#cs ivanhoe au

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: 15/16

When I posted this latest chapter on Ao3, I was shocked to see that I started this story way back in October of 2017. How is that possible? Well, finally here we are nearing the end of this Ivanhoe inspired fic.

I am going to confess an unpopular opinion: I was disappointed with the whole “no one saves me but me” thing in the CS movie. I actually yelled at the TV, “just let him save you!!!” Call me old-fashioned, but there’s something so romantic about the hero swooping in to save the day. So, here I fulfill my fantasy of Killian rushing to the rescue (plus that’s the way it happens in Ivanhoe, so . . . ). And yeah, I put him on a white horse. Fight me if you want, I don’t care.

Chapter summary: Emma has been sentenced to be burned at the stake for witchcraft. Unless, of course, a champion comes to fight on her behalf . . .

Words: 2,000 and some change

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Baelfire and Killian have to fight to the death. To. The. Death. And death in a sword fight in Medieval times? It wasn’t pretty. So, be prepared . . .

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @kday426 @thislassishooked @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic @shireness-says @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @distant-rose

Chapter Fifteen

Killian respected his king, he truly did, but David was also like a brother to him as much as Liam had been. They had fought side by side in desperate situations, and as such, Killian wasn’t afraid to speak forthrightly with his friend, brother, and king.

“I must be her champion, Killian, she’s my sister!”

“And you are King!”

“Exactly, so obey me, knight! You’re still not fully healed!”

“I am well enough to fight for the woman I love!”

“You are impossibly stubborn!”

“And you are filled with foolish pride!”

“Actually,” another voice cut through their arguing, “I’d say your both acting like petulant children.”

Killian turned, mouth falling open to see a familiar face. Yet the woman standing in the doorway looked vastly different from the bandit he remembered fighting by his and David’s side as they made their journey across the continent. Her dark hair had hung loose and snarled then, but now it was swept up in loose curls with a tiara nestled above her brow. Her pale skin looked even more like alabaster in a bright blue gown which brought out the sparkle in her green eyes.

“Snow - I -”

“Killian,” David said, clapping him once on the shoulder before striding to the woman in the doorway, “I’d like to introduce my wife, Queen Snow.”

The woman tipped her face up with a smile to welcome David’s soft kiss. Killian was still speechless, but he recovered himself enough to give a deep bow and a mumbled “your majesty.” Snow laughed as she hurried forward to embrace him.

“Enough of that silly formality,” she scolded good-naturedly.

“When did the two of you wed?” Killian asked, then punched his friend in the shoulder with mock anger. “And why was I not called upon to be your best man?”

“It was a quiet ceremony at the lake with Sir Lancelot officiating,” Snow explained, wrapping an arm around her husband’s waist.

“We managed to get my mother out of the palace without James knowing. For her safety, of course -”

“which was why we married when we did,” Snow finished for her husband, “everything with the kingdom being so fragile, we knew the right moment would never come. So it was just Queen Ruth and the two of us.”

Killian beamed, happy for his friends. “This is wonderful news! This will further solidify peace in the kingdom with Snow defeating the uncle who tried to usurp her own throne.”

“Yes,” Snow agreed with a happy sigh, “our kingdoms united, peace between Normans and Saxons, it’s the dawn of a beautiful new day.”

“Except that my sister’s life is still in danger!”

“Not if you’ll stop arguing and let me go be her champion!”

Snow rolled her eyes and lifted both her gloved hands, resting one on each man’s chest. “Now now, boys, please. Since neither of you can listen to reason, I shall.” She turned first to her husband, placing her palms on his chest. “Darling, you have just reclaimed your throne, and you have a brother to try for treason. You cannot leave now.”

“You’re taking his side?”

“The side of reason, remember?” Snow corrected, cupping David’s face gently.

“See, listen to your wife, David,” Killian quipped, earning him a glare from his friend.

“But he’s injured!”

“Now, David,” Snow said calmly, “you’ve seen him fight in much worse shape than this. Besides, he has love on his side.”

“I have love on my side,” Killian reiterated with a firm nod of his head.

“And if he dies, we still have a king.”

“And if I die – hey! Wait a second, Snow!”

The queen chuckled as she turned to her old friend. She took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead in a motherly fashion.

“I believe in you, Killian, you know that. I can never resist teasing you, though.” She embraced him then and whispered fervently, “Please save her. David would never get over it if he lost her now.”

“Nor would I,” Killian whispered back. Then he stepped back, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head to the King and Queen. He placed his fist against his heart. “To you I pledge my fealty,” he told them solemnly, “I will not fail. I will bring back Princess Emma safely.”

“God go with you,” David said around the obvious lump in his throat. He loved his sister dearly, even though they had never met. But as Killian rose, and he saw the determination in his eyes, he knew his wife had chosen rightly. Sir Killian did know his sister, better than anyone perhaps, and loved her fiercely. He had no doubt he would bring Emma home.

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

Emma stumbled as she was dragged out into the courtyard by two Knights of the Templar, and the one grasping her right elbow wrenched it as he righted her with a jerking motion. She blew at the hair that had fallen across her face, since her hands were tied behind her back. A cold dread filled her veins at the sight before her: the stake that she would soon be tied to rising imposingly to the heavens, wood piled up all around it. She pressed her eyes closed and prayed for strength, and when she opened them, she tilted her chin defiantly as she met Sir Gold’s eyes across the courtyard. He was reclining in a brocade setee on a balcony with a bowl of berries and cream at his side, as if he were enjoying a pleasant day of jousting and not an execution. She would not give him the pleasure of showing fear.

Emma was shoved up onto the wood pile. There was no chivalry towards her fairer sex now as one knight shoved her against the stake and the other roughly tugged the ropes free at her wrists. She could feel the sting where the ropes had rubbed her wrists raw. Before she knew it, the knights had yanked her arms behind the stake and tied them once again with the rope. Splinters from the wood poked through the fabric of her dress. One of the knights leered at her straining bosom, and Emma spit truculently in his face. He raised his hand and struck her hard across the face, splitting her bottom lip. She touched it delicately with the tip of her tongue, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

“Enough!” Sir Gold shouted from the balcony as he rose to his feet. “Emma Swan, you have been accused of witchcraft. If you wish, now is the opportunity to plead for mercy from the Lord our God.”

“I will do no such thing,” Emma shouted defiantly, “for I am innocent!”

Sir Gold narrowed his eyes. “So be it.”

He motioned towards the edge of the courtyard, and Sir Baelfire stepped forward. Emma had to admit that for all the knight’s faults, he looked truly devastated to see her tied to the stake. As was the custom, Sir Gold announced the next formality in the “trial.”

“Sir Baelfire is prepared to meet any knight in combat who wishes to act as Emma Swan’s champion! If any knight here believes her to be innocent of the charges, he may step forward. However, this knight must accept that it is a fight to the death. If the champion stands victorious, it will be considered a sign of mercy from God, and the accused will be released.”

A long, eerie silence descended upon those gathered. Emma never expected a champion to stand up for her, of course. The only Templar Knight with any motivation to do so was Sir Baelfire, and he was under his father’s thumb. Sir Gold was merely going through the motions, and everyone knew it.

“Light it!” he commanded, and the two knights who had tied Emma up came forward with torches.

Emma looked up to the heavens, pressing her eyes shut against the terror that welled up within her. She had never seen a prisoner burned at the stake, she personally thought watching an execution was the sign of a depraved soul, but she had heard that it could take a long time for the person to die. The flames would lick at her feet and legs first, causing excruciating pain. Then they would crawl up her body, and most likely she would be screaming in agony, praying that smoke would fill her lungs to suffocate her and put her out of her misery. Could she be brave in the face of such torment?

Just before the torch could touch the pyre, there was the thundering sound of galloping horses and loud shouts. Emma raised her head, and her heart soared as she saw a company of knights entering the courtyard, bearing her family’s colors and crest. Moreover, Sir Killian led the charge atop a pure white steed. He was dressed in full armor, save for the helmet. His dark hair blew in the wind, his blue eyes ablaze with intensity as he shouted out his purpose.

“I will be Emma Swan’s champion!”

His eyes locked on Emma as he swung down from his horse, but Emma couldn’t help her tiny frown of concern. It probably wasn’t evident to anyone else, but she caught the slight wince of pain upon his face and noted how it took half a beat for him to gain his footing. He wasn’t fully healed! What was he thinking charging in like this?

He tore his gaze from hers and kneeled before Sir Gold. “I come to fight on this woman’s behalf.”

Sir Gold scowled, disappointment clear upon his face that his macabre entertainment had been delayed. “You believe her innocent?”

“I do.” His words, however, were not aimed at the man before him. He turned his head, his gaze burning into Emma’s. She saw emotions there she had not dared to hope for, and she almost choked on the way it pierced her heart. Yet wasn’t he promised to Lady Aurora? She obviously would no longer be forced to wed wicked Prince James. Emma bit her lip, forcing down the hope welling up inside. His heart was not his to give, and even if it were, there was no guarantee that the two of them would get out of this alive.

Sir Gold snapped his fingers at his son, and Sir Baelfire strode forward. There was no unsteadiness to his gait, no wince of pain subtly lining his face. He suddenly seemed so large and broad in comparison to Sir Killian’s slight frame, and fear welled up in Emma’s heart. She glanced down at the knight still gripping the fiery torch. He leered at her, clearly expressing his belief that the fire would still be lit, that this was but a mere diversion.

Both knights slid their helmets over their heads and pulled their swords from their scabbards. Sir Baelfire paced back and forth, glaring at his sworn enemy. His father repeated the proclamation that the fight must be to the death. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Sir Baelfire surged forward with a shout. Emma had wondered if his affections for her might sway the fight, but clearly his hatred for Sir Killian and his own self-preservation was worth far more to the man.

Killian raised his shield to block the blow and parried. Most knights were cumbersome and stiff in their armor, but Sir Killian fought differently. His armor had been forged by a talented Arab smith in the Holy Land and was fashioned in more of the Eastern style; lighter and less restrictive. Many of his fellow knights scoffed at the lack of protection, namely at the back of his legs and over his arms, but Killian found his fighting form was far better and more than made up for it. He spun, slashing at Sir Baelfire’s legs. Though the other man’s armor protected him from the blade, the heaviness of the iron encasing him sent him sprawling to his back. Killian leapt up and swung downward at his enemy. Sir Baelfire rolled away easily from the strokes of the blade and rose once again to his feet.

The two knights were complementary in their fighting styles; when one gained the upper hand, the other quickly compensated. Killian couldn’t deny it, he felt his strength waning. He struggled to his feet after yet another blow from Sir Baelfire’s broadsword, catching Emma’s eyes. Her lips were pressed together, her face pale, her forehead creased with worry. He could see it in her eyes; she was more concerned for him in the moment than herself. He took deep breaths, love for this incredible woman filling every corner of his soul. With it came a strength he didn’t know he possessed, and he swung with feral rage at his adversary. The hilt of his sword connected with Baelfire’s head with incredible force, and the man twisted sideways, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His helmet went flying from his head, tumbling through the dirt. Killian followed, kicking him repeatedly until the man was forced to tear way his chest plate so he could breathe. He rose to his knees, bruised and bloodied, and Killian was shocked when the man locked eyes with him.

“Finish me,” he said in a low voice, and the look in his eyes made Killian pause as he lifted his sword. “You heard me. Finish me! Save her!”

Sir Baelfire closed his eyes in resignation, and with a heavy heart, Killian swung his sword to deliver the fatal blow. As Sir Baelfire’s decapitated body hit the dirt, a cry of rage rose from the Knights of the Templar. Killian stumbled to his knees, trembling from the violent end of the battle as he yanked off his helmet. He never relished taking a life, yet knew it was sometimes necessary.

“Killian!”

Emma’s terrified scream broke through his melancholy, and his eyes flew open. His heart plummeted to see flames licking at the outer logs of Emma’s pyre. She twisted, trying to release herself from her bonds, sheer terror lighting her eyes. Killian shouted her name, then rushed for his horse. He swung up easily, all fatigue from the battle fleeing in the face of Emma’s immediate danger. He put the animal into a gallop immediately, racing for his love. Templar knights attacked, but Killian’s own company joined him in the fray. Killian was like a man possessed, slaying everyone in his path to get to Emma.

The flames still hadn’t crawled high enough to reach her, yet Emma blinked against the heat and coughed as smoke billowed up. His horse reared as Killian reached the pyre, but he spurred the beast on. He slashed at her bonds with his sword, and as soon as she was free, he reached a hand out for her to take. He swung her up into the saddle in front of him, knowing the danger was far from over. His armor clad body would hopefully shield her from any arrows. He urged his steed towards the gates, yelling for his company to retreat.

As they galloped forward, Emma screamed as she saw the portcullis being lowered, but Killian only sped onward. She shut her eyes tight as they made it through just in time. The drawbridge was also being raised, but Killian’s horse easily made the jump, and judging by the whoops and cheers as they sped off into the forest, so had the rest of his company. The whizzing of arrows had also ceased.

Behind her, Killian’s body relaxed. He re-sheathed his sword and brought his other arm around her tightly. He bent his head to bury his nose in her hair and ghost his lips over the shell of her ear. His hair was damp with sweat, his body exuding almost as much heat as the pyre they had left behind. His musky, battle scent made her blood thrum.

“Praise be to God I got there in time,” he whispered, voice husky with emotion.

Emma had so many questions. Why had he come? What about Aurora? Why was he holding her so close, whispering in her ear? What did it all mean?

But for now, she banished the questions and relaxed in his embrace as the swaying of the horse beneath them lulled her into a long-needed sleep.

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: “Desdichado” by: @searchingwardrobes

Okay, so full disclosure, I have probably recc’ed this story before - It’s one of my very favorites. Nevertheless, I am recommending it again, because now it is completely finished, and I really think everyone should get the chance to see and enjoy it!!   If you enjoy medieval romance, knights and ladies, swordfights, action and adventure, and a truly chivalrous and heroic Killian Jones (when is he not? ;p) then you just can’t miss out on this one.

I’m in the midst of reading it through again from the beginning, just because I really don’t want it to be over! <3

“Desdichado” by: @searchingwardrobes​

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: 13/19

I know, I am doing an awful job at regularly updating my WIP. How about some Captain Charming and some major plot reveals to make it up to you? (Including who the Black Knight is.)

Summary: An Ivanhoe AU that starts off Sleeping Captain and ends up Captain Swan (naturally). In which Killian is a dashing knight, Emma is a healer suspected of witchcraft, and lots of chivalry and sword fighting happens.

Rating: T

Trigger warnings: It’s the Middle Ages, so women are forced into arranged marriages and men treat them like property (except for a few dashing exceptions, of course).

Words in this chapter: 1,000 and some change

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @teamhook @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic

 Eighteen Years Earlier . . .

The fog of late October rolled through the bracken causing Prince James to trip constantly over tree roots and fallen logs. He wasn’t sure how he would find the soothsayer’s hovel, but desperation drove him. He was yanked back sharply, and he turned to dislodge his cloak from whatever branch had caught him. Yet it wasn’t tree limbs but skinny, dirty fingers that held him fast.

“I know what you seek.”

James almost stumbled backwards as the face drew closer and became visible through the mist. Matted tangles of bright red hair, filthy rags on an emaciated frame, yet the most frightening was her eyes. Or lack thereof. Instead, jagged, garish stitches broke up her face, empty above her nose. The prince’s heart pounded in his chest even more when she lifted her hands, palms out, and eyes blinked at him from each one.

“You always wanted the throne more than your twin brother,” she said to him.

He ran his hands through his hair, damp from the cold drizzle. “I think everyone in the kingdom knows that,” he grumbled.

James remembered the look of horror on his mother’s face when he was only six as his brother coughed up lake water in her arms. The way his father’s arms trembled as he pulled David up from where he had slipped in the ravine when they were eight, barking at James, “Why did you hesitate?” Each time James let his rage seep through, his parents seemed to draw David ever closer. But couldn’t they see that his twin was too soft to be king? The throne should go to James, of that he was certain. And everyone in the kingdom whispered about it, as if they were already afraid of a twelve-year-old. Only because he felt made for the throne?

The soothsayer was expressionless, if a face like hers was even capable of one. She closed her palms for a moment, hiding those disturbing eyes. Then she thrust them once again in James’s face.

“But do they know what the castle prophet said about your newborn sister?”

He narrowed his eyes coldly. He hadn’t been able to sleep since the words had been spoken in his parent’s private chambers. Even he wasn’t supposed to know. He leaned closer to this girl who was supposed to see the future.

“What of it? And more importantly, can I stop it?”

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

Johanna stumbled as she ran, the cries of the babe in her arms muffled by a blanket and Johanna’s cloak. She had hidden the child as long as she could, but she feared it was no longer enough.

The little one’s chubby fingers curled around Johanna’s neck, and she brushed a kiss across the blonde curly head. “Shhh, we’re almost there.”

The moon was bright tonight, making it easy to see the gates that bore the symbol of the apple tree and the blood red chalice. Johanna fell upon the gatekeeper’s door, but it swung open, the station left unguarded. She tried the front gate, but it was chained shut.

The child in her arms started to cry, and she jostled her in her arms to soothe her. Johanna made her way around the estate’s defenses and finally found a kitchen entrance. A stout woman with gray hair and a suspicious gaze opened at her knocking.

“The lady of the house isn’t hiring,” she snapped and began to shut the door once again.

Johanna shifted the babe in her arms to reach out with one hand to stop the door from closing. “Please, I beg of you, go and get your mistress.”

The ten-month-old baby girl turned her head then to peek out of the top of the blanket. She blinked wide, innocent green eyes at the cook, and the woman instantly melted.

“Okay,” she relented, “come in out of the night air while I fetch Lady Regina.”

Johanna felt every muscle in her body relax. “It’s okay, Emma,” she whispered to the child in her arms, “you’re safe now.”

The present, just after the Crusades . . .

Killian’s eyes opened slowly, the light coming through the casement window casting a soft, warm beam of light upon his coverlet. He moved his arms and then his legs experimentally and realized that for the first time since he collapsed between the lists, he felt no more pain than a dull ache. Yet when he took in a lungful of air, he immediately began to cough and the sharp pain in his side told him that his ribs were still bruised.

“Easy,” a familiar voice admonished, “I pulled your sorry self out of a fire, remember brother?”

Killian turned his head, a smile brightening his face despite the ragged cough. “Your majesty!”

David rolled his eyes and waved his hand. “We dispensed with that nonsense ages ago. I believe I became your brother after those pirates kidnapped us.”

Killian smiled more broadly. “Oh really? I thought it was when I helped us break out of that Turkish prison.”

David rubbed at his chin as he regarded him humorously. “Or I suppose we can go all the way back to me dragging you out of the thick of battle when that Arab cavalry had us surrounded.”

“You only had to drag me out because I dove in front of that arrow for you!”

They both laughed then, even though Killian grimaced at the pain in his ribs.

“Nothing hurts or takes longer to heal like ribs,” David observed, his forehead creasing. “Thank the Lord above that I got you out of that fire in time. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

“Two days!” Killian exclaimed in alarm, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He instantly regretted that decision as the room spun around him. Yet he shook it off and used his trembling arms to help himself up. “Emma! I have to get to her! Sir Baelfire took her -”

David stood and placed both hands on his friend’s shoulders. “We know, Killian. Robin Hood took his Merry Men out to look for her, and Regina insisted on going with them. They’ll find her.”

Killian shook off his friend’s grip, forgetting that the man was also his King. “You don’t understand! Baelfire’s intentions towards her of the basest kind!” His legs were weak as he crossed the room to retrieve his sword and buckler.

His panic and irritation only swelled more when David grabbed his arm and halted his motion. “Killian, believe me when I say that I have just as much concern for Emma’s safety as you do, but you can barely cross the room! Think for a moment before you do something rash.”

“You expect me to lay in bed like an invalid while she’s out there -” Killian stopped, blinking in confusion at the look on his friend’s face. “What do you mean, you’re just as concerned for her as I am?”

David averted his eyes for a moment, then ran a trembling hand down his face. “I didn’t find out until right before I left for the Crusades. My father told me on his death bed. I couldn’t risk sharing the information with anyone, even you, lest my brother do something to her in my absence.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

David let out a long breath before saying, “Killian, Emma is my sister.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: 16/16

Look what’s FINALLY here! The conclusion to this Ivanhoe inspired fic! I sincerely apologize for the long wait on this, but I hope the happy ending makes up for it.

Historical note: Mystic nuns were a real thing in the Middle Ages, and they really did have visions, trances, prophecies, etc. Exorcisms, demons, selling one’s soul to Satan, etc, were also common ideas that people kind of took for granted as truth back then as opposed to the skeptical attitude of today.

Summary: Killian is an honorable knight who has pledged his heart to Lady Aurora. Emma is a woman of no title rumored to be a witch. Need I say more? (And yes, I have used a different summary almost every time I have posted an update!)

Rating: M, but only for some icky attitudes about women from the Middle Ages, no sexy times (sorry)

Words: a little over 4,000 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals:  @snowbellewells​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @winterbaby89​ @kday426​ @thislassishooked​ @teamhook​ @bethacaciakay​ @snidgetsafan​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @mythologicalmango​ @wellhellotragic​ @shireness-says​ @let-it-raines​ @welllpthisishappening​ @optomisticgirl​ @distant-rose​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @stahlop​

  Killian directed his horse away from the rest of his company, heading down the hill and through some trees as he slowed the animal. By the time they reached the shade of the lake, his mount was walking slowly. Killian dismounted smoothly, then reached up to help Emma down. His hands lingered at her waist once her feet touched the ground, and Emma’s pulse quickened at the tender smile upon his face. She reached up tentatively to brush the sweaty locks from his brow, then her fingers traced down his face, worrying over the bruises and cuts there.

Even as he winced, he gave her a charming, rakish smile. “Are you going to tend my wounds again?”

She smiled shyly, dropping her arms to her side. “It seems pointless to,” she quipped, “given how you refuse to stop acting the hero.”

His face grew serious and intense as he yanked off his gloves. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing at her cheeks. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing but a few splinters and rope burns, “ she replied, forcing a casual air to her voice.

His brow furrowed with concern, and he lifted her hands to study them. Seeing the angry red welts on her wrists, he bent to kiss them tenderly. She shivered at the feel of his lips against her skin.

“Sir Killian,” she reprimanded, “I don’t believe your affections are appropriate.”

The last thing she wanted to do was pull away from him, but she did so, turning her back on him to stare out at the water. She heard Killian behind her release a heavy sigh. Then he grunted as he removed his armor. She heard it clatter as it hit the grass. Then she heard his footsteps come closer, and his hands rested upon her shoulders. She tensed at the contact.

“Aurora and Sir Phillip are to wed in a fortnight,” he told her softly.

Emma whirled around, her eyes wide. “I . . . I’m sorry.”

He smiled gently, his expression soft. “Don’t be. Aurora couldn’t have explained it better. She and I shared a bond of childhood affection, and in some ways, we’ll always love one another, but we aren’t children anymore.”

Emma held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Aurora spent time with Sir Philip, and . . . they fell in love.” He swiped at his lower lip with his tongue, and Emma watched him swallow nervously. “And I . . . I fell in love with you, Emma.”

Had she heard him correctly? “Y-you did?”

“Aye.”

Emma reached out and pressed both palms to his chest. She drew closer, her eyes slipping closed as he wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade and curling herself into his embrace.

“I fell in love with you, too.”

She whispered it so softly, she wasn’t sure he had heard, but then his hand slid up her back, his fingers dug into her hair, and his lips ghosted across her forehead.

“I can scarcely believe you love me back,” he told her hoarsely.

Emma pulled back so she could see his eyes. She cupped his face in her hands, the face that was bruised and bloodied to defend and rescue her.

“Believe it,” she told him with a quirk of her lips. Then she threaded her fingers through his sweaty hair and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Emma,” he groaned, as he nuzzled his nose into her neck. It seemed to take all his strength for him to step away from her. “Before we promise one another anything, there is something you must know.”

Emma frowned, the blood draining from her face. This was it. This was when he informed her that since she had no dowry to speak of, and no inheritance, they would be penniless. She clenched her hands together at her waist steeling herself for him to admit that, despite his love for her, he could never marry her. The words that actually left his lips shocked her to the core.

“Emma, you are the lost princess.”

She blinked several times, and Killian studied her patiently, cautiously.

“I - I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know the whole story myself, and it is one for your family to tell you at any rate. What I do know is that you were sent to Lady Regina for your protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“From whom - Prince James.”

Emma’s gaze fell to the grass at her feet as she shook her head. “That makes no sense. What would he care about a girl, and the youngest born at that?”

“As I said, I do not know the whole story. They said you drowned in the bath while still a babe, and even David believed it was so until the Queen told him the truth right before he left for the Crusades.”

As he spoke, Emma sat numbly upon a log by the water. She, a princess? It was too much to take in. And yet . . .

“I remember her, my mother,” she said softly.

Killian sat next to her and gently took her hand.

“Just vague images, but her smile was gentle and her eyes were kind.”

“I have met Queen Ruth, and that sounds like her.”

Emma gazed out at the water, but her vision was long ago and far away.

“She kissed my cheek and I grasped at the necklace she wore - an emerald necklace.”

“Yes!” Killian said, squeezing her hand. “That necklace has been passed down in the family for the last hundred years.”

She looked into his bright blue eyes, and her lips trembled. “But I’m . . . not proper enough for royalty.”

“Oh Emma,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers, “they have never stopped loving you. They are overjoyed to have you back. Not as a princess, but as their daughter and sister.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and sank into his embrace. She drew strength from his words, his faith in her, and his unwavering support. His fingers ran through her hair, and she never in her life had such an overwhelming desire to kiss someone. He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes intense.

“This is why I know I must give you space and time to think.”

Emma’s brow furrowed at his words. He cast his glance to the waters of the lake, his hands falling away from her cheeks.

“I was scarcely good enough for a lady. God knows I’m unworthy of a princess.”

He swiftly rose, and Emma was left speechless. Before he reached his horse, however, Emma was on her feet and hurrying after him.

“Sir Killian,” she called in a commanding tone. When he turned to face her, she tilted her chin and arched her brow in the most regal manner she could muster. “You are a knight pledged in service to the royal family, are you not?”

He tilted his head at her. “Aye, your highness.” His lips twitched as if he were fighting back a smile.

“And I can therefore give you orders?”

He sauntered closer, his blue eyes bright and sparkling with amusement. “You may.”

“Then I order you to kiss me.”

Emma’s cheeks burned red at her boldness, but she stood her ground. Killian came close, their chests almost touching, a half smile complimenting his arched brow. He leaned close, his nose brushing hers, and when he spoke, his breath caressed her lips.

“As you wish, princess.”

His hands came up to gently cradle her face and tilt her lips up to his. Her heart hammered so loud, she wondered if he could hear it. She was 18, and a young woman who until this moment had no title, no prospects. She had never been courted by anyone, and the only attention she had received from men was the type to flee from. Thus, she had never been kissed and feared disappointing the man before her. Fleeing this moment, however, was the furthest thing from her mind. Never had she wanted something so badly while simultaneously feeling such terror.

Killian pressed his lips to hers with a mixture of tenderness and fervor. His thumbs rubbed circles on the apples of her cheeks as his lips moved over hers. He tilted his head and pulled her flush against him, one arm wrapping around her waist and his other hand cupping the back of her head. Emma threaded her own fingers through his hair. His tongue swiped at the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. Were her feet still on the ground? She explored his mouth with her tongue, shocked at her own boldness, and her heart soared to hear the groan in the back of his throat which turned into a strangled sound as Killian broke the kiss. Emma was slightly embarrassed when she chased his lips before stopping herself, brushing her nose with his instead.

“That was -” she said with ragged breath.

“- earth shaking?” Killian asked, his lips curling into a smile as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“The earth?” Emma laughed. “I don’t think my feet are touching the ground.”

His answering chuckle was warm, vibrating against her breast as he pulled her close, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“I love you, Emma,” he whispered against her hair.

“I love you, too,” she answered, pressing her lips against his collarbone.

“Marry me?” he asked as he trailed kisses along her jaw.

“I guess that means I was satisfactory at kissing?”

He pulled back, blinking rapidly at her odd reply. She gave him a half shrug, biting at her lower lip.

“It was my first kiss,” she clarified shyly. Now her face was bright red.

Killian threw his head back and laughed in the most joyous way. Then he grabbed her, lifting her off her feet. Emma squealed as her arms tightened around his neck.

“More than satisfactory,” he told her with a grin.

Her reply was to kiss him again. She hoped he knew that meant her answer was yes.

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

Emma’s hands couldn’t stop shaking. On the other side of the heavy oak doors were her mother and brother. Queen Mother Ruth and King David - her family! Simply having a family was enough to take in, but to discover that her family was royalty? It was almost more than she could process.

“They will love you,” Killian assured her, wrapping his arm around her waist, and nuzzling his words against her right ear.

“Sir Killian is right that they will love you,” Regina assured from her left, stilling the nervous flutter of Emma’s hands with her own. Regina leaned forward and cast a scathing look towards Killian. “However, he is absolutely wrong to be so free in his affections with you in public. “

Killian arched one brow, his eyes sparkling. “I see. So I should get her alone in order to properly lavish her with such affections.” He grinned as his gaze caught Emma’s, giving her a saucy wink. Regina huffed in irritation.

“Come now, Regina,” Emma teased, “didn’t I just catch Robin Hood lavishing you with improper affections in public?”

Regina tilted her chin regally, her lips pressed in a firm line. “That’s different. Robin and I are of a more mature age, and he is already a father.”

Emma glanced over at Killian, and they both laughed as Regina’s face turned crimson. Before Emma could give her guardian another retort, the doors before them opened, and the heralds announced her presence. Emma’s heart beat fast and her knees wobbled. She would have to go in by herself. It was royal protocol: Princess Emma alone had been summoned. Just before releasing her hands, Regina leaned near Emma’s ear.

“I hope you know that, despite everything, you were like a daughter to me.”

Emma turned and held Regina in a quick embrace. “I know,” she whispered back.

Regina took a step back, offering Emma a small smile. Emma then turned to Killian, who immediately pressed her knuckles to his lips.

“You are a brilliant, amazing woman, Emma. You need be nothing but yourself.”

Despite the open doors exposing her to the throne room, Emma leaned forward and brushed a kiss to his cheek. His smile in response filled her with more confidence than his words, and she stepped through the doors buoyed by both. She stepped further into the room, her hands twisting in front of her, her steps hesitant. The queen, on the other hand, wasn’t hesitant at all.

“Emma!” she cried as she rose from her chair. Emma was surprised to see not a dais with thrones set above the floor, but an ornate sitting room with brocade chairs in front of an enormous fireplace. The Queen Mother and the King had been sitting casually before the fire until she entered. Now Queen Ruth flew across the stone floor, her arms outstretched. King David followed behind her, a gentle smile upon his face. The heralds stood by the door she had just entered, and guards flanked the walls, but other than that, the royals were simply enjoying a simple evening as family.

And Emma, it seemed, was being welcomed with open arms. Ruth pulled her close, tears sliding down her cheeks and falling upon Emma’s shoulder. The woman was petite and smaller than Emma, her body bowed by tragedy and loss. Emma’s arms went around her loosely, unsure how to respond. The King wrapped his arms around them both, his hand coming up to cup the back of Emma’s head. She tried to relax into the familial embrace, but she remained rather stiff. All she’d ever had was Regina, who wasn’t particularly free with affection.

They released her, and Queen Ruth regarded her with a watery gaze. “You look so much like your father,” she told Emma quietly.

Behind her, King David laughed, “I thought you always said James and I favored father.”

The queen tipped her head, her gaze still on Emma, unfazed by her son’s teasing. “That you do, and I see the resemblance in your sister as well. There’s no chance of denying that the two of you are siblings.”

Emma swallowed nervously. “I - I’m sorry about Prince James, your majesties.” Perhaps it was a partial lie, but the villainous man was still the queen’s son and the king’s brother.

And hers. He was Emma’s brother, too.

Queen Ruth pressed her eyes shut and shook her head slowly. “James was lost to me many years ago. Perhaps if I had not turned a blind eye, our family would not have splintered apart.”

“None of that, mother,” the king chastised, “and as for you, dear sister, you can dispense with the royal titles. I am merely David, and this is your mother.”

He squeezed the older women in an affectionate side hug, and the queen chuckled. “Oh David, you are much too charming. Let the girl adjust before we insist upon familial monikers. Although,” she added, turning to Emma, “your majesty is completely unnecessary. You may call me Ruth until you feel more comfortable with mother.”

“Thank you,” Emma whispered, her nerves still lingering despite the warm welcome.

“Come, sit,” Ruth insisted as she tugged Emma’s hand, leading her to a chair by the hearth. “I imagine you have many questions.”

“Aye, I do,” Emma admitted as she took her seat. “Sir Killian said that my brother James tried to harm me, but that makes no sense. I am a girl and the last born at that. What threat could I possibly be to him? And wasn’t he but twelve at the time of my birth?”

Ruth’s face became pinched and her color paled. “All of that is true, my dear, but James was never . . . right. Something was always a bit off. His father and I became so concerned, we even had the priest come and do an exorcism. We feared he had been overtaken by a demon.”

“It was no demon, mother,” David spoke up from the chair beside Emma, “it was his own selfish desires and twisted obsessions.”

“I know that now,” Ruth sighed, crushing a silk handkerchief in her hands agitatedly. “The first sign that something was wrong with James came when he and David were still in the cradle. Most twins take comfort in the presence of the other, and prefer to be together, so the boys shared a cradle, but as soon as he was big enough and strong enough, James would regularly push David out. We had to separate them.”

“And David was born first?” Emma asked.

“Yes,” Ruth said with a nod, “the royal midwife tied a red string around David’s ankle when he came out first, and we kept that red string there until the boys were of an age that I could tell them apart easily. Their personalities were polar opposites, but so were their countenances. It was hard to believe they were twins, despite what the eyes could see.”

“It didn’t end with pushing me out of the crib,” David added, leaning forward, “I had several accidents through the years, all of them at James’s hand. Spooked horses, tumbles from foot bridges, that sort of thing. James always feigned innocence, of course.”

“And God help me, I wanted to believe him,” Ruth said, her voice trembling.

David reached out to still her shaking hands, “You loved him unconditionally. Who can fault you for that? I loved him too, you know. None of this has been easy.”

“The worst came when the boys were ten,” Ruth continued, bravely looking Emma in the eye. “I witnessed it myself - James pushed David from the castle’s highest parapet. Thank God I followed them up there. David grabbed onto a pennant, and I reached him in time to pull him up. I’ll never forget the look on James’s face as I held David in my arms, both of us trembling. I asked him why he would do such a thing. Coldly, he told me the throne would be his, even if he had to sell his soul to do it. We sent David away the very next day to train as a knight under Sir Eric in Glowerhaven.”

“I wasn’t there when you were born two years later, Emma,” David apologized, “if I had, maybe I could have protected you -”

“You were just a boy,” Emma cut him off with a raised hand, then she turned back to Ruth. “What happened when I was born?”

“Well, first of all,” Ruth said, leaning forward to grasp Emma’s hand, “you were a miracle. For years, I had been unable to conceive again. There was a mystic nun who visited the castle right before I discovered that I was with child. She prophesied that I would give birth to a daughter and that you would be the key to stopping the evil intents of my middle son. She pointed to James and said that his soul had belonged to Satan since infancy. Until you arrived, Emma, I confess most of us laughed off her words. Surely James wasn’t evil, he was just . . . “

Ruth could no longer speak. She pressed her handkerchief to her mouth and choked out a strangled half-sob. Once she had composed herself, she straightened and looked at Emma sadly.

“One night, your nursemaid, Johanna, had just finished with your bath and left you in your cradle to fetch your clothes. When she returned, she saw James dashing out. Thank God she returned as quickly as she did. James had dropped you back into the tub. She is the one who took you to Regina. When she told your father and I what had transpired, we felt it best that James believe he was successful. We announced to the kingdom that you drowned in the bath. Johanna even left the castle, allowing everyone to believe she was at fault.”

Ruth’s composure finally broke fully, and she covered her face with both hands. Emma rose and dropped to her knees at her mother’s feet.

“Please don’t cry,” she soothed.

“I missed everything,” she sobbed, “your first steps, your first words. Giving you up was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”

“You wanted me to have my best chance,” Emma told her softly, “and you did. . . mother.”

Ruth lifted her tear stained face to meet Emma’s gaze. A single tear escaped from Emma’s own eyes and slid slowly down her cheek. Ruth reached out to cup her daughter’s face and wipe the tear away. Emma leaned against her then, allowing the queen to envelop her in a mother’s embrace. This time, Emma relaxed into it, relishing the love that poured off this woman.

“If only your father were still here to see you,” Ruth whispered against Emma’s hair.

Truly, Emma wished that too. She wished for many things: that James had been content with his place in life and not torn the family apart, that he wasn’t currently locked in the dungeon awaiting the gallows, that her mother had been there for all the special moments in Emma’s life. Yet none of them could change the past. She felt David’s arms go around them both, and somehow she knew that a page had turned in the story of her life. Never had the future seemed so full of possibilities.

Or happy endings.

“Now,” David said, releasing them both as their tears turned to laughter, “what is all this about my best friend proposing marriage to my sister?”

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

The rushes upon the floor were sprinkled with the sweetest smelling herbs, laughter rang along the banqueting tables, and the bride and groom were both flushed with love and desire. Emma grinned broadly as she joined the revelers in calling for the groom to claim yet another kiss from his bride. Sir Phillip eagerly leaned over and pressed his lips to Lady Aurora’s. The moment he did so, the couple clearly forgot where they were, lost in one another completely until the merry maker’s cheers turned to hoots. The pair pulled apart, their flushed faces a deeper red than before.

“I can hardly wait for that to be us, darling,” a husky voice whispered in Emma’s ear.

A shiver ran along Emma’s spine as she turned towards her fiance who was sitting scandalously close. A smile curled Emma’s lips.

“It will be in only five days. Tis not so long, my handsome knight.”

“On the contrary,” Killian retorted, his blue eyes darkening with desire, “it is far too long, my fair princess.”

“That’s just Emma to you, my love,” she replied, cupping his face in her hands.

Killian grinned and brushed a chaste kiss to her lips. “May I have a dance with my bride-to-be?”

“You may,” Emma answered, resting her hand in the crook of his arm as he helped her

rise from her seat.

Some would have said it was the wine, others the warm room or even the movement of the dance, but Emma knew it was the man who held her causing the blush upon her fair cheeks. She could have spun upon the rushes with him for hours, but duty called, and she had to leave Killian alone for a few moments. Her family needed to pay their respects to the happy couple.

Emma still wasn’t used to the formality as she curtsied low next to Queen Ruth, David bowing on the queen’s other side. First her mother and then Emma kissed the bride’s gloved hand. Yet before Emma could walk away, Aurora clasped her hand more tightly and pressed something into Emma’s palm. It was a garnet ring on the end of a pewter chain. Rather plain for Lady Aurora’s station, truth be told.

“This rightfully belongs to you,” Aurora told her, “now that you own the heart of the man it belongs to.”

Aurora inclined her head, and Emma followed the lady’s gaze to where Killian stood against the wall, handsome as usual in his formal tunic and leather breeches.

“He told me it was his brother’s,” Aurora explained, “so I know how much it means to him.”

“But he gave it to you,” Emma argued.

Aurora smiled gently. “Along with his heart, when he was still a lad. Yet as a man, he gave his heart to you, Emma.”

Emma nodded, clutching the simple piece of jewelry to her breast. It may not have been the finest jewels, but they meant more to Emma than the pearls and diamonds studding the tiara atop her head.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “and you feel no ill will towards me?”

Aurora shook her head, then turned her gaze upon Sir Phillip. She pulled her husband close, and the man came eagerly, resting his forehead against hers.

“All is as it should be,” Aurora said, her eyes never leaving Phillip’s.

Emma curtsied once more, then hurried across the floor to her knight. When she reached him, she flung herself, in a very un-princesslike manner, into Killian’s arms. She pressed kisses to both of his cheeks as he laughed.

“Whatever is this about?” he asked, still holding her feet up off the floor. “Though I’m hardly complaining.”

“All is as it should be,” she told him simply. And though it was improper, especially for a princess, Emma kissed her knight for all to see.

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: 14/19

I know it has been ages since I updated one of my WIP, but it’s not for lack of writing. I just have so many I’m juggling for one thing, and for another, my muse is demanding I write in short spurts for each one instead of plugging away on them one at a time. Anyway, the good thing about that is I have multiple fics almost ready for updates!

Summary: A CS Ivanhoe AU that I wrote because I never liked how the original ended. So we’ve got knights and ladies, the code of chivalry, and sword fights. Set in the middle ages with no magic.

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: women treated like it’s the middle ages, starts out Sleeping Captain, very anti-Neal (in this fic, Baelfire)

This chapter is about 2,500 words. It ties up some plot points and sets things up for the climax for Captain Swan.

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @thislassishooked @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @kday426 @tiganasummertree @bethacaciakay @teamhook @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic @let-it-raines @shireness-says

 There was a knock at the door of Emma’s chambers. She frowned, a long sigh issuing forth. She wished she could simply tell him to go away, but she knew it was futile. At least he fancied himself “in love” all of a sudden. She placed a ribbon in the book she was reading, set it on her nightstand, then rose from her bed and smoothed her dress. Another impatient knock sounded, and this time she groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Come in, my Lord.” That wasn’t his title, but Emma had found that using it made him feel in control. The more Sir Baelfire felt in control, the more likely he was to continue his “courtship” of her. Yet she never let her guard down when he visited her. His lust for her was still there, simmering beneath the surface. She knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to it. Hopefully she would find a way of escape before that happened.

“Lady Emma,” Sir Baelfire breathed, his face eager as he rushed for her. Emma took a slight step back, but extended her hand for him to kiss. “Sit with me,” he practically begged, pulling her gently towards a fainting couch in an alcove along the wall.

Emma smiled at him sweetly. “Oh no, dear sir, that is highly improper here in my chambers. Join me by the fire instead.”

She sat in the chair on the hearth without awaiting his reply. To soften the request, she extended her hand and smiled at him beneath batting eyelashes. Baelfire gave her an eager, lovesick grin and then complied.

“Emma,” he said, sinking to his knees beside her and clasping both her hands in his, “relieve me of this torture and marry me. I love you more deeply than I thought I ever could.”

Emma forced a smile upon her face even as a pit formed in her stomach. He thought he was in love because she was just out of reach. She had given him just enough hope to keep him at arm’s length. It had been a desperate attempt when she had awakened that first night with him leaning over her. Rejecting his advances outright hadn’t worked the last time, so she prayed perhaps stringing him along would bide her some time. It seemed her time might be almost up.

“But my dear Baelfire,” she told him sweetly, stroking his knuckles, “I am a delicate maiden who hasn’t been around many men. I need more time. Not only that, I wish for my mistress to be here. She is all the family I have ever known. I want her to be here for my happy day.”

A slight furrow formed in the knight’s brow. “Emma, darling, you do realize that your reputation has been ruined beyond repair. You shared a chamber with Sir Killian, unchaperoned much of the time. You should be grateful for my proposal.”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from arguing with his words. Killian had been severely ill and wounded, but even if he had been whole, he would not have laid a hand on her. His integrity and adherence to the code of chivalry was something the man before her could never comprehend. Yet saying such things to Baelfire would be suicide.

“I have spent much time alone with you in this chamber, have I not?”

That glint of lust lit his eyes, the one that made her blood grow cold. “So in the eyes of many, you are already mine.”

She swallowed against the nausea rising up in her. “Therefore, what is the rush, my sweet?” She almost choked on the endearment.

Baelfire’s face hardened as he leaned in close. “Are you stalling, Emma?”

“Of course not.”

His eyes narrowed. “Then seal it with a kiss.”

Emma forced herself not to move as he drew ever closer, his breath hot on her face. At the last moment, she turned away, his lips landing on her cheek.

“That is a proper kiss for a knight courting a proper lady,” she said softly, dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap. She hoped he thought her demure, shy.

Sir Baelfire grasped her face roughly and turned her to face him. The look of a lovesick knight was completely gone. “Will you or will you not wed me tonight? My father demands an answer.”

Emma swallowed hard. “I can’t Baelfire. As much as I care for you, I’m . . . frightened. Just a little more time, please.”

He released her roughly, and Emma forced herself to remain calm, blinking back the tears that pressed behind her eyes. He stood over her, fire in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment, Emma thought her time was up. The lust had won. But then he turned suddenly from her and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Emma was left trembling all over.

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

“She still refuses to marry you?”

Baelfire flinched at his father’s barely contained rage. “I have had mere days to woo her, and -”

“She has bewitched you, my boy!” Robert Gold pounded his fist on the dining room table, causing goblets to wobble, sloshing wine onto the tablecloth.

“I don’t deny that,” Bealfire admitted, “for I have never felt this way about a woman before.”

“I don’t mean it in a romantic way,” Sir Robert seethed, “I mean, she has literally bewitched you.”

Baelfire frowned and shook his head. He turned suddenly as the door to the room burst open. His mouth fell open as his father’s guards dragged Emma into the hall. She wasn’t coming easily, twisting and kicking her feet. The men shoved her roughly to the ground at his father’s feet.

“Accusations of witchcraft have followed you throughout the land, Emma Swan,” his father barked at her. “Do you deny it?”

“Interesting line of questioning,” Emma muttered, “you didn’t ask me if I am a witch, you asked if I’ve been accused.”

Sir Gold’s lips twisted in a sinister smile. “Fine then, are you a witch?”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Of course not.”

“Yet you are brought in to perform miraculous healings.”

“Simple knowledge of herbs and the human body. But if it were miraculous, shouldn’t we be praising the Lord for His healing hand upon the sick?”

Baelfire gasped when his father’s hand suddenly connected with Emma’s cheek, the sound echoing throughout the dining hall.

“A witch should not speak the Lord’s name.”

Emma’s jade eyes flashed. “So you already presume me guilty?”

“My son left home aligned with Prince James, his mission to see him take the throne. Yet he comes home with you, having failed in that mission, spouting ridiculous proclamations of love.”

“I cannot help your son with his feelings.”

“You could marry him.”

“I thought I was a witch.”

Sir Gold slapped Emma’s other cheek, her head whipping at the contact. Baelfire surged forward, but his father stayed him with a lifted hand.

“Emma Swan, the Knights of the Templar charge you with witchcraft and using the dark arts to seduce Sir Baelfire.”

“Father, no! She's done nothing of the sort!” Baelfire found himself restrained by his father’s guards.

“You will be burned at the stake,” Sir Gold continued, coldly ignoring his son as he strained against the guards, “unless a champion comes to do battle in defense of your piety and honor.”

Baelfire cried out, subduing both guards and wrestling the sword away from one of them. He fell to his knees before his father. “I will be her champion!”

“No, my son, you cannot. You will be fighting as a Templar if a champion comes forward. If that happens, you will slay said knight where he stands.”

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

Sir Killian and King David strode into Misthaven’s great hall. Though David was royalty, he was also a man of honor, and as such, he would treat Lord Stefan with respect while in his home. He also hoped to keep his best friend from insulting the man who had raised him with demands for horses and a small army of knights. He couldn’t help the grin playing with the corners of his mouth as he thought of the way Killian spoke of his sister. They would rescue her, of this he was sure, and he knew Killian would have a large part in accomplishing it.

“My lord,” Killian said, sinking to one knee.

“Son!” Lord Stefan exclaimed.

He shocked Killian by rising from his chair, pulling the knight up to his feet, and embracing him warmly. The man had raised him, it was true, but actual affection had been rare. The man stepped back, his hands still clasping his ward’s upper arms, a huge grin on his face.

“My boy, I am so glad to see you whole and hearty.”

“Whole,” King David broke in, “but not hearty quite yet.”

Killian turned a glaring eye on his best friend, and the King suppressed a chuckle.

“His Majesty is being overly cautious, my Lord, I am perfectly capable of resuming my knightly duties, which brings me to -”

“There’s only one duty I wish to speak of on such a joyous day,” Lord Stefan cut him off. “I can’t believe I was so blind to Prince James and his selfish ambitions. I praise heaven above that he was caught and thrown into the dungeon before he could wed my precious Aurora.”

Stefan turned to the alcove nearby where his daughter stood hesitantly beside Sir Phillip. Her face paled, her gaze avoiding Killian, as her father gestured her forward. He took her by one hand, and Killian by the other.

“I see now the honorable man that you are, Sir Killian, and nothing would please me more to join you in marriage to my daughter, to have you as a true son and heir to all my estate.”

Killian had waited so long to hear those very words, yet now they made sadness sweep over him. The face that drifted before his mind’s eye was Emma’s, and he knew with sudden clarity that he had given his heart over to her, no matter how he had tried to guard it. He also knew, with David’s news, that he could never wed her. He, a knight with no title, could never marry a princess. And what of his youthful vows to Aurora? The tender kisses they had shared? He had no choice but to do the honorable thing, so he lowered himself to his knee once again, this time to Lady Aurora.

“If she will have me, my Lord.”

Behind them, King David couldn’t help the scowl upon his face. His best friend’s damn chivalry and code of honor was going to break two hearts at once, and a third years down the road when Lady Aurora realized her husband’s heart was distracted.

Silence descended upon the great hall as Aurora stood pale, trembling, and speechless. She finally hung her head, and whispered to her childhood sweetheart.

“I’m sorry, dear knight, but I cannot.”

Killian’s head snapped up to meet her gaze in shock. He searched her gaze intently. “Has something changed?”

Aurora’s eyes were sad, yet her lips couldn’t help tilting up in a smile as she glanced back at Sir Phillip.

“I’m . . . afraid it has.” She grasped both this hands in hers, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I will always love you, Killian, but in the way of a mere girl. Do you understand?”

Killian’s gaze softened, a smile of understanding dawning upon his face. “Aye, I do. You and I are bound by childhood affection. However, I have come to learn of a deeper type of love.” He kissed her hands. “Who has captured your heart, dear Aurora?”

Her face broke into a full smile as she turned to Sir Phillip. She said nothing, just clasped her hands beneath her chin as she beseeched the knight before her without words.

“Lady Aurora?” Phillip asked hesitantly, scarcely daring to believe this turn of events. In two strides, he was beside her, cupping her face with his hands. “Could I dare to dream that you love me as I have come to love you?”

Aurora nodded as tears slipped down her cheeks. “I do.”

Phillip gave a small, delighted laugh before bending to press his lips to hers. Being in the great hall, with her father present, he kept it chaste. Yet the pleasant warmth that seeped through them both was evidence of what they shared.

“This is . . . an interesting turn of events,” Lord Stefan sputtered.

My Lord,” Phillip addressed Stefan, releasing Aurora and sinking to one knee before him, “I ask permission to wed your daughter.”

“A Norman and a Saxon bound in marriage?” Stefan sputtered, still clearly overwhelmed by this turn of events.

“Sir,” David spoke up, stepping forward, “uniting the two is my highest priority as king. This union will go far in bringing peace to the kingdom. Not only that, Sir Phillip has broken with the Knights of the Templar and pledged his knightly allegiance to me.”

Lord Stefan blinked rapidly, glancing between his daughter and King David. “Well, in that case . . . “ he looked down at the knight still kneeling before him, then released a long sigh, “the ways of the young are baffling to me, but if the King himself smiles upon this union, who am I to protest?”

Lady Aurora squealed in a very unladylike manner, throwing her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

Killian reached a hand out to his old friend and first love. She took it, giving him a knowing smile.

“Make sure to tell her how you feel, Killian.”

His eyes widened. “I . . . don’t know what you mean,”

Behind them, King David let out a loud guffaw. “Don’t be ridiculous, the way you feel about Emma is obvious to everyone.”

Killian’s face reddened as he lowered his voice so only his King could hear. “You of all people know why my feelings matter not.”

David arched a brow at his friend as he whispered back. “And I of all people can allow my sister to wed whomever she pleases.”

Killian’s jaw dropped as his mind struggled to process the implication of David’s words. Before he could respond, the doors at the end of the hallway burst open, and in strode Robin Hood with Regina close at his heels. David and Killian rushed to greet them. Regina grasped the young knight in desperation.

“Sir Killian, my ward helped save your life, now you must save hers.”

“What’s happened?” Killian asked in alarm.

“Unless a champion comes to fight for her, she will be burned as a witch,” Robin told them gravely, righteous anger shining in his eyes.

Without hesitation, Sir Killian and King David drew their swords.

“Sir Gold doesn’t know who he has threatened,” David growled.

“He wants a champion?” Killian added with a clenched jaw. “Then a champion he shall get.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: 12/19

As I read over this fic (since it had been so long since I updated it), I saw that at one point I promised to update this every Friday. Yeah, sorry about that! Life just got in the way. But, even though I can’t promise updates every Friday, I can promise that I will be updating this more regularly from now on.

Oh, the research we have to do as fanfic writers . . . I have been studying Julian Morris’s face (such a burden, I tell you) so I could do a better job at describing him because, honestly, I’ve never paid much attention to Phillip on Once. The Once wiki fan page says he has hazel eyes, which I mentioned in a previous chapter. However, after much (purely scientific) research, I beg to differ. Those eyes look brown to me, people. And can I just say that the casting director’s for Once have a very good track record for hunting down attractive men? Sorry Julian that I did not appreciate that pretty face more when watching the show. You were just one of so many!

But don’t worry, this chapter isn’t all Philip and Aurora. There’s also Outlaw Queen. Oh, and CS. There’s a little of that too . . . Let’s just say things are heating up all over the place in this chapter 😉

Summary: My CS Ivanhoe AU because I never liked how Ivanhoe ended. There’s chivalry and jousting and all that good stuff. But best of all, Killian is a knight. Oh, was that all I had to say?

Rating: T for men treating women like it’s the 12th century (except for our heroes, of course)

Trigger Warning: Starts out Sleeping Captain, but CS is endgame. Also positive spin on Regina with Outlaw Queen.

Words: Close to 3,000 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells (who has helped me with this fic!) @whimsicallyenchantedrose @wellhellotragic @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @kmomof4 @snidgetsafan @kday426 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @jennjenn615 @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @let-it-raines (If anyone else wants to be tagged, please let me know!)

When the warmth of the sunrise hit Aurora’s face, she groaned at the stiffness in her neck. At some point, she had simply slumped against the tree behind her and promptly fallen asleep. Phillip’s head still rested in her lap, yet before she could wriggle free of the inappropriate situation, his eyes blinked open, their warm brown irises seeming to almost melt in the early rays of the sun. Her hand drifted to his jaw without conscious thought, and she trailed her fingertips lightly along his thickening beard. He smiled at her, a dimple forming in his right cheek.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered.

Low as his voice was, it startled Aurora, and she snatched her hand away from his face. He frowned and stood up as quickly as he could. When she tripped over her skirts in her own haste to stand, he clasped her elbow and assisted her. His palm against her skin sent a tingle down her arm. When had she started feeling this way around him? Flustered and overly aware of each and every feature of his handsome face?

“You . . . had a nightmare,” she mumbled, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.

His gentle brown eyes regarded her tenderly. “I appreciate your kindness, m’lady. We’ll speak of it no more.”

And with that, he bent to scatter the ashes of their fire, chattering to her about the warm milk his mother used to bring him as a child whenever he had bad dreams. Aurora knelt nearby, relieved to put her trembling hands to a task as she packed their meager provisions back into Sir Phillip’s satchel.

“Mothers are naturals at soothing nightmares I suppose,” Aurora put in, feeling more at ease the higher the sun rose in the sky, “my mother would comb her fingers through my hair and sing me a lullaby as I drifted back to sleep.”

“You miss her terribly, don’t you?”

“Aye, more than I can say.” She handed the satchel to Phillip and tried to ignore the heat that flared when his fingers brushed against hers.

They headed through the trees, still staying off the path lest they run into bandits or scouts of Prince James. Phillip offered her his hand whenever the terrain got rough, and each and every time, the urge to feel his arms around her swelled within her. And on the heels of such thoughts, came swift guilt at the way her heart was betraying her precious Killian, her childhood sweetheart. Yet every time she tried to pull Killian’s roguish smile to her mind, her eyes were pulled to Phillips’s easy grin. And every time she attempted to conjure memories of Killian’s sparkling blue eyes, she found her mind drawn instead to the depth and warmth of a pair of brown ones instead.

“Lady Aurora, why are you trembling?”

She blinked to see Phillip standing there, concern etched upon his brow as he held her gloved hand in both of his.

“I . . . “

But before Aurora could give an answer, Phillip’s gaze snapped to the tree line, and he pressed a finger to his lips to warn her to be silent. Without thinking, she pressed herself closer to his side as she saw a figure through the trees. Phillip pulled her behind a large tree, pressing her back against the trunk. Her heart pounded in her chest at how close the knight was, though his gaze was fixed beyond the trees and not at her.

“Phillip,” she whispered. Was that flutter in her heart from fear, or something else?

“Sh,” he warned, but when his eyes captured hers, he forgot about whatever threat was beyond their hiding place. Instead, his eyes darted from her eyes to her lips and back again, his body inching just a bit closer to press against hers. Their breathing seemed to match, both quickening. He bent his head, his lips hovering close, and she felt her eyes falling shut without a thought.

“Who’s there!”

The shout from beyond the edge of the woods caused both of them to jump, and Phillip immediately put distance between them, a blush creeping up his neck visible even under his beard. Aurora bit down on her lip to prevent a chuckle from slipping forth.

“Poaching on Misthaven land is punishable by death!” the voice shouted once again. “Show thyself!”

Aurora gasped and rounded the tree as she recognized it. She had clearly flustered Sir Phillip, because he wasn’t quick enough to grasp her arm as he called out a warning. The knight found himself trailing behind her as she lifted her skirts and ran towards the familiar voice.

“Graham!” she exclaimed as she ran.

The knight, whom she had known since she was a small child, grinned in relief as he lowered his bow. “Aurora? Is that you?” He put his arrow back in his quiver and slung his bow upon his back just in time to catch her as she leapt into his arms. They both laughed as they embraced, but when Graham saw Philip trailing behind her, he stepped in front of her defensively.

“Stand down, Graham,” she laughed, pushing him aside, “this is Sir Phillip, my rescuer.”

“Rescuer?” Graham asked, suspicion coloring his words. “What’s happened? We’ve been worried sick. Uncle Stefan and the rest of your party were supposed to arrive days ago.”

“Uncle Stefan?” Phillip asked.

“Yes,” Aurora explained as she clasped Phillip by the elbow, “Sir Phillip, I would like you to meet Sir Graham Humbert, my cousin on my mother’s side.”

Phillip nodded as he took in the family crest of a wolf and a deer on the shield that hung on the man’s horse behind him. He reached out and took the man’s offered hand.

“And this is Sir Phillip, knight of the Templar.”

“A Norman?” Graham almost spat.

“None of that,” Aurora sighed with a roll of her eyes, “did you miss the part where I said he was my rescuer?”

“I did take note of that, cousin, and what exactly did he rescue you from? And where is the rest of your father’s house?”

“That is a long story,” Phillip told him, eyeing the woods behind them carefully, “and one better told within the walls of Misthaven. Do you have a good company of knights to sufficiently guard the castle?”

“We do,” Graham nodded firmly.

“Good. Take the Lady Aurora and make haste to the keep. I’ll follow.”

“But Phillip!” Aurora bit her lip as grasped his hands in hers. “Dear brave sir, I can surely walk the remainder of the way. You are in just as much danger as I for betraying your company.”

“And that was the choice I made,” he replied firmly, “you, however, have been a victim in all of this, and I have vowed to ensure your safety.”

“And you are my family,” Graham added, unceremoniously scooping her up and placing her upon his horse.

She wanted to argue further, to reprimand Graham for flinging her around like a rag doll, but the look of intensity in both men’s eyes stopped her. Phillip stepped forward and grasped her hands once again. “Prince James is involved, remember? This is no trifling matter.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Graham promised.

Phillip nodded and squeezed her hands. “I’ll be right behind you on foot.”

All Aurora had time to do was smile at the handsome brown-eyed knight as Graham shot forward on his steed towards Misthaven castle.

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

The Merry Men led Lord Stefan, Regina, and Violet stealthily through the woods towards the castle where the captives were being held. Suddenly, Robin Hood stopped and lifted his hand and their company immediately stopped, the Merry Men dropping to crouch amidst the brush. Robin made his way back to the Lord and the two ladies by his side.

“Wait here,” Robin instructed. “My men and I will draw closer to the castle in order to set the fires. Are your men ready, Lord Stefan?”

He nodded. “I really feel as if I should be with them.”

“No my Lord,” Robin argued firmly with a brisk shake of his head, “neither the Templars nor Prince James’s knights will hesitate to shoot down the most landed Lord of the Saxons. And with you gone, what will become of your daughter?”

Stefan sighed, yet nodded in agreement. He turned to Violet who was trembling and patted her hand. Speaking softly to the girl, he led her to a fallen long so she could sit. Regina watched the child with sympathy; it wasn’t fair that she had been drawn into such intrigue.

“They’ll be fine,” Robin assured at her elbow, “and so will your Emma. We’ll get her out safely, I promise.”

Regina nodded, folding her trembling arms across her chest. She wanted to believe him, yet she knew there were so many things that could go wrong in battle. Seeming to sense her distress, Robin reached out and clasped her arms gently.

“They’ll be drawn out by the fire. We don’t have time – Emma doesn’t have time – for a long siege.”

“I know.”

Regina took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Robin reached out tenderly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I have to go.”

He turned, and the thought that something could happen to him strangled Regina’s heart. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back to her, then yanked him down by the edge of his cloak to crash her lips into his. It was quick, and Robin blinked at her in shock.

“For luck,” she muttered, giving him a little shove as red flooded her cheeks.

He grinned broadly, then swiftly took her face in his hands. He bent then and kissed her properly, his lips sliding over hers, his tongue gently parting her mouth so he could drink her in. When it ended, Regina felt herself sway as spots danced before her eyes.

“For the pleasure of it,” he told her with a wink, then he was jogging off to join his men.

Regina rolled her eyes at his cockiness, yet she had to press her hands to her cheeks in order to cool them.

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

Killian watched Emma intently as she bent over him, her slender fingers roaming over his neck as she studied the cut there. He could no longer deny the heat that filled him at her touch, and it made dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He had made a vow to Lady Aurora. No matter what attraction he felt to Emma Swan, he could never break it. And he did still love Aurora; they had a long history together, and she was a tender part of his best childhood memories.

And yet, as he gazed into Emma’s face, he couldn’t help being drawn to her full, pink lips. He ached to gather her in his arms and press his lips to hers. He thought of waking up and finding her beside him, that drowsy smile upon those lips. He couldn’t help the traitorous wonderings in his mind – what would it be like to wake up to her smile every morning?

Those lips smiled as she ran her fingertips one more time down his neck and to his collarbone. He shifted in the bed, his face reddening to try and cover his body’s reaction.

“Well,” she told him joyously, “your neck wound is healing so nicely, it no longer needs a bandage.”

Her eyes met his, and her expression changed. Could she see his desire written all over his face? Her fingers drifted to his jaw, and he swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. He reached up to touch her hair as he had longed to do, relishing the silky feel of it between his fingers.

“You are an exquisitely beautiful woman,” he told her softly.

“You only say that because I saved your life.”

“No, I say it because it’s true.”

His hand left her hair to cup her face. That too was just as soft as he had imagined. Emma took her hand in both of hers, her eyes falling shut as she held it pressed to her face. Then she gave his palm a slow, lingering kiss. The feel of her lips sent a jolt through him and it took every ounce of his chivalry not to pull her down to the bed for a passionate embrace.

She opened her eyes, and he was startled to see tears in them. “You are not mine to have, Sir Killian.”

Then she dropped his hand and rose quickly, turning her back to him. She hastened to the kettle at the fire.

“Forgive me, Lady Emma,” Killian choked, feeling like an utter cad, “I didn’t mean -”

“It’s okay,” she cut him off. “Let’s just . . . forget it happened, shall we?”

Killian struggled to sit up in the bed, and Emma turned suddenly with an alarmed expression. She ran to his side and gently pushed him back down against the pillows.

“Just because your neck wound is healed doesn’t mean the rest of you is,” she admonished like a mother hen.

He groaned as he felt the jabbing pain in his ribs and the flame of fire shooting from the wound in his side. “I realize that now that I’ve attempted to move,” he chuckled. His gaze found Emma’s as she fussed with the blankets. “Forgive my forwardness, I beg of you m’lady.”

She gave him a smile tinged with sadness. “Of course I forgive you.”

She turned back to the kettle which was now singing over the fire, and he sagged against the headboard. No matter what his future held, of this he was certain – Emma Swan would always haunt his thoughts.

The spell that seemed to hang between them was shattered when they heard screams, shouts, and crashes from the corridor. Emma gasped, nearly dropping the kettle, and then raced to the door. Ever since they sent Violet for help, they had been alone in the chambers. He prayed no one ever learned of it; he would never forgive himself if he harmed Lady Emma’s reputation.

When Emma reached the door, she yanked it open and immediately began to cough as thick smoke billowed into the room. Another scream rent the air along with the sound of shattered glass, and Emma tumbled back into the room as flames licked at the stone outside of their chamber.

“Emma!” Killian shouted, pushing up from the bed despite his pain.

She ran to him, catching him as he attempted to rise from the bed. She lowered him back to the mattress, clinging to his shoulders, her cheeks streaked with tears.

“You can barely walk! What are we going to do?”

She choked on a sob, and he drew her close, even as he winced at the pain in his ribs. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

“You must leave me,” he whispered into her hair.

“What? No!” She grabbed desperately at his shoulders.

“Emma!” A voice shouted from the doorway. They both turned to see Sir Baelfire standing there, outfitted in chain mail as if ready for battle. “The castle is on fire, you must come with me!”

“No!” Emma shouted, clinging to Killian more desperately.

“Well, you don’t really have a say in the matter,” Baelfire grumbled, yanking Emma up.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, pummeling the knight with her fists. But Sir Baelfire had combat training and was clad in chain mail, so he easily stopped her attack, pinning her arms to her side.

“Let go of her!” Killian yelled, pushing himself off the bed. He attempted to stand, but his injuries, his weakness from his days of fever, and the smoke quickly filling the room were too much, and he sagged quickly to the floor.

Emma continued to fight her “rescuer,” kicking him in the shins and elbowing him in the stomach. The latter caused him to grunt and let go of her, but her instinct to rush to Killian’s side was her undoing. Sir Baelfire leveled a blow to her head that sent her crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

Killian struggled to his knees, swaying as the smoke thickened and flames swelled in the corridor. He choked, unable to cry out, helpless to rescue the woman who had so bravely fought and cared for him. Through the billowing smoke, he could just make out her arm dangling at her side, her hair a golden waterfall tumbling over the villainous knight’s arm as he carried her away.

“Emma,” he choked, a tear slipping down his cheek as they disappeared into the smoky haze.

As he slipped into oblivion, his last image was most likely a hallucination. He could have sworn he saw a Black Knight silhouetted in the flames.

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: Ch 11/?

Finally, the next update on this fic! Unfortunately, this has no Captain Swan in it. However, it is very important to the plot and sets up the next chapter. This also has the development of two of the other couples: Aurora/Phillip (which is good for CS, right?) and Outlaw Queen.

Summary: I think I’ve summarized this differently every single time, but basically this is an Ivanhoe AU. It’s also a fix-it fic (for me anyway) because I never liked how Ivanhoe ended. So basically you’ve got knights, jousting, chivalry, castles, lords & ladies, and Emma and Regina under suspicion of witchcraft. (That last part hasn’t been a big plot point yet, but trust me, it will. You know what I’m talking about if you know Ivanhoe.) Did I mention Killian is a knight? That’s always good, right?

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: “set in a time period where women were treated like crap” basically sums it up, also starts off Sleeping Captain, but you all know why I’m here . . . lol. Oh, and it Neal is a straight up evil villain in this . . . shocker from me, I know!

You can catch up on Ao3

@bethacaciakay @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic

Chapter Eleven

Aurora blinked, but no light penetrated the dark of the forest around her. She shivered. Even with Sir Phillip’s cloak added to Emma’s, the chill of night could not be warded off. This was the second night spent under the trees since fleeing their captors, and still Phillip insisted upon giving her added warmth while he took none for himself. He did the same with the meager rations in his satchel and the meat from the coney he had managed to shoot for their dinner. He was different from the rest of the knights in his company, and his gentleness and kindness warmed Aurora’s heart even as she feared what her father and Killian may be suffering.

She shifted on the hard ground, wondering what had awakened her from her slumber. Then she heard it, a sharp cry from the other side of the cold embers of last night’s fire.

“No, no! Please, no!”

It was Phillip’s voice, and the brokenness and fear in it made Aurora’s heart clench with an almost physical pain. She heard him thrash and cry out again. The mumbled tone of his voice let her know he wasn’t awake. She crept across the ground to where he lay, letting his cloak slip from her shoulders. She eased down to kneel next to him, and was concerned to see how he trembled. Whether it was from the dreams plaguing him or the cold, she wasn’t sure, but she draped his cloak over his shoulders nonetheless. Her hand drifted to his shoulder and lingered there. She startled when he grasped it firmly in his own.

“Mother?” he asked in a wavering voice.

She eased forward, eyes straining in the dark, but she didn’t think he was awake. She squeezed his hand and ran her thumb along his knuckles soothingly.

“Phillip?”

“Mother,” a slight cry trembled in his voice, “you’re here.”

His voice slurred, and his hand grew limp in hers. She reached out and traced his forehead with her other hand and felt furrows under her fingertips. He was grimacing in his sleep; evidently still within the throws of his nightmare.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, sounding so much younger than his years.

It was the most vulnerable any man had ever sounded in her presence, and something about it made a part of her heart unfurl in a way she had never known before. She shifted to sit next to him, running her fingers through his hair.

“I am going nowhere, Phillip. I promise.”

“There’s so much pain here, mother, so much hate . . .”

“Shhh, sleep,” she whispered, her fingers still gently soothing his scalp. He let out a sigh, and as she traced his forehead with her thumb, it was smooth. His breathing soon evened out, and his fingers slipped from her grip. He was asleep again.

Aurora gazed into the darkness, tears rolling down her cheeks. She knew what he was dreaming of; it was the Crusades.

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

Regina stomped across the campsite, looking around for something to kick, and frustrated when she could find nothing. The rising sun was burning off the mist of dawn, and she squinted against its light as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her fingers dug into her upper arms as she ground her teeth.

“I always find ladies quite fetching when they want to hit something.”

Regina spun around to see Robin Hood leaning cockily against a tree, his own arms crossed as he watched her with an infuriating smile upon his face. She scowled openly at him.

“You make women irate on such a regular basis?”

He chuckled as he pushed himself off the tree. “My wife would have said so when she lived. Yet her fire was one of the things I loved about her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. All men need such a partner in life, in my opinion.’

Regina rolled her eyes. “Please, you believe no such thing.”

Robin’s eyebrows rose, “You think I’m lying?”

Regina stomped closer to him, “Yes, I do. For one, men universally wish women to be meek and worship them no matter how infantile their actions. Secondly, you certainly didn’t listen when I spoke my mind just now.”

His face softened as he placed both hands on Regina’s shoulders. Her skin heated at his touch. “You have to trust me.”

Regina blinked, thrown slightly by the tingle that skittered down her spine at his nearness. She shook her head and took a step back.

“Trust you? Why should I? You’re a bandit that I’ve known for only two days. And the plan that your merry men and Stefan’s knights have cobbled together could very well get Emma killed.”

“Don’t forget that I fought alongside Sir Killian in the Crusades,” Robin retorted, his voice rising slightly. “I do not wish to see him harmed, nor does Lord Stefan want his daughter endangered.”

“Then we storm the castle!” Regina cried.

Robin stepped directly into her personal space and gazed into her eyes with fire in them. “And we would fail. You heard our scout. He saw Prince James and his knights heading for the castle where our friends are being held. We are far too outnumbered.”

Regina looked away, partly because she didn’t want to hear his arguments and partly because the way he looked at her had her feeling off-kilter. She blinked rapidly as worry and fear threatened to overwhelm her. But Mills women didn’t show softness; they didn’t show weakness, so she squared her jaw and took a step away from the bandit at her side. He stopped her with a gentle hand to her elbow.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned eluding the Sheriff of Nottingham, it’s that you don’t reveal move three before you’ve made moves one and two.”

Regina jerked her arm away. “This isn’t chess. Emma is no pawn.”

He grinned at her. “But how do you know I don’t have an extra knight – or even a king – up my sleeve?” He reached out for her again, running his hand up and down her arm in what she assumed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. How could he know his touch left fire in its wake? “We’ll draw the Templar knights away from the castle where my men fight best. Meanwhile Stefan’s men will attack from the rear –“

“- and set fire to the garrison,” Regina interrupted in irritation, “I was there for the strategy meeting, remember? So excuse me if I don’t want my dau – my ward – set on fire!”

Robin shook his head. “It’s a diversion, remember. It will give us time to –“

“To search every inch of that enormous castle?” she barked a sarcastic laugh. “There are so many holes in this plan, it’s ridiculous.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign he was beginning to lose his patience with her. Regina could care less. She may have been the only women in this little band, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to just be dragged along in any fool hardy scheme they concocted. The two of them were in an obstinate standoff, but before either of them could get in another barb, a sharp, high pitched cry pierced the edge of the camp.

“Please! Mercy! I beg of you!”

Regina’s eyes rose in alarm as they met Robin’s, and they raced across the camp. At the edge of the forest clearing, the merry men had a figure surrounded, their bows fitted with arrows to point at the interloper. When Regina and Robin pushed through the crowd, they were both shocked to find a slight young woman with dark brown hair crumpled on the ground with both hands raised and a look of terror upon her face.

“Stand down, men, she’s but a child!” Robin barked. Then he reached out for the girl and helped her up, speaking soothingly to her until her trembling ceased. He led her over to one of the logs by the fire, his eyes connecting with Regina’s as he did so. She understood his meaning and rushed to get the girl a cup of water. She accepted it gratefully, but only took a sip before speaking.

“My name’s Violet, and I am a servant at Glowerhaven castle.”

“Where they’re keeping Emma!” Regina gasped as she eagerly sat beside the girl. “No one seems to know who the Lord of that castle is. What can you tell us?”

The girl’s eyes filled up with tears, and Regina rubbed her back soothingly. She took a deep breath, then spoke.

“It will be Sir Baelfire’s once he weds. It’s part of his father’s holdings, though it’s only been a summer holiday retreat all the years I’ve worked there.”

Robin clenched a fist as he growled under his breath. “Lord Robert.”

Violet nodded. “Aye. His main estate is Fortress Gold on the far side of the kingdom, though I’ve never been there.”

Regina shook her head in frustration. “But what of the prisoners. What of my Emma?”

“And my dear Aurora,” Stefan added, coming to stand beside Robin, his face a tortured mask of worry and fear.

“It was Lady Emma and Sir Killian who told me to run. You see, her and Lady Aurora switched places that first day. I was to be the Lady Aurora’s chamber maid, but I’ve been Lady Emma’s instead while she cares for Sir Killian’s injuries.”

“Switched places!” Stefan cried. “Where is my daughter now?”

“She fled with Sir Phillip. To . . . Misthaven I believe?”

“She fled in the company of one knight?” Stefan moaned as he sank to the log. “She’ll be ruined!”

“Your daughter managed to escape from her kidnappers, and that’s what you’re worried about?” Regina exclaimed. Lord Stefan gave her a disapproving glare that could have curdled milk, but Regina could care less. Of all the patriarchal, ridiculous –

“Oh, but she had no choice, my Lord!” Violet exclaimed. “Prince James was on his way to force her into a marriage.” The child flushed as she glanced at the two men before her, then leaned towards Regina and whispered. “She was terrified, m’lady, she seemed to think he would . . . deflower her.”

Violet began to tremble again, and Regina shot a glare of her own at Lord Stefan as she pulled the poor girl close. After a few moments of Regina’s soothing fingers in her hair, the girl lifted her tear streaked face to Regina.

“Lord Killian was mending well under Lady Emma’s care, but then Sir James arrived. He frightened me so! He may be the prince, but he’s cruel.” She turned her gaze to the men. “He plans to use them as bait to capture Lord Stefan.”

Robin nodded, rubbing his chin with his hand. “He assumes we still believe Aurora to be imprisoned at Glowerhaven.”

“And we did,” Regina put in, giving Violet another smile, “until this brave girl found us.” Then she sighed deeply before looking up at Robin. “I do hate admitting when I’m wrong, but . . . what was that chess move you were planning again?”

Robin grinned down at her, and she felt a blush rise up into her cheeks. He clapped his hands, “All right, Merry Men! Let’s prepare for battle!”

Regina rose to her feet, relieved to finally be doing something to help her ward. She was also relieved that she hadn’t been forced to make her final chess move in order to ensure Emma’s safety. But before she could follow after Robin, Violet grasped her hand frantically.

“They have to hurry!” Violet implored with a trembling voice. “Prince James has murder in his eyes.”

Regina swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. She knew all too well Prince James’ true nature, and she’d be damned if the past eighteen years had been for naught.

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: Chapter Ten

 Writing this chapter was a struggle, and I had to face a fact: I can’t write Outlaw Queen! So I reached out to @snowbellewells, and she came to my rescue. The first half of this chapter is hers, and I am so thankful! She captured the style of this fic perfectly. Make sure to give her some love. The “poems” Emma reads in this chapter are actually lyrics to two Loreena McKennitt songs: “Mummer’s Dance” and her version of “Greensleeves.

Summary: Sir Killian is a noble knight known throughout the kingdom for his heroic deeds in the Crusades. However, he is nothing but the ward of Lord Stefan, which means he is forbidden to wed his childhood sweetheart, Lady Aurora. Emma Swan is the ward of Lady Regina, a former noblewoman of ill repute. They are known as merchants and healers, and sometimes rumored to be witches. Sir Phillip is a noble knight of the Templar who discovers an evil plot by his leader, Sir Baelfire. Treachery and intrigue will soon throw all of these characters together in surprising ways. (A CS AU of Ivanhoe)

Rating: T

Words: 4,000 in this chapter, so hopefully tumblr doesn’t eat the cut

You can catch up on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @mythologicalmango @teamhook @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs

  The fire crackled like a warmly wavering beacon in the dark of the night within the forest. Though they were far off the track where her wagon had been accosted earlier that day and the crackling, popping logs and dancing flames gave off a much welcomed warmth in the chill night air, Regina found she could not get comfortable in the bedroll she had been so kindly loaned, no matter how hard she might try. True, she was a bit further off from the circle of camp nearest the blaze, bedded down with the other members of Stefan’s caravan who had been rescued by the band of forest rebels, so she could always claim she had been too chilled for comfortable slumber as her excuse.

  It went deeper than that however; there was no sense denying it - at least not to herself. Her heart ached in her chest at how Emma had been taken from her and only worse and worse possibilities preyed on her mind of what the young woman she loved as a daughter might be enduring even now. Lying there, reasonably safe and warm, but unable to do anything to help her ward, was eating away at her. Finally, she sighed and flung off the blanket, getting up with a huff of frustration and moving to the small circle of men still awake around the fire.

  The man who had been speaking when she approached looked up, unsurprised and at ease as she stepped from the trees into the circle of light. Regina was mildly annoyed at his calm knowing, as she generally prided herself on having a bit of the grace she had been raised with in the noble home of a lord and lady, and also some measure of stealth and subtlety from the life she had made for herself and Emma - free, but constantly on guard and on the move.

  The three or four men still sitting up with him, clearly putting together some sort of battle plan for the day ahead, did look up, startled, when this ‘Hood’ motioned her forward, his tone light and even a bit taunting as he beckoned, “Come milady Regina, join us. No need to lurk in the shadows.”

  Affronted, even as she had been caught out doing just that, Regina huffed and stalked forward, dropping down onto the empty log as far from this Robin of Locksley as she could possibly get. Taking the carved, wooden tankard passed her way, Regina quickly tipped it up to hide at least partially her flushed cheeks and snapping, riled eyes for a moment behind its wide base.

  Unfortunately, the sharp, bitter flavor that met her taste buds did not mellow on its way down her throat, and she choked, eyes watering and coughing hard, slamming the drink back down on the log beside her. Glaring at the men gathered around the fire, as if assuming they had tried to play a trick on her, Regina spat out, “What is that?”

  The near-giant man seated at Robin Hood’s right raised an arm that seemed thick as a tree branch to jab a finger at her, eyes narrowed in equal distaste. “Tis our own Friar Tuck’s best ale,” he responded heatedly. “One not quite so high and mighty could simply be grateful for drink to wet a parched throat and a safe fire to warm herself by.”

  “His best?!?” Reigna spluttered indignantly, completely disregarding the aspersions cast on her character; long used to them and knowing in this case they were at least partially true. “If that’s his best, then I hope he is a better friar than he is a brewer.”

Grumbles broke out around the fire as all the men gathered now voiced their discontent and their restless agitation began to show. “How dare you!” the huge man burst out, gaze trained angrily on Regina.

  But Robin’s hand raised placatingly stopped the burly man’s tirade before it could truly begin, falling silent in deference to his leader’s stoic command. “Peace, Little John,” he murmured softly, his voice firm and certain though barely raised, a voice well used to being followed absolutely, even if hardly louder than the crackling fire, the shuffling of unsettled feet, the night sounds around them, and her own breath rasping with exertion echoing in her ears.

  Despite herself, Regina simply couldn’t keep her tart tongue in check; she was too off-balance, too worried, feeling much too helpless and angry at everything and everyone to think before speaking. It had earned her more than one harsh punishment from her lady mother in her childhood and adolescence, and she realized wryly that once again - despite all the years between and her drastic change in circumstances - she possessed more fire in her speech than was good for her. “Little?” she scoffed, wincing even as the word slipped off her tongue with derision. She might be rightly shaken and perturbed, but that didn’t give her the right to be hurtful. “Most who would attach such a diminutive before their names might show a bit more restraint at evening repast to be sure the term still fit.” She wanted to bit her own tongue in reprisal, but the words had already been spoken, seeming to hang almost visibly in the smoky air.

  “Restraint?!?” the behemoth shot back, looking truly incensed now. “You’re one to speak of restraint, when you wage war with every word that falls from your mouth. At finally meeting the sole heir of your family’s estate, I now see why it ended with no new generation to continue - “

  “Enough!” Robin’s sharp order was louder this time, cracking through the air like the whistle of an unfurled whip, harsher and more commanding than Regina had yet heard it - even when he and his men had charged into the fray along the road to battle their attackers. His eyes, which had been so warm and inviting mere minutes before, glittered dangerously as they flicked between his second-in-command and herself, brooking no further obstinance. The argument was over. “Shame on you both, fighting like this when we are on the same side. We must be united if we are to survive what faces us on the morrow. You know this,” he directed that last to his second harshly. The other man’s nod was tight with thwarted frustration, but he did not speak again.

  Robin’s shoulders dropped slightly. “Go,” he told his troops still gathered around. “Get what rest you may. We will need all the strength we can muster for the battle.”

  The men dispersed, melting silently back into the shadows of the trees. The leader of their outlaw band remained seated across from Regina, silent now and looking somewhat deflated, as if having to exert his authority so harshly had drained him. His head bowed the tiniest degree, and as he ran a weary hand back through his sandy hair in worried tension, Regina was flooded with regret at her outburst and her own ungratefulness. She wanted to apologize, but instead only sat silently, uncertain how to fix the mess she had helped to make, hands clasped in her lap and feeling as small and as overwhelmed as she hadn’t since the night before she left her family home long ago - saying goodbye to the place where she had grown up after one last failed plea to her parents for the right to make her own path, and steeling herself to venture into the unknown world alone.

  Biting her lower lip, Regina braved another glance up at the man across from her, only to find him studying her curiously - as if she were some sort of puzzle he could solve and then come to understand. His was gaze less stormy, more quiet and contemplative when he finally spoke, “You’re worried about her, aren’t you? Your ward?” he asked finally, his voice low and steady, though sincere in its question, expressing true concern. Regina was surprised too at noticing a cultured polish to its deep tones that had escaped her notice previously and seemed incongruous with a woodland bandit.

  “Emma,” Regina clarified with a nod, not really wanting to proceed, knowing that thinking of her companion, the young woman she had rarely been separated from for any length of time, would only intensify the fears for her replaying in her mind. “I realize there is nothing to be done tonight, and that it doesn’t excuse my rudeness to you or your men. My granny used to say my temper and my tongue would be a bane to me all of my days…” She shook her head ruefully at the memory that had once again proven true and paused before adding, “Be that as it may, I feel so helpless at the thought of her being hurt - or worse….” she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself at the chill which overtook her. “She’s been with me since she was two year old. In my heart, I feel she is in part my daughter. Not going to her this instant torments me so that I want to crawl out of my own skin!” She shook her head, words running out and getting her nowhere before trailing off to sit once again staring into the fire.

  Robin said nothing for some minutes, making Regina wonder if he would reply at all. When he finally got to his feet, Regina half expected him to turn and leave her to her woes, not even sure she deserved more than that from him. Still, her heart ached at the prospect of yet another man who could not handle, or did not wish to, all the impropriety, the whirling emotion, and the outspoken, nontraditional challenge she posed.

  However, he wholly surprised her. Boots crunched lightly over the fallen leaves on the ground between them as the archer crossed the emptied circle toward her instead. Removing his deep green cloak from his broad shoulders, he draped it over her own shivering ones, tucking it gently under her chin and then retreating a step as if suddenly afraid that had been too much. When he dropped to sit once more, it was beside her instead, and when Regina met his gaze, it was wistful, melancholy, and seemed to have gained the understanding he had previously sought. “My wife, Marian...God rest her sweet soul...she died bringing our son Roland into this world. She was goodness, purity and light...all I needed in this world...and to think that Roland will never know her…” he shook his head, fighting to rein in the emotion that had clearly risen with his words.

  Without thinking, Regina reached out a steadying hand and placed it on his knee in comfort.

 “Well, to put it bluntly, I often feel that I fail him every day, simply by being all he has. And yet, I would give anything, bear anything, to insure his safety. So, I believe I know something of your fear,” he finished, giving her a grateful look before he lay his larger hand over her own where it still rested on his knee, clasping it with a gentle pressure.

 Regina tried to ignore the frisson of heat that rippled up her arm at the simple contact - not only unfitting, but so unfamiliar to her that she hardly knew how to process it.

 For his part, Robin looked startled as well when she blinked dazedly and once more met his eyes. He leaned forward, close enough that his warm breath brushed across her nose and cheeks and she saw the determination solidify in the his face when he made her a solemn vow. “We will find my friend, and your Emma. I swear it to you, Regina. On my honor.”

 She held his faze for a breathless moment before finally whispering, “I may have only just met you, Robin of Locksley, but I believe you will.”

  Her affirmation, her belief in him seemed to transform his face. The flickering light of the fire burning low captured the smile that curved his mouth upward and glanced off the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered again, as if cementing it in her heart for strength. “I believe you will.”

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

And so they linked their hands and danced

Round in circles and in rows

And so the journey of the night descends

When all the shades are gone

A garland gay we bring you here

And at your door we stand

It is a sprout well budded out

The work of Our Lord's hand

  The Lady Swan’s voice wasn’t the soft, demure kind typical among the nobility. It was commanding and confident. Even while reading, the sound of it arrested Sir Killian. Listening to her read from the slim volume of poetry also gave him permission to study her features: her cheeks that appled when she smiled, the dimple in her chin, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were hidden beneath her lashes as she bent her head over the book in her lap, but he had noticed them earlier that morning on the pillow next to him. They were a glassy shade of green that he didn’t think he had ever seen before. And her hair? It was braided today, tamed in a more socially acceptable fashion, yet it still glistened like polished bronze.

We’ve been rambling all the night

And some time of this day

Now returning back again

We bring the garland gay.

She finished reading the poem and smiled as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Do you wish for me to read another, my liege?”

He shook his head. “No, m’lady. Courtly poetry can only entertain one for so long, even a knight.”

Killian cocked his head and studied her as she chuckled lightly, running her hand along the cover of the book in her lap as she closed it. “Although,” he continued, “I would like to hear more of you, Lady Swan.”

She shrugged as she set the book on the nightstand. “There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid.” Her smile wavered, and it caused him to frown.

“Being abandoned is no condemnation on your character, but upon those who cast you aside.”

Emma blinked and her lips parted on a half gasp. “But how did you –“

“I know the look in your eyes for it is one I know well. It is one thing to be orphaned. It is quite another to feel you weren’t wanted.”

Emma ducked her head. “I assumed, Sir Killian, that your parents had died.”

“My mother did,” he told her softly, “I was very young, but I still remember her beauty and kindness.”

Emma’s eyes held equal measures of tenderness and sadness. “I have often chafed over not knowing why I was abandoned in the forest. I never considered the pain of having a parent’s love and then losing it.”

Killian searched her eyes intently. “One can never compare pain. It all hurts.”

Emma gave him a tremulous smile. “That is true. And at least we each found a home.”

Killian clenched his jaw and hesitated. Yet the look in the fair lady’s eyes, the clear pain of her abandonment, made him confess the truth that only two other people in the world knew.

“Lord Stefan would have people think I was taken in as family, for the sake of his precious Lady’s memory. Yet truth be told, I was technically his slave.”

If Emma had gasped in shock and disgust, he wouldn’t have blamed her. Yet she didn’t. Her brow furrowed as she searched his face.

“How can that be?”

“He . . . paid for me. Paid my father. My brother and I should have been slaves toiling on the manor, if not for Lady Rose. She loved us as sons.”

“But not Lord Stefan?”

Emma laid her hand upon the bed covers, and Killian wondered if she realized how close her fingers were to his.

“He seemed to care for us, even if he were a bit distant at times. Perhaps we reminded him of the sons Lady Rose never bore him? I know not. He . . . preferred my brother. That I am sure of.”

Emma leaned forward, a crooked smile upon her lips. “And what makes you believe so?”

Killian smiled in return, “Everyone idolized Liam. He was so good and noble and charitable. Though I lost him, he is still my plumb line. Yet it seems so unattainable. He set the bar so high, how could I ever reach it?”

Emma grasped his hand. “How can you say that? Tales of your heroics in the Crusades have preceded you home. You, Sir Killian, have many marks in the hero column. Don’t think so lowly of yourself.”

Killian had the urge to link their fingers, but hesitated, choosing instead to run his thumb over Emma’s knuckles.

“I am flattered m’lady, but it is bad form to speak only of myself. What of your beginnings?”

Emma’s eyes grew distant as she began to speak. “Living with Lady Regina is all I have ever known. I was but a babe when I came to be in her home.”

“But she has always been good to you?”

“Aye, she has. Like I told you before, she educated me, taught me to fight and take care of myself. This is a cruel world for my sex, and Lady Regina always taught me that I can’t rely on a man to rescue me. She tilted her chin up. “The only one who saves me is me.”

Killian grinned. “So I’ve noticed.”

“I know that Regina is . . . unorthodox in her lifestyle. Combine that with my lack of proper lineage, and the hopes for me to marry are slim. Perhaps it seems lonely, but being an unmarried healer is the best future for me.”

“You are a woman of such fire and passion,” Killian said softly, his voice dropping low, “it is a shame for you to choose such a life.”

Emma’s eyes seemed a shade darker as she locked her gaze on his. For a moment, it was as if an invisible thread were drawing them closer. Killian turned his hand palm up and threaded his fingers with hers. Emma looked down at their joined hands, swallowing hard. Before she could pull her hand free or form a coherent sentence to break their sudden connection, the door to their chambers burst open. The sound sent Emma shooting to her feet, her face burning as if she’d been caught at something scandalous.

Her blush quickly turned to a pallor as cold dread washed over her. The man before her was dressed regally, cruel power emanating from his features. When he saw her, that power softened to barely contained rage.

“You’re not Lady Aurora,” he seethed with an icy tone.

Emma swallowed down her fear. She curtsied quickly and forced a demure voice. “No, your highness, I am Emma Swan, a humble healer.”

“Then why,” Prince James hissed as he strode across the room,” are you wearing her noble garments?”

He grasped Emma’s chin in his hands, his fingers digging into her cheeks.

“There is no need to lay a hand upon a lady,” Killian cried out, struggling to rise from his bed.

Prince James released Emma roughly, causing her to stumble into the chest of drawers behind her. Killian lurched forward, throwing himself between Emma and the Prince. The royal laughed cruelly as Killian stumbled and fell at the Prince’s feet. Emma sank to her knees next to Killian and helped him to a seated position.

“Lady Aurora does not wish to be your bride,” Emma yelled, not caring in the least about her lowly station, “so I helped her escape. She is far from your clutches by now, praise the Lord above.”

Prince James’s rage was clearly evident on his face. Killian held his breath, praying fervently as he never had before. The Prince’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, and Killian knew nothing was stopping him from running them both through. Killian had never wanted his own sword so desperately.

Prince James’s eyes narrowed, dark with loathing, but then he loosened his grip on his sword. His expression turned to one of scoffing.

“I will dispose of you, Sir Killian . . . eventually. But for now, you are my bait. Common peasants you both may be, but your sentimental households will still no doubt come to your rescue.”

He sneered before kicking Killian in the side. Killian cried out in pain, which only motivated Prince James to kick him again.

“Stop! Stop!” Emma sobbed, flinging herself across Killian’s torso to block the blows.

Prince James laughed sadistically then grabbed Emma by her hair. She screamed as he hauled her to her feet.

“And you,” he spat in her face, “Sir Baelfire wants to wed you for some bizarre reason, so for his sake, I’ll let you live.” He ran a finger down the side of Emma’s face, and she shuddered at his touch. “I don’t know why he didn’t just take you when he had the chance.”

Killian roared at his base words and managed to leap to his feet in his rage. He launched himself at Prince James, but the royal merely laughed again as he shoved the knight easily away from him, flinging him into Emma. They both fell into a heap upon the floor, and Prince James spat upon them both.

“Enough of this,” he snarled, “I have a castle to fortify.”

The Prince strode then from the chamber, slamming the heavy oak door behind him. Emma shifted, cradling Killian’s head in her lap as he groaned in pain. She ran her fingers through his hair, shaking her head at his foolishness.

“What were you thinking, trying to attack him in your state?”

“I am a knight,” Killian groaned, “I can’t abide a man accosting a lady. I took the vow of chivalry.”

“Well, chivalry is all well and good until it gets you killed,” she quipped as she ran her hands along his torso. He cried out loudly as she touched one tender spot. “Your stab wound didn’t reopen, thank God above, but his kicks cracked your ribs all over again,” she fussed over him, “when they had just healed.”

“That explains why it hurts when I laugh.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And whatever do you have to laugh about in our current predicament?”

“I always laugh when an enemy underestimates his foe.”

Emma helped him roll to his feet, then draped his arm over her shoulder as she helped him back to the bed. “You are brave, Sir Killian,” she grunted as she deposited him on the feather mattress, “but you are also far too cocky.”

He grinned up at her as she tucked the coverlet around him. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

Emma blushed as she turned to resume her seat beside the bed. To cover the way his praise flustered her, she retrieved the book of poetry and cleared her throat as she opened it.

“I think poetry is needed to calm our humors, don’t you agree?”

“Your voice will soothe every pain,” Killian told her with a clear note of flirtation in his voice.

That infernal blush rose to her cheeks once again as she began to read.

Alas my love you do me wrong

To cast me off discourteously;

And I have loved you oh so long

Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves my heart of gold

Greensleeves was my heart of joy

And who but my lady Greensleeves.

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: Chapter 7

Here’s the next chapter of my Once AU of Ivanhoe. You can read it from the beginning on

Ao3

Summary: There are knights, tournaments, sword fights, Emma as a healer who gets accused of being a witch . . . all that kind of fun. If you’re familiar with Ivanhoe, Killian is Ivanhoe, Aurora is Rowena, and Emma is Rebecca. BUT . . . the ending is different because I never liked how the original ended.

Rating: T

Length: 7 chapters and counting

Regina twisted her wrists, struggling to loosen the ropes that held her tied to a tree, but all she managed to do was rub her tender skin raw. She watched the Templar knights carousing around the campfire, and knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her the minute they realized her tale of gold at Mills Manor was just that . . . a tale. She only prayed that her lie had at least saved Sir Killian. Lord Stefan sagged against a tree on the other side of the camp, his head lolling against his chest. She knew the worry that must be plaguing him concerning his daughter. It was the same worry that plagued Regina about Emma.

Regina heard a whistle by her right ear, and her hair ruffled across her cheek. An arrow embedded itself into the side of one of the wagons with a sharp twang, sending the Templar Knights surging to their feet. Everything after that was chaos as a band of men burst from the trees, arrows flying. Swords were drawn, and the clash of metal filled the air. Soon, the Templar knights who weren’t lying dead on the forest floor with arrows in their chests were rounded up and bound. A man in a cloak of green strode forward. He was clearly the leader of the group.

“This is Sherwood Forest, lads, and it is the domain of me and my men. All who trespass here are required to pay a toll.” The man paused, lifting the canvas that covered the goods in Regina’s merchant cart. “And this will do nicely.”

Regina lifted her voice over the raucous cheers of the bandits, “That is my property, and I won’t see it stolen by a dirty group of thieves who smell like forest!”

The leader of the group turned towards Regina, lowering his hood. She felt a foolish flutter in her chest at his smile that crinkled his cheeks and the light of amusement in his blue eyes. He pulled a dagger from the belt at his waist and used it to make quick work of her bonds. Regina scowled up at him as she rubbed her swore wrists.

“I would think a thank you was in order,” he said, gesturing to the cut ropes.

“I don’t thank thieves who are about to cart off my livelihood.”

He shrugged. “My men and I must make a living, too.” He then extended his hand. “The infamous Robin Hood at your service, m’lady.”

  Regina ignored his outstretched hand and marched across the campsite to where Lord Stefan was being given a cup of wine. The older man’s hands shook as he lifted the goblet to his lips. Regina knelt beside him, slipping into her role as healer. She tentatively examined the cut on his head, but felt no lumps. His wrists held rope burns like hers, but otherwise he seemed uninjured. He was probably just hungry and thirsty. Regina’s own stomach growled to remind her that she was too.

“I believe it only fair that your captor’s stew should now be yours,” Robin spoke at her elbow, handing her a steaming bowl.

Regina took it, settling to sit on the log next to Lord Stefan. She mumbled a begrudging thank you as she began to eat. They offered the older man stew as well, but he waved them off with a shaking hand.

“Please, help us!” he begged. “I’m Lord Stefan of Rosenwood, and the rest of this contingency of knights have kidnapped my daughter.”

Robin Hood crossed his arms over his chest, the smile falling from his face as he regarded Lord Stefan. “I know your name, my Lord. I fought alongside your ward Sir Killian in the Crusades. Your daughter is Lady Aurora, is she not?”

Lord Stefan nodded, “Yes, she is.”

“Killian spoke often of her. If at least for my friend, my men and I vow to rescue her.” Robin then reached out his hand to clasp Lord Stefan’s.

“But we don’t even know where they have taken her!” Regina protested. “And my ward, a young lady named Emma Swan, is in just as much danger as Lady Aurora. A man on horseback took off with her into the forest.”

Robin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then gestured to his men. “Fear not, m’lady, the merry men have a way of getting our enemies to talk.” He leaned closer to her, and Regina swallowed hard. “And what might your name be?”

Regina tilted her chin. “I am simply Regina the merchant.”

Robin took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “The honor is all mine, simply Regina.”

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

“Who gave you the authority to move Sir Killian from the dungeon?” Sir Baelfire demanded as Sir Phillip helped Emma Swan down from the balcony ledge.

Sir Phillip marched right into Baelfire’s personal space, and hissed under his breath, “It is what Lady Aurora desired. Perhaps you could take some advice on how to endear yourself to a lady.”

Phillip brushed past Sir Baelfire, not waiting for a response. He hoped his posturing would throw the man off, at least long enough for him to come up with a plan to get both women out of the castle. Of course, at the moment, he was making things up as he went along. He guided Emma Swan through the corridors of the castle as quickly as he could until they arrived at Lady Aurora’s chamber. The brunette lass was still kneeling beside the bed, her lovers hands clasped in hers. She rose quickly as soon as he and Emma entered the room.

“He’s conscious, but he’s burning up,” Aurora told the healer.

Emma knelt beside the bed, brushing the knight’s dark hair from his forehead. She turned to Sir Phillip. “I need herbs and a pestle. Is there an apothecary on the grounds?”

Sir Phillip nodded. He stepped into the corridor and asked a page boy to procure the necessary herbs. “And find some linens for bandages too,” Phillip added, “and draw more water for Miss Swan.”

The boy hurried off, and when Phillip stepped back into the bedchambers, he found both women struggling to get Sir Killian to lie back down upon the bed. When the man saw Phillip, his eyes widened and locked on his.

“Please sir!” he begged. “Take these ladies far from here!”

“Killian, please,” Aurora begged, “you must calm down!”

“You’ll re-open the stitches Regina used in your side,” Emma added, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, “and your neck wound is agitated every time you speak.”

“Sir Killian,” Phillip said, his intense tone calming the man, “I swear to you it shall be done.”

Killian sagged against the bedding, even as the two females began to argue indignantly.

“I won’t leave you,” Aurora vowed.

“Someone must care for your injuries,” Emma Swan argued, “and keep an eye on this fever.”

Killian shook his head. “I overheard the knights as they took me down to the dungeon. Aurora, Prince James will be here by mid-morning tomorrow. He put Sir Baelfire up to this. He plans to force you into a marriage. With your father being held elsewhere, and me in this accursed bed, there will be no one to stop him. You must flee.”

Emma worried her bottom lip as she pressed her hand to the bandage at Sir Killian’s throat. “You must remain silent and still; you’re bleeding through your dressings.”

“Aurora,” Killian choked out, grasping the lady’s hand, “I won’t be able to heal until I know you are safe.”

Aurora’s tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she pressed her lips to Killian’s palm. “But how do we know this knight can be trusted?”

Sir Killian attempted a teasing smile. “I’m a good judge of character. But if you have concerns, then put him to the test, my love.”

Aurora stood slowly, her face grim as she faced Sir Phillip. Her blue eyes scrutinized his face, and Phillip felt his cheeks go warm at her perusal. She finally asked him a question. Just one.

“Sir Phillip, what is the one thing women desire most?”

He locked his hazel eyes on her blue as he mulled over her question. He thought of their conversation in the barn back at Rosenwood. He thought of Emma Swan, perched on the railing of the balcony in desperation. He thought of his own mother, so gentle and bright and beautiful, chained in marriage to a dull, witless man.

“I believe,” he said finally, “that women want to be able to choose their own way.”

Lady Aurora blinked rapidly, then turned with an arched brow to Sir Killian. Her lover managed a weak chuckle. “I didn’t tell him that, I swear.”

She then looked back at Phillip and extended her hand, which trembled slightly, for him to take. “Then in you I put my faith and trust, honorable knight.”

Sir Phillip squeezed her offered hand lightly, and gave her a gentle smile. Then he turned to Emma Swan.

“Miss Swan, do you likewise trust me?”

Emma gave a regal nod of her head, a tiny smile gracing her face. “I do,” she told him, “but I won’t be leaving with you. Sir Killian won’t survive the night without a healer watching over him. I will not leave his side.”

Sir Killian did not protest the lady’s words, for he had already fallen into a fretful, feverish sleep.

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: Chapter 8

Summary: A Captain Swan Ivanhoe AU in which Killian is Ivanhoe, Aurora is Rowen, and Emma is Rebecca. But don’t worry, the ending is different! If you aren’t familiar with Ivanhoe, it’s filled with dashing knights, sword fights, evil princes, and heroes in disguise. Did I also mention Emma is a healer, suspected to be a witch, who has to nurse Killian back to health after he’s injured?

Rating: T

Trigger warnings: Not in this chapter, but in earlier and future ones, men (the vile ones) casually discuss rape (because this is the Middle Ages). And Neal isn’t just a jerk, he’s one of the villains of this story . . .

You can read the entire fic on

Ao3

I’m tagging @teamhook  @kmomof4 and @mythologicalmango who I know are following this story. And @snowbellewells because we chatted about being English teachers, so I thought you might enjoy this!

Aurora swapped clothes with Emma, including her ermine cloak, then slipped with Sir Phillip down the back stairwell of the castle. Aurora kept the hood of the cloak up and her head down, but luckily they only came across two maid servants and a page. Phillip led her through a dark corridor behind the kitchen, and they came out at the back of the castle.

“I wish we could go to the stables and get my horse,” Phillip said, “but I’m afraid it will attract too much attention. We’ll have to flee on foot.”

Aurora tried to put on a brave face as she nodded. “Won’t sir Baelfire’s knights be able to overtake us?”

Sir Phillip took her hand and smiled reassuringly as he led her quickly through the back gates that led into Sherwood Forest. “The maidservant and page assigned to your chambers are from your father’s entourage. By my command, of course. They will buy us time, and don’t forget Emma is now in your dress. Perhaps she can use a bit of subterfuge.”

Aurora frowned as they made their way quickly down the forest path. “You don’t think they will harm her, do you?”

Phillip’s face was marred with genuine concern. “I sincerely hope not. I wish she had listened to Sir Killian and come with us.” He tugged on Aurora’s hand gently as he hurried along.

“I apologize for pushing you, m‘lady, but we must make haste. I want to be as far away from that castle as possible by nightfall.”

Nightfall. Lady Aurora’s face heated, and her heart thudded in her chest. She hoped Sir Phillip was the chivalrous gentleman she thought him to be, or she could be in danger of a different sort out here in the forest.

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

Emma opened the case of herbs that the page had found for her downstairs. The castle had no healer, but the cook kept basic herbs and salves in the kitchen for emergencies. It wasn’t as well stocked as what she and Regina kept on hand, but it was better than nothing. Sir Killian watched her so intently as she ground leaves with the small mortar and pestle, that it made her feel a bit self-conscious.

“How did you come to be such an accomplished healer?” he asked. His voice held a slight tremor, which worried her.

“When I was twelve, the plague swept through,” Emma told him as she filled a teapot with water from the basin the chamber maid had brought, “and I fell gravely ill.”

“The plague took so many,” Killian said softly, “Aurora’s mother was one of them.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma told him with genuine sympathy as she hung the teapot over the fire, “I know she was like a mother to you as well.” She took a seat on a stool by the hearth.

“It was long ago,” Killian managed to say through a grunt of pain as he shifted upon the bed.

“Let me check your bandages,” Emma said as she hurried to his side.

Killian grasped her hand as she reached for the bandage at his neck. “Please, continue your story. It . . . will distract me.”

Emma nodded in understanding, knowing he didn’t want to admit weakness by showing the extent of his pain.

“As you probably know,” Emma resumed as she peeled back the bandage gingerly, “the Jews have been persecuted because few of them ever fall ill from the plague. I was on the verge of death, and Regina was desperate. She went to a Jewish healer near the manor and begged for her help.”

Emma schooled her features so Killian couldn’t see her concern. The gash on his neck was an angry red, weeping yellowish fluid. It was clearly infected. Emma continued her story to keep herself as well as her patient calm as she checked the bandage at his waist.

“Regina discovered that it wasn’t witchcraft but cleanliness and herbal remedies that kept the Jews well. Their laws and customs dictate that they sweep their houses clean regularly, so they rarely have vermin. Wounds are ceremonially washed, and the sick are separated from the community.”

Emma subconsciously worried her lower lip as she saw that Killian’s other wound was in worse shape than the first. Luckily, the kettle sang, and Emma hurried to retrieve it.

“I suppose those are wise practices,” Killian mused, “they don’t bleed people?”

Emma shook her head as she set the kettle on the nightstand. She took the herbs she had been crushing and shook them into a pewter cup. “Jews believe that life is in the blood. It makes no sense to them to drain it. Regina thinks there is more superstition in Christian medicine than in that of the Jews.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose, and Emma chuckled. She poured the hot water from the tea kettle into the cup and stirred it with the teaspoon.

“I know. It sounds like heresy. I suppose that’s why people have accused us of witchcraft. But you can’t deny Jews are healthier. And people don’t seem to care that Regina and I are witches when they are in desperate need of a healer.”

Killian winced as Emma helped him up and lifted the cup to his lips.

“This is valerian root tea. It will dull the pain and help you sleep. I must clean your wounds and change the dressings. You’d probably rather be out when I do it. The pain will be great.”

Killian’s brow furrowed as he drained the cup with Emma’s help. “Infection has set in, hasn’t it?”

Emma let out a long breath as she set the cup down. “I’m afraid so. You feel slightly feverish, and the wounds are weeping. I hope your fever doesn’t get higher, that could be a grave danger. If only I had some cat’s claw . . . “

She helped him slide back down on his back, but she kept the covers folded down so she could change the dressings on his wounds without waking him. Emma blushed slightly at the feel of the hard muscles of his biceps beneath her hands. Even injured, he exuded strength.

As drowsiness swept over him, he whispered to her, “Thank you . . . for telling me the truth.”

Emma gave him a sad smile as his eyelids drooped. They drifted closed finally, the long lashes brushing against his flushed cheeks. Emma finally succumbed to temptation and brushed at a lock of hair on his forehead. His eyes fluttered open again, and she froze, her fingertips still pressed against his warm brow.

“You’re . . . so beautiful,” he slurred, and Emma assumed he once again thought she was Aurora, “like an angel . . . Emma Swan.”

[searchingwardrobes]

Desdichado: Chapter One

This is the first chapter in my CS version of Ivanhoe. It starts out Sleeping Captain, but CS is endgame (obviously). I wrote this because I've always loved the story of Ivanhoe, but I don't like the ending. So you can also think of this as an Ivanhoe fix-it fic :)

              Rain dripped from the hood of the dark figure waiting amidst the copse of trees by the roadside. The storm had obliterated what little moonlight there was on this wretched night. However, the hooded man could still make out the figures on horseback, mere hunched shapes upon their mounts, huddling in the wet and cold. Lightning illuminated the sky for but a moment, sparking in the blue of the mysterious figure’s eyes and lighting the approaching company enough that he could make out the colors they bore: red crosses on a white background. Knights of the Templar.

              The man, dressed in simple homespun clothes with only a cloak of rough brown cloth to protect him from the storm, slipped from his place amidst the trees. He made his way closer to the band of knights, and as he did, he could just make out their words above the storm.

              “Did you see it in the flash of light?” one shouted to the others. “The Castle Rosenwood, I’m sure of it.”

              “Aye, as did I,” another replied, “Lord Stefan will be sure to give us shelter from such a storm, a Saxon though he may be.”

              The stranger in the shadows clenched his jaw and both his fists at their words and accompanying laughter.

              The next voice that spoke up seemed a bit more humble and gracious than the rest. “Yet isn’t Prince James betrothed to Stefan’s daughter, Aurora? He doesn’t seem to mind their Saxon lineage.”

              “Have you seen Lady Aurora?” another asked, voice dripping with a suggestiveness that went against every chivalrous code of a knight. The stranger in the shadows rested his hand upon the hilt of his concealed sword, though he knew that exposing himself was folly.

              “Aye, that I have,” another voice hooted amidst the uncouth murmurings of the men. The simple stranger’s blue eyes narrowed to slits at the sound. It was a voice he knew well. That of Sir Baelfire, whose father was the Grand Master of the Templar. “Lady Aurora is most fair, tis true. I don’t blame Prince John one wit for the match.”

              “I would be careful, Sir Baelfire,” another knight, older and wiser, warned him. “Lord Stefan is quite protective of Lady Aurora. He banished his own ward, who was like a son to him, because he had the misfortune of falling in love with her.”

              “Sir Killian,” Baelfire spat, “don’t dare speak of him, any of you. My most glorious day in the Crusades was hearing news of his death.”

              The simple pilgrim took advantage of the quiet that descended upon the company to make his presence known. “If you seek the Castle Rosenwood,” he called out in a loud, yet humble voice, “I know the way.”

              Several of the knights leaned forward on their steeds, straining to see amidst the downpour. A flash of lightning aided them, and they could just make out the man dressed in the clothing of a simple pilgrim. His hood obscured his face, but his bearing seemed unintimidating. They agreed to let him lead the way, turning their horses towards a path that wound up a hill to their right. They lifted their faces despite the wind and rain, already feeling the warm hearth of the castle before them.

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

              Lord Stefan and his daughter Aurora were just as welcoming and hospitable as rumors had said, and Lady Aurora was just as beautiful. They also welcomed the simple pilgrim, offering a place by the fire for him to take his meal. He watched the company, his face still hooded and in shadows. Several of the knights were clearly taken with Aurora, Sir Baelfire flirting with her shamelessly. Yet the lady remained aloof as propriety demanded.

              “You have just come from the Crusades, Sir Phillip?” Aurora asked the knight to her left in a soft, kind voice.  He was the knight whom the pilgrim had noted spoke with such humility on the road.

              “Yes, m’lady,” he answered politely, yet the pilgrim noted the slight waver in his voice and the way his wine sloshed a bit when he lifted his goblet. Yes, Lady Aurora had many admirers tonight. “We are saddened by how few of our company returned home. War is a brutal affair that I am hesitant to speak of to a lady.”

              “Come now, Phillip!” Baelfire laughed, lifting his own goblet and winking audaciously at Lady Aurora. “You could regale the lady with tales of our adventurous exploits. The Normans fought with much skill and bravery.”

              King Stefan’s voice was cool steel as he asked, “Were their no brave Saxons on the field of battle?”

              Baelfire scoffed, heedless of the graciousness of his host, “For every brave Norman there were three Saxons crying for their mothers.”

              “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

              The pilgrim’s voice cut strong and true through the bragging and laughter of the company of knights. It caused an uneasy silence to fall upon the room. The pilgrim stood, the light from the fire casting eerie shadows upon his face, obscuring its features. Baelfire shuddered, wondering what deformities the cloak concealed to cause him to keep it up indoors.

              “There are tales,” the pilgrim continued, “of a Saxon who matched you stroke for stroke. A knight called Sir Killian?”

              Baelfire’s fist tightened around his goblet and his lips thinned in anger. “I would take on Sir Killian right here and now to prove who is the better knight! If he were still alive, that is.”

              Lady Aurora shot from her seat, almost upsetting her chair. “Sir Killian cannot be dead! I won’t believe it!”

Her face turned pale and she swayed where she stood. Lord Stefan put out a hand to steady her. “Calm yourself, my child. He is simply repeating a rumor.” The lord turned his steely glare on Sir Baelfire, “Aren’t you, good sir?”

Baelfire scowled openly at his host. “No, he’s dead, and I spit upon his name.”

“How dare you!” Lady Aurora shouted, “I would fight you myself if I were a knight!”

“Please, m’lady,” Sir Phillip told her rising to take her elbow tentatively, “I have no doubt you could defend Sir Killian’s honor if you wished, lady or no, but there’s no need. Despite what my friend says, it is naught but hearsay.”

Lady Aurora turned to see the kind eyes of Sir Philip looking upon her with concern. She gave him a tentative smile and allowed him to help her sit once again. Yet the pilgrim, who watched anxiously from his place by the fire, saw the way she wrung her hands in her lap.

Talk of the Crusades were pushed aside when another pair were led into the great hall by Lord Stefan’s servants. As a matter of fact, talk stilled completely at the sight of the pair in their bright, uncommon clothing. One had pushed the cloak of her hood back from her raven hair, and despite her lowly social standing, she met the gaze of every knight who stared at her disparagingly. Everyone knew of Regina, the merchant. Actually, most called her Regina the witch. Though tales of her sorcery stopped no one from buying her wares or seeking her out when someone was ill, for she was also known as a healer. It was a rare thing for a woman to make her own way in the world, and that only cast her in more suspicious light. Thirty-eight and still unwed, the woman had no place in the strict social codes of Anglo-Saxon society.

“Lord,” Baelfire loudly protested, “you don’t mean to shelter these heathens, do you?”

“That is precisely what I plan to do,” Lord Stefan replied sharply, “for do the scriptures not tell us to give shelter to strangers?”

“For in doing so we may be entertaining angels,” Sir Philip supplied.

The pilgrim couldn’t help smirking at the look upon Sir Baelfire’s face, for the cad had received daggers from Lady Aurora’s eyes while Sir Phillip was awarded with a beaming smile from her. The pilgrim chuckled under his breath as he turned to give a nod in greeting to Regina.

Her companion, who was a bit shorter and thinner, knelt beside the fire, extending her thin fingers towards the flame. She rubbed her hands together a few times, then pushed her damp cloak from her head. The pilgrim had to bite his lip lest a gasp escape his throat at the sight of the shimmering gold hair tumbling down the lass’s back. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she turned to look at him with striking green eyes. The smile she gave him wasn’t a shy one in the least, and she held his gaze in a way that well-bred girls never did. Both said that she was well aware of her beauty and the affect it had on men. Yet it wasn’t a look of coquetry, either. In fact, her demeanor shouted look, but don’t you dare touch! It was the look of a woman who knew what a burden beauty could be, especially for a woman of low station.

The blonde gathered her skirts and took a seat at a stool near the hearth. Her gaze flitted to the company of knights, then quickly averted to the plate of food that a servant had brought for her. She narrowed her eyes at the simple repast, her fist clutching her fork in a white-knuckled grip.

The hooded pilgrim glanced towards the banqueting table and saw what had caused her reaction, for the faces of most of the Knights of the Templar were filled with lecherous looks towards the blonde that were far outside the code of chivalry.

The mysterious pilgrim’s fingers itched for his sword once again.

[searchingwardrobes]

I was tagged by @hollyethecurious @captainsjedi @let-it-raines and @wellhellotragic which is hugely flattering - thank you all!

Username: searchingwardrobes because I am a Narnia fan and my grandmother lived in an old house without closets when I was little and my sister and I used to search her wardrobes hoping we’d end up in Narnia. I still love fairy tales and fantasy, hence the name.

Fandoms you write for: Once Upon a Time. Mostly Captain Swan, but I have also written Snowing and Frozen Jewel, though CS always gets snuck in there anyway!

Where you post: Ao3 and here on Tumblr

Most popular one-shot: According to Ao3, it’s This Thing We Started for both hits and kudos.

Most popular multi-chapter story: For hits, it’s Someone to Watch Over Me, but for kudos it’s Natural Opposite. 

Favorite story you’ve written: Oh my goodness, this is a hard one, especially since I’ve written so may by this point. I really like my Killian-centric fics Defender of the Weak and Got Seven Women on My Mind because I have strong head canons about Neverland that are in those fics. 

Story you were nervous to post: Jumper and My Immortal because they were both dark while also being birthday presents for @gingerchangeling and @wellhellotragic , respectively. The birthday girls loved them, though, and that was what was most important to me! I was also nervous about posting Priceless, also because it is dark but also the serious subject matter. I also tried for the first time writing in first person, and anytime you step out of your comfort zone, it’s scary. The fic still isn’t popular and some have been highly critical of it, but I am still proud of myself for tackling an idea I had mulled over for so long and for pushing myself. The few readers it does have are super supportive!

How do you choose titles: This is almost laughable because everyone knows I get titles from song lyrics way more than I should (and not just for my fandom birthday playlist). My csbb fic, Natural Opposite, was the hardest title to come up with. I ended up looking up a list of ballroom dancing terms and that’s where I found it. Now I love the title!

Do you outline: Yes and no. For one shots, they usually just flow out of me. Except for longer ones like Separate Ways or Girl Named Tennessee, then I outline. For multi-chapters, I usually start with the general idea and the first chapter, then after I post it, I outline what the rest of the story will look like. Sometimes this gets me into trouble!

How many of your stories are complete: Oh dear, I have an obscene amount of CS fics! I have actually contemplated doing a massive purge. I have *ahem* 106 completed fics on Ao3. Don’t ask me which are MCs and which are one shots. 

How many of your stories are in progress: 5 - Priceless, which is part of my Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com Series, 2nd Edition; If I Knew Then (My Frozen Jewel MC), Desdichado (My CS AU of Ivanhoe), Someone to Watch Over Me, and This Girl Ain’t Going Anywhere which started as a birthday gift for @katie-dub and spiraled out of control!

Coming soon: I’m very close to finishing several of the above, first of all! I am planning a THIRD edition of Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com, and the first story up will be a CS au of Bring it On. It will be just a one shot and only loosely based on the movie because I was a cheerleader in high school, and those movies are SO far from what the sport is really like. I have one scene written that I think turned out really cute, and the rest is outlined. I also wrote a very lengthy and detailed outline for a Little Women au.

Do you accept prompts: No, not really. I just have to be really inspired to write something, you know? However, I never would have done an au of Ever After or 13 Going on 30 in my first edition of movie aus if readers hadn’t sent them as prompts. And Your Love is a Song, my birthday fic for @let-it-raines, was a prompt. But out of all the fics I’ve written, those are the only ones that came from reader prompts. I do sometimes come across prompts I like randomly here on tumblr or on writer blogs, however. That’s how Someone to Watch Over Me was born. 

Upcoming story you’re most excited to write: I signed up for the rewrite-a-thon and after a recent discussion on Discord, I am so psyched about the changes coming to this particular fic! And, of course, we have three and a half more months of birthdays :)

Tagging? Who hasn’t done this yet? Umm . . . @xhookswenchx  @branlovestowrite @distant-rose @welllpthisishappening @profdanglaisstuff @awkwardnessandbaseball

[kmomof4]

Lovely lovely chapter!!!! Can’t wait for more of this!!!

Desdichado: Chapter 9

This chapter has been a long time coming; I’ve been working on it for a month now, and I am so excited to share it! This is where sexual tension begins to run high for both our main ships. And there will be bed-sharing …

Summary: A Once Upon a Time AU of Ivanhoe filled with knights, jousting, sword fights, and acts of chivalry. Killian is a knight and Emma is a healer of questionable repute accused of witchcraft. It starts out Sleeping Captain, but you all know full well what my end game will be.

Rating: T

Trigger Warning: Implied rape/non-con and icky views on marriage and women because it’s the Middle Ages. Portrayed negatively, of course, and our favorite pirate is always a feminist …

Length: Over 2,000 words in this chapter, so I’m just linking you to Ao3:

Chapter Nine

Just tagging a few who might enjoy this:

@teamhook @kmomof4 @mythologicalmango @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose

Let me know if you want to be added (or removed) from the tag list!

[snowbellewells]

@searchingwardrobes I simply cannot believe it took me this long to get to this newest chapter of my favorite of your stories! This one was intense and pulse-pounding, and then by the end, completely swoon-worthy! ❤️ I am with you sometimes the daring rescue is just what is needed. I am so glad in this case that Killian got to charge in, white horse and all, and rescue his love.

I love your description on Snow at the chapter’s beginning as well. It later seasons of the show this gorgeous but also daring and bold bandit princess went by the wayside. You gave us one of the loveliest true to the original canon bandit Snow descriptions I have read in fic. I love how she teases Killian a bit, but also assured him of her faith in him and his ability to bring Emma back to him. Killian’s friendship with both she and David in this is just right!

It is hard to even imagine the level of terror Emma must have been feeling as they led her to the stake, knowing what was coming and that no one would fight for her. She is still brave and facing up to her tormentors even then though! You do a wonderful job having her pray for strength and bravery, and then conveying her joy at the sight of Killian and his knights. “Emma raised her head, and her heart soared as she saw a company of knights entering the courtyard, bearing her family’s colors and crest. Moreover, Sir Killian led the charge atop a pure white steed. He was dressed in full armor, save for the helmet. His dark hair blew in the wind, his blue eyes ablaze with intensity as he shouted out his purpose.” I can’t blame her there- it is a pretty thrilling mental image.

I love how he rides of with her to safety, how he praises God for reaching her in time, and how Emma can finally let go and relax in the shelter of his arms. I can’t wait to see how it all wraps up now!!

Desdichado: 15/16

When I posted this latest chapter on Ao3, I was shocked to see that I started this story way back in October of 2017. How is that possible? Well, finally here we are nearing the end of this Ivanhoe inspired fic.

I am going to confess an unpopular opinion: I was disappointed with the whole “no one saves me but me” thing in the CS movie. I actually yelled at the TV, “just let him save you!!!” Call me old-fashioned, but there’s something so romantic about the hero swooping in to save the day. So, here I fulfill my fantasy of Killian rushing to the rescue (plus that’s the way it happens in Ivanhoe, so … ). And yeah, I put him on a white horse. Fight me if you want, I don’t care.

Chapter summary: Emma has been sentenced to be burned at the stake for witchcraft. Unless, of course, a champion comes to fight on her behalf …

Words: 2,000 and some change

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Baelfire and Killian have to fight to the death. To. The. Death. And death in a sword fight in Medieval times? It wasn’t pretty. So, be prepared …

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @kday426 @thislassishooked @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic @shireness-says @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @distant-rose

Chapter Fifteen

Killian respected his king, he truly did, but David was also like a brother to him as much as Liam had been. They had fought side by side in desperate situations, and as such, Killian wasn’t afraid to speak forthrightly with his friend, brother, and king.

“I must be her champion, Killian, she’s my sister!”

“And you are King!”

“Exactly, so obey me, knight! You’re still not fully healed!”

“I am well enough to fight for the woman I love!”

“You are impossibly stubborn!”

“And you are filled with foolish pride!”

“Actually,” another voice cut through their arguing, “I’d say your both acting like petulant children.”

Killian turned, mouth falling open to see a familiar face. Yet the woman standing in the doorway looked vastly different from the bandit he remembered fighting by his and David’s side as they made their journey across the continent. Her dark hair had hung loose and snarled then, but now it was swept up in loose curls with a tiara nestled above her brow. Her pale skin looked even more like alabaster in a bright blue gown which brought out the sparkle in her green eyes.

“Snow - I -”

“Killian,” David said, clapping him once on the shoulder before striding to the woman in the doorway, “I’d like to introduce my wife, Queen Snow.”

Keep reading

[kmomof4]

Desdichado: 15/16

When I posted this latest chapter on Ao3, I was shocked to see that I started this story way back in October of 2017. How is that possible? Well, finally here we are nearing the end of this Ivanhoe inspired fic.

I am going to confess an unpopular opinion: I was disappointed with the whole “no one saves me but me” thing in the CS movie. I actually yelled at the TV, “just let him save you!!!” Call me old-fashioned, but there’s something so romantic about the hero swooping in to save the day. So, here I fulfill my fantasy of Killian rushing to the rescue (plus that’s the way it happens in Ivanhoe, so … ). And yeah, I put him on a white horse. Fight me if you want, I don’t care.

Chapter summary: Emma has been sentenced to be burned at the stake for witchcraft. Unless, of course, a champion comes to fight on her behalf …

Words: 2,000 and some change

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Baelfire and Killian have to fight to the death. To. The. Death. And death in a sword fight in Medieval times? It wasn’t pretty. So, be prepared …

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @kday426 @thislassishooked @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic @shireness-says @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @distant-rose

Chapter Fifteen

Killian respected his king, he truly did, but David was also like a brother to him as much as Liam had been. They had fought side by side in desperate situations, and as such, Killian wasn’t afraid to speak forthrightly with his friend, brother, and king.

“I must be her champion, Killian, she’s my sister!”

“And you are King!”

“Exactly, so obey me, knight! You’re still not fully healed!”

“I am well enough to fight for the woman I love!”

“You are impossibly stubborn!”

“And you are filled with foolish pride!”

“Actually,” another voice cut through their arguing, “I’d say your both acting like petulant children.”

Killian turned, mouth falling open to see a familiar face. Yet the woman standing in the doorway looked vastly different from the bandit he remembered fighting by his and David’s side as they made their journey across the continent. Her dark hair had hung loose and snarled then, but now it was swept up in loose curls with a tiara nestled above her brow. Her pale skin looked even more like alabaster in a bright blue gown which brought out the sparkle in her green eyes.

“Snow - I -”

“Killian,” David said, clapping him once on the shoulder before striding to the woman in the doorway, “I’d like to introduce my wife, Queen Snow.”

Keep reading

[jennjenn615]

Oh thank God!!!! I knew Killian would save Emma but it just felt so bleak when he and Bae were fighting!!!!! And good riddance to Bagelfire!!!! Now hopefully Killian and Emma can live a happy life together. After he explains about Aurora!!!

I am so sad that this is almost over but its been am amazing journey!!!!!! Thank you for your amazing vision!!!!!! I love it.

Desdichado: 15/16

When I posted this latest chapter on Ao3, I was shocked to see that I started this story way back in October of 2017. How is that possible? Well, finally here we are nearing the end of this Ivanhoe inspired fic.

I am going to confess an unpopular opinion: I was disappointed with the whole “no one saves me but me” thing in the CS movie. I actually yelled at the TV, “just let him save you!!!” Call me old-fashioned, but there’s something so romantic about the hero swooping in to save the day. So, here I fulfill my fantasy of Killian rushing to the rescue (plus that’s the way it happens in Ivanhoe, so … ). And yeah, I put him on a white horse. Fight me if you want, I don’t care.

Chapter summary: Emma has been sentenced to be burned at the stake for witchcraft. Unless, of course, a champion comes to fight on her behalf …

Words: 2,000 and some change

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Baelfire and Killian have to fight to the death. To. The. Death. And death in a sword fight in Medieval times? It wasn’t pretty. So, be prepared …

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @kday426 @thislassishooked @teamhook @bethacaciakay @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @wellhellotragic @shireness-says @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @distant-rose

Chapter Fifteen

Killian respected his king, he truly did, but David was also like a brother to him as much as Liam had been. They had fought side by side in desperate situations, and as such, Killian wasn’t afraid to speak forthrightly with his friend, brother, and king.

“I must be her champion, Killian, she’s my sister!”

“And you are King!”

“Exactly, so obey me, knight! You’re still not fully healed!”

“I am well enough to fight for the woman I love!”

“You are impossibly stubborn!”

“And you are filled with foolish pride!”

“Actually,” another voice cut through their arguing, “I’d say your both acting like petulant children.”

Killian turned, mouth falling open to see a familiar face. Yet the woman standing in the doorway looked vastly different from the bandit he remembered fighting by his and David’s side as they made their journey across the continent. Her dark hair had hung loose and snarled then, but now it was swept up in loose curls with a tiara nestled above her brow. Her pale skin looked even more like alabaster in a bright blue gown which brought out the sparkle in her green eyes.

“Snow - I -”

“Killian,” David said, clapping him once on the shoulder before striding to the woman in the doorway, “I’d like to introduce my wife, Queen Snow.”

Keep reading