Can’t wait”

About a month ago, just after Thanksgiving, Regina and Snow had called a special town council meeting.

“We’ve been Big Bad free for five years now,” Regain began without preamble, staring down each of the members of the council, “and you’d think that would mean our town would be nearly perfect, by now, but that is not the case.  I’ve still had to deal with the same petty squabbles as I’ve always had to, and I think it’s high time we do something about it.”

“Just what kind of squabbles we talking about ‘your majesty’?” Leroy asked, scowling fiercely

“Well, for one thing, I think we would all appreciate it if you’d lay off the threats of a lawsuit everytime someone eats the last of Granny’s bacon before you get there.”

“I have always tried to get as much bacon as I possibly could, and my brothers all know it”, Leroy argued.  “They double cross me at the diner counter, they know what to expect.”

Regina rolled her eyes and looked on the point of retorting back, which Snow quickly stepped in.

“The point is not to point fingers at any one person,” she said.  “The point is that I think we all have things about ourselves that we could change in order to become the best versions of ourselves.”

“So, Lady Snow, what particularly are you and the queen proposing?” Killian asked.

“As you all well know, the holiday season is just now ramping up, and before you know it, it will be Christmas and then New Years,” Snow explained.  “Regina and I were talking over tea one day, and we had a thought.  New Years is the time for resolutions.  What if we–all of us–the whole town–made new year’s resolutions to make our town a better, friendlier town?”

“We’ll call it the ‘New Year, New Town’ initiative,” Regina said in her typical no nonsense tone.  “It will, of course, be compulsory for all residents of Storybrooke.”

There was a general groan among the council as everyone began talking at once.  Regina banged her gavel, finally restoring quiet to the council room.

“While I personally don’t think New Year’s resolutions are a bad thing,” Archie said, “I do have questions about how it would work practically, though.  Surely you can see that forcing the town to make New Year’s resolutions is a bit heavy-handed, even for you.”

“Not happening, Sister,” Leroy tossed in.

“For once, I have to agree with the dwarf,” Killian tossed in.  “No bloody way in Hades you will get the town–or even most on this committee–to go along with such an authoritarian scheme.”

Regina sighed in exasperation.  “Listen Captain Guyliner…”

Snow stepped in again before things could further devolve.  “Okay, maybe we can’t make it compulsory, but I was thinking, we could have incentives.  You know, get pledges from various businesses for prizes for anyone who makes and keeps their resolutions until the end of the year.  Make it a fun, citywide competition.  That sort of thing.”

After a fair bit more debate, the council finally voted six to five–with Regina, Snow, David, Archie, Whale and Marco voting aye and Zelena, Emma, Killian, Leroy and Granny voting nay–to implement the initiative.  Emma had been on the fence about the whole thing, but what finally tipped her to the “nay” side, was Regina’s final decree.

“There is one thing I must insist upon,” Regina said.  “If we can’t force the entire town to comply with the initiative, we must at least stand in solidarity in our efforts to encourage full participation.  To that end, I move that the initiative be compulsory for the members of the council.”

Another groan around the room.

“What’s stopping everyone from just making self-serving resolutions?” Whale asked.  

“Well….” Snow began slowly. “Now just hear me out!”

No statement that started like that could ever end well.

“Regina and I discussed that, and we came up with a plan that we think is fair for everyone,” she said. “We, the council, have a say in each other’s resolutions.  Everyone is free to submit resolution ideas for each other, and then on New Year’s Eve, we hold a vote to determine what each person will focus on next year.”

That suggestion got more than a little pushback, but in the end, it was reluctantly adopted.

And so here they were, New Year’s Eve morning, making their way to town hall to decide upon and commit to their resolutions for the coming year.

Emma took a deep, calming breath, as she and Killian took their seats at the council table.  Killian took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze offering her his support and strength.  She couldn’t care less what the council had decided for her resolution; the whole thing was ridiculous anyway.  What did have her nervous and excited and a little freaked out was the plan she and Killian had come up with just before Christmas when they learned the news.  Fact was, it was a big deal, a really, really big deal.

Regina, dressed in her customary power suit, banged her gavel against the table to quiet the gathered council and call the meeting to order.

“Okay, as it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m sure we all have better places to be, let’s go ahead and get to it,” she said. 

“Here’s how it will work,” Snow said eagerly. “Everyone will vote on the proposed resolutions via secret ballot.  The ballots will be tabulated, and then each one of you will be given an envelope with the list of suggested resolutions the council proposed.  The one picked for you will be listed at the top in red.”

“And if we refuse to go along with that one?” Leroy asked, crossing his arms and scowling fiercely.

“We aren’t unreasonable,” Snow said in answer.  “If you can’t go along with your top choice, you have the option to choose one of the other selections on your list.”

Voting and tabulation were rather quick affairs, and within fifteen minutes the results were in.

“Just to get you all to stop bitching about this and see that it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll go first,” Regina said, taking her own envelope.  Taking her letter opener, she neatly slit the top of the envelope and pulled the single sheet of paper free.  Taking a moment to read through it, Regina scoffed.  “‘Cut back on snarkiness and insulting nicknames’?  Really?  I don’t–”

“Oh yes you do, your majesty,” Killian said.  “I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve called me some variation of ‘Handless Wonder’ or ‘Captain Guyliner’.”

“Oh, did I hurt your little feelings?” Regina snapped.

“Aaaannd there’s the snark,” Emma commented.

“Fine!” Regina said, “just to prove to all of you that I’m serious about making this initiative work, I’ll accept your stupid resolution.”

With the first resolution reveal out of the way, the rest went rather smoothly.  Snow resolved to refrain from revealing secrets (although Emma personally preferred the resolution Killian had submitted for her mom: Call before coming over to your daughter and son-in-law’s house).  David resolved to make time for his mates now that his farm was taking up so much of his time. Zelena resolved to cut out envy from her life.  Leroy resolved to stop running through the town yelling “terrible news!” about anything less than a full blown emergency.  Whale resolved to stop drinking while on duty.  Archie resolved to actually get a medical degree not given to him from a curse. Granny resolved to replace the uncomfortable mattresses in her inn. And Marco resolved to take classes to bring his woodworking business into the twenty-first century.

Finally, it was down to just Emma and Killian.  The moment of truth.

Emma stood up, and without even looking at what was written on her envelope said, “I resolve to be the best mother I can possibly be and to learn all I can about how to care for a newborn.”

She was met with blank, confused stares as she sat down and Killian rose to make his announcement. 

“And I’d like to address my resolution directly to Dave,” he said with a cheeky grin.  “Mate, my resolution for next year is to not get your daughter pregnant….again.”

For a moment the blank stares continued until suddenly Snow gasped.  “Emma….Killian?  Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Emma stood, and laced her fingers with Killian’s as her smile bloomed and a tear fell from the corner of her eye.  “If you think we’re saying you’re about to be a grandma again, then yes.  We found out on Christmas Eve.  It finally happened!  I’m pregnant!”

Later that night, after the ball dropped and the new year came in amid fireworks and cheers, Emma settled in bed in Killian’s embrace.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asked, holding her to him and nuzzling her neck.  “Is the little one causing any distress?”

“At the moment all is well,” Emma said.  “Now in the morning when the nausea hits like a ton of bricks I might have a different answer, but for right now, everything feels just about perfect.”

Killian placed his hand on her belly and rubbed gently, his attempt, she knew, to caress their growing child.  “Something tells me this new year is going to be our best one yet.”

“Something tells me the same thing, babe,” Emma said.

They fell silent for another moment before Emma broke the silence with a chuckle.  “How long do you think it will take for the council to realize we totally blew off their resolutions for us?”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 9: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2545

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Notes: This story was originally written in 2014.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

“Looks like your boyfriend learned about Christmas,” David said dryly as he pushed open the sheriff’s station door.           

Emma elbowed her way past her father to have a look and then barked out a laugh.  A veritable forest of mistletoe hung above her desk and chair.  David was right; it couldn’t be the work of anyone but her adorable idiot of a pirate.

“Although if he really wanted to get you to kiss him,” David continued, draping his winter coat over the back of his own chair, “he would have hung it inside one of the jail cells.  We left the station locked when we went on rounds, so I’m pretty sure this qualifies as breaking and entering.”

Emma grinned.  “Cut him some slack, Dad.  There are far, far worse things he could have done, don’t you think?”

“That depends,” David replied with a frown.

“Yeah?  On what?���

“Whether or not he makes use of the mistletoe when I’m around.”

Emma laughed again, still amazed at the happiness that was her life at the moment.  Seriously, who would have thought that Emma Swan, the unloved, unwanted orphan would one day have to deal with an overzealous pirate boyfriend and an overprotective father?

“I’ll make him behave,” Emma promised.  “At least while you’re around.”

David grimaced.  “You had to tack on that last part?”

“Yep,” Emma replied, taking a seat.  “Deal with it Dad; your little girl’s dating a pirate.  Bound to be some…um…misbehavior.  Probably on both our parts.”

David groaned.

Her dad put up a good show, but Emma knew that’s all it was—a show.  The bromance was strong with these two.  Emma didn’t know who was happier that her relationship with Killian was still going strong, her or her dad.

A month had passed since Gold’s sorcerer’s hat stunt, and they were all still reeling from it to various extents.  She’d had nightmares about it every night for a solid two weeks following the incident.  Nightmares where they didn’t make it in time.  Nightmares where she, her mom and Belle arrived at the clock tower a moment after Gold had finished crushing Killian’s heart into a fine powder.  She’d woken up shaking and bathed in sweat. 

If Gold had succeeded…she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence.  The very thought scared her more than anything in her life had ever scared her.

It was in that moment when she was frozen in place, helpless to protect Killian, that she gave up the last bit of pretense.  She loved him; there was no denying it.  Just the sight of him was enough to make the butterflies start tap dancing in her stomach.

“What do you think of my first attempt at decorating for the season?” 

Speak of the devil. 

Killian strode in with the confidence (and looks) of a fashion model.  He leaned down, brushed a kiss against her cheek and then straightened with the grin she’d come to learn meant trouble.

“Not bad,” she said, “but you know people usually just hang one sprig of mistletoe, not a whole garden.”

He tsked, and frowned at her playfully.  “And where would be the fun in that?  I’d prefer to increase my chances of finding myself under it with a fetching lass rather than limit them.”

He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.  “Speaking of which, it appears you and I are currently standing beneath a particularly hearty specimen.  Holiday traditions must be observed, darling.  Good form and all.”

She grinned and looped her arms around his neck.  “So what are you waiting for?”

His smile turned distinctly wicked.  “Not a thing in the world, love.”

A wildfire raged between them at the first touch of his lips to hers.  It was always like this between them; like someone had tossed a lit match on a mountain of dry kindling.  Emma tilted her head, instantly deepening the kiss, reveling in the feel of his hand in her hair anchoring her to him, his hook at her back urging her closer.

David cleared his throat.  Loudly.  Whatever adjectives could be used to describe her father, “subtle” was not one of them.  Emma pulled away with an apologetic look at her boyfriend, then turned to face her dad.  Killian reached down and laced his fingers with hers.

“You guys mind?” David asked with a hint of exasperation.  “This is a place of business after all.”

“Funny,” Killian said with a smirk, “you seemed to be singing an entirely different tune that night last week when I walked in to find you and your lovely wife similarly expressing your affection.”

David spluttered.  “That’s…that’s different!”

“Aye?  How so?”

“It’s different because…because…well, because it just is.”

Killian laughed with such good humor that soon even David joined in.  “Look,” her father finally said, “I’m glad you two are happy together, I really am, but could you keep the PDA to a minimum while I’m around?  Please?”

Killian sketched a bow.  “I shall endeavor to control myself, but confronted with your daughter’s ravishing beauty, I am, more often than not, unable to express my admiration any other way.”

Emma laughed and swatted him playfully.  “You are so full of it.”

“Aye,” he returned with a flirtatious wink, “but I noticed you failed to put up a protest at my ‘PDA’ a moment ago.”

“I’ll admit,” she returned, placing her free hand over his heart, a gesture she found herself making more and more frequently since his ordeal with Gold, “kissing you is kind of addicting.  So, what’s up?  We weren’t supposed to meet for lunch for another hour or so.”

“I’ve come to steal you away, love,” He said, giving her hand a squeeze.  “The snow has bathed the woods in a blanket of loveliness, and I wish to share it with my favorite lass.”

“I can’t just go take a stroll in the woods,” Emma said.  “For one thing, it’s cold.  For another, I’ve got work to do.  And did I mention, it’s cold?”

The look on his face was two parts puppy and one part wicked.  “If we don’t go, I’ll be forced to hang around and, no doubt, nauseate your father.  We wouldn’t want that, now would we?  Besides, I’m…more than capable of keeping you warm.”

“Ugh,” David said.  “Emma just go with him.  I’ll cover for you.”

“Well,” Emma said, grabbing her coat and hat, “if you both insist…”

“We do,” David and Killian said in unison.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Emma had to admit it was beautiful and peaceful out here. And with Killian’s arm draped around her, surprisingly warm as well.  On impulse, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek. 

“And what was that delightful gesture for, Swan?”

She shrugged.  “No reason.  Just…thank you.  You were right.  It’s nice to get away from the craziness of the town for a while.”

He smiled, making the crow’s feet stand at attention at the edges of his eyes.  “Darling, when are you going to finally realize that I’m always right?”

Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the grin from her face.  “Don’t hold your breath, pirate.”

“Thought as much,” Killian muttered under his breath.

Emma had never been a big fan of winter.  She hated the cold, and the snow drove her crazy—especially now that she was the sheriff and was called to every fender bender and slide-off in the whole damn town.  Killian, however, seemed to have an entirely different opinion on the matter.  His face was lit up with the wonder and awe of a child as he trudged through the ankle-deep snow and watched the flurries continue to drift down.

“You seem to be enjoying this weather,” she observed, reaching up to feather her fingers through his hair and dislodge the stubborn snowflakes that had evidently decided to take up residence there.

“Aye,” he said, looking down at her with a delighted grin.  “Always reminds me of a day I spent with Liam many, many years ago.”

Emma perked up at the mention of Killian’s brother.  “You never talk about him.  I always assumed the memories were too painful for you.”

Killian smiled tenderly.  “Aye, some memories are.  It seems no matter how many centuries go by, the sting of his passing will never truly fade.  I do, however, have many, many pleasant memories of him, and the day we spent in the snow is certainly one of those.”

“Would you tell me about it?”

“Of course,” he complied without hesitation.  “It was one of the last good memories I had of my family.  My mum died the following year, and my father was never the same after her passing.  At any rate, I was but a wee lad at the time, five, maybe six years old.  Liam was a good ten years my senior and I nearly worshiped him.  He’d just informed me that he would be leaving in less than a fortnight upon his first ship; I no longer recall her name.  He was to be a cabin boy and I’ve rarely seen a lad so excited.  I was, of course, devastated that my brother, my hero, would be leaving me in a matter of days.”

“I can only imagine,” Emma soothed.  Killian felt things so deeply; his entire heart and soul were invested when he loved.  Liam’s departure must have hit him hard.

“Aye,” he said with a grimace.  “Anyway, on the day in question, Liam woke me, excited about the newly fallen snow.  We two spent the entire day reveling in it—making snowmen and snow fortifications.  Engaging in a rather ruthless snowball fight.  It was a day I wouldn’t trade for all the rum in the Enchanted Forest.”

“It sounds great.”

“Aye, that it was.”

They lapsed into silence for a time.  Emma rested her head against his shoulder, and she felt him brush a kiss against the crown of her head.

“So how was your breakfast with Henry?” Emma asked.

“Informative,” Killian said, and Emma could hear the smile in his voice.  “The lad is a wealth of information.  He seems quite excited for this Christmas holiday.”

Emma sighed.  “Yeah.  Seems like it’s all he can talk about.”

Killian looked over at her.  “From your tone, I take it you don’t share his sentiments?”

“No.”  The word was definitive, emphatic.

“The lad told me as much,” Killian admitted.  “He was concerned that you seem unwilling to participate in this realm’s Christmas traditions.”

Emma grimaced.  “I was hoping it would be enough for him to get all the Christmas crap at Regina’s or my mom and dad’s.”

Killian stopped walking and turned her toward him.  “The lad didn’t come to me because he needs more Christmas; he came to me because he’s worried about you.”

Henry was worried about her?  Because of Christmas?  “He doesn’t need to be.  I’m fine.”

Killian looked at her skeptically.  “Swan, I’ve seen you ‘fine’.  I’ve seen you happy.  I’ve seen you content.  You are feeling none of those emotions.  This ‘Christmas’ is obviously a source of pain for you.  Please, tell me why that is.”

Emma sighed.  There really was no point trying to hide anything from this man.  “It’s just…I don’t know.  Christmas is all about family and happiness and being together and stuff.”

“And these are bad things?”  At some point, Killian brought his good hand up to cup her face, and he was gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. 

“No…”  Emma drew out the syllable.  “Not in general, but for an unwanted little girl in the group homes it was torture.  I mean, everywhere you turned you’d get assaulted with images of happy little families doing happy little family things.  Every time you turned on the TV you’d see commercials and movies and everything else where everyone was perfectly happy and enjoying each other’s company.  The songs talk about it being the happiest time of the year, or about how people love going home for the holidays or the love of family.  You know what it was for me?  It was a slap in the face.  It was yet another reminder that I’d never had that and probably never would.”

The compassion in Killian’s eyes nearly broke her.  He dropped his hand from her face and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight.  She clung to him, drinking in the love he offered her.

“Emma,” he whispered., “there are so many, many people who love you.  So many, many people who would do anything to make you happy.”

The tears rushed to her eyes.  “I know, and it means everything in the world to me.  It’s just—I don’t know.  Childhood memories die hard.  I don’t know if I can even do all the ‘happy family Christmas’ stuff.”

“But you said it yourself, love,” Killian reasoned, stroking her hair.  “Christmas isn’t about perfectly fulfilling the traditions you’re accustomed to.  It’s not about living up to the standards you believe the ‘perfect’ families attained.  It’s not about fulfilling a checklist of Christmas items.  It’s about being with the ones you love; showing them how much you care.”

Killian pulled away.  “Let us love you,” he said simply.  “Let us show you how much you mean to all of us.  Let us build our own traditions, our own memories.  Perhaps they won’t erase the pain of the past, but trust me love, the good memories, the beautiful moments—they shine as brightly as the star Leroy attempted to force me to place on the top of Granny’s tree—if you but let them.  They are like the sun that blots out the light of the stars.  Losing Liam to dreamshade—it was one of the darkest days of my life.  The pain of losing my brother, the man who was captain and brother and hero to me, was such that words cannot describe.  Even so, traumatic as that day was, it cannot hold a candle to the simple joy of that day spent playing in the snow. ”

“I wish I’d met Liam,” Emma said with a wistful smile.

“As do I love,” Killian said.  “He would have liked you—and would have thanked his lucky stars that I’d finally found myself a beautiful blonde savior to point me back to the man I wish to be.”

Emma stroked his face.  “He’d be proud of you, Killian.  You’re a good man; one of the best and most honorable I know.”

Killian turned his head and brushed a kiss against her palm.  “You can have no idea how sweet those words sound coming from your lips.  I have but one bit of advice for you, love: don’t run from the love of family and the joys of Christmas all around you.  Make new memories, good memories.  I can promise you; you won’t regret it.”

Emma reached up and brushed a soft kiss against his lips.  “Maybe you’re right.”

“Again with the skepticism, darling?  Didn’t we just establish I’m always right?”

Emma chuckled.  “Whatever.  I’m hungry.  Are you going to take me to lunch or not?”

Killian sketched a bow.  “My lady’s wish is my command.”

–Up next, Emma and Killian return to her apartment after the town’s Christmas Eve party.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 7: The First Snowfall of Winter

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

 Rating: G

Word Count: 3880

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

​

This story was written for my CS Secret Santa giftee in 2016, I believe. It’s a Lieutenant Duckling story about best friends Princess Emma of Misthaven and stable boy Killian Jones and their tradition of always spending the day of the first snowfall of the year together.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was an ancient saying in the kingdom of Misthaven that the first snowfall of the winter was a magical thing, that those who first met beneath its soft flakes would share a lifelong bond…

~~~~~~~~~ 

Nine-year-old Killian Jones slumped down on a large rock outside the stables, biting his lip to keep it from quivering, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.  He wasn’t a baby!  He wasn’t going to cry! 

Liam said this was a good thing; that he would be well cared for; that they’d be able to make a life for themselves now, and Killian believed him.  Of course he was grateful to be away from Capt’n—he still had bruises from the last beating the tyrant had given him, the beating that convinced Liam that they needed to make a run for it.  And King David and Queen Snow seemed quite kind and gentle. 

Aye, he was grateful for the turn their lives had taken, but he couldn’t help the lump in his throat when he thought of what happened yesterday.  Was it not bad enough that Papa had left him?  Did Liam really have to leave too? 

“I’m not leaving you, little brother,” Liam had said patiently when Killian had objected to the arrangement.  “I’m merely going to sea.  You know what an opportunity it is that King David gave us.  A cabin boy in the Royal Navy!  Me!  I’ll soon earn enough money to get us our own home and an education and everything we could want.”

“But we’ll be apart for three whole months, Liam!” Killian had wailed.  “We’re all the family we have left!” 

Liam slung an arm awkwardly over his brother’s shoulder.  “I’ll miss you too, but the three months will fly by like the wind.  You’ll see!  King David has promised to care for you; employ you as his stable boy.  You’ll be so busy learning and working with his magnificent steeds you won’t even have time to miss me!  And then I’ll be back.  Besides, in a few short years you’ll be old enough to be a cabin boy too, and then we’ll be together always.”

 But a few short years felt like an eternity to a little boy who felt all alone in the world.  A stubborn tear he couldn’t quite hold back tracked its way down his cheek, and Killian wiped it away hastily.

 “Are you crying?”

 Killian startled at the voice, and looked up to see a little girl with blonde ringlets and compassionate green eyes.

 “No,” he said in a thick voice.  “I’m not a baby; I don’t cry!”

 The little girl sat on the rock beside him.  “It’s not just babies that cry; even my papa cries sometimes.  Are you sad?”

 “Aye,” he said with a sigh, realizing it would be useless to lie.  “I miss my brother Liam.  I wish he was here with me.”

 The girl was quiet for a moment, just looking at him.  Killian shivered and pulled his coat closer around him as the winter wind began to blow.

 “You’re the new stable boy, aren’t you?” the little girl said suddenly.  “Mama said we have a new one and that I should be nice to you ‘cause you’re lonely.  I’m Emma, by the way.”

 The little girl stuck out one tiny hand, and after a moment Killian shook it.  Then her name and what she said struck him.  Hastily he got to his feet and sketched a bow.  “Emma…you’re Princess Emma aren’t you?  The daughter of King David and Queen Snow?”

Emma grimaced.  “Yes, I’m the princess.  But I want to be just Emma; not princess Emma.  Everybody calls me ‘Your Highness’ and bows and treats me like I’m some kind of breakable doll.  I don’t want people to be my subjects; I just want someone to be my friend!  I’m lonely too.”

 A few stray flakes of snow began lazily drifting down, coating their hair and shoulders.  Killian sat back beside the little girl and offered his hand in turn.  “A pleasure to meet you ‘just Emma’.  My name is Killian.  Perhaps we can be friends; then neither of us need be lonely.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 …that a vow made during the first snowfall would never be broken…

  ~~~~~~~~~~

Emma pulled back her arm and then threw with all her nine-year-old might.  Her aim was true, and a moment later Killian dropped to the ground, felled by the snowball that hit him squarely in the back.

“Just you wait, Swan!” he growled, getting to his feet and scraping the snow together to form his own ammunition.  “I will get my vengeance!”

“Not if you can’t catch me!” Emma said, giggling and running as fast as her legs would carry her in the opposite direction.

A year had passed since Killian came to work in the stables, and the two of them had formed a fast friendship.  They were nearly inseparable, spending every free moment they had together, talking, playing, getting into so much mischief her nursemaid Johanna often threatened to ban Killian from the royal nursery altogether.

To be fair, it was normally Emma that got into mischief.  Killian usually attempted to talk her out of it.  “It’s rather bad form to give the king and queen so much grief, Swan.”

He’d taken to calling her “Swan” last spring, when they’d caught sight of one such bird on the lake.  He’d commented that she was just like it; soft and graceful at some times, but a fierce and deadly fighter when she was angered.

Emma hurried behind the snow fort she’d constructed earlier that afternoon, knowing a moment of triumph.

The next thing she knew she was sprawled out on her back looking up into impossibly blue eyes and floppy black hair, the remnants of Killian’s snowball seeping beneath the collar of her warm winter coat.  “No fair, Killian!” she said with a frown.  “I’d reached my fort.  You can’t tackle me behind my own fort!  You know that’s not ‘good form’ as you like to say!”

“Apologies, my lady.” The laughter in his voice belayed his apology.  Killian got hastily to his feet and then offered her a hand.  “I suppose there’s nothing for it; I must concede defeat.  You have bested me.”

“And just you remember it,” Emma said, grinning once again and attempting to brush the snow from her skirt—a hopeless task as it was still falling fast and hard from the heavy clouds above.  “What should we do now?” 

Killian thought for a moment.  “How about we go inside?  We’ve already made a snowman and snow angels and snow forts and had a snowball fight.  I’m starting to get cold.”

“Okay,” Emma said with a nod.  “Besides, Mama promised to make us hot cocoa when we returned to the castle.  I hope she remembers the cinnamon this time.”

Killian chuckled.  “How could she forget?  You remind her every time you see her after that one afternoon she left it off.  C’mon; let’s go!”

Emma stood still for a moment, and Killian looked back, his dark brow raised in confusion. 

“Killian, you’re my very best friend,” Emma said abruptly.

“Aye,” he answered “And you’re mine.”

“Let’s make a promise that we’ll always be friends.  Forever.”

 He smiled.  “I promise.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 …that no distance can truly separate two hearts bound together by first snowfall magic…

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen-year-old Killian stood at the rail of The Jewel of the Realm and watched as Misthaven slowly disappeared on the horizon.  Liam clapped him on the back.  “It’s good to have you with us, little brother.”

“Younger, brother, Liam,” Killian said, brushing off his brother’s hand.  “I’m nearly as tall as you now!”

Liam laughed.  “That’s ‘Lieutenant Jones’ to you, cabin boy.  Show your officers a little respect.”

Killian grinned and then snapped to attention and presented his brother with a perfectly executed salute.  “Aye, aye, Lieutenant!”

“It’s finally here, brother,” Liam said, putting a hand back on Killian’s shoulder, “the day we’ve been waiting for.  We’re finally able to sail together once more.”

Killian grinned, then turned back toward the rapidly disappearing shore as snowflakes began flying through the air.  He felt a pang in his chest.  This was the first time in six years he’d miss spending the first snowfall with Emma.  He was grateful beyond words to be reunited with his beloved brother for more than just a few weeks at a time, but he couldn’t lie.  He missed his best friend already.

“Something the matter, Killian?” Liam asked, leaning against the railing next to him.

“No…” Killian said quickly.  “Well, perhaps a bit.  I’m accustomed to spending the day of the first snow with Emma; that’s all.”

Liam chuckled and ruffled Killian’s hair.  “Emma.  Ah, so that’s what it is.  Has cupid’s arrow pierced my little brother’s heart?”

Killian felt his face flame.  “Leave off, Liam, you’re being ridiculous!  You know she’s just my best friend!”

“Um-hm,” Liam hummed, maddening grin firmly affixed.  “I have eyes, you know.  Don’t think I didn’t see the princess kiss your cheek as you bid her farewell.  Don’t think I missed the adoration in your eyes.”

Killian sucked in a quick breath, his mind returning to that moment an hour ago.  Emma had looked like an angel in her long, pink gown that brushed the ground, her hair pulled back into a gentle braid.  There’d been so much affection in her eyes as she wished him a good trip and promised to write him every day.

Then she’d ghosted her lips against his cheek.

It had sparked something in him; something he couldn’t explain.  His heart beat faster, and he felt as though thousands of tiny butterflies were fluttering through his stomach.  He could scarcely understand what was happening to him.  Emma had kissed his cheek before, many times, in fact, and it had never affected him like that; it had never been anything more than a gesture of affection between friends.

But today…today everything had been different, and he hardly knew how to process it.

“Perhaps,” Killian said slowly, “perhaps my feelings have begun to change for Princess Emma, but Liam, I know my place.  She’s the princess and I’m naught but a cabin boy.  Best I not even allow myself to dream.”

Liam turned Killian to him with a gentle hand.  “Brother, you know as well as I that the princess is no respecter of persons.  Should she come to fancy you, your station will be of no consequence to her.  Should your fancy turn to love one day, never fear to fight for her heart.  A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 …that love awakened among the first snowfall will never fade…

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Emma twirled before her floor-length mirror, admiring the way her deep-red ball gown flared out with the movement.  She couldn’t wait to wear the dress tonight at Misthaven’s annual ball celebrating the start of the Yuletide festivities.  At twenty-years-of-age, Emma had been attending the ball for a few years, but this year felt different.

This year Killian would be there. 

For the past two years, he’d sat out the ball, still an enlisted man in the navy.  But with this year’s promotion to Lieutenant, he was expected to not only attend the ball, but dance with the ladies of the aristocracy and nobility.

Emma felt her cheeks heat at the thought, and it was ridiculous!  Killian was her oldest and dearest friend, these…new feelings, newly awakened desires…well, they were just stupid.  He’d likely laugh until he was blue in the face if he knew what she was currently thinking.

It was all Captain Liam’s fault, really.  Didn’t the man know it was his job to teach his brother how to dance?  What was he thinking giving that task to her? 

Emma had the sneaking suspicion the oldest Jones man knew exactly what he was doing.  The smirk he’d worn when he asked her to teach his hopeless little brother to dance had made little sense at the time, but now….now that things had changed, she couldn’t help but wonder if Killian’s brother had been attempting to play the matchmaker.

Emma let her mind wander back to the events of the afternoon that had changed everything.

She’d been sitting at her bay window, reading—a thrilling tale of adventure on the high seas—when she was interrupted by a quick rap at her open door.  She looked up, and her heart stilled before racing faster than her father’s thoroughbreds.  Killian stood dressed in his brand new lieutenant’s uniform—looking more than a bit bashful, she might add.

There was no other word for it; he had grown into a beautiful man.  With his impossibly blue eyes, his dark hair, pulled back neatly into a ponytail at the back of his head, his skin tanned from weeks at sea, and his smile that could make the angels weep for joy, he was easily the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“My princess,” he said, in a soft, deep voice as he executed a perfect bow.

She’d felt her heart flutter, her stomach swoop, her jaw drop.  She doubted she could say a word if her life depended on it.

After a moment, he grinned, his old familiar grin—two parts joy and one part pure mischief, and suddenly the spell was broken.  She leapt to her feet, ran to him and enveloped him in a hug.  “You’re home!  You’re finally home.  And look at you!  I’d heard about the promotion, but I had no idea you’d have your uniform yet.”

Killian looked down at his attire and then scratched behind his ear.  “Aye, well…it was something of a requirement.  I must be properly clad for the ball tonight.”

“Oh that’s right!  You’ll be at the ball.”

“Aye,” he said with a deep sigh.  “I gather Liam told you of my current predicament?  My utter inability to dance?” 

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Emma said, pulling at his arm and heading for the stairs.  “Dancing’s easy.  All you need is a partner who knows what she’s doing.  I’d be more than happy to teach you.”

They reached the great hall doors, and Emma continued on, not stopping until they’d reached their favorite forest clearing.  It was then that Emma realized the snow had begun to fall.

“First snowfall of winter!” she exclaimed in delight, spinning in a circle like a child, sticking her tongue out to catch the delicate flakes.  “Killian how long has it been since we shared first snowfall together?”

“Far, far too long, my Swan,” he said in a soft voice, laden with an emotion Emma couldn’t place.

She looked up quickly, and he was looking at her strangely, as though she was a precious jewel.  Emma felt her cheeks flame, wondering what on earth had come over her childhood best friend.

In a moment he was back, her Killian. The friend she’d known for years.

“It’s quite simple, really,” she said, stepping up to him.  “Take my hand, and place your other at my waist, like so.  Now follow my lead.”

For several moments Emma was occupied with the intricacies of teaching Killian to dance, but he was a quick study, and soon he was moving as competently and gracefully as she was.

That’s when she noticed how very close they were.  She felt the weight of his hand on her waist, the way his breath tickled her face, the warmth of his body pressed close to hers, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare into those eyes, deep and blue as the sea.

She’d never felt anything like this.

He seemed to be afflicted with the same madness.  He held his breath for a moment and then, oh-so-slowly bent his head toward hers.  She had the strangest sensation he meant to kiss her.  Even stranger was how much she wished he would.

A moment later a raucous cardinal trilled out his song and the spell was broken.  Killian stepped hastily back, his cheeks flaming as red as the bird who had disturbed their tete-a-tete.  Emma felt a moment of loss, but the warmth in her heart; the warmth that suffused her entire being remained.

And now, two hours later, it had yet to cool.  What was happening to her?

And even more…how was she going to manage to dance with Killian tonight without making an utter fool of herself?

~~~~~~~~~~

…that a kiss shared between sweethearts during the first snowfall can’t fail to be True Love’s Kiss…

~~~~~~~~~~

Killian stood nervously beside his brother as the music began to play, as they waited for the arrival of the guests of honor.  He tugged at his collar, remembering the afternoon when he’d almost lost his head and kissed the princess, when all his careful work to keep his feelings hidden had nearly crumbled.

But he’d missed her.  He’d missed her with all his being, and when he saw her gracefully sitting in her window seat, he thought his heart would burst with emotion.  He loved her; there was no other word for it. 

He loved her, but she was the princess, and he was naught but a sailor.  His love was doomed from the beginning, and he’d best remember that.

Killian felt Liam’s hand on his shoulder.  “Relax, brother,” he said.  “We’re attending a ball, not an execution.”

“Easy for you to say,” Killian groused.  “You’ve been attending these balls for years; you know just what to say and how to act around the ladies.  I fear I’ll make a damned fool of myself.”

Liam grinned.  “From the looks Princess Emma is sending your way, I’d wager you could fall on your face, and she’d think you were brilliant.”

“What?”

“Look, little brother.  The royals have arrived.”

Killian whipped his head around and then promptly felt the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh.  She was a vision in her red ball gown, her blonde hair delicately twisted up upon her head.  Her eyes sparkled, and…Liam was right…she was looking at him like he was the only man in the room.

“Go on, lad,” Liam said with a gentle shove to the shoulder.  “It’s time you show her majesty that the Jones family charm didn’t skip the younger son.”

Killian’s feet took him forward until he was within two feet of the princess.  Then he took her hand and brought it to his lips.  “You look stunning, Swan.”

She blushed, the color only adding to her radiant beauty.  “You look…”

“He knows,” Liam offered helpfully, leaning in and grinning wide enough Killian thought his face would split in two.

“Leave off, Liam!” Killian shot over his shoulder.  “I’m perfectly capable of talking to the lady on my own.”

“As you wish,” Liam said with a shrug, grin still in place.  “I just thought I’d lend my aid should you wish it in asking her majesty for a dance.”

Killian felt his face flame for probably the millionth time that night as he guided Emma a few steps away where they wouldn’t be disturbed by his embarrassing brother.  Why was this so difficult?  This was Emma; just Emma.  They’d known each other for more than a decade now, and never had their interactions been so…awkward.

“Would you care to dance, my princess?  If your first dance hasn’t already been claimed, that is.”

Emma dipped into a graceful curtsy and then shot him a shy smile.  “I thought you’d never ask.  There’s no one else I’d wish to share my first dance with.”

And as Killian took Emma into his arms and moved to the music, everything around them fell away, the people, the overheated room, the nerves.  This feeling, dancing with the woman he loved, this was the closest to heaven he’d ever been.

As the night continued, the princess danced so often with the lieutenant that people began to talk—and more than once Killian caught the king shooting him looks that no doubt could kill.

Emma caught the direction of his gaze and the way he swallowed hard, and her eyes narrowed.  Taking his hand, she led him to a balcony off the ball room, where the first snow of the season was still resolutely falling.

“I’m not sure this is proper, Swan,” Killian muttered, nevertheless letting himself be led.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Killian,” Emma said shutting the glass doors behind them and then turning toward him.  “We’re still in plain sight…this just gives us a chance to have a moment alone.”

Killian shuffled nervously for a moment—and then he looked down at her.  The snow landed on her hair, on her dress, on the gentle curve of her cheek.  He reached up, cupping her face, wiping away the offending flake with a swipe of his thumb.  Emma reached up and held his hand in place, her fingers tangling with his.

And then he lost his head altogether.  Leaning down, he captured her lips with his own.  She sighed his name and then wrapped her arms around his neck and enthusiastically returned his kiss.  Killian pulled her to him, holding her even tighter, just as a pulse of rainbow-tinted electricity shot from between them, spreading out to cover the whole kingdom.

“Was that….?” Killian asked, pulling away slightly, eyes wide.

Emma smiled radiantly, cupping the back of his head, bringing him down for a second—and then third—kiss.  “Yeah.  I don’t think there can be any doubt; that was True Love’s Kiss.”

“But there was no curse to be broken…”

Emma cupped his cheek, reaching to rest her forehead against his. “Perhaps we have a love so strong a curse isn’t necessary to prove it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

…and that the couple who pledges their troth beneath the gentle fall of the first snow will live happily ever afterwards.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

The first ball of the Yuletide was a turning point for Princess Emma and Lieutenant Killian.  If they’d been close before, they were positively inseparable after sharing True Love’s Kiss.   It was generally considered to be a romance worthy of fairy tales, and there wasn’t a soul in Misthaven who was surprised when the couple announced their engagement some six months later.  (It was, however said, that King David threatened the young lieutenant within an inch of his life should he ever cause the princess a moment of pain.  It was further said the lieutenant laughed long and heartily at the very notion, after which he and the king became fast and forever friends.)

And so it was that the first snowfall of the following year found Princess Emma of Misthaven and Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Royal Navy exchanging their wedding vows in the large, palace chapel, the curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows thrown wide to show Mother Nature’s blessing on the happy couple.

It was said that there wasn’t a dry eye in the entire kingdom as Captain Liam Jones proclaimed the couple husband and wife, and Killian kissed his bride.

They, of course, did live happily ever afterwards.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 2: A Christmas Miracle (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

 Rating: G

Word Count: 1197

Other chapters: 1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Note:  This is chapter two of my 2013 story A Christmas Miracle.  It was written just before the end of the Neverland arc and it fits within my “A Wish Your Heart Makes” universe.  References to curses and Camelot refer to that verse!

Hook adjusted the collar of his leather coat and then stepped from the hallway into Granny’s dining room. The chamber had been utterly transformed. A huge pine tree decorated with brightly colored lights, tinsel and hundreds of ornaments took up an entire corner. Red and green streamers, sprigs of holly and huge paper snowflakes adorned the wall and ceiling. Several small tables had been pushed together to form one long table elaborately set for nine.

As he sauntered into the room, Hook looked over the gathered assembly. Baelfire stood with Belle and the Crocodile, talking and laughing. Belle gazed adoringly up at the Crocodile, and he raised a hand to tenderly stroke her face. Hook waited for the familiar burning hatred to steal over him at the sight of his erstwhile enemy, but it never came. For that matter, it hadn’t come in quite some time. When had he given up the last vestiges of his vengeance?

Hook looked past Snow and Charming, busy with last minute preparations, to Emma and her lad who stood talking and laughing near the booths. Suddenly he knew exactly when his hatred for the crocodile had vanished. It was the moment he had finally let go of Milah’s memory, the moment he had fallen deeply, passionately, irretrievably in love with Emma Swan.

The lass was beautiful this evening. She wore an ice-blue tea-length gown and a matching lacy bolero sweater. Her golden hair was swept up at the sides and fell in riotous curls down her back. Hook didn’t think he’d ever seen her in formal attire, and the effect nearly stole the breath from his lungs.

As though feeling his gaze, Emma looked up and caught his eye. She colored slightly at the look he gave her, and then dropped her eyes. Hook sighed and walked forward toward his lady and her lad. Would he ever succeed in scaling that well-fortified fortress that she had built around her heart?

“Hook!” Henry called joyfully when the pirate was a few feet away. “I didn’t know you were coming too!”

Hook grinned and tousled the boy’s hair. “Aye lad; that I am.”

“Cool!” Henry beamed at him. Hook had spent quite some time with the lad during their last adventure, and he found he genuinely enjoyed the boy’s company. It gratified him that Emma’s son seemed glad to see him as well.

The diner door opened, and Regina stepped in, brushed the snow from her dark hair, and shrugged out of her coat.

“Mom!” Henry called, walking over to the queen.

Hook looked back at Emma, and she looked suddenly shy.

“You’re stunning, love,” Hook said with a soft smile. Emma’s blush grew.

“But then again,” he continued, his grin turning wicked, “I’ve no doubt you would be stunning in whatever you wore…or didn’t wear.”

She rolled her eyes at that, but he noticed she couldn’t quite stop the grin that spread over her lips.

“Please,” she said, “You are so full of it, Hook.”

His grin was pure pirate. “Full of charm, charisma, astonishingly good looks?” he drawled. “Aye lass; that I am.”

She laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. He was making headway, he knew it. He was starting to see a slight crack in that wall of hers.

“Ok, everyone,” Snow called from the table where she had just placed a fragrant, steaming turkey, “dinner’s ready.”

“Shall we?” Hook asked, gesturing with his hook.

Emma nodded and Hook followed her to the table. She took a seat next to Henry, and Hook seated himself on her other side. The Charmings had procured a veritable Christmas feast complete with turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and cranberry sauce. Hook’s mouth watered at the delicious aromas. He suddenly remembered it had been hours since his last meal.

At the head of the table, Charming stood and tapped his wine glass with a knife.

“I would like to propose a toast,” he said, encompassing the whole group with his gaze. “It has been a rough year for all of us. We’ve dealt with difficulties, setbacks, danger, and heartbreak.”

Charming glanced at Regina, and the queen dropped her eyes. Hook felt a surge of pity for the woman. She had found Robin Hood, her true love, in the Enchanted Forest, and it looked like she would finally get her happy ending. Then they had found a way back to Storybrook…a way that couldn’t include Robin Hood and his little son. Hook knew all too well what it felt like to be separated from the one you love.

“But it has been a good year, as well,” Charming continued. “We’ve faced our challenges, and we’ve overcome them. We’ve succeeded in breaking not only one, but two curses, and we’ve succeeded in rescuing Henry from one of the most evil villains in any realm. Through it all, we’ve come to be a family. We’ve been able to put aside our grievances, our difficulties, even our hatred and work together toward some pretty difficult goals.”

Charming raised his glass higher and once more swept his gaze over the entire assembly. “So I ask you to raise your glasses. To family and friends and all those we love!”

Hook got to his feet with everyone else and raised his glass filled with ruby-red wine. Clinking his glass against Emma’s, he looked into her eyes. He held her gaze as he repeated “To family and friends and all those we love!”

Emma’s heart raced. She should look away, turn in the other direction, anything. But she simply couldn’t do it. His blue eyes were simply mesmerizing. That look on his face! What was she to do? There was no denying the attraction she felt toward him. After their kiss in Neverland, she couldn’t even pretend to herself that he meant nothing to her.

But he was a pirate! He flirted with anything in skirts. How could she possibly believe that he loved her and would fight for her? How could she let her guard down enough to give her heart to another man?

Besides, she was the savior, and, well, it seemed that meant she didn’t get her happy ending. She ensured everyone else had a chance at a happy ending, but it wasn’t in the cards for her. Hadn’t everything that had happened over the last few months proved that? As soon as one crisis ended another began.

“Uh, mom?” she heard Henry ask from her side.

The spell was broken; she was finally able to tear her gaze from Hook’s. Looking around, she saw that every single person at the table was seated but her and her pirate…and every single eye was on them. For the love of all that was holy, what was wrong with her? She dropped hastily to her seat and drained her glass of wine.

“You don’t happen to have an extra flask on you?” she asked Hook in a low voice.

“No, love,” he answered, laughter in his voice.

“Shame,” she said ruefully, “I have a feeling I’m going to need a whole lot of alcohol before this night is over.”

NEXT CHAPTER-->