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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 years ago

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Until the Stars Are All Alight–Ch. 11: Concerning Merry Men

Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2019! This au combines two story ideas I’ve wanted to explore for a while. 1. What if CS existed in a Tolkien-esque, LOTR world? 2. What would have happened if it was Killian rather than Neal that Emma ran into when she was stealing the bug? Huge thank you to my beta, @blackwidownat2814, to @clockadile for the amazing story and chapter art, to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story. If all goes well, I should be posting every Tuesday, and the story will have approximately 18 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue.

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Summary: CS Lord of the Rings au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

Rating: T

Word Count: 5735

Other Chapters: (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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Enchanted Forest, 21 years ago

“Merry Men are a peaceful people, lovers of nature and the simple things in life. They revere justice and kindness above all, but they are more than capable of defending themselves vigorously when called upon to do so,” Liam explained to his company of knights as they made their way toward Nottingham Forest. “They are a race of hobbits, but you’ll find them far different from the hobbits with which you are familiar. In appearance they are nearly indistinguishable from human men and women, yet they are blessed with the longer life-span of the hobbit. Legend has it, the ancestors of the Merry Men intermarried with elves, which would explain their differences to others within their species.”

Liam droned on and on, but Killian couldn’t focus on his brother’s lecture.

In truth, he was still reeling over all the events of the last few months. He remembered the first time he sailed as a young lad. The feeling of vertigo, of being just slightly off balance until he got his sea legs under him, was something he’d never forget. It was what he was feeling now.

How did one wrap his mind around being at the center of a prophecy like this? The Savior would save their kingdom and their entire world with his help. What help was he to give her? How was he to provide this aid if he didn’t even know what it was? What if he failed? The thought of being the hope of an entire civilization hung heavily on him.

And then there was the other task with which he, Liam and the other knights had been tasked. Killian felt the broken sword knock his leg from beneath his coat where he had hidden it. It was an awesome and overwhelming responsibility the Jones brothers had been given.

The Misthaven counsel had wrestled for some time with the logistical problems they faced in the wake of the Dark One’s impending curse. How were they to seal the portal they created for Queen Snow and her unborn baby if Excalibur went with them to the Land Without Magic? How were they to keep the blade safe if it wasn’t sent with the royals?

Ultimately, it was a question of Liam’s that led to the solution.

“Your Highnesses, Merlin, what would happen if the sword was broken?” Liam asked.

“Broken?” King David asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

Liam turned toward Merlin. “You told us the sword is the source of the Dark One’s power. If we were to destroy the blade, would that also destroy his power?”

Merlin was silent, thoughtful for a long moment, but then he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not so simple. The sword can be broken, yes, but it cannot be destroyed, at least not without paying the heaviest of prices.”

The fellowship seemed clearly downcast at that revelation, but suddenly Merlin gasped.

“Perhaps, Captain Jones,” he said, “you have inadvertently stumbled upon a solution after all. No, breaking the sword cannot destroy the Dark One’s power, but it can weaken it. Each portion of the sword would contain but part of the power. The Dark One would need to obtain both halves in order to retake his power.”

“Would one portion alone have sufficient power to open and seal a portal to the Land Without Magic?” Snow asked.

“Aye,” Merlin said. “It would be more risky, but I believe it could be managed. What are your thoughts, Your Highness?”

Snow stood with difficulty due to her rapidly expanding midsection. Turning to look at each member of the council around the table in turn, Snow continued excitedly. “Don’t you see? Wherever the sword is, we risk the Dark One or his minions taking it back by force, but if we break it, we have the ability to make it even more difficult to obtain. Send one portion to the Land Without Magic with Emma and me, and send the other...somewhere else. I know not where. That way, even if the Dark One finds and takes one portion, the other is still secreted away from him.”

With a portion of the sword still within the Enchanted Forest, even if it wasn’t physically at hand, Merlin would be capable of using the remainder to open and seal the portal before sending it through with the queen and unborn princess.

It was a good plan, the entire council agreed on that, and it was what led the Jones brothers and a hand-selected small group of knights to make the journey they were currently making.

The council had decided that the larger portion of the sword would be taken by the Jones brothers to Nottingham Forest, the home of the Merry Men. It would be safe there, out of the curse’s purview. The Jones brothers and their chosen band would escape the curse, and thus retain their memories. They’d be capable of protecting the broken sword, and they’d be ready to assist Queen Snow and Princess Emma when the time to break the curse and defeat the Dark One drew near.

“But why Nottingham Forest?” August asked as they continued their journey. “Why Merry Men? I’d barely even heard of them before this plan was devised.”

“Don’t you see?” Liam asked excitedly. “It’s the beautiful genius of the plan. The Dark One understands only power, control. It makes him a formidable adversary, but it may also prove to be his weakness. The Dark One will dismiss the Merry Men as small, powerless, as far from a threat to him and his rule as one can find. Nottingham Forest, the whole of Nottingham shire, is not beyond the Dark One’s reach, but it will be the last place he will expect the resistance to be found.”

“Liam’s right,” Killian said. “Arrogance will be the Dark One’s downfall, arrogance and greed. There is no better place to bide our time.”

Liam gave him a grateful look. “Thank you, Killian. I appreciate your support.”

“Don’t you know, brother?” Killian said, “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”

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

Nottingham Forest, around 21 years ago

Robin Hood grinned as Friar Tuck, the man of the hour, stood up in front of the assembly to begin what was sure to be a long speech. Beside him, his wife tutted, muttering under her breath about windbags boring her to death. Robin’s grin widened.

When his first wife, Marian, passed away five years ago, just after the birth of their only child, Roland, Robin had fallen into a deep pit of melancholy, believing he’d never be truly happy again, but as so often happens, little by little he’d found reasons to smile again--listening to his infant son’s laugh, watching Roland take his first steps, the camaraderie he held with his merry men, the peace and serenity of their life in the shire.

Bad things happened. Such was life, but those bad things didn’t have to define one’s life. There was still plenty of happiness out there for anyone who wanted to pursue it.

Never had he felt this philosophy more strongly than the day he met Regina. An elf from the land of Misthaven, Regina had been quite powerful, but power corrupts, and Regina had been far less than content with the life she’d led.

She wanted to be queen.

She’d held a particular animosity toward the then crown princess, Snow White, due to a tragedy Snow had unwittingly set into motion when she was but a child. Regina had been filled with a hatred and malice fueled by pain. To that end, she’d attempted a coup upon the king of Misthaven--a coup that she’d had every intention of being fatal to the young princess.

Regina had been foiled in her attempt, and while some within the court of Misthaven had advocated for her death as a result, in the end the king had been merciful, merely banishing her from Misthaven.

For years, decades even, Regina had wandered the land aimlessly, but three years ago, she’d come upon the shire of Nottingham Forest. The Merry Men had been understandably wary of the elf, her reputation preceded her, after all, and her sharp tongue and ready insults did not do much to win her friends.

But from the first, Robin saw something more in her. She’d been a villain, there was no denying, and she had her faults still, but what being among them--elf, man or hobbit alike--could claim to be fully blameless? Underneath her prickly exterior, Robin could discern a good heart, a capacity to love and protect fiercely. Perhaps if she was given a bit of grace, even she could turn her life around.

To that end, Robin Hood had offered Regina a place in the shire. Robin grinned thinking of her initial skepticism at his offer. She’d maintained they smelled of forest and asked if they bathed with pine cones.

Always ready with a quip or a snarky remark, was his Regina.

Robin hadn’t pushed, letting the offer stand, yet letting her make her own decision on whether or not she would remain with them.

In the end, Robin believed it was Roland, naught but a toddler at the time, who had won Regina over. She’d been good with the lad from the very start, and he clearly adored her. In fact, in a bit of a blow to his ego, “‘Gina” had been Roland’s first word. Regina had since confessed to him that she was unable to bear children, but that in her heart was a hole she suspected would never be filled without a child of her own.

And so Regina had stayed, slowly becoming an accepted and even respected member of their community.

Robin had far more than respected her. In a far shorter time than he would have expected, he fell deeply, passionately in love with her. One year to the day after she’d appeared in Nottingham Forest, Regina and Robin were wed, the ceremony performed by none other than Friar Tuck himself, the man in whose honor they held their party this evening.

“My dear Merry Men,” Friar Tuck began.

“Hey!” came the yell from someone in the crowd.

“And women,” Tuck amended with a good natured grin, “Today is my one-hundred and eleventh birthday!”

A tremendous cheer erupted from the crowd. As hobbits, the Merry Men lived far shorter lives than the elves. Still, one hundred eleven was quite the ripe old age for one within their company.

“Alas!” Tuck continued, “Eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits.”

Another cheer, even more enthusiastic than the first.

“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like,” Tuck went on, a twinkle in his eye, “and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

There was quiet among the assembly as they attempted to work out just what he’d said, but to his side, Regina snorted a laugh, clearly appreciating the complicated insult.

Robin put an arm around his wife, keeping an eye on his son as he played with a group of children a few feet away, as Tuck continued, seeming to only be at the beginning of this year’s birthday speech.

It had been a tremendous celebration so far. There had been feasting, music, dancing, even a few fireworks. The Merry Men were always ready for a good celebration, and none was as elaborate or enjoyable as those thrown in honor of their friar’s birthday.

Robin was settling in, preparing for a long speech, when suddenly he was approached by Mulan, whose turn it was tonight to stand guard. She wore a troubled expression, and Robin was immediately on his guard.

“Is something amiss, Mulan?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, “a company of elven knights approaches.” She paused for a moment, glancing at Regina. “They bear the crest of Misthaven.”

Regina gasped, and Robin felt his heart pound. Aside from Regina, no resident of Misthaven had ever approached their camp. What could they possibly want?

“They’re after me,” Regina said, a grim set to her mouth. “Will I never be free of the label of villain? I knew it was too good to be true that they’d leave me in peace.”

Robin grabbed his bow and got to his feet. “A villain you may have been but you are a villain no more. You are my wife, and I will fight for you to my dying breath.”

“I’m more than capable of defending myself against a few elven knights,” Regina retorted, “but even so, I appreciate your help.”

“What are your orders, sir?” Mulan asked.

Robin thought for a moment. It was a situation that must be dealt with, but he didn’t wish to disturb the party or escalate any more than was necessary.

“Stay here,” Robin said finally. “You and Merida continue to guard the camp, but don’t alert our soldiers to the potential threat unless I give you the signal.”

Mulan nodded. “As you wish.”

“And what do you propose we do?” Regina asked as Mulan stepped away.

“See what they want, to begin,” Robin said, asking Little John to keep an eye on Roland and then walking in the direction Mulan had indicated. Grim expression firmly in place, Regina followed him, ready, Robin knew, to let the fireballs fly should the situation warrant it.

Robin and Regina made their way quickly but quietly to the borders of Nottingham Forest where Mulan had directed them. As reported, a small company--maybe fifteen knights--were awaiting him. Robin’s first instinct upon seeing them was to relax. Something about the way the knights held themselves, the fact that none of them were currently holding weapons, the pleasant, almost friendly expressions on their faces made Robin believe whatever brought the knights to their border did not bode them any immediate harm.

Robin turned toward the man in front, the one who appeared to be the leader. “You’ve reached the borders of my land, Sherwood Forest,” he said. “We are a peaceful people who like to keep to ourselves, but if you’ve come in peace, you’re welcome.”

The leader stepped forward and nodded to him. “We do indeed come in peace. I am Captain Liam Jones of Misthaven. This is my brother Lieutenant Killian Jones along with a company of our men. If I’m not mistaken, I’m addressing Robin Hood?”

“You are,” Robin said slowly, a bit taken aback at the fact this soldier seemed to already know him.

“And your wife needs no introduction,” Captain Jones said, bowing toward Regina. “Regina, it has been a long time.”

At his side, Regina bristled, and Robin could feel the restless energy in her. “I’ve stuck to the terms of my banishment,” she said through clenched teeth. “Queen Snow has no right to send her goons to attack me!”

The younger Jones brother seemed to bristle at the insult, stepping forward and reaching for his sword, but the captain stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Killian, let me handle this,” he said softly to his brother.

Killian Jones looked on the point of arguing, but finally stepped back in deference to his brother’s--and commander’s--order.

“I assure you, my lady,” Captain Jones said with a placating motion of the hand, “we have no intention of doing any such thing. Queen Snow is well aware of your adherence to her father’s orders. She knows how far you’ve come in turning your life around, and she wishes you well.”

Robin felt Regina relax at his side.

“I’m most glad to hear it,” Robin said, “but if you’ve not come for my wife, what brings you to Sherwood Forest?”

“A matter of utmost urgency, a matter that affects not only Misthaven, but the whole of the Enchanted Forest.”

Captain Jones gestured to his brother, and the lieutenant pulled a wavy, ornately carved broken sword from his scabbard.

“Excalibur!” Regina breathed.

“Indeed,” Captain Jones nodded.

“Why is it here? Why is it broken? What is going on back in Misthaven?” Regina demanded, stepping forward to look more closely at the blade, “And why does it bear the Dark One’s name?”

“All will be revealed,” the captain said, “but suffice it to say we are all in grave danger should this sword fall into the wrong hands.”

Robin was silent for a moment before stepping forward. “Perhaps we’d best adjourn to my tent. It appears we have a lot to discuss.”

An hour later Captain Liam and Lieutenant Killian emerged from Robin and Regina’s tent, approached their waiting men, and gave orders to begin making camp. Back in the tent, Regina gave Robin a troubled look. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing allowing them to stay here with the sword?” she asked.

“Truth be told,” Robin answered, “I don’t know for sure, but I believe so. They made a hell of a case. Their presence, and especially that of the sword, might increase our danger, but as they said, if Rumplestiltskin gets the dagger, our entire world is doomed.”

Regina frowned, a look that used to strike terror in the elves of Misthaven. “If Rumplestiltskin even tries, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.”

Robin laughed, leaning down to kiss his wife. “I believe you would, my love. I believe you would.”

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

Land Without Magic, present day

Killian landed with a thud onto the forest floor. He got to his feet, rubbing the elbow that had landed on a tree root. Surely there was a better way to travel between realms.

Killian looked around, wondering where exactly he’d landed this time. Portals between realms were fickle things. One was capable of directing them to a particular realm, even a general area within a realm. One was not, however, capable of directing a portal to an exact location.

Seeing nothing but forest all around him, Killian simply began walking. He hoped the portal hadn’t taken him too far from his apartment, but there was no way to know for sure.

At any rate, the walk would do him good. He knew what he wanted--Emma. He wanted a life with her, years, decades living at her side, loving her. He wanted that wee son he’d seen in his vision, perhaps other sons and daughters. And aye, he wanted to persuade her to believe, to return with him to their native land and defeat the Dark One once and for all, but in the future he would be more judicious in the way he dealt with the subject. In retrospect, it was probably unwise the way he threw it all at her at once. It was more than anyone could have accepted.

Aye, he knew what he wanted, but how to get it was far more of an issue. There was no doubt they’d ended things on bad terms. She’d thought he was lying to her outrageously to drive her away. She’d thought he was merely playing with her.

The anger in her eyes as she left had wounded him, but far, far worse was the pain behind the anger. It tore at his heart to think of all of the bloody fools who had mistreated her, taken her for granted, disappointed her. That she thought he was among their number was perhaps understandable, but it was also agonizing. She deserved to be loved, cherished, adored, not because she was the Princess of Misthaven, but because of the kind, loving, passionate, determined woman she was.

But in order to treat her that way--and show her just how much she deserved such treatment--he had to find her first, and once he’d accomplished that, he had to convince her to give him another chance, to trust him.

Killian feared it would be quite the formidable task.

Finally finding a break in the forest, Killian stepped out into the clearing and smiled. He recognized the stretch of road he’d found. It was, in fact, the very same stretch of road he’d found upon his first entrance into this land. Not five feet away was the spot Mr. Smee had almost hit him with his automobile. He had no more than two or three miles to travel before he reached his apartment. Likely he’d reach his destination before the sun had fully set.

Killian trekked on at a leisurely pace, giving himself time to think about the first problem at hand--how to find Emma. He’d need the help of someone who knew this land better than he did. Perhaps he’d contact Mr. Smee tonight. He’d been quite helpful in the past. Maybe he’d contact the bail bonds company for which Swan worked.

As his mind churned out ideas, ways to tackle his most pressing problems, the walk went by quickly, and before he knew it, he’d reached his apartment complex.

The first thing Killian noticed upon opening his door was the fact that his lights were on. The second was a mug half filled with cocoa on the counter.

He was not alone.

“Hello?” he called out, hands balling into fists, prepared for the fight that would ensue should the intruder have malintent. “Who’s here, and what are you doing in my bloody apartment?”

There was a flurry of activity from the lofted bedroom above, and then suddenly she was there at the top of the stairs. She looked like an angel with her soft curls falling down her back onto her white sweater.

“Swan!” he breathed, heart leaping and tears coming to his eyes.

She stood still at the top of the stairs for a moment, but then suddenly she smiled, rushing into his open arms.

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

Three days.

It had been three days since Emma’s fight with Killian, and in that time he’d yet to return home.

At first Emma thought Killian simply needed space, a chance to be alone and process all that had happened between them, but as the hours and then the days ticked by, she rapidly became more and more concerned.

Not only had Killian never returned to their apartment, he’d never even returned to work. She’d checked with the harbormaster on the second day of Killian’s absence, and even the grizzled old man had seemed concerned when she told him she hadn’t seen him in days.

No matter what had happened between Emma and him, Killian would never just fail to show up at work. He was far too conscientious for that.

What if something had happened to him? What if he’d been so upset about their fight he'd been reckless, and his inattention had resulted in injury...or worse? What if he was lying dead in some ditch somewhere and no one had found him?

With every terrible scenario Emma imagined, her fear and nearly crippling anxiety increased. Oh God, what if he died and the last thing he remembered of her was that fight? What if he died thinking she hated him and never wanted to see him again?

Emma sat down on her bed in the loft, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. No matter what had happened or where he was, she wouldn’t be of any use to him if she gave in to panic.

But it was so hard to keep that panic at bay! She’d hardly just sat idly at home waiting for his return. She’d already done everything she could think of to find him. She’d called Smee, asked him to keep an eye out. She’d used some of her coworkers and connections at work. In a desperate moment, she’d even called the nearby hospitals to see if a John Doe matching Killian’s description had been brought in.

Nothing.

It was as though he’d disappeared off the face of the planet. What the hell could have happened to him?

She pulled on her favorite white sweater in preparation to hit the pavement once again tonight. It was a chilly evening, and she knew she would need all the warmth she could get.

Emma had just finished tying the laces on her boots when she heard a key in the lock.

“God please let it be him,” she murmured, “please, please let it be him.”

“Hello? Who’s here, and what are you doing in my bloody apartment?”

Emma jumped to her feet and rushed to the top of the stairs as tears of relief rushed to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. It was him! He was finally back! She paused for a moment to take him in as he looked up at her in awe, a hushed “Swan!” issuing from his lips, and then she was running down the stairs, propelling herself into his arms.

She could no more keep her tears at bay than she could stop the soft pitter-patter of the rain that had only just begun to hit the window. He was back! He was alive! By all appearances he was well!

Emma clung to him so tightly he was probably finding it hard to breath, but far from complaining, he seemed to hold her just as tightly. Her tears soaked his jacket, and his fell on her head. She had a thousand questions about where he’d been, what he’d done, whether he’d forgive her for their last fight, but for long moments, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he was back and in her arms.

She loved him. Gods how she loved him! It didn’t matter what insane crap they had to work through, she knew one thing for sure: she would never leave him again. Never.

Finally, after long moments, they pulled away far enough to look at each other.

“Emma, you’re here,” he said softly, reverently, bringing up one hand to hook a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face. “I thought you’d be gone. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry Killian!” she said, feeling another rush of tears. “I...I freaked out and ran. It’s what I do, but it took me only a few hours to I realize I missed you. I’m sorry!”

He smiled tenderly at her as he continued caressing her face. “You’ve nothing to apologize for Swan. I know how my revelation must have sounded to you. Your concern was justified.”

Emma frowned at his mention of his “revelation”. What he’d told her...it was freaking crazy. No way it could be true.

Killian seemed to notice her change in demeanor. “You still don’t believe me?”

Her troubled eyes sought his. “How can I Killian? Elves, magic, other realms? It’s nonsense, fairy tales. How could I possibly believe that?”

Killian sighed, dropping his eyes for a moment, before looking back at her. “Surely you can see I’m not lying to you, Emma.”

Her inner lie detector remained resolutely silent, but still… “Just because you believe something, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t mean it’s false,” he countered.

She was silent for a moment, her unease increasing with the return to the topic that had led to their fight in the first place. Finally she cupped his face in her hands, bringing his forehead down to rest against hers. “Can we just drop it for now?” she asked. “It’s just...it’s just too much for me. I can’t believe like you want me to, but I don’t want to fight again.”

It took him a long time to answer. She could feel the tension in him, and for a moment, she feared he’d insist on continuing with this insane conversation, but finally he relaxed, smiling gently at her. “As you wish, love.”

Love

She knew it was an everyday figure of speech for him, but she could sense when he said it to her, it was something more. He meant it.

And suddenly Emma wanted to say it to him again, wanted to never stop saying it, wanted to never stop this thing that was between them.

“I love you,” she said.

His smile grew. “Aye, just as I love you, my Swan.”

“No,” She said, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “I mean I really, really love you. This feeling...it’s so big, so all encompassing. I’ve never imagined something like this before.”

She saw something leap in his eyes. Hope? Joy? Understanding?

“I think perhaps the phrase you’re looking for is True Love,” he said. In the way he said it, she knew it was a big, monumental thing to him.

“Yeah, true love,” she answered. “I truly love you.”

“Swan, you’ve no idea how beautiful those words sound,” he said, pulling her into his arms once again. “I truly love you too.”

Suddenly Emma knew what she had to do. It was insane, it was too soon, it was...well, it was one of the last things she’d ever expect herself to do, but it was right.

Emma stepped back, taking both of his hands in hers. “Killian, I know this is crazy. I mean we’ve only known each other a few months, and we just had a fight that nearly ended our relationship, but I know I want to be with you. Forever. Look, if this is too sudden or too soon or whatever, I get it, and you don’t have to feel like you have to answer the way I want. I mean, obviously. It’s your choice as much as it’s mine, and I don’t want to, you know, make presumptions--”

“Yes,” he said firmly, a look of such love and hope on his face, it made the tears rush to her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Emma laughed. “I haven’t even asked you a question yet.”

“I don’t care,” he said, squeezing her hands, “whatever the question is; my answer’s yes.”

She gave him a mock frown. “Nuh-uh, buddy. That’s not the way this works. You’ve gotta let me ask the question before you give me an answer.”

He laughed. “Very well, Swan, get on with the asking, then.”

Emma took a deep breath, waiting for the fear to come. This was a big step she was taking, after all, a really big step. But the fear never came, only a sense that this was the best, most right thing she’d ever done.

“Killian, will you marry me?”

A tear fell from his eye as his smile turned infinitely tender.

“Aye, my love,” he said. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Her joy and relief swelled, and the smile on her face was so wide it hurt the corners of her mouth. “Good.”

He waited a second, and then his grin became mischievous. “Now, may I kiss my fiancee already?”

“What do you think?” she asked.

Killian surged forward, taking her lips in what Emma could only call an epic kiss. It was magical, beautiful, electric.

And the strangest thing happened as soon as their lips connected. Emma felt this massive surge of energy, like a shockwave or something, starting at their joined lips and rapidly expanding in every direction. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

“What was that?” Emma asked as they finally pulled away.

He looked wrecked, awed, so happy he was near to exploding with it. “That, my darling Swan, was True Love.”

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

Misthaven, present day

Storybrooke was still, silent, the same as it ever was, day in and day out. The residents, cursed as they were, found nothing odd or unusual about this. They simply went about their day as always.

Suddenly a shockwave, tinged with all the colors of the rainbow spread throughout the town, and everyone it hit suddenly gasped, eyes truly opened for the first time in two decades.

In Granny’s diner, Snow White, who for decades had believed herself to be Mary Margaret Blanchard, leapt to her feet and rushed out the door, knowing only one thing: She had to find David.

There he was, running toward her just as quickly. They met in the middle of the main street of town, clasped in each other's arms, and the kiss that followed was nothing short of cataclysmic. When they finally pulled apart, David had tears in his eyes.

“She did it, Snow,” he breathed. “She broke the curse.”

Notes:

--Sorry again for the long delay between chapters, but at least I gave you some significant good moments to make up for it, right?

--I know better than to make promises, but I’m hoping to get into a better writing routine starting this week! My story for CSSNS 2020 drops this week, so now I have two WIPs to try my best not to get hopelessly behind on. If all goes well, I’ll write for an hour every Monday, Wednesday and Friday on this story, and every Tuesday and Thursday on the new one. (The new story is titled “More Than All the Jewels in the Realm”, and is kind of a time travel, soul mates story if you want to check it out.)

--So the Merry Men in my story are obviously my version of hobbits. As Liam mentioned, they aren’t small like hobbits though. You should imagine them as they appear in canon. Friar Tuck borrows Bilbo’s speech from the very beginning of the LOTR books/movies (how could I pass up the “I know half as many of you….” line? It’s classic! Lol.), but that’s as far as the correlation goes with this story. Friar Tuck is essentially like any random hobbit of the Shire in LOTR.

--This story is obviously inspired by OUAT, but it’s lore is not completely the same. Emma was able to break the curse before her 28th birthday (she’s 20 or 21 in this story). It’s the defeat of Rumple that’s prophesied for her 28th birthday.

--Up next: the conclusion of the flashbacks (although the story as a whole still has a good 8 or 9 chapters left). Rumple casts the curse--after having to pay a huge price--and David sends newborn Emma through the portal. In Misthaven at the present time, the elves, now awake from the curse, have to figure out their next move. Back in the Land Without Magic, Emma and Killian get to live a little domestic bliss. They’ve earned it, wouldn’t you say?

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #my fanfic #cs/lotr crossover #until the stars are all alight

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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Of Earth and Sea: 1/9 (Prologue)

A little over a year ago, I wrote this story for the first Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I was new to tumblr with few followers and little idea how this site even worked! It was also my first fandom event. It’s hard to believe everything that has happened since!

Because I was a newbie, some of you may have missed this story the first time around. It’s my Tolkien crossover fic largely inspired by Colin’s ears. I also didn’t post each individual chapter on tumblr (I didn’t know how!), and I know some of you prefer to read it that way. So, I’m reposting. It’s also an excuse to show off this incredible art once again by @shipsxahoy ! I mean, look at it!!! It’s a freakin’ movie poster for my fic. She is amazing!

I’ll be posting a chapter a day, sometimes two, until next Friday when I post part one of my new fic for THIS years @cssns: An Education in Southern Gothic, a ghost possession two shot. I am SO excited to share it with ya’ll!

Rating: T

Tagging a few who may have missed it the first time (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from this list): @snowbellewells (Marta, I know you already read it, but thought you would like the art!) @let-it-raines @profdanglaisstuff @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @xhookswenchx

On Ao3 too, of course.

The hold of a ship is far from a pleasant place to sleep. The darkness, the stuffiness, the damp air. Not to mention the smell of unbathed men and the irritating drone of their snores. Yet Killian Jones is hard pressed to remember sleeping any other way. Orphaned and enslaved at the age of seven, his memories of anything but creaking wood, sea, and salt are hazy at best. His swinging hammock and the sticky wet heat are at least familiar if not pleasant.

Yet there are nights when his dreams take him to the most beautiful place. There are towering trees, and mossy grass beneath his bare feet. There’s a tall, tall waterfall that spills over the highest spire Killian has ever seen. Its spray and mist as it hits the pool below is warmer and sweeter than the spray of the sea. A haze seems to linger over the scene, softening the dazzling sun to a pleasant warmth. The feel of everything is unfamiliar to him. Even when the ship docks, there is little of grass or trees or songbirds in port towns. Just more wet wood, dingy stone, and mud. Thick, oozing mud made rancid with animal droppings and refuse. But here, in this place Killian visits in his dreams, all his pure and clean and soft. And oh, so beautiful.

There are people there too, who smile at him serenely, and when they bend near him, he can see their ears poking through their long, straight hair. Pointed ears. Elves. These elves feed him the most pleasant of fruits and sweet bread. They lead him to a bower in the trees where they sing him to sleep.

Liam was alarmed when Killian first told him about this place he visits in his dreams. And his concern only increased the more Killian spoke of it. So eventually, Killian stopped telling his brother at all. He certainly knew he shouldn’t tell him about mother visiting.

Only when he dreams of this beautiful place does she come to him. He swims up from the dream reluctantly, the lullabies of the elves morphing to his mother’s sweet voice.

“O mor henion i dhu. Ely siriar, el sila. Ai! Melme ende. Tiro! El eria e mor. I lir en el luitha uren. Ai! Melme ende.”

She seems to almost float towards him, bathed in a pure white light. He reaches for her.

“Mother?”

“Killian,” she breathes, bending near him. She cups his face and brushes his face with a kiss.

He is always so happy to see her, his heart feels it may burst. But he frowns too, hurt that she never stays to morning light.

“What is it, my son?” she asks, brushing his hair back tenderly from his face.

“Why have you gone away? Why do you only come at night?”

Her face is sad as she strokes his cheek. “It is more than a child can understand. But it the way of elves. The best I can do to explain is this: when you are at sea, we are separated from one another. Except in your dreams.”

At this her cheeks, sprinkled with freckles just like his, dimple in a smile. And Killian smiles back.

“So I can always dream of you? And you’ll come?”

Tauriel expels a shaky breath, and a tear slips down her cheek. “As long as your childhood lasts, my son. But when you become a man, the land of the elves will be barred from your dreams.”

“Then I don’t want to become a man!” Killian cries out, grasping her hands in his.

Tauriel chuckles, a sparkle alighting her moss green eyes. “I think you will change your mind one day. You will want to grow strong and brave like your brother. And you will want to give your heart to a pretty lass. You won’t need me so much then.”

“But I do need you, mother!” Killian argues, throwing his skinny arms around her neck.

She clasps him tight, breathing in his little boy scent. “As long as your dreams call for me, I will come. And even when you grow into a man, I will never be far. I can’t travel the seas, but anytime you are at port, I won’t be far.”

She strokes his hair and kisses his cheek, then tucks him back into his hammock. Killian glances over at Liam.

“Why do you not visit Liam? He misses you, too.”

Guilt flashes across Tauriel’s face as she glances over at her step son. The boy she loves as much as her own flesh and blood. She tucks the blankets under Killian’s arms and sighs.

“I wish I could. But like I said before, this is the way of elves. And he is not of my blood. Not like you, Killian.”

“Is that why his ears aren’t like ours?” Killian asks with a tilt of his head as he runs his fingertips across his mother’s ears.

She laughs again, a lilting sound like a bird’s song. “Aye. You have the ears of an elf. And handsome they are at that.”

Killian grins as she bends to kiss each ear, her auburn hair brushing against his cheeks. “And now I must go. Awaken from your dreams with the strength of the elves, my son.”

She touches his forehead gently with delicate fingers. Then she’s floating away from him, dissolving into mist, singing the lullaby, but this time in English.

“From darkness I understand the night: dreams flow, a star shines. Ah! I desire a lover’s heart. Look! A star rises out of the darkness. The song of the star enchants my heart. Ah! I desire a lover’s heart.”

And when he awakes at dawn, he does feel stronger, lighter, faster. He feels like an elf.

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer 2018 #lotr/once crossover #killian as part elf #cs ff #cs canon divergence

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snowbellewells · 6 years ago

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CS Fic Rec Monday #13: “Of Earth and Sea” by: searchingwardrobes

Calling all Lord of the Rings fans!! Okay, so I know I did an entire author rec for @searchingwardrobes at one point, but I had not yet read this one! Believe me, it deserves its own mention just for the way Melanie brilliantly weaves Killian, Emma and their daughter into the landscape and history of Middle Earth. With Killian’s adorable pointed ears, it makes perfect sense to cast him as a half elf, and the use of Tauriel and Kili from The Hobbit movie in particular lead to some heartbreakingly touching moments in this fic. I can’t say enough wonderful things about this story; honestly, I just can’t believe I missed out on it until now, as it was written for last summer’s CSSNS 18.

If you haven’t read it yet, don’t deny yourself this truly special treat!

She’s re-posting it on her Tumblr right now: “Of Earth and Sea” by: @searchingwardrobes

Or it is already complete on A03: “Of Earth and Sea” by: searchingwardrobes

#csfrm #cs fic rec monday #week 13 #cssns fic #of earth and sea #lotr au #hobbit cs crossover #cs au mc #elf Killian #cs baby

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cssns · 5 years ago

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We’re here!!! *SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY* It’s time for the CSSNS20 Roundup!!!!

It has been quite a ride y’all...

I just want to take a moment here at the beginning of the post to thank everyone who has ever been a part of this event from 2018 to now. Y’all are the ones who made this event what it is and I cannot be more grateful to have had the privilege of manning the helm for the past three years. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!!! There’s been too many participants over the years to name everyone, but I have to give a shoutout to my personal support team and the mods from all three years. Each one of them has contributed in innumerable ways and this event never would have happened without each of them and their contribution. @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @katie-dub, @thisonesatellite and @profdanglaisstuff. Thank you so much ladies!!! I never could have done this without you all!!!

Now that the event is over, I want to let everyone know that I will be inviting other supernatural fic to the collection over on ao3. When I first started reading fan fiction, I stumbled across the Black Swan and Red Hooks Collection, a collection for smutty fics, that continues to grow today. I want to do the same thing with the Supernatural Summer Collection. As more supernatural fics are written, I will invite them to the collection.

We are now at the close, and it’s time to round up all the wonderful fics and art that we’ve been blessed with in this year’s event. At the end of the post, I’ll highlight all the fic from previous years that have also updated this summer. Active MC’s will continue updating until they are finished. And without further ado, HERE WE GOOOOOOO!!!!

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

On June 1st, @itsfabianadocarmo dropped a vampire aesthetic inspired by the Countess from American Horror Story: Hotel. SOOO incredible! It gave me chills! You can find it here.

On June 3rd, I ( @kmomof4 ) dropped Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates. I figured that since this was our last year, I should write for it for once. Breathtaking art by @spartanguard. Banner Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8

On June 6th, @demisexualemmaswan dropped By the Moon’s Rise, featuring CS as werewolves. Oh my WORD! The pack politics going on…It is off to a fantastic start and I can’t wait for more! Gorgeous art by @courtorderedcake. Killian Emma David

On June 9th, @snowbellewells dropped A Cottage By the Sea. An Enchanted Forest Lieutenant Duckling AU. The last chapter left me CHEERING and I can’t wait to see where she takes this! Lovely art by @searchingwardrobes.

On June 11th, @katie-dub dropped Awakening, her fic inspired by the TV show Being Human. I am not familiar with the show, but this fic, oh my WORD!!! I had no words, and so I reblogged with gifs. Can’t wait for more!!!

On June 14th, @lassluna dropped her fic, Swan’s Hourglass, a Legend of Zelda AU. I absolutely LOVE her use of the side characters and Emma is absolutely bad ass!!! Can’t wait for more!! Beautiful Artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

On June 17th, @hollyethecurious dropped her Vampire Diary’s inspired The Craving In Between. Fun, intriguing, and SPICY!!! Perfect Artwork by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713.

On June 20, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 dropped her original Angel!Emma/Demon!Killian aesthetic. Absolutely PERFECT!!!

On June 23, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 dropped another aesthetic that I was inspired to write a fic for! The Moon… Tells the Sea is the tale of were-mermaid Emma and her mate. aesthetic on Tumblr

On June 25, @eastwesthomeisbest dropped original Vampire!Killian artwork His Sweet Kiss. BREATHTAKING and sooooo chilling!!!

On June 27th, @kymbersmith-90 dropped her Soliciting for Dracula: Outtake. So GREAT to be taken back to that universe first presented during CS Halloweek last year! Original fic on Ao3 Tumblr link with art

On June 29th, @imlaxdris71 dropped her Shadowhunters AU, The Price of Blood. I am not at all familiar with Shadowhunters, but this fic is so AWESOME already and I can’t wait for more!!! I was thrilled to provide artwork for this incredible fic!

On July 2, @ohmightydevviepuu and @thisonesatellite posted The Sword and the Heart, their retelling of all of s5. Let me tell you, THIS is what we should have gotten on the show!!! I can’t WAIT for the next chapter!!! Awe-inspiring artwork by @thisonesatellite and @profdanglaisstuff.

On July 5, @snowbellewells posted For Once, Don’t Let Go, her CS ghost story. Spooky and soooo SWEET all at once!!! Chill-inducing, perfect artwork by @hollyethecurious.

On July 7, @stahlop posted Making a Memory, her fic inspired by The Parent Trap. This fic is absolutely AWESOME, y’all!!! Lisa has sucked me in to this blending of one of my all time favorite live action Disney movies and Once canon and I CANNOT WAIT for more of it!!! Lovely and perfect artwork by @gingerchangeling.

On July 9, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 posted her original vampire aesthetic. Mm mm mm mm mmmmmmm!!!

On July 13, @shardminds posted her Witcher AU, Silver for Monsters. I have been BESIDE myself waiting for this fic, even though I’m not familiar with the show and the first chapter did not disappoint!!! Can’t wait for more!!! Swoon-worthy artwork by @artistic-writer.

On July 15, @eastwesthomeisbest posted original Fairy artwork, Within You, inspired by Carnival Row. Absolutely BREATHTAKING!!! Then on July 26, she posted Fear Me Or Love Me… It’s All the Same, and reduced me to a screaming flailing mess!

On July 18, @lovelivingmydreams posted Labors of Love, her Greek gods AU. This fic is fantastic and I am LOVING every bit of it!! I’ve been told to strap myself in, so I have and am eagerly waiting for the next chapter!!! Beautiful artwork by @mariakov81 Banner Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

On July 21, @jarienn972 posted La Sirena, her Siren Emma fic. A BEAUTIFUL mystery and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this!!! Gorgeous artwork by @courtorderedcake.

On July 23, @shireness-says posted A Fate Woven in Thread and Ink, her fic inspired by The Night Circus. This fic is pure magic. Absolutely STUNNING in its beauty and I am BESIDE myself waiting for the next chapter!!! Incredible artwork by @eirabach.

On July 29, @winterbythesea posted The Truth In a Masquerade featuring dueling CS at a vampire masquerade! WELL WORTH all the teasing we endured on the discord!

On Aug. 1, @profdanglaisstuff posted The Eternal and Unseen, an epic tale of fae, werewolf, and vampire coming together to defeat a common enemy. This fic is absolutely INCREDIBLE and I can’t wait for the next chapter!!! Beautiful artwork 1 2 3 by @carpedzem.

@xhookswenchx posted her werewolf MC, Waning Moon, on Aug. 2. I am soooo in LOVE with this beautiful fic and can’t wait for more of it!!! Beautiful and precious artwork Banner 1 2 3 4 5 by @mariakov81.

@whimsicallyenchantedrose posted her MC, More Than All the Jewels in the Realm on Aug. 4. Kinda a ghost/soulmate MC. You’ll see what I mean… Absolutely FANTASTIC already!!! Beautifully haunting artwork by @searchingwardrobes.

@thejollyroger-writer posted the first chapter of THE WASTELAND on Aug. 6, where the hero group goes on a magical journey to save Killian. This world she has built is INCREDIBLE and I am loving this fic soooo much!!! Incredible artwork 1 2 3 4 5 by @spartanguard.

On Aug. 8, @imlaxdris71 posted her werewolf MC, The Beast of Aurum. My heart hurts so much for Killian ALREADY!!!! I can’t wait for more!!! Artwork by me, @kmomof4.

On Aug. 10, @eastwesthomeisbest dropped original Demon Killian artwork, I’m Your Darkest Dream. Gave me CHILLS!!!

Aug. 13, @ohmightydevviepuu posted From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea as part of her writersmonth2020 project. A 3a divergence that is absolutely HEART WRENCHING and BEAUTIFUL!!! Beautiful artwork by @mariakov81

On Aug. 14, @spartanguard posted her fix it fic for West Side Story, Even Death Won’t Part Us Now, featuring CS as vampires. I am absolutely BESIDE MYSELF over this fic, y'all!!! I love it sooooo MUCH!!! Breathtaking and perfect artwork 1 2 3 by @thesschesthair.

Aug. 18, @hollyethecurious posted her Sleepy Hollow AU, Some Legends are Best Kept as Legends. This fic is MAGNIFICENT and I can’t wait for more!!! Artwork by herself.

Aug. 20, @darkcolinodonorgasm posted her Siren Emma MC, A Song of Sin and Desire. This is gonna be an INCREDIBLE fic, y'all!!! I love it already!!! Gorgeous artwork by @artistic-writer.

On Aug. 22, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 posted fantastic original artwork for a fic by @teamhook that she posted in September, The Wolf and the Savior. The setup of this fic has me on the edge of my seat and I can’t WAIT to see what’s next!!!

Aug. 24, @courtorderedcake posted her demon MC, Majestically To Far Beyond. This fic really is fun and I am LOVING it, y’all!!! Can't wait for more!!! Artwork by me, @kmomof4.

Aug. 26, @cocohook38 posted her Dark Swan/Werewolf Killian MC, I’ll Be Waiting For You By the Blood Moon. This is a FANTASTIC take on the Dark Swan and I can’t wait for more of it!!! Breathtaking artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

And finally, rounding out our event on Aug. 30, @seriouslyhooked posted Lost Souls and Reveries: The Sequel, a continuation of her CSSNS18 fic, Lost Souls and Reveries. This first chapter was soooo precious and lovely and I can’t wait to see where she goes with this!!! Exquisite artwork by @clockadile.

Over the course of the summer, we had several fics from previous years update, in some cases, several times!

Until the Stars Are All Alight by @whimsicallyenchantedrose updated several times. Beautiful artwork by @clockadile. This is her LOTR/CS crossover and I love it sooooo much!!!!

@kymbersmith-90 updated both of her fics from CSSNS18, Slayer and Divine Intervention. Perfect artwork complements of @hollyethecurious (x) (x). Both of these fics are sooooo GREAT, even to someone who hasn’t watched either show that they were inspired by!!!

@courtorderedcake updated Hallow, her epic fic of Fae princess Emma and Dark One Killian. We have now journeyed to Sultana Jasmine’s court and we are closing in on the end of their journey!!! Latest Tumblr chapter link with art

@darkcolinodonorgasm updated One Day, her LadyHawke inspired AU that she kills me with every single chapter!!! We are now on ch5 of 7. Tumblr ch link Beautiful Artwork by @sherlockianwhovian

@eirabach rewrote her CSSNS18 submission Glow for the CS Rewritathon this spring and summer. It can be found in its entirety in the CSSNS20 collection on ao3 here. I loved it when she originally wrote it, and I loved it even more this time!!!

Well, that’s it, y’all!!!! Who would have thought when I came up with this idea almost three years ago now that we would have such participation and enthusiasm across this fabulous fandom? We have been blessed with EPIC, INCREDIBLE, GORGEOUS, BREATHTAKING, FUN, LOVELY, MAGNIFICENT fics and art these last three years!!! As I said at the top of this post, the collection on ao3 will continue to be active as well as this blog as more supernatural fics are written and shared. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for coming along on this ride with me. Y’all have all made it soooo worthwhile!!! All the love, everyone!!!

#cssns20 roundup #CSSNS 2020 roundup #event roundup

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 years ago

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Until the Stars are All Alight: Chapter 2: Five to the Race of Men

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

Rating: T

Word Count: 1237

Other Chapters : (prologue) (1) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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Chapter 2: Five to the Race of Men

The Dark One amassed many allies during his rise to power, but none so formidable as Cora, the Queen of Hearts, for she had a unique talent. She had the ability to reach into a person's chest and rip out their still beating heart, all without killing them. When one controls a heart, one controls the person, taking away their free will and making them little more than wraiths, mere shadows of themselves, capable only of carrying out the orders of the one in control.

Cora spent many years creating soldiers for Rumplestiltskin, but these soldiers had a flaw: too much of their old selves still remained. Those whose hearts were taken by force were but unwilling pawns, and unwilling pawns make for unpredictable assets.

But this flaw was not insurmountable. Cora discovered that when one gifted his heart willingly, he gifted not merely his heart, but his will, his sense of self, everything that made him him. Such pawns could be counted on to do anything their master ordered immediately, without reservation and without question.

Among the race of men, there were those who desired power above all things, and so it was that Cora was able to obtain for the Dark One five men from Camelot willing to give their hearts and become the ultimate weapons. It was a simple matter of promising these men power beyond their wildest dreams, a share in the majesty the Dark One would amass once the last of the lands fell to his dominion.

Now in possession of his ultimate fighting force, the Dark One could go after a much more significant prize.

Now the Dark One wanted a princess.

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

Misthaven, 22 years ago

Snow White checked the corridor of her parents’ castle one last time, looking first left and then right, and then let out her breath in relief. It seemed she had succeeded in shaking Graham. She understood her father’s insistence she have a guard with her at all times, given the dangerous situation the Enchanted Forest found itself in, but after this afternoon’s council meeting--and particularly, her conversation afterwards--she desperately needed a moment alone.

Careful not to make a sound along the stone corridors, Snow made her way out the castle’s hidden side entrance and then sprinted toward the woods.

To say it had been an unsettling morning would be a massive understatement. Having just celebrated her eighteenth birthday, her father had finally deemed her old enough to take a seat on the council, and this morning had been her first meeting.

She’d known the history of the Dark One all her life, his reign of terror, his ambition, his malice. He’d seemed well nigh unstoppable until the fateful battle where her father had taken the Dark One's sword, the source of his power, and then imprisoned him. Snow had been raised to fear the Dark One and the danger that hatred, blind ambition and lust for power could engender.

What Snow had not realized until this very morning was that while Rumplestiltskin, the current Dark One, had been stopped, he had not been defeated, for as long as a leader could still inspire blind fidelity, he could still wreak untold damage.

And Rumplestiltskin was doing just that.

“Sire, I’m afraid the latest reports from King George’s kingdom are quite terrible,” Graham said gravely at this morning’s council meeting. “A tragedy has befallen his house.”

“What tragedy?” King Leopold demanded. “Are they in need of aid?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late to send aid,” Graham answered. “For yesterev’n, crown Prince James was struck down in battle with the Behemoth.”

Snow gasped, noting her shock reflected at her from all the faces around the council table. King George, while known to be cunning, ruthless and tyrannical, had been one of the few human monarchs left who had not been swayed to the Dark One’s side before the battle that ended his reign. King George had been blessed with but one child and heir. To lose that heir was an unmitigated disaster.

“We must send our deepest condolences,” King Leopold stated. “We must assure George of our continued support.”

“If the reports are to be trusted,'' Granny said, looking up from her knitting needles, “it’s too late for that. Madness has struck the king following the loss of his heir. In his grief and despair, he contacted Neverland, pledging his allegiance to the forces of the Dark One. King George’s kingdom has fallen.”

The danger this development posed was incalculable. With every kingdom that fell, the Dark One gained more allies, more faithful soldiers to his cause, more strength, more of a chance of escaping his prison.

Snow had left the meeting so deep in her disturbed musings that she hadn’t seen Merlin in the corridor until she’d nearly collided with him.

“My apologies” she’d said. “I’m afraid I was not looking where I was going. The tidings of the meeting have rather preoccupied me.”

Merlin had smiled at her, the strange, enigmatic smile that was his trademark. “No need to apologize, Princess,” he said politely. “In fact, I was on my way to seek you out, so this meeting suits my purposes well.”

Snow’s brows furrowed, feeling more than a little uneasy at the intent way the wizard looked at her.

“Wh-what can I help you with?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Merlin stepped back into the now-empty council room, beckoning her to follow. Snow did so, taking the seat Merlin indicated. For a long moment, neither spoke, and Snow felt her unease increase with every passing moment.

“We have reached a crossroads,” Merlin said finally. “What happens moving forward will determine the fate of Enchanted Forest and indeed the entire world. I see two futures for Misthaven. In one, the Dark One regains power and his wrath and hatred will know no bounds. In the other, he is stopped, defeated and destroyed forever. Nothing less than the fate of the entire world rests on which future comes to pass.”

Snow’s heart raced. She’d known the Dark One still posed a danger, but she had no idea of the stakes her realm faced. It was the difference between life and death, freedom and perpetual slavery to evil.

“Why are you telling me this?” Snow asked in a small voice.

Merlin smiled at her. “You, Princess Snow, are the key to our salvation.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“Indeed,” Merlin said with a nod of his head. “I’ve received a prophecy. You are to become the mother of the savior, the one person in all the realms capable of defeating the darkness.”

“But how will this happen?” she asked. “I have no husband or even a betrothed.”

Merlin smiled again. “The time is almost right, Princess. Soon you will meet him. Soon you will fall so deeply in love, you will be willing to give up everything for him. Soon you will share your heart with him. Do not fear this love; for it will be your strength. It will be our salvation. Things may not transpire in the way you expect, but your heart is true. Follow it, and you will never be led astray.”

Coming back to the present, Snow took up her bow, notched an arrow and let it fly, straight into the center of the target she’d set up in the woods. She nodded in satisfaction, feeling her tense muscles relax. Archery had been her outlet since she was small, a way to relieve tension when life as a princess became too overwhelming or constricting.

She’d always known it was her duty to marry well, to form a solid alliance for Misthaven, but if Merlin’s prophecy was to be believed, the fate of the world rested with her marrying the right man and giving birth to his child. A child who would save them all.

How was an eighteen year old to deal with such pressure? How was she to trust her heart, when it didn’t even know what it wanted? How was she to…

“It seems we’ve found our mark,.” a deep grating voice said to Snow’s left, “the elven princess!”

Snow didn’t think, merely reacted. She notched a second arrow and spun to face the intruder with a speed her father’s best archers would have envied.

What she saw made her blood run cold. No less than five burly knights surrounded her in a close semi circle. Dressed all in black, save for bright, red, bleeding hearts emblazoned on their chests, even their faces covered with a black, mesh mask, the knights presented a terrifying picture. Snow felt her fear rise as she noted they wore the crest of Camelot upon their capes. Camelot was decidedly not Misthaven’s ally. The man closest to her drew his sword from his scabbard.

“Stop right there!” she commanded in a voice that was far more thready than she would have liked. She cleared her throat and tried again, “I’m an excellent archer, and I won’t hesitate to take you out!”

The evident leader advanced on her. “You won’t take all of us, Princess, and those remaining will complete the mission. The Dark One will reward us handsomely when we gift him the heiress of Misthaven.”

There was something odd about these men. Their movements, while those of efficient fighters, were sharp, almost as though they were machines. They spoke dispassionately, no sign of emotion. The effect was eerie, frightening Snow far more than if they’d displayed anger and aggression.

Snow’s hand shook as she took aim at the nearest man. She’d been speaking truly of her prowess with a bow, but she’d lived a sheltered life. Never had she found herself in such a precarious position, and faced with the prospect of shooting another living being, she wondered if she could do it.

Her first shot missed her target by a good foot. Far from deterring the knights from their goal, Snow’s shot seemed to spur them on, the nearest one grabbed her before she was able to reach for another arrow. Snow struggled valiantly, but she was no match for five men much stronger than herself. Before she knew what was happening, the leader of the pack shoved her roughly against the nearest tree, wrenched her hands behind her back and tied her to it.

“Unhand me!” she shouted with as much bravado as she could muster.

The leader ignored her, reaching into his satchel, pulling out a small bottle of amber colored potion and pouring it over his hand. “I think not,” the man said dispassionately. “Instead, I’ll take your heart. The Dark One wishes a puppet inside of Misthaven.”

Snow’s eyes widened as the full extent of their plan washed over her, and she began struggling anew, flailing and kicking out at her attackers. In the end, it was all in vain. Tied as she was, there was nothing she could do to stop what was about to happen. She watched in horror as the man’s hand came closer and closer to her chest. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing for the pain.

But it never came.

Instead she heard a shout of agony from the leader of the group. Daring to open her eyes, she saw the man’s hand pinned to the tree beside her, impaled on a knife.

“I believe the lady asked to be left alone.”

Snow whipped her head around at the new voice, and found herself face to face with the handsomest man she had ever seen, with sandy hair and intense blue eyes--now narrowed in anger as he looked at the men attacking her. Though he was dressed simply in the attire of a shepherd, he stood in a fighter’s stance, pulling a sword from the scabbard at his side.

For a moment, the Camelot knights stayed still, apparently shocked by the unexpected turn of events.

“Don’t just stand there!” the impaled leader finally shouted, wrenching the knife free from his hand and rushing to rejoin his companions. “Get him!”

The following moments were a blur of activity. The knights charged her rescuer, relentless in their attack. He fought valiantly, parrying blow after blow, and landing a fair few of his own, stabbing one man in the shoulder, and then stunning the next with a blow to the head with the hilt of his sword.

It quickly became clear, though, that the blond shepherd didn’t stand a chance, one man against four skilled opponents, and a fifth who was injured but by no means defeated. Snow had to find a way to help him. She struggled against the rope tying her, rubbing her wrist nearly raw as she attempted to wriggle out. She watched in horror as one of the men held her rescuer back, while another punched him in the gut and a third advanced with his sword drawn.

Adrenaline surging, Snow gave one last tug at her bonds, and her left arm slipped out. Making quick work of the knot, she freed herself, took up her bow and aimed it at the man about to stab the shepherd. This time her hand was steady, and the arrow flew true, landing squarely in the knight’s chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. She grabbed another arrow and quickly sent it toward the knight throwing punches, taking him out as well. Spooked by the sudden defeat of their companions, the three remaining brigands took to their feet and ran off. Snow sent an arrow after them for good measure. Breathing hard from her exertion, she looked after the men until they were mere specs on the horizon.

A groan reminded Snow that she was not alone. Turning quickly toward the man who had charged in to aid her, she watched in horror as blood soaked his tunic, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the ground.

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

Land Without Magic, present day

Killian groaned as he fell from the swirling portal onto the cold, unforgiving ground of the Land Without Magic. He lay still for a moment cataloging his various aches and pains, making sure the fall hadn’t caused any lasting damage, and then pushed himself to his feet with another groan.

Brushing dirt and debris from his simple black trousers and snagging the bag that had fallen beside him, Killian surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be in the heart of the forest, and if he wasn’t mistaken, his port of entry had come from the massive oak tree behind him. Killian felt the relief bubble up in him. From his perusal of Merlin’s Mirror, he knew this realm was far, far different from his own, but it was pleasant to know that there were still places to be had that reminded him of home.

Still, nothing was to be accomplished by remaining here. It was rather overwhelming when he considered the sheer magnitude of the task before him. He must find a way to acclimate to this new land. He must “meet” Emma Swan. He must convince her of a truth that she would no doubt find beyond fanciful. He must do so in a way that didn’t make her think he was a madman.

Where was he to even start?

If you’d waited until the proper time, we’d have been able to form a plan, Little Brother, but no. You had to do something rash.

Killian winced. He knew Liam’s voice was only in his imagination, but there was no doubt when he discovered what Killian had done, Liam would say something quite similar--likely along with several other things far harsher and less pleasant. Killian took a deep breath, determinedly putting his brother from his mind. He’d beg forgiveness and make peace with Liam later. For the moment he must keep his wits about him.

First thing was first. He’d viewed enough of this world from his mirror, that he knew he would need lodging, employment, and some form of transportation. How he was to go about finding it, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that it wouldn’t suddenly appear to him in this forest.

Not knowing what else was to be done, Killian began walking, eventually finding himself on a smooth road paved in black with yellow and white lines painted in the center and on the sides. He’d just bent down to examine the short, intermittent yellow lines along the center of the road, wondering what they signified, when he heard a loud roaring noise, and twin beams of light headed right for him.

Killian tried to move aside, but it was too late. The loud metal beast blared and then made a screeching sound before it rammed into him. His head slammed against what looked like glass, and then he was tossed to the hard, unforgiving ground below. His vision swam before blackness overtook him.

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

“Sir! Wake up! Wake up! Are you okay? Oh, please say you’re okay! Please say I didn’t kill you!”

Killian groaned, holding his aching head as he looked up at a short man with a black beard and a red knit cap.

“You’re alive!” the man said joyfully, bending down, arms outstretched as though to embrace him.

Killian put his hand out, holding the strange little man at bay, thinking to himself that he resembled the human equivalent of an over-eager puppy.

“Aye,” Killian ground out, sitting up slowly. “It seems your horseless carriage hasn’t done me in, although it was not for lack of trying.”

“My horseless--?” the man began, brows furrowed. “Just how hard did you hit your head, sir? It’s a car.”

Car, of course. Killian must remember the correct terminology of this land if he was to avoid bringing unwanted attention to himself. He shook his head to clear it and immediately regretted the action as he felt the blinding pain at his temples.

Well he was having a bloody fantastic first day in a new land, wasn’t he?

“My name’s Smee,” the man said, “William Smee. Please don’t call the police! I’m sorry I hit you. I didn’t see you. What were you doing bending down like that? Doesn’t matter. Tell me how I can make this up to you!”

Killian sighed, gingerly getting to his feet. “Well, Mr. Smee, for starters, you can stop talking so I can bloody hear myself think!”

“Of course, sir! Right away sir! Whatever you want! If you want me to be quiet, I can be--”

Killian glared at the little man, and he suddenly closed his mouth, pressing his lips together before running his thumb and forefinger across them and then turning them as though turning a key in a lock.

Killian rolled his eyes.

“Now then,” Killian said, looking around, “perhaps you could be of service to me, Mr. Smee. I seem to find myself alone in an unfamiliar land with little more than the clothes on my back. If you’d rather I not summon these police of yours, perhaps you’d agree to help me establish myself in this place. What do you call it?”

Smee looked silently at him.

“Well?” Killian asked irritably when the man remained silent.

Smee pointed to his lips and then shrugged.

Killian rolled his eyes. “You may unlock your lips now, Mr. Smee, seeing as my question begs an answer. About my request. Will you help me?”

“Of course, Sir!” Smee said, smiling and nodding eagerly. “For starters, how about you take my car?”

“Take your car?” Killian said, looking over at the yellow vessel. “What are you on about Smee?”

Smee looked away, shifting nervously from side to side. “Well, you see, I may have technically come across this car through means of questionable legality.”

“You mean you stole it.”

“Well--well, yeah,” Smee stammered. “But the guy I got it from didn’t want it anymore anyway. Called it a hunk of junk. Kept kicking it and stuff. So if you think about it, it wasn’t so much stealing as rescuing.”

Only with great difficulty did Killian resist the urge to roll his eyes yet again. “Very well Mr. Smee, but if you give me your car, what will you do for transportation?”

Smee shrugged. “I can always ste--I mean rescue another one. Piece of cake. So that’s one thing off your list! What else can I help you with? I kind of specialize in hard to find things.”

Killian looked intently at the man before him. “Why would you do so much for me?”

“Well,” Smee said, looking aside, idly dragging his toe in the dirt at his feet, “I did hit you with my car, and you didn’t call the police. Seems a good way to say thank you. ‘Sides, you seem to be having a bad day, like you could use a friend.”

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

Smee proved to be invaluable in the first few weeks of Killian’s life in the Land Without Magic. He was knowledgeable and helpful and so very eager to please. Within a day, Smee had obtained something called a “fake ID”, although the process was not without its difficulties.

“Okay, so I need your birthday, Captain,” Smee had said. No sooner had Killian revealed that he was in the navy than Smee gave him the title. It didn’t matter how many times Killian told him he was merely a lieutenant, Smee seemed incapable of understanding the distinctions in rank.

“Um, January 26, I believe,” Killian said.

Smee gave him a strange look. “You believe? You don’t know when your own birthday is?”

Killian scratched at the back of his ear. “Such things were not noted with much importance where I’m from.”

It was true enough. The day of one’s birth was acknowledged in Misthaven, but when one lived for hundreds of years, one was not feted in the same way people in this realm were. Killian himself had seen 235 birthdays pass, and the day had long since ceased to be of much import to him.

“You never did tell me where it is that you’re from, Captain.” Smee said, sending him a curious glance.

“No, I did not,” Killian said, tossing his companion an irritated look, “And if you please, I would prefer to get settled rather than prattle on about things that do not matter.”

Smee looked properly chastened, and went back to work producing a small, thin rectangle of plastic bearing Killian’s image and various bits of identifying information. It was an odd custom to carry such a thing upon his person, but Smee had assured him that he would need the “ID” in order to carry out most items of business within this realm that went by the curious name of “Maine”.

ID secured, Smee next found Killian lodging, a loft apartment on the main street of town. Killian looked at the space, noting the small but functional kitchen, the privy, the sleeping quarters walled off from the rest by a sheet, the stairs leading to an open loft which Smee told him could function as a second bedroom, should he have need of it. It was a far cry from the dwellings of his home realm, but Killian found it sufficient to his needs.

With lodging, an identification and a vessel secured for himself, the next order of business was to find employment.

Smee shrugged. “I mean, you could always steal stuff if you wanted.”

Killian glared at him. “Mr. Smee, you may enjoy the life of the petty criminal, but I wish to establish a legitimate livelihood.”

“Suit yourself,” Smee said.

Killian’s first thought was to seek employment at the diner where Emma was a waitress. It would be a way to become acquainted with her in a manner she would no doubt find non-threatening and natural. He quickly rejected the idea, however, knowing he was constitutionally unsuited to such work.

“We are located near the sea, are we not, Mr. Smee?” Killian asked.

“Yeah,” Smee said, gesturing to his left. “It’s a couple miles that way. You wanna get a job down at the docks?”

“Something near the ocean would be perfect.”

Smee came through once again, obtaining Killian the job of assistant to the harbormaster. Killian smiled as he signed the last document and then stepped out of the harbormaster’s office. Everything was falling into place for him.

All but one thing, that is.

Killian had yet to devise a way to establish a connection with Emma Swan.

He’d watched her enough through his mirror to know that she’d led a difficult life, a life that made her build walls around her heart, a life that made her distrustful and closed off. He must build a rapport with her with utmost caution, slowly gaining her trust, proving to her again and again that he wished nothing but the best this realm--or any other--had to offer.

And he had but one shot at it. He was wise enough to know that if he blew his chance, he would never get another. If he lost Emma’s trust, she would never give him another chance to be a part of her life, and more importantly, she would never open her mind and heart enough to believe the truth he’d been sent to impart to her.

Killian’s palms sweat just thinking of the magnitude of what he must accomplish. He must bide his time and find the perfect moment to approach her, but he also knew continued inaction was not an option.

A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.

It was one of the first lessons Liam had ever taught him, and it was one he was determined to live by when it came to the lovely princess of Misthaven. He would fight for her, not just because his realm depended on it, but also because she deserved to know the truth about her beginnings.

Now if he could only figure out how to go about it.

As it happened, fate figured it out for him.

It was a day in early fall, the time of year when the weather was most changeable. There had been a tremendous thunderstorm the night before, the kind that rattled the windows and made his entire flat shake with the force of the thunder. This had inevitably led to a broken and very poor night of sleep.

Killian yawned as he walked from the harbormaster’s office as his lunch break began, deciding to forgo sustenance in favor of a nap. He contemplated returning to his flat, but ultimately rejected the idea. The drive would cut into valuable sleeping time. Instead, he opted to curl up on the backseat of his yellow Beetle. He was asleep as soon as his eyes closed.

He awoke suddenly, only minutes later, at the sound of a lock being picked and the drivers’ side door opening and then closing. Senses alert, ready to fight, Killian turned his eyes toward the person who was trying to steal his stolen car.

His jaw dropped.

Swan!

She wore her long blonde hair in a ponytail high on her head, dark rimmed glasses he knew she didn’t require adorning her visage. Her eyes darted from side to side, the apprehension clear on her face, before she inserted a file into the ignition and banged on it until his Beetle roared to life. She’d only just pulled away from his parking spot along the road, when he decided it was time to reveal his presence.

“Impressive,” He said, sitting up and popping his head between the headrests of the front seat and dangling his car keys before her, “but you could have just asked for these.”

Notes:

--So sorry for the delay in updating, but first I had a cold, and then the writing was slow going. Realistically, especially as we approach the holidays, I’m not going to be able to post every single week, so my update schedule is shifting slightly. I plan to post every other Tuesday, with a delay in updating not lasting more than 4 weeks.

--Big thanks to @clockadile, my artist for the suggestion to make the Camelot knights in the flashback section my story’s equivalent of ringwraiths! Inspired!

--Don’t be too mad at me for how I left Charming at the end of the flashback! Obviously, since Snow and Charming just met and Emma hasn’t been conceived yet, this isn’t the end for Charming.

--As to the present day section, I originally had no plans to include Smee in this story, but he just kind of showed up, and he (and his interactions with Killian) ended up being my favorite part of this chapter to write.

--Up next: In the flashback: More Snowing meeting and falling in love. In the present day section, we see why Emma decided to steal the yellow bug and then, instead of calling the cops on her, Killian’s reaction to Emma’s attempted theft surprises her.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cs ff #csss #captain swan supernatural summer #my fanfic #cs/lotr crossover #until the stars are all alight

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 years ago

Text

Until the Stars Are All Alight–Chapter 7: The Mending of the Broken Kingdom

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

Rating: T

Word Count: 6781

Other Chapters: (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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

The Enchanted Forest, many years ago

They buried Ruth Nolan beside the giant oak that sat near the river. The place was beautiful and peaceful, and David thought his mother would have whiled away many afternoons here had she been able to live in the safe house as planned.

Snow White took her husband’s hand, threading their fingers and trying in whatever way she could to give him strength as his mother’s body was laid to rest as the last rays of the evening sun began to disappear over the riverbank. She saw him wipe away tears as Lancelot said a few words over the grave and then shoveled the earth over her make-shift casket.

His heart was broken, she knew, she could feel it, but he also seemed to be strangely at peace. For his sake she was glad.

When the last shovel of dirt had been replaced and the afternoon gave way to twilight, it was time to decide on their next course of action.

“I am most heartily sorry for your loss,” Lancelot said in a low voice as he put a supportive hand on David’s shoulder. “I wish I’d arrived in time to save her.”

David wiped away another tear. “There was nothing you could have done; nothing any of us could have done. Given the state we found her in, I suspect the brigands timed their attack on my mother to coincide with their attack on myself. Thank you all the same for the offer of your help.”

“You are most welcome,” Lancelot said with a bow.

David took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking down at his mother’s final resting place before nodding and looking back at Lancelot, determination in his eyes. “We made a deal, and I intend to fulfill my part of it. Shall we begin our journey to Camelot? Gods willing, we’ll be more successful in our quest there.”

“Indeed,” Lancelot said. “Any outcome save the categorical defeat of Neal Baelfire and the salvation of my kingdom is unthinkable to me. That being said, it is a little more than a day’s journey to the castle of Camelot, and we’ll not do my people any favors by arriving exhausted. If we can secure shelter, I propose we rest for the night and start fresh for our journey in the morning. It is, after all, your wedding night. You needn’t spend it trudging through the forest with a knight.”

Snow felt her cheeks redden at the mention of her wedding night, and her nerves flared to life. As the princess of Misthaven, she’d lived a rather sheltered life. While she’d entertained a few chaste kisses from suitors, she’d never shared a bed with a man, and the thought that she’d do so tonight with her husband, her true love, was somehow exciting, intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

She felt David squeeze her hand, and she looked up to see a look of pure love and gentleness on his face. She knew what he was thinking, could feel it in his gaze.

We’ve no need to proceed any further than you’re comfortable tonight. I’m content to wait until you’re ready.

Her heart turned over at his chivalry and care for her. His reassurances calmed the last shreds of her apprehensions. She loved this man and she wanted, ached, to be with him in every way a wife was with her husband.

Lancelot gently cleared his throat, and Snow started, realizing she’d yet to reply to his previous statement.

“Of course,” she said, voice slightly breathless. “My family’s summer castle is little more than a mile from here. We keep but a bare bones staff at the castle when we’re not there, but they will be sufficient to prepare us a repast and bed us down for the night.”

They took their time walking to the summer palace, Snow and David ahead, while Lancelot walked several paces behind to allow the newlyweds a bit of privacy.

They’d only just walked across the drawbridge and entered the inner bailey, when Snow was greeted by a most welcome surprise--her lady’s maid Johanna stood smiling before her. Gently extracting herself from her husband’s hand, Snow rushed forward, enveloping the matronly woman in a hug.

“How are you here?” Snow asked, laughing. “How did you know to come to me?”

“Merlin,” Johanna said simply. “He arrived at the castle this afternoon, spouting vague warnings about the dagger and the Dark One, and other such nonsense, and then he sent me here, saying you might have need of me tonight.”

“We could have managed if need be,” Snow said, “but I’m glad you’re here with us!”

The events of the afternoon and the events that led to Lancelot joining their company were explained over a light dinner, and before Snow knew it, Johanna was whisking her away to prepare her for bed.

“The wedding night is quite a pivotal moment for a young bride,” Johanna said with a knowing grin. “I expect you’ve some nerves about tonight?”

Snow’s heart pounded at the reminder of what was about to occur. “Yes, nerves, but anticipation as well.”

Johanna nodded. “Do you have any questions about what to expect?”

Snow felt her face flame again. “No. Mother explained it all to me.”

Johanna gave her a quick hug. “Don’t you worry, my lamb. Your Charming is a good man, and I’ve never seen such love in someone’s eyes as I saw in his when he looked at you. I’ve no doubt you will have many blissfully happy years together. Enjoy this time with him, put all cares aside and simply delight in each other.”

There was a quick tap at the door, and then David was there looking a bit unsure of himself. At the sight of him, all her nerves fled, and she was left with nothing but her love and desire for him. She opened her arms, and he rushed to her as Johanna quietly left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

Taking her face in his hands, David kissed her, his lips on hers both gentle and passionate. Leading her to the chaise before the fire, they shared several more long, drugging kisses, before pulling back for air.

“You have no idea what it’s meant to have you with me today Snow,” he said, voice soft and tender. “This day has been filled with so many emotions, so many life-changing moments, and through it all, having you beside me has kept me grounded.”

Snow leaned forward and kissed him gently before looking into his eyes. “I have loved you from the moment I clapped eyes on you.”

“And I will love you to my last breath,” David said, returning her kiss with another long, slow one of his own.

“Could we perhaps delay that last breath for several more years?” Snow asked with a laugh. “I’ve rather had enough of you dying or almost dying to last me several decades.”

David laughed with her, caressing her face. “Now that I have you as my wife,” he murmured, “I have no intention of going into the light anytime soon.”

Snow pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry about your mother, Charming. If there was anything I could have done--”

“I know,” he reassured, “but it was her time. Snow, I’ve seen what awaits us on the other side, and it’s beautiful. I’ve come to realize that death isn’t something to fear. Instead it’s merely the next step into a new life. I know my mother’s at peace, and that’s all I can ask.”

“Even so, her absence will weigh heavy on your heart.”

A single tear tracked its way down his cheek, and Snow leaned forward and kissed it away. “You’re right,” he said, his voice somewhat choked, “but I have faith that I will see her again one day.”

They were silent for a moment, holding each other close, taking comfort from each other. Finally, David got to his feet and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him lead her over to the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room.

“But it is our wedding night. I think it’s time we put aside topics of sadness and death. I have far more important things to discuss with you.”

She grinned up at him, feeling her anticipation rise at the look in his eyes. “You wish to talk about it, Charming? That sounds rather...unfulfilling.”

He surged forward, kissing her passionately, letting the momentum propel them forward until they lay together on the bed, him resting on his elbows on either side of her head as he kissed his way down the column of her neck. “Who said the conversation had to be verbal?” he asked between kisses.

She giggled, taking his face in her hands and pulling him down for another long kiss as she worked at the buttons on his shirt. “Who indeed?”

And then there were no more words exchanged until long into the night.

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

Lancelot paced the stone corridor before David and Snow’s bedroom the next morning just as the first rays of the sun were starting to paint the sky. He didn’t wish to disturb the newlyweds but he was antsy at the thought of any further delay. It had been more than a week since he’d been banished from court, and he shuddered to think what Baelfire might have done to his kingdom in that time.

What he might have done to Guinevere...well that was something Lancelot refused to even consider, lest the fear drive him mad. He needed his wits about him if he was to come to her rescue.

Outside a nearby window, a zealous whippoorwill saluted the morning, and it startled Lancelot into action. He didn’t wish to disturb Snow and David, but he could not wait another moment. He knocked firmly on the door and waited as patiently as he could as he heard rustling sounds.

David opened the door, his clothing of the night before hastily thrown on. “Is something wrong? Have the attackers returned?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Lancelot hastened to reassure. “I apologize for my intrusion, but I find myself filled with anxiety about the state of my kingdom this morning. I’d hoped to start our journey as early as possible.”

“Of course,” David said. “Give us a quarter of an hour to prepare ourselves for the day, and we’ll meet you in the great hall for a quick breakfast, and then we’ll be on our way.”

True to their word, within fifteen minutes, David and Snow walked hand in hand into the hall and sat side by side before the light meal of bread and cheese and fruit a servant set before them. Lancelot smiled at the joy and love that radiated from the two of them in the afterglow of their wedding night.

The thought brought him a slight pang as well, though. He knew he’d never experience a similar state of bliss. The woman he loved was not his for the taking.

No matter. So long as he could save her from the very real danger that beset her, as long as he could be near her and guard her from other future danger, he would be content.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and then the three of them were off, laden with Lammas bread for the journey, before the sunrise was complete.

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

As they made their way toward the castle the next morning, the three of them tossed around various ideas about how they should approach their less-than-ideal situation, but no plan they came up with seemed sufficient to the challenges ahead. The uncomfortable reality was that they were sadly outmanned.

One thing was for sure; they’d fail before they even began if they attempted to enter outright with Lancelot in tow. Their only hope was to maintain the element of surprise. To that end, they decided to split up.

Quietly so as to attract as little attention as possible, Lancelot made his way to the back entrance of the outer bailey. He knew it was Sir Galahad’s post in the early mornings, and Galahad was one of the handful of knights he knew with absolute certainty was still loyal to the king as he should be and to Camelot.

It was apparent almost immediately, however, that something was off. When he approached the door, the first thing Lancelot noticed was a strange shimmering in the air like nothing he’d ever seen. The second was the fact that Sir Percival was looking at him with wide, almost vacant eyes.

“Who goes there?” Sir Percival barked out when he saw motion on his periphery.

“Lancelot,” he called out, stepping into the light and making himself known. “Please! I must enter with all haste!”

Sir Percival turned his disconcertingly vacant stare Lancelot’s way. “You have been banished,” he said in a voice entirely devoid of emotion. “You are no longer welcome here. Leave these premises immediately or you will be executed.”

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong? Why are you acting in this way?”

Sir Percival merely repeated himself, all in the same dispassionate, emotion-less tone.

Something was very, very wrong here, but it was clear their plan as it stood would need to be altered. If Neal had gotten even to Sir Percival, the most valiant knight of the Round Table, there would be no sneaking in for Lancelot.

He’d just rounded the castle and started back to where Snow and Charming waited in the woods when one of the most welcome sights he’d ever seen met his eyes. Merlin himself strode toward them, staff in hand.

Look for me on the third day.

Finally, things were beginning to look up.

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

Merlin walked determinedly toward the newlyweds and the disgraced knight in the woods. After leaving the small band three days hence, he’d gone to Misthaven straight away. He’d first determined that Excalibur was indeed safely tucked away under a glamour spell where he’d left it. That alone made him breathe easier. Whatever it was the Dark One was planning with his son, it could be dealt with as long as the sword was still secure.

Afterwards, Merlin retrieved his staff and then made his way to the Dark One’s prison to ensure their mortal enemy himself was still safely locked away. When he was satisfied all was secure, he made his way to Camelot.

Merlin looked down at his staff as he walked the remaining steps toward his companions. To one who knew no better, it looked like nothing extraordinary. It was an old, gnarled stick with nothing to recommend it.

But Merlin knew better, for this staff had been fashioned of the wood of the very tree where he’d been imprisoned for hundreds of years before breaking free at Arthur’s coronation. This tree had not only imprisoned him, it had absorbed his magic through all the lonely years of his captivity. As such, it was perfectly suited as a lightning rod of sorts, a way to focus his magic and strengthen its effects. He didn’t know what he would find at Camelot, but he knew their success here was of such great importance he could leave nothing to chance.

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

Neal smiled to himself as he sat upon a throne to the king’s left. His father would reward him handsomely. He’d been more successful than he could have possibly dreamed going into this venture. Not only had he subdued the king and all his remaining knights, but thanks to a bit of quick thinking on his part, Camelot itself was officially his for the taking.

Neal patted the small pouch attached to his waist, grateful for his foresight in gathering it’s contents before he’d approached Camelot. It was working it’s magic better than he could have possibly imagined.

Glancing over at the woman seated to Arthur’s right, Neal nearly rubbed his hands together in glee. It had worked its magic on Guinevere as well. She looked on him with empty, vacant eyes, all resistance effectively drained from her. All things considered, he’d prefer her to look on him with the kind of love and devotion she’d bestowed on Lancelot, but he’d take what he could get. At least this way, she’d no longer resist him.

With her will to rebuff his advances taken away, he would finally, finally get everything he wanted. Tonight would be the night. Tonight he’d go to her chambers and make her his.

The porter interrupted his lurid musings by opening the great hall door.

“Your highness,” the man said, addressing Arthur, “Princess Snow White of Misthaven, her Prince Consort David Nolan, and the sorcerer Merlin to see you.”

Neal frowned. He had no idea what these people were doing here, but he was absolutely certain it could bode nothing good for him or his plan.

“They are not welcome here,” Neal said, leaning over to speak quietly into Arthur’s ear. “Merlin is but a herald of woe.”

The king nodded before turning back to the guests. “You are not welcome here.”

Merlin, who led the small group, frowned, looking with suspicious eyes from one member of the royal assembly to another. “Oh Arthur, how you’ve disappointed me.”

“You are not welcome here,” Arthur merely repeated.

Merlin narrowed his eyes further, sending a contemptuous glare at Neal. “The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Arthur, king.”

“Why should I welcome you, Merlin of Misthaven?”

“A just question, my liege,” Neal said, nodding sycophantically, watching Arthur carefully.

The king still looked fully compliant, but now was not the time to take chances. Neal surreptitiously took a pinch of the sand in his bag and tossed it toward Arthur. He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he saw Merlin’s eyes widen in understanding. He must take control of this situation now, before Merlin was able to gain a foothold.

“Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear,” Neal said, stepping toward the newcomers. “Ill news is an ill guest.”

“Be silent!” Merlin growled. “Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I have not come to this hall to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.”

Neal stepped back in horror as Merlin opened his cloak and pulled forth his staff.

“His staff!” he said to the knights guarding the hall. “I told you to take his staff if he should ever appear!”

Chaos broke out around the hall. Arthur’s knights stepping up to apprehend the newcomers, and Snow and David pulling out their weapons to defend against the attack. Neal watched in consternation as Sir Percival attacked Snow, and David plunged his sword through the knight’s heart.

Through it all, Merlin advanced, unperturbed by the chaos around him. “Arthur, son of Uther, too long have you sat in the shadows. I release you from this spell.”

At the sound of Merlin’s words, the fighting around the hall stopped, and all seemed to watch with baited breath as Merlin raised his staff, closed his eyes, and pointed it toward Arthur.

“No!” Neal screamed as slowly but surely long tendrils of the Sands of Avalon that he’d been using to control the kingdom seeped from the king, from Queen Guinevere, indeed from everyone around the hall.

Neal leaped forward to stop Merlin...somehow, he wasn’t entirely sure how...but before he had the chance, his momentum was stopped with Sir Lancelot’s fist making solid contact with his face. When had Lancelot arrived?! Neal groaned as he fell to the ground and then felt Lancelot’s boot on his chest. “I would stay down if I were you.”

Merlin continued until the last grain of the sands had been sucked from Camelot. Neal watched in horror as everyone shook their heads, coming out of their stupefaction.

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

For a moment the hall was silent as royals and knights and servants alike tried to make sense of what had happened to them.

Arthur shook his head and then glared at Neal. “Seize him!”

The shout was enough to break the hall free of their stupor and Lancelot watched as everything seemed to happen at once--Guinevere getting to her feet and looking around, as though for a weapon, his fellow knights dragging Neal Baelfire to his feet, Neal himself breaking free, Arthur advancing on him, the others in the hall rushing toward the drama with howls of rage.

“Silence!” Merlin bellowed, striking his staff against the floor, producing an energy field that seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

Merlin pointed toward Neal with his staff. “Neal Baelfire, son of Rumplestiltskin, your reign of terror is at an end.”

Neal leaned back against the wall smirking up at the wizard. “Yeah? Your threats don’t frighten me, Merlin. As a hero, I can be assured you won’t kill me.”

Merlin’s face barely changed, but a shiver went down Lancelot’s spine at the intensity of his loathing as he looked upon the Dark One’s son. It was as though Merlin looked upon a disgusting insect that it was beneath him even to crush under his boot.

Slowly, Merlin raised his staff toward Neal, and the Dark One’s son went suddenly rigid as invisible bands wrapped themselves around his body from shoulder to toe.

“You are correct,” Merlin said in a soft, cold voice. “I won’t kill you this day, but within the hour I suspect you’ll wish I had.”

The first tendrils of fear reached Neal’s eyes. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?”

“Only what you deserve,” Merlin said, advancing on him. “You will be reunited with your father in his impregnable cell, and there you will remain.”

At that, all color drained from Neal’s face.

“I suspect the Dark One will be most displeased when he hears of your failure, and you’ll have the rest of your miserable life to feel the effects of that displeasure.”

“No!” Neal shrieked, fighting uselessly against the magical bands that held him as Merlin pouffed them away in a cloud of purple smoke, all that remained, Neal’s bloody poinard as it clattered to the stone floor.

Neal’s bloody poinard? Why was it covered in blood?!

The hall had fallen silent once more as Merlin transported Neal to his justly deserved punishment, but suddenly Arthur slunk to the floor, and Lancelot looked on in horror as a crimson stain spread in an ever expanding circle from his chest. Lancelot leaped forward to catch his king and friend, but Guinevere reached him first, cradling his body to her chest.

“I….was not….good,” Arthur said haltingly, looking up at his wife.

“Don’t try to speak,” she replied as tears started in her eyes and began pouring down her face.

Arthur looked from Guinevere to Lancelot and then back again. “Weak…” he continued. “Not...ruler Camelot...deserved.”

“Your majesty,” Lancelot said, “there is still time…”

“No,” Arthur said forcefully. “Feel life...draining...not much time.”

Guinevere held him more tightly to her, rocking him slightly.

“Not...husband you...deserved, but...loved you...to last breath,” Arthur said, weakly raising his hand. Guinevere took it in hers, bringing it to her lips.

“I love you too, Arthur,” she said in a voice thick with tears. “I always have.”

Arthur smiled weakly, and then turned to look at Lancelot. “Take care of her.”

Lancelot looked up at the woman he loved more than his own life and then back at his dying king. “You have my word, your majesty. No harm will come to her while there is yet breath in my body.”

Arthur nodded and then glanced at both of them. “Rule...together. Mend...broken kingdom. Better than I.”

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed his last.

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

Land Without Magic, present day

Killian pushed aside the curtain and peered out the window of his apartment for the fifth time in as many minutes. His heart plummeted as yet again he saw nothing but an empty street, conspicuously free of Swan’s (well...his, if one was to split hairs) yellow bug.

He began pacing as scenarios began playing themselves out in his mind, each one more horrible and unimaginable as the next. He knew she could take care of herself; he knew she could, and he trusted her to do so, but she’d hardly been thinking clearly when she left the apartment tonight, and if the bastard did anything to her in a moment of inattention….

The possibility was unimaginable.

Killian turned on the television and mindlessly flipped through channels looking for something, anything, to take his mind off of how late his roommate was in returning from her “date”.

Two weeks ago, Emma had returned to the apartment, smile wider than he’d ever seen her don and he’d smiled back at her; couldn’t have helped it if he wanted to. Her joy was infectious, and it was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Tell me, Swan,” he said, patting the seat on the couch next to him, “what has you looking like the cat that caught the canary?”

She plopped down next to him, bouncing a bit in her exuberance. “Killian, I got a job!”

He reached over and gave her a quick one-armed hug. “Well then, congratulations are in order! How exactly did this come about?”

She’d gone on to explain (animatedly) about her encounter with Smee, her search for his missing beanie, Tiny’s tip, and her very successful meeting with Cleo.

“So…” he said carefully, “you’ll be a bounty hunter?”

“Bail bondsman--woman--whatever, but same basic idea,” she said. “Cleo bails people out, and when they don’t pay their bail, well that’s when I step in, hunt them down, and drag their sorry asses back to jail.”

“It sounds...dangerous,” he said, striving to make his voice neutral. He knew she was a tough lass. He knew she was fully capable of handling herself in whatever situation she might find herself in, but the profession was bound to come with injuries and threats. He hated to think of her suffering them.

She narrowed her eyes. He must have been less successful as he’d hoped at covering his trepidation.

“Killian, I can take care of myself,” she said, leaning away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh aye,” he agreed readily, nodding. “I know you can love. I’ve yet to see you fail at anything you’ve set your mind to.”

That clearly mollified her, if the way her eyes softened was any indication. “If you believe in me, then why did you sound like you’d rather I did anything else as a profession.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “I do believe in you, Emma, and the miscreants of this fair burg don’t stand a chance against you. I suppose I just care about you and would hate to see you get hurt.”

She softened even further at that and even reached over to take his hand. “Don’t worry, Killian, I’m not going to take any chances or do anything stupid. I’ll practice all the safety precautions and keep pepper spray with me and all of that.”

With an effort of will, he cleared the worry from his face, even if he couldn’t completely banish it from his mind. With her enthusiasm and excitement so great, how could he possibly do anything but support her?

“Well, never mind that now,” he said, getting to his feet and offering her his hand to help her do the same. “As I said, congratulations are in order. I have a bottle of rum perfect for the occasion.”

Emma had thrown herself into her work after that, enjoying the chase, enjoying working out the mystery of where the bail jumper might have gone and how best to apprehend him. She’d only just begun, relatively speaking, but already she was building a name for herself

He was proud of her. She was truly one of the most incredible people he’d ever met in his long, long life.

And if there’d ever been any question before, now it was gone. He was totally, completely and irreversibly in love with Emma Swan. What that meant for his mission, for the welfare of his home and people, he didn’t know. He was no less committed to bringing her home to fulfill her destiny, but he’d be by her side every step of the way.

By all accounts, Emma was incredible at her new job. She was tough, she was smart, and she had excellent instincts. She could also read people better than just about anyone he’d ever met.

“I’m pretty good at telling when someone is lying to me,” she’d told him one day. She’d called it her “superpower”.

To say he didn’t feel any anxiety when she was out chasing the worst of the worst miscreants in the city would have been a lie, but his faith in her abilities mitigated that anxiety to a large extent.

At least it had until tonight.

He’d returned from work to see her sitting ramrod straight before her laptop, brows furrowed and a fierce scowl on her face.

“Having trouble locating your skp, Swan?” he’d asked as he walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

She looked over at him, and her eyes blazed with barely concealed fury. “Not at all,” she said. “This absolute son of a bitch was almost too easy to track down.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She stood up and started pacing. “This total douche has a wife and family he just walked out on--but not before racking up some major gambling debt and a handful of domestic abuse charges.”

Killian winced.

“I met with his family earlier, and it killed me, Killian,” she said, and for a brief moment her fury morphed into sadness. “The wife bailed him out, and then he ran again. The kids just want their daddy home. You have no idea how much I look forward to kicking his ass.”

“Swan,” he said slowly, feeling a sliver of dread burrow into his chest, “I understand the sentiment, believe me I do. A man who would mistreat and abandon his family in such a way must necessarily hit close to home for you…”

She stopped before him, crossing her arms and glaring. “This isn’t about me, Killian! This is about his family.”

“Aye,” he said, placing his hands on her upper arms, “it is about the arse you’re chasing, but clearly it’s bringing up a lot of emotions in you as well.”

She shook herself free of his touch and started pacing again. “What if it is? Am I not allowed to have emotions?”

Killian blew out his breath in frustration. “Of course you are, but you’ll do no one any good going off half cocked! If you let your anger rule you, you’ll make mistakes, and those mistakes could get you hurt or killed!”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Killian Jones,” she said, getting in his face. “This is my life, my career, and I decide how to live it!”

“I know that!” he said, his voice raising in spite of himself. “I’m not asking you to stop living your life, I’m asking you to be smart about it!”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but after a moment she brushed past him. “Whatever. I have to go get ready for my date with the asshole.”

“Your...date?”

“Yeah, she said from the bathroom where she’d opened her makeup back and started rummaging around inside. “Cleo’s been suggesting I start trying out a honey trap. You know, get douches to take me on dates, then nail them. And not in the fun way.”

This was a bad idea; Killian knew it was, but what could he do? As she said it was her life, and she had every right to live it as she chose.

His unease increased all the more when she walked out of her room half an hour later in one of the sexiest red dresses he’d ever seen, her hair hair curled, her make up flawless, and her stiletto heels the stuff of men’s fevered dreams.

“I’d ask you how I look,” she smirked, “but judging by the way your eyes are about to pop out of your head, I’d say I achieved the affect I was going for.”

He cleared his throat, trying valiantly to keep from salivating at the look of her. “Aye, no man in his right might would be able to take his eyes off of you in that little number, Swan.”

“That’s the idea,” she said, grabbing her purse and checking to make sure her pepper spray was in place. “Well, gotta go if I’m going to meet him on time.”

Killian tried one more time. “Perhaps you should take someone with you, Swan,” he said hesitantly. “If not me, perhaps Smee or that Tiny fellow you mentioned. Just for safety.”

Her anger blazed again as she rounded on him. “Yeah, because nothing says hot date like bringing along your roommate or one of his friends.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know what you’re saying,” she said, yanking the apartment door open and stepping out, “but I can take care of myself. The only one who saves me is me.”

“Just….be careful,” he said, letting a little of his fear creep into his voice.

The fear seemed to be what did it. She turned back to him, her face softer. “I will, Killian. I promise.”

And then she was gone.

That was five hours ago. Her “date” should have been long over, her skip safely behind bars (likely with quite the shiner), and her at home decompressing with him over a drink or two.

Perhaps she’d decided to stop at the Rabbit Hole for that drink to cool down after collaring the skip?

Perhaps, but his gut was telling him that wasn’t the case. His gut was telling him the same thing it had been telling him since she got home tonight. Her emotions put her in a vulnerable state and something went terribly wrong.

He was just on the point of throwing on his leather jacket and going out to look for her when he finally, finally heard the key in the lock. He felt the relief wash over him. She was okay; she was…

His relief lasted only until he caught sight of her. She looked, for lack of a better description, like hell. She held her shoes in her hand, one of which was missing it’s stiletto heel. Her dress was torn and covered with flecks of mud. She had a split lip and her blackening eye was rapidly swelling shut.

When Killian noticed her holding onto her side and limping as she made her way over the threshold, he sprang into action. He leaped forward, putting her arm around his shoulders and taking her weight as he eased her over to the sofa.

“Swan, what happened?”

She looked chagrined. “Well, cliff’s notes, things didn’t go exactly as planned, but I did end up collaring my skip. Emma Swan always gets her man.”

“Did he...did he do this to you?” Killian felt the anger bubbling up. He could kill this man with his bare hands.

She looked down, playing with the frayed end of the rip in her dress. “You were right Killian. I should have listened to you,” she said. “His situation, well it brought up a lot of my old crap, and I went in hot. Maybe if I’d stopped to calm down a little, I’d have seen the signs before he ran; maybe I would have been more prepared for it when he attacked me.”

Killian took a deep breath, willing his own anger down. He could deal with it later. For now, his priority was, must be, taking care of Emma. “Swan,” he started. Her eyes stayed trained on her dress. “Swan, look at me.”

After a moment, she complied, and the look in her eyes broke Killian’s heart. She looked like a lost little girl, but what was worse, she looked guilty.

“Emma, this was not your fault,” he said gently but firmly. “I don’t know how things progressed tonight, but you are not to blame for that absolute piece of human excrement’s attack on you. No one deserves that; least of all you.”

The tears welled in her eyes, and after a moment she gave him a tentative smile.

And then promptly grimaced, hand going to her split lip, which was beginning to bleed again. Killian frowned. “We can talk all about what happened if you like, but first, let’s get you taken care of, yeah?”

She tried to wave him off. “It’s okay, Killian,” she said. “I’ve had worse. I can take care of it.”

“Nonsense, love,” he said, propping her swelling ankle on a pillow on the coffee table, and then moving toward his first aid kit under the kitchen sink. “What are roommates, what are friends for?”

She smiled again, more carefully this time to avoid aggravating her injuries. Killian gathered all the medical supplies he could find, filled an ice bag for her ankle, and then filled a small basin with warm water. He felt so helpless. Back home, he could have healed her wounds in a second with his elven magic, but here, here in the land without magic he was relegated to salves and creams and bandages.

Killian gently laid the ice pack against her rapidly purpling ankle and then handed her a couple aspirin and a water bottle. As he gently began to dab at her split lip, he asked if she’d like to talk about what happened.

She blew out a deep breath. “So our ‘date’ was going well until I told him what I was really doing there. He flipped the table. Spilled my wine all over my dress, by the way. Anyway, I followed him back to his car, which I’d already had a boot put on. That should have been the end of it, but when I got to his car he started saying all this stuff about how I wouldn’t know anything about family anyway and no one cared about me and all of that.”

Killian felt his heart break for her.

“And,” she shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess it just made me feel not good enough all of the sudden. Suddenly, I was that little girl in the foster system that no family wanted. It was just enough to break my attention, and he got out of the car and punched me and then started running. I followed, of course, and I caught him, but when I tackled him to the ground, my heel broke and my ankle turned, and then he was hitting me again and kicking me in the side. Hope none of my ribs are broken.”

“Swan…” he said, not even sure what he wanted to say, just needing to comfort. He cupped her head in his hand, letting the silky strands of blonde hair slip through his fingers. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment, before continuing.

“Eventually I was able to land a few good punches myself and then kind of stab him with the broken stiletto, and it distracted him enough that I was able to slap cuffs on him and call the cops.”

“And the police simply let you go home in this state?” Killian asked. “They didn’t take you to the hospital? Swan, you need care!”

“They offered,” she said, “but I waved them off. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Killian put a bandage on a small cut against her temple. “Perhaps, but you shouldn’t have to! Swan, you must promise me to be more careful!”

She furrowed her brow, at least as much as she could with her various contusions. “Why does it even matter to you, Killian? I’m just your roommate. Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” he gritted out, “because I lo--” he stopped himself abruptly, closing his eyes, willing himself to get a hold of his emotions. “Because you’re bloody brilliant, amazing, Emma Swan. Because it’s all become so much. Because if anything were to happen to you, I’d--”

He stopped again. She waited a beat, and then leaned forward, one finger beneath his chin, raising his face until he met her eyes. “You’d what, Killian?”

“I’d be lost,” he nearly whispered. “You may not be used to mattering to anyone, love, but you matter to me.”

For the space of several heartbeats they remained still, merely looking at each other, and then she leaned forward, gently, tentatively taking his lips with her own.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cssns #cs supernatural summer #cs fanfic #cs lotr crossover #my fanfiction #until the stars are all alight

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 5 years ago

Text

Until the Stars Are All Alight–Chapter 5: The King of the Broken Kingdom

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

Rating: T

Word Count: 5275

Other Chapters : (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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Camelot, around 22 years ago

Queen Guinevere stood at the window of her husband’s tower room looking out at her broken kingdom as the cooling autumn breeze made her belled sleeves flutter.

Her heart ached as she looked out at her beautiful Camelot, her home, once one of the greatest kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest. How had it come to this? How had it disintegrated into a place of fear and mistrust, of paranoia and retribution with such unbelievable swiftness?

Guinevere knew her husband, King Arthur, was to blame for some of it. Growing up as a commoner, only gaining the crown thanks to a twist of fate, he’d always felt a fair amount of inferiority, and this inferiority had driven him to more and more desperate, paranoid actions. His latest obsession was in finding the mighty sword Excalibur, and the obsession had threatened to consume him whole.

Until, that is, a far greater threat made his way onto Camelot’s sparkling shores.

Several months ago a new man had appeared at court calling himself Neal Baelfire. Guinevere had been immediately on her guard. This man, this Neal, had an air of cunning about him, an air of trickery and evil.

But Neal Baelfire also possessed something else--an uncanny ability to flatter King Arthur to the point that her husband was utterly put under his spell. Within a week, Arthur had made Baelfire his closest advisor and had taken his advice unquestioningly since.

This oily, silver-tongued worm had swiftly become the de-facto leader of Camelot while King Arthur merely sat upon his throne, compliant and quiet.

One day as Guinivere sat in her garden, she’d been joined by Sir Lancelot, knight of Arthur’s roundtable. Before the arrival of Neal Baelfire, Lancelot had been one of Arthur’s greatest friends and confidantes, and Guinevere’s heart ached to remember those halcyon days of peace and prosperity, for Lancelot was calm and steady. He had a wisdom and kindness beyond any man Guinevere had ever met.

“What troubles my lady on such a beautiful day?” he’d asked her, taking a seat on the bench beside her.

“It’s Arthur,” she said, turning tortured eyes his way. “He’s fallen completely under the spell of Baelfire. What do we even know about this man?”

Lancelot had offered to quietly look into the new advisor within their country, and what he found sent icy tendrils of dread down Guinevere’s spine.

For Neal Baelfire was none other than the beloved son of the Dark One himself. Their danger was even greater than she’d previously believed; the threat to all that Camelot held dear had just risen astronomically.

Armed with this disturbing knowledge, Guinevere and Lancelot had gone to the king himself, trying desperately to open his eye to the danger that threatened their entire domain.

But their pleas fell on deaf ears, for Neal insisted on being present at the meeting and Arthur refused to dismiss him.

“Very well, my king,” Guinevere said, standing tall and sending a beseeching look toward her husband. “If I must have my say before your newest counselor, then so be it, but have my say I will. I have great concerns about matters in the kingdom.”

For a moment, Guinevere thought she’d get through to the king. He smiled at her and inclined his head for her to proceed. But before she was able, Neal cleared his throat.

“Is this truly necessary, my lord?” Neal asked gently. “Your queen is a delicate, fragile flower. We mustn’t burden our womenfolk with matters of state.”

Arthur considered it for a moment, and then turned toward Neal. “Perhaps, you are correct, Baelfire, but it can’t hurt to let the queen have her say.”

Guinevere couldn’t help shooting Neal a triumphant look, but her triumph was short lived. She’d no more than stated her belief that Neal was attempting to poison Arthur’s mind and take over the kingdom himself, when Neal scoffed and quickly got to his feet.

“Perhaps we’d do best to consider from whence the queen obtained her so called information,” he said, glaring down both Guinevere and Lancelot in turn. “Could it be that the knight, Sir Lancelot poured this calumny into her head?”

“Yes, your highness,” Lancelot stated calmly, stepping forward. “In response to a request made by Queen Guinevere, I did some research on Neal Baelfire and found the information your wife so succinctly gave you.”

Neal shook his head, his face falling in an assumed air of reluctance. “I didn’t want it to come to this, Your Majesty,” he said sorrowfully, “I truly did not, for I feel the news I have now to share will break your heart, but it appears now a matter of national security.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “What news?”

“I fear it is the worst news,” Arthur said, sending a triumphant smile Lancelot’s way, a smile that sent dread spiraling through Guinevere. “It seems your most trusted knight is attempting to cuckold you, my king. On more than one occasion, I’ve caught Sir Lancelot with Queen Guinevere. Oh, they’ve done nothing untoward in the public eye, of course, but their closeness spoke of an intimacy that goes far beyond what a man of honor should have with a married woman. There’s no doubt in my mind, what goes on behind closed doors is not lawful even to be spoken.”

Guinevere and Lancelot had both vociferously protested against the charges, of course, for they were blatantly false. She had great regard for Lancelot and found him to be an exceedingly handsome man. Perhaps if she wasn’t already wed things would be different, but as it was, she was a married woman and he was a man of honor. Any feelings the two of them might or might not have for each other were neither spoken nor acted upon by either party.

To Guinevere’s relief, Arthur had rejected the accusation, suggesting Neal had misunderstood what he’d seen.

And yet the damage was already done. Suspicion had been sown.

Now here, this morning, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that covered her like a blanket. The king had sent her a formal summons to his chambers for an hour hence, and Guinevere feared the worst for what might await her when she arrived.

For last night had changed everything.

Yesterday had been her birthday, and as was their custom, the villagers had been invited into the outer courtyard for a party celebrating the occasion. Year in and year out, the party was a time for joy and merriment for all involved. Arthur and Guinevere provided their villagers with a lavish feast, with music and dancing. Guinevere had begun a tradition some five years ago of giving her villagers gifts upon her birthday. They were small tokens really, but they never failed to elicit delighted thanks from the hard working people who helped to make her kingdom as prosperous as it was.

Guinevere had begun the festivities in a rather morose mood. King Arthur had promised to join her in the celebrations this year. He’d promised to put aside his quest for the sword and spend time with his wife on the day celebrating her birth, but as the sun set and the party began, Arthur was nowhere to be found. Guinevere sat alone upon her bench, feeling a tear trace its way down her cheek. The bench dipped beside her, and Guinevere looked over to see Neal seated beside her.

“You are so alone, are you not, my queen?” he said softly, gently, almost tenderly, and it took everything in Guinevere not to recoil from him.

“I am not,” Guinevere said, hating the sound of tears in her voice. “I have an entire kingdom behind me.”

“And yet, I have their king behind me,” Neal said speculatively. “But we need not be at such an impasse, Your Majesty.”

Her brows furrowed as she sent him a questioning look.

“So fair, and yet so cold,” Baelfire murmured, cupping her face with his hand, the touch making her skin crawl. “Like the icy tendrils of winter before the spring thaw. But I’ve no doubt I can warm even your cold heart.”

Guinevere felt frozen in horror as she watched him lean closer, puckering his lips and closing his eyes. The feel of his fetid breath upon her face snapped her out of it, and Guinevere sprang to her feet. “Your words are poison!”

Neal scowled, getting quickly to his feet and advancing upon her. He grabbed her arms in a vice-like grip, and fear started coursing through Guinevere. “Poison they may be, but you will be mine.”

Guinevere fought against his hold, kicking out, trying to hold him at bay, but he was too strong for her. What was she to do?

“I believe the lady refused your advances Baelfire.” Never had a voice been more welcome to Guinevere than Lancelot's at that moment. She looked up to see the knight’s sword pointed directly at Neal’s throat. Taking advantage of the distraction, she broke free and came to stand beside Lancelot.

“Perhaps you’d best not meddle in affairs that don’t concern you, knight,” Baelfire spat.

“The defense of the queen very much concerns me,” Lancelot said, sending a steely gaze upon his opponent. “I’ve sworn to protect both her and my king, and you threaten both. I suggest you slink away into whatever hole from which you slithered here.”

Neal looked from the sword to Lancelot, weighing his options, before finally stepping back and raising his hands in surrender. “You will pay for this,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Lancelot lowered his sword but did not sheathe it. “If so, it is a price I am willing to pay.”

Neal had indeed slinked away afterward and the remainder of the night had been rather enjoyable. Sir Lancelot had escorted her back to her party, where he presented her with an entire cart filled with Middlemist roses.

“From the king,” Lancelot said. “He sends his deepest regrets at being delayed, but he wishes his queen to have this token of his affection.”

Guinevere was no fool. She knew the offering had not come from her husband. She knew how he got when he was deep in his obsessions. Nothing and no one (save, perhaps for Neal Baelfire) could break through. The roses could have come from none but Lancelot himself, and Guinevere’s heart burst at the generosity of the good-hearted man before her. This night alone, he’d saved her from a fate worse than death at Neal’s hands, he’d given her a veritable garden of roses, and he’d given the credit to her husband.

A better, nobler man, Guinevere had never met.

And so she’d asked him to dance. He’d graciously accepted and they'd danced the night away, a look in his eyes that told her quite plainly that the feelings awakening for him in her heart were far from unrequited.

But when the dance came to an end, they both stepped away before anything more could come of it, neither of them willing to betray the man they both cared for.

It was a night Guinevere would never forget, and yet she couldn’t shake the nagging fear that her encounter with Neal at the start of it would have further consequences.

It was a fear that proved to be all too well founded, as she learned at the meeting King Arthur had requested.

She arrived at the meeting to find both Arthur and Baelfire already in attendance, thundering frowns on both their faces. When Sir Lancelot arrived only moments later, Arthur got to his feet, turning furious eyes upon his best friend.

“It has come to my attention, Sir. Lancelot du Lac, that you have betrayed me in thest vile way imaginable. You have begun an affair with my wife under my very nose. Therefore, I sentence you to be hereby banished from Camelot and all its surroundings forever.”

Guinevere had jumped immediately to Lancelot’s defense. Insisting nothing untoward had ever or would ever happen between them, insisting if anyone should be banished for betraying Arthur in ‘the most vile way imaginable’, it was Neal Baelfire, telling Arthur of his advisor forcing his own advances upon her.

But none of it was to any avail. Arthur was implacable, and that very day, her one ally and defender within Camelot’s castle was forcibly removed from her life forever.

Guinevere was well and truly alone.

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

Land Without Magic, present day

Killian knew he’d never forget the day Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven moved into his apartment. To say it was a day that changed his life forever would be a far more melodramatic statement than even he would make.

But it was a day that changed his life forever.

He’d opened his door to find her there with nothing more than a single box of possessions, looking more than a little sheepish. He’d swear his heart stopped for a moment and then pounded.

“So that loft room,” she’d said hesitantly. “I was thinking. Is it still available?”

If anyone asked him, he’d have told them that the smile that seemed permanently affixed to his face from that moment on was due to nothing more than his relief that having her under the same roof, as it made his mission that much easier. It was the mission that mattered. The sudden awakening of his broken heart had no part in it.

For she was the princess, and he’d do best to remember it.

The first inkling he had that he might be very much in trouble came a week after she moved in. Killian came back to the loft after a particularly long and frustrating day at the harbor. He wanted nothing more than to order take out, collapse on his couch, and convince Emma to join him for the next installment of the Star Wars marathon she’d insisted he watch with her.

(She'd introduced him to the epic space tale the evening after she moved in.

“Are you kidding me, Killian?” she’d asked, her tone scandalized. “You’re telling me you’ve not only never seen Star Wars, but you’ve never even heard of it? Where did you even come from?”

The question had made him distinctly uncomfortable, of course. He’d like nothing more than to tell her exactly where he--and she--was from, but he knew that she was not ready for such answers yet. He’d laughed it off, mumbling some nonsense about being busy with the navy, waggled his eyebrows and then flirted outrageously.

She’d tossed a throw pillow at him and then proceeded to open the Netflix--something Smee insisted he needed--made what she called her specialty (“My secret, Killian, is that I mix the milk duds in while the popcorn is still hot so they get all melty.”) and then settled in next to him to fix the obvious lack in his cinematic knowledge.)

Killian was still thinking about that day when he turned the key in his apartment door and then opened it to the distinct scent of something burning, the sound of Emma using language that would make most sailors blush, and the sight of her angrily stabbing a knife into his toaster. She was dressed casually in an oversized flannel shirt and sweats, and her hair was piled haphazardly on her head, but to Killian’s eyes, her beauty was not one whit dimmed.

“And what precisely has the toaster done, darling, that you should attempt to murder it?” he asked, shedding his leather coat, draping it neatly on the coat rack and then striding forward to rescue his appliance from the avenging angel before him.

She glared at him for a minute, and then she seemed to wilt, falling rather dramatically onto one of the kitchen stools. “I just--I wanted to do something nice for you,” she said. “I wanted to make you dinner, but nothing is working out right. Nothing. I don’t know how to make much more than breakfast foods, so I thought I’d make breakfast for dinner, but the bacon burned, and I couldn’t get your gas stove to work the right way, so the eggs are runny, and the toast--”

Here she stopped, pointing an accusatory finger at the toaster he was currently holding. “That absolute piece of crap in your arms is worthless. First time I put the bread in, nothing. Then I put it down again, and just look!”

She picked up a blackened piece of bread, waving it in his face, the acrid scent of burning making his nose wrinkle.

“It’s no matter, Swan,” he said, setting the toaster down and then taking the toast from her hands and tossing it in the trash bin.

“But it is a matter!” she said, the tears flooding her eyes. “It’s a huge matter! I can’t find a job, and now I can’t even cook dinner to earn my keep around here. Serve me right if you tossed me to the curb. I’m useless.”

His heart had broken at the way her voice had become smaller and smaller until she’d nearly whispered the last word. Quickly, he’d closed the distance between them, enveloping her in a hug.

“You’ll find a job; you’ve only just begun looking, and I didn’t invite you to live here to be my maid or my short order cook, Swan,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly.

She pulled back enough to look critically up at his face. “Why did you invite me here?”

How he wished he could tell her the full truth. Because you’re the lost princess of Misthaven, daughter of Queen Snow, the former elf ,and King David. I’ve come to bring you home to save your people.

“Because you and I, we understand each other,” he’d settled for. “You have the look in your eye of one who’s been left alone. I was lucky. I had someone come to my aid--my brother Liam--when my world fell apart. I thought perhaps to repay the favor by giving you the boost you need.”

She’d given him a watery smile, reaching up to swipe at her damp eyes.

“And one more thing,” he’d said giving her his best imitation of a stern look. “I believe I’ve already established that you’re anything but useless. Now what say we go out for dinner and then come back here to see what further adventures your Luke and Leia and Han Solo find themselves in?”

But as much as the burnt toast incident had awakened his heart, it was nothing to the incident that happened the following week.

Killian had gone off to work that morning as usual only to realize when he reached the harbor that he’d forgotten his talking phone. Still early for his shift, he’d returned home to retrieve it.

He’d walked into the apartment just as Emma, clad in nothing but a tiny towel, emerged from the flat’s only bathroom amid a cloud of vanilla-scented steam. He stopped in his tracks, his hand still on the doorknob, and his mouth going slack.

With her long legs and the tops of her creamy breasts on full display, her damp hair trailing behind her, she looked like a goddess. She was so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at her, and Killian felt his body reacting in spite of herself.

Emma was the first to move, clutching the towel more firmly to herself and averting her eyes as she moved toward the stairs to her bedroom. “Sorry, I...I didn’t realize you were still here.”

The spell broken, Killian realized he was staring in a most ungentlemanly manner and he swiftly turned his back. “The fault is mine, Swan,” he said, voice coming out rather more breathless and needy than he would have liked. “I had to return for my talking phone. Forgive my intrusion.”

That was the moment Killian realized he was more than just in trouble. He was lost. Try as he might to remind himself that she was the princess, that he was here merely to bring her home, that he must retain a professional distance from her, he knew it was useless.

For he had fallen in love with Emma Swan, and a part of him wished to forget about his mission entirely and simply remain here with his love.

But duty and honor and love of his people was so firmly ingrained in Killian Jones that he knew he mustn’t abandon the mission. He mustn’t.

Still, he was no closer now than when they’d first met to figuring out how to broach the subject of Emma’s beginnings with her.

As it happened, fate, and Emma’s own innate connection to her homeland, offered him the opportunity to take the first step toward making her believe.

It was an ordinary evening sometime in the middle of the second week after Emma moved in. A spring thunderstorm raged outside, but it was quite cozy and domestic inside. Emma sat upon the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she read a book. Killian sang idly to himself as he practiced his knots on the other side of the couch.

Ú i vethed...

nâ i onnad.

Si boe ú-dhanna.

Ae ú-esteli, esteliach nad.

Nâ boe ú i.

Estelio han, estelio han, estelio,

estelio han, estelio veleth.

Killian didn’t even realize he’d sung in the Elvish Sindarin language of his people, until he looked up to see her staring at him with wide eyes.

“Where--where did you learn that language?” she asked, her eyes wide and unnerved.

Killian scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s the language of my homeland...the language of Misthaven.”

“But…” Emma said slowly, “that’s impossible!”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Pardon, love?”

“It’s just--never mind.”

Killian slid forward until he was next to her. “What troubles you, Swan? Is it the song? It means…”

“I know what it means!” she said. “Something about ‘this is not the end, something, something, something, if you trust nothing trust love.”

This time Killian’s eyes widened. “Swan, are you telling me you understand Sindarin?”

“That the language you were speaking?” she asked.

“Aye,” he said with a nod. “As I said, it’s the language of my homeland.”

“But that’s impossible!” Emma said again. “It’s not real. It was just a dream.”

Killian felt hope swell in his chest. Was it possible that Emma may somehow remember more than she knew? He took a deep breath and then let it out. “We seem to be going in circles love. Perhaps you’d best start at the beginning and tell me about this dream that features my mother tongue.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

He shook his head. “Impossible.”

“Fine,” she said, getting to her feet and beginning to pace. “You see, I’ve been having these dreams for as long as I can remember. I’m in this really, really beautiful place full of trees and flowers and a fine, gentle mist. It’s always springtime and the sweet scent of flowers is always on the air. There’s this woman there, and it’s always the same woman. She’s pretty; has long dark brown hair and green eyes and a kind smile. Sometimes this guy is with her. He’s a blond, and he’s always smiling at me too. I never remember what exactly happens in the dreams, but I always wake up feeling this incredible feeling of being loved, really, truly loved. And the woman in my dreams? Sometimes she sings me songs, and when she does, she always sings in that language you just used, but somehow I understand it. I think--I think she even sang that very song you were singing, but that’s impossible.”

Killian’s heart pounded. He didn’t know how it was possible, as she’d been sent away from the realm mere minutes after her birth, but there could be no question. Emma was describing her parents and Misthaven.

He was quiet for a moment, thinking furiously. How to begin showing her the truth without scaring her away?

“Perhaps it’s less impossible than you think, Swan,” he said slowly.

“What?”

“You’ve told me yourself you don’t remember much about your beginnings,” he said. “Is it possible that you could be from somewhere other than where you’ve always believed?”

“You mean, like your home? Your Mist-whatever-you-called-it?”

“Misthaven,” Killian corrected. “It would explain how you understand my language.”

“But,” Emma asked, taking a seat back on the couch, “if I was from some other country or whatever, how did I end up in Maine? Why did my parents just dump me along the road in some other country?”

“Perhaps there’s more to the story than you know.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically.

Killian saw from the look in her eyes that she was more than a little unnerved with the conversation. He’d pushed as far as she was ready for this day at least, and he quickly turned the conversation to safer and much lighter topics.

Perhaps this mission would be less of an impossible task than he’d first believed.

Notes:

--I am soooooooo sorry for my long, long delay in updating. It’s just been such a busy time getting ready for Christmas, and then when I did get back into writing, it was so slow going. I’ve found I really need to take my time with this story, more than I’ve ever had to with any other story. I make no promises about the speed of updates in the future, but I will say I have a bit more time on my hands until we get close to Easter, so it’s my fervent hope to get the next chapter to you sooner.

--The song Killian was singing was “Evenstar” by Howard Shore from the LOTR movies. The translation is: “This is not the end… It is the beginning. You cannot falter. If you trust, trust nothing else. Trust this, trust this, trust. Trust this, trust love.”

�� NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cssns #cs supernatural summer #cs fanfic #cs lotr crossover #my fanfiction #until the stars are all alight

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 years ago

Text

Until the Stars Are All Alight--Chapter 4: I Choose a Mortal Life

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

Rating: T

Word Count: 5275

Other Chapters : (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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

The Enchanted Forest, 22 years ago

Cora waved her hand, and the crumpled body of Sir Percival disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, the ashes of his once beating heart going with the body.

Percival and his knights had failed her, and failure was not to be tolerated.

Cora sat on her throne in the cold, dark room, feeling equally cold tendrils of fear coil around her heart. Her eyes fell on the palantir sitting upon its pedestal in the middle of the room. She’d covered it with a cloak, but she knew such precautions would not hold for long. When the Dark One wished to communicate with her, something as paltry as a cloak in a darkened room would not stop him.

Rumplestiltskin may be significantly reduced in power now, but his spirit was as strong as ever. The Dark One would return to power, and when he did, there would be hell to pay for any of his servants who failed to adequately do his bidding.

Cora knew the Dark One would appear in the Palantir at any moment and she could not come to him empty handed. She must have a plan. She must.

Slowly but surely an idea began to take form. The knights had failed, it was true enough, but perhaps there was still a way…

In the center of the room, the cloak lifted and flung itself upon the floor. Cora felt her heart pound, knowing the moment of truth was upon her. If she could not convince the Dark One that she was still to be trusted and relied upon, the consequences would be dire.

Cora looked at the smooth, black orb before her and watched as it suddenly illuminated, one single all-seeing eye, surrounded by flames shone before her.

The Dark One was anything but subtle in the way he presented himself.

“Master”, she said softly, head bowed in subservience, “how can I be of service to you?”

“You can begin by explaining yourself,” came a high pitched, slightly manic voice within her head. “How is it that the self-styled greatest sorceress in all the realms could fail me so miserably? You assured me I’d own the elfen princess by now, but what do I learn instead? She’s safe and sound in her father’s kingdom, the very man destined to be the father of her savior daughter with her.”

“I am sorry,” she said again, refusing to look into the disembodied lidless eye. “I miscalculated. The knights chosen for the mission…”

He stopped her with a bellow so loud, she feared her head would split from within.

“I’m not interested in your paltry excuses, dearie,” the Dark One said, “I am interested in results. The results of your little experiment could not have been worse. Tell me, Cora, give me one reason I shouldn’t strike you down where you stand.”

Cora felt herself shaking in her fright, but she took a deep breath, determinedly calmed herself, and then looked directly into the eye. The Dark One would have no sympathy for a snivelling, cowering wretch. It was only strength and power he respected.

“I admit, that I failed, my lord,” Cora said, “but all is not yet lost. There is still a way to mitigate the situation, and if I may be so bold, solve your savior problem once and for all.”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“Well?” The Dark One bellowed. “Out with it, dearie. What is this plan of yours?”

“My reasoning was sound, My Lord, even if the execution left something to be desired,” Cora said, beginning to pace before the palantir. “Creating willing wraiths as generals over your army will give us the advantage we desire. I merely miscalculated who to turn to. The knights of Camelot, while strong, brave and endlessly loyal, were but human. They possess human strength and are limited by their own prowess on the battlefield. But humans are not our only assets.”

“What other creature do you propose to use for our purposes?” the Dark One asked, “dwarfs? Elves? Rock trolls?”

Cora gritted her teeth. It would most assuredly not do to antagonize the Dark One, but if she had the power, she would wipe the smug, skeptical tone from him.

“Not rock trolls,” she said, her voice remaining resolutely respectful, “but you are not far off. If we are to defeat Misthaven, we must have soldiers with superior strength. A human being can be overpowered, but a bridge troll, well a bridge troll cannot. I have four bridge trolls languishing in my dungeon as we speak. I’ll turn them to wraiths, promising their freedom should they succeed in our endeavor.”

“And what, precisely are these four paltry trolls going to do, dearie,” the Dark One asked, “attack Misthaven all on their own.”

Cora couldn’t resist a small eye roll. “I’ve more sense than to propose something like that.”

“I couldn’t be sure,” the Dark One said, “given your recent spectacular failure.”

If she gritted her teeth any harder, she might break them.

“It’s not all of Misthaven that we must attack,” she said through her gritted teeth. “All we need do is insure the Savior is never born or even conceived. My attempt to take Princess Snow may have failed, but I will not fail to kill David Nolan.”

There was silence for another moment, as the Dark One mulled over her words. “You know, that might work, but how to get the future Prince Charming alone?”

Cora smiled nastily. “People are quite simple to manipulate if you but take the time to discover what or whom they love. David Nolan, for example, has been an exemplary son for twenty-five years. If his mother were to, say, fall into the clutches of brigands in her new home, and if David Nolan were to find out about it, it would be mere child’s play to lure him from the safety of his sanctuary with the elves and then destroy that threat to your rule forever.”

Cora knew Rumplestiltskin was thinking it over, although the flaming eye did not change. Finally he laughed, his characteristic high-pitched giggle. “I do believe you are on the way to redeeming yourself after all, dearie.”

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

Misthaven, 22 years ago

“And so I looked everywhere for my cloak,” Ruby said, dramatically gesturing with her hands, “and I thought Granny was going to have my head; the full moon’s tomorrow, after all. But then Graham--Snow? You’re not paying a bit of attention to me, are you?”

Ruby looked over at the elf who had been her best friend since she was a little werewolf cub. Snow was usually such a good listener, the best friend a were-girl could have, but today--well, today, Snow was a million miles away.

Or maybe she was just on the far side of Misthaven with a certain handsome ex-shepherd.

Ruby wasn’t blind. She knew love when she saw it, and there was no doubt in her mind. Snow was in love. Deep, total, all-consuming, would-die-for-you love.

It was a month since the handsome David Nolan had been brought to Misthaven, so badly injured that Granny had shaken her head, declaring he would be dead by sunrise. But Snow would have none of it. She’d declared that she’d nurse David back to health if she had to attend to him twenty-four hours a day to do it.

And she was as good as her word. Within two days, David was showing improvement, and within a week, he was so much improved, he probably could have been on his way if he’d truly wanted to, but it was clear to anyone looking that he didn’t want to.

It was like something out of a fairy tale, really, the way Snow spent time with him. The two of them would talk for hours, go on long walks in the gardens hand in hand, play games and laugh and flirt.

Ruby had even accidentally witnessed a kiss once. It was at the end of the day. Snow had just walked David back to the infirmary, but just before they arrived, he pulled her aside, cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. It was far from the most passionate kiss Ruby had ever witnessed. It was soft, sweet, gentle and achingly tender. And it was probably the most romantic thing Ruby had ever seen; brought tears to her eyes.

Yes, the truth could not be denied. Snow was in love, and Ruby was happy for her. Or, well, she would be happy for her best friend if she were willing to admit what was plain to anyone with eyes.

“Hm?” Snow asked absently, eyes still on the single sprig of snowbelle she held in her delicate hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch what you just said.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I said, my cloak was lost and--oh for heaven’s sake!” The glassy look was already back in Snow’s eyes. Ruby grinned mischievously. “And Graham told me Granny gave it to the Dark One who likes to dance naked before a bonfire in the town square every morning at sunrise.”

Snow looked up frowning. “What are you talking about?”

Ruby laughed. “Just checking to see if you’re even listening to me.”

“Of course I’m listening,” Snow said, setting her flower aside and crossing her arms. “I always listen.”

Ruby laughed again. “Yes, you are usually the best friend anyone could ever have, but today, well, different story.”

Snow sent her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I suppose I have quite a bit on my mind today.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” Snow said, tiny patches of red coming to rest on the apples of her cheeks. “Nothing to concern yourself with, just...things.”

Ruby reached over and put a hand on Snows arms. “Things like the man you love leaving Misthaven this morning, perhaps never to be seen within these woods again?”

“What?” Snow asked, looking up quickly, eyes widened. “I...I don’t love David. That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Ruby asked gently. “Snow, you’re my best friend. I love you like a sister, and I know when something is on your heart. I know you, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than you’ve been the last several weeks.”

Snow was silent for a moment, before she sighed, the color on her cheeks only deepening. “You’re right. I do love him. I love him so much, I don’t know how to contain it, but now he’s gone, and I feel like such an awful person for wishing he’d stayed.”

“Why?” Ruby asked softly. “Why do you feel like a terrible person?”

“Because of course he had to go, Ruby!” Snow said passionately. You heard about the missive he received last night! King George found out where his mother is hiding, and he plans to retaliate for David’s defection by killing her! How could I even think of asking him to stay under the circumstances?”

“But you didn’t,” Ruby pointed out. “You didn’t ask him to say. You let him go with your blessing, with enough Lamas bread to last a year, and with the offer of as many of your elven fighters as he could take with him, an offer he refused, of course, but nevertheless, a generous offer. You have nothing to feel guilty about, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Snow,” Ruby said slowly, hesitantly. “Perhaps you feel guilty because you never let him know how you feel.”

Snow’s face crumbled. “There was something there between us, Ruby. Something real, something important, something life changing, but what chance would we have had? I’m an elf and he’s a human. I have the responsibility to run my kingdom when my father goes into the west, and he has the responsibility to care for his aging mother. What good would it have done to tell him of my feelings?”

“You never know,” Ruby said. “Love, true love, tends to find a way. Look at Graham and me. Who would believe the elven captain of the guards would fall in love with the local werewolf? But we’ve found a way to make it work.”

Snow sighed, fingering the delicate petals of the snowbelle David had given her before riding away this morning. “Maybe you’re right, but it doesn’t matter now. David is gone, and I’ll likely never see him again.”

Ruby squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. “Hold on to hope, Snow. When love is true, it can never be truly discounted. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see you walking hand in hand with David Nolan yet again one day.”

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

Snow’s heart raced as she paced the halls of her chamber later that day, just as evening was beginning to paint the sky.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She didn’t know how she knew, but David was in trouble.

Closing her eyes, Snow took a deep breath and then slowly sat upon her chair near the window. There was no reason for her panic. Logic told her that she couldn’t possibly know what was happening to a man who must be a good ten miles away by now. No way she could…

Suddenly blinding, shooting pain spread throughout her chest. It was as if she’d been stabbed. For a moment Snow feared she would die; the pain was so intense she couldn’t breathe. Finally it subsided, not entirely, but enough that she was no longer paralyzed.

Total and complete panic took over. It may make no logical sense, but she knew she was right. She knew David was in trouble. Snow sprinted to her chamber door, threw it open and began tearing down the stone hallway, hardly knowing where she was going.

All she knew was that she had to get to him.

“Woah!” Ruby said, putting out a hand to stop her in her all out run. “Where’s the fire? What’s going on Snow?”

“Something happened,” Snow said, barely able to get the words past the tightness in her throat. “David’s in trouble. I have to help him. I know it doesn’t make sense, but…”

“Go,” Ruby said, placing a calming hand on Snow’s shoulder. “Merlin’s just outside of the great hall. He can help you get there.”

Snow stopped in her tracks, sending an imploring look to her best friend. “You believe me? You don’t think I’ve gone mad?”

Ruby shook her head. “Like I said; I know love, and when you love someone you just know. Go save your shepherd prince. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks where you’ve gone.”

Snow gave her friend a grateful hug, before resuming her run. Ruby was right; if David really were in danger, every second counted, and she needed someone who could get her there fast.

She found Merlin in the courtyard just outside of the great hall. As was the case more often than not, he was surrounded by little elflings looking up at him with rapt attention, for Merlin was a great favorite of the children of Misthaven. Some of the older, more staid elves looked askance at the gentle magic he did for the children, but Snow could see no harm in it. What could be wrong with adding a bit more whimsy and beauty to the world?

Merlin looked around at his young audience, and then waved his hand in the air. Ooos and aahs filled the air as an entire bouquet of delicate, pink middlemist roses appeared in his arms. He stooped down to give a bud to the smallest girl, and she threw her arms around him in thanks. Merlin laughed as some of the elfen boys begged him for a fireworks display, and he was greeted with a hearty cheer when he promised to provide it once night had fallen over Misthaven.

The smile slid from his face when he caught sight of Snow. She knew she must look a sight, as terrified and desperate as she was, but Merlin merely walked toward her and told her to take his hand.

Snow gave him a questioning look, and he sent her a knowing smile. “You sense his danger, and you know we’ve no time to lose. Come. I shall use my powers to transport us to your shepherd’s side.”

If Snow wasn’t so fully consumed with her fear for David and with the pain that continued to bloom in her chest, she’d have wondered how the enigmatic wizard could have possibly known all of that, but as it was, she merely nodded, hooking her bow and quiver over her shoulder and taking Merlin’s outstretched hand.

A moment later, the smoke from Merlin’s magic cleared, and Snow found herself in a forest clearing at the edge of Misthaven. There ahead on a stone bridge, stood four huge trolls, leaning over...something. Snow couldn’t see past the one nearest her.

“Hey!” She shouted, notching an arrow to her bow.

The troll stepped aside, sending a strangely vacant stare her way.

But it wasn’t the troll’s unusual demeanor that caught Snow’s attention; it was the man who had fallen to his knees before him.

David!

Snow let her arrow fly, taking the first troll out before the others could even react to her presence, and then she was running toward the man she loved. The man who, once again had blood pouring from a wound in his chest.

Snow could think of nothing but getting to him, helping him, as she vaguely noted Merlin charging into the fight, tossing some sort of powder at the remaining trolls, turning them to beetles.

The fight was over almost before it could begin, but the tears streamed down Snow’s face as she looked upon the evidence that the damage had already been done. She took David into her arms as his breathing slowed and his blood continued to pump from him with every weakening beat of his heart.

“I love you,” he whispered, raising his hand as though to touch her face. She watched in horror as the light left his eyes, as he took one final breath, as his heart slowed to a stop, as his hand fell lifelessly to the ground.

No!

“Merlin!” she screamed, “Merlin, help him!”

Merlin stooped beside her and shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do, Your Highness.”

“No!” she shouted. “You’re the most powerful wizard in the realm. There must be something you can do! Please, I’m begging you! Don’t let him die!”

He shook his head again. “I cannot bring life back to one who has succumbed to death.”

“Please,” she said again, barely able to form the word past her sobs. “Please! You told me I would meet him! You know how important he is, not just to me, but to the whole kingdom. There must be something you can do!”

Merlin was silent for a moment, and then a soft smile bloomed over his face. “There is nothing I can do, but there may be be something you can.”

“What? I’ll do anything; anything!”

“It is a desperate and dangerous endeavor,” Merlin warned, “and once attempted, there will be no coming back from it.”

“I don’t care,” Snow sobbed. “I don’t care if it costs me my life. I’ll do it.”

Merlin nodded. “If your love is true, really true, there is one thing I can do. I can split your heart, giving each of you half. But I warn you again, such a procedure will have serious ramifications. Should you split your heart with this human, you become human. You give up your elfen immortality.”

“Do it,” Snow said simply. “I choose a mortal life. What good is immortality if I have to live it without him?”

As Merlin plunged his hand into her chest and pulled out her heart, Snow thought back to his words of a few weeks ago.

Soon you will meet him. Soon you will fall so deeply in love, you will be willing to give up everything for him. Soon you will share your heart with him.

Merlin knew. Somehow he’d known even back then what would happen today, and the realization filled Snow with such a peace and calm that she barely felt the pain of her heart being pulled from her body and twisted in two.

This was going to work. She would get David back.

With her heart successfully split, Merlin reached down, putting a half of her heart back in each of their bodies.

For a moment nothing happened.

And then David gasped for breath, coughing like a drowning man pulled from the ocean, as he moved to a sitting position.

“You found me,” he said, voice gravelly after his ordeal.

Snow smiled, reaching to cup his cheek. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

“Truthfully?” he said with a playful grin, “the sword through my heart gave me pause.”

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

Land Without Magic, present day

Killian smiled to himself as he gestured for Emma to precede him into The Marina Cafe. Things were moving forward better than he could have anticipated. It was as though the fates themselves were on his side, gently manipulating the situation to make his task of bringing back the savior easier.

Ariel smiled knowingly at him as she led them to their seats and took their drink order. Killian felt a blush spread across his face, and no doubt the tips of his ears. Working together at the marina in various capacities, he’d become good friends with the perky redhead. Recently engaged herself to a fisherman by the name of Eric, Ariel seemed to have decided it was her mission to see Killian paired up with a love of his own.

He chanced a quick glance at Emma, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her simply studying the menu, apparently oblivious to the machinations of his far too nosy coworker.

Emma was beautiful, he need only have eyes to know that, and she had a determination and grit about her that he was drawn to already, but he was not here for a romantic entanglement. He had a job to do, and he best keep that in mind rather than becoming caught up in her silky blonde hair or her captivating green eyes.

“So what made you choose this place?” Emma asked, nodding gratefully to Ariel as she placed a glass of ice-water before her.

Killian shrugged. “I work just beyond that dock, so it’s a convenient dining option when I only have an hour’s break for lunch. Besides, The Marina Cafe has some of the freshest, most delicious sea food I’ve ever tasted.”

Emma adorably scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know how people eat fish, really. It’s so...fishy.”

Killian laughed. “That’s precisely what fish should be, darling.”

“I guess,” she said with a shrug, “but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m glad to see there are some other options on the menu.”

“And what particular non-fishy entree have you in mind, Swan?”

“That’s a no brainer,” she said with a grin. “I’m gonna get the grilled cheese and onion rings anytime I see them on the menu. And before you say it, I know full well that I eat like a child.”

Killian laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of saying such a thing, although I might suggest the addition of a salad for healthiness’s sake.”

Emma scrunched her nose again, muttering “Rabbit food” under her breath.

The lunch proceeded rather pleasantly, though their conversation was rather limited as they ate. Killian felt his heart break as he watched her shovel food into her mouth as though she hadn’t eaten in a week. Perhaps it had been that long since her last proper meal. She deserved so much more. She deserved everything her heart desired--not merely because she was the lost princess of Misthaven; because he could see a beautiful soul shine forth from her.

Killian wanted to thrash all the unbearably stupid people who had failed to see her worth all her life, and more than anything--more even than bringing her home, more than helping her break the curse--he wanted to teach her that she was far more than anyone gave her credit for.

Emma dredged her final onion ring through her ketchup, and then chewed silently. As pleasant as the lunch had been, Killian knew he needed to move on to weightier topics, hopefully finding a way to persuade her to see him again.

“Now that your appetite is appeased, love, perhaps we’d best talk.”

She set the uneaten half of her last onion ring back on her plate and gave him a wary look. “About what?”

“About what brought you to such a desperate state as to attempt to steal a car,” he said, being careful to keep his expression neutral. Somehow he could tell that being either overly sympathetic or accusatory would cause Emma to shut down--and shut him out.

She shrugged, and the most oblivious person in the world would be able to tell her nonchalance was forced. “Not much to tell. Just your average hard luck story.”

Killian was quiet for a second, taking a bite of his parmesan crusted salmon and chewing thoroughly before swallowing. “Swan, I don’t think there’s such a thing as an ‘average hard luck story’. Everyone has their own tale to tell. I’ll not force you to share your confidences with me, of course, but sometimes it can help to share your burdens with a sympathetic ear.”

She was quiet for so long that Killian thought she’d refuse, but finally she gave a tiny nod and began speaking. “All my life, I’ve just been this--this lost orphan girl who didn’t matter to anybody and didn’t think she ever would. Not even my own parents cared about me enough to put me up for adoption. They just dropped me off at a diner.”

“Perhaps, love, there’s more to the story than you know,” Killian said, carefully. “Perhaps your parents had no choice. Perhaps they loved you enough to give you the best chance they could.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, if that were true why didn’t they ever come looking for me? What was so wrong with me that they could just throw me away like a broken toy?”

Killian felt a lump in his throat at the thought of the lost, lonely little girl who had been forced to grow up thinking such things, who didn’t know, couldn’t know, that her parents loved her so much it nearly killed them to give her up.

The initial revelation seemed to open the floodgates for Emma, and she told him of the heartbreak that was her entire twenty years of existence.

“And then, I thought I was finally on the right track, you know?” she said. “I had a job, an apartment. I didn’t have much, but I was getting by. But then I couldn’t pay my rent and I got evicted, and then Louie threatened to fire me, so I quit. Maybe--maybe he’s right. Maybe I am nothing.”

Killian clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to storm out of the restaurant and plant his fist in this “Louie”’s face.

“He’s not,” Killian said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“He’s not right, love,” Killian said. “You are most decidedly not nothing. Love, that story you just told me--it’s the story of a survivor, a woman who was constantly beaten down by the vagaries of life, who was thwarted and hindered at every turn, but who through it all never lost her compassion, never became hard or bitter. It’s the story of a woman who I firmly believe could do anything she set her mind to. Far from nothing, Emma; you’re bloody brilliant, amazing.”

He saw the tears rush to her eyes at his effusive words, and she surreptitiously wiped them away. “Yeah, I wish a few other people saw me that way too.”

“They’re fools not to,” Killian said. “You need nothing more than a chance, and I’ve no doubt you could do great things.”

She shrugged, once again attempting to look nonchalant. “Yeah, well chances aren’t exactly overflowing for orphans.”

Killian didn’t know what made him do it, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of being so forward when he first sat down to lunch with her, but almost without his leave, the words came tumbling from his mouth. “I’ve got a spare room in my apartment,” he said. “Well, it’s really more of a loft than a spare room, but if you need a place to stay for a while, it’s yours.”

The wary look came into her eyes again. “I already told you I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Killian could sense a bit of his charming rapscallion persona was in order. “Now love, there is only one of us who’s mentioned sex in any of our conversations, and it wasn’t me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the lady doth protest too much.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “You wish.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said with a laugh, “but nevertheless, my offer stands. You’re welcome to my loft while you get back on your feet. No strings attached.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment, but then shook her head. “Look, Killian, I’m grateful for your offer. I really am, but I mean, we barely know each other, and I’m more of a loner anyway.”

“Well, if you won’t take my offer of lodging, perhaps you would agree to the loan of my car,” he said.

“You wanna give me your car? You know, the one I just tried to steal?” she asked incredulously.

“Not give, love. Loan.”

“You’d trust me not to, you know, just take it and run?”

He nodded. “I do. You’re a good person, Emma Swan, and I know my faith in you will be justified.”

She looked as though she might cry, but finally she reached over and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, and just know that the offer of my loft still stands should you change your mind.”

Killian watched her go ten minutes later, hoping he’d made the right call. One thing he knew. Prophecy or no prophecy, now that he’d gotten to know her, he wanted to see Emma Swan again.

Later that evening, just as Killian was considering going to bed, he heard a tentative knock at his door. Nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart leapt in his chest as he opened it to reveal a rather uncertain looking Emma.

“So that loft room,” she said by way of greeting. “I’ve been thinking about it. Is it still available?”

His smile lit up his entire face. “Of course it is.”

“I can’t pay you,” she said. “I mean after I find another job I will, of course, but right now, I barely have a hundred dollars to my name.”

He waved her concerns aside. “It’s no matter. We’ll discuss such things at a later date. For the moment, welcome home, love.”

Notes:

--I’m sorry it took me sooooooo long to update, but life has been crazy. Lots of family stuff going on (mostly good). I hope to do better at more frequent updates moving forward, but this whole year has been crazy, so I can’t make any guarantees.

--Up next: In flashbacks, Snow and Charming have a whirlwind romance and a wedding, and then we finally meet the story’s main protagonist, Rumplestiltskin, who hatches a new plan to try to return to power. In the present section, Emma and Killian get closer.

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cssns #cs supernatural summer #cs fanfic #cs lotr crossover #my fanfiction #until the stars are all alight

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 years ago

Text

Until the Stars Are All Alight--Chapter 3: The Houses of Healing

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

Rating: T

Word Count: 1237

Other Chapters : (prologue) (1) (2) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (epilogue)

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Chapter 3: The Houses of Healing

Misthaven, 22 years ago

David Nolan swam up from the depths of sleep slowly and with more than a little difficulty. He was warm, comfortable, in a state of complete relaxation. and somehow he knew it would all shatter when he broke through the surface of consciousness.

The first things he noticed were the sounds. A gentle breeze ruffling the trees, the babbling of a brook, the muted rushing of a distant waterfall, the soft cooing of a dove.

Peace. It all gave him a feeling of peace.

David slowly opened his eyes, noting the large, white four-poster bed he laid upon, silky sheets soft against him, the canopy swaying in the breeze from the open window, the bright sunshine streaming in, the sweet smelling rushes upon the stone floor, the elfen tapestry on the walls.

His heart raced as he realized he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. He sat up quickly, and immediately regretted it as his head swam and he felt a sharp twinge from the right side of his chest. David slowly lay back upon his pillow, hand moving to cover his chest, where he found a bandage. He hissed with a grimace as he forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to relax into the pain.

The door of his bedroom opened and a smiling, matronly elfen woman in a simple dress covered with a white apron stepped through.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said, taking a seat on the straight-backed chair next to his bed, setting various medical supplies next to him. “I was beginning to despair of you ever waking.”

“Who…” David croaked, noting the dryness of his throat.

The elf reached for a pitcher on the nightstand, and then handed him a glass of water. David accepted the offer with a whispered thanks, took a swig and then started again.

“Where am I and who are you?”

“You’re in Misthaven, of course,” the elf said, as though it was a perfectly normal occurrence for a man to suddenly wake up and find himself within the elfen realm. “And I’m Johanna, former nursemaid to Princess Snow White. She sent me to tend to you.”

“But how did I get here?” David asked.

The woman laughed softly and then busied herself fluffing his pillow, testing his temperature with her hand against his forehead, adjusting the sheet that covered him. “Come now. Surely you didn’t believe that Princess Snow would leave the valiant man who came to her aid to die on the forest floor! She brought you back here, knowing that our elfen remedies are your best bet against the nasty wound you sustained.”

Suddenly it all rushed back to David.

Yesterday (was it yesterday? Just how long had he been unconscious in Misthaven?) his entire world had been upended after King George himself made a visit to his farm. When he’d learned the full truth about his monarch, his plans and his crooked dealings, he’d had but one aim in mind--escape. Better to be an exile from his native land than be used as a tool to further the Dark One.

He’d just made it to the outskirts of Misthaven, when he heard a commotion, a woman’s distressed voice. Leaving his horse tethered to a nearby tree, David had sprinted toward the sounds.

Anger kindled and adrenaline surged as he came upon five knights attacking a lone elfen woman. They’d tied her to a tree, and one of them poured a potion over his hand before reaching it toward her chest.

David didn’t stop to think, merely reacted. It was but the work of a moment for him to pull his dagger from his boot, take aim and throw it.

“I believe the lady asked to be left alone,” he said, watching as his knife hit its mark, pinning the knight’s hand to a nearby tree.

David only remembered the rest in flashes. Swords drawn, a pitched battle, a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, blood as he collapsed to his knees, the fierce, beautiful elfen maiden rushing toward him, darkness.

“My thanks for all you’ve done for me,” David said, grasping the nurse’s hand.

She waved off the thanks. “It was the least I could do. Besides, it’s really Princess Snow you should be thanking. She’s handled the bulk of your care, rarely agreeing to leave your side. In fact, I should fetch her now. She’ll be most pleased to learn you’ve come back to us.”

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

“My lady, our guest has awoken.”

Snow looked up quickly, noting the smile on her former nursemaid’s face. The relief coursed through her strong and swift.

“And he’s well?” Snow asked, noting the breathlessness in her voice.

Johanna swiftly entered the room and folded Snow into her motherly arms. “He’s still quite weak, and the wound has yet to heal fully, but I believe we’ve done it my dear. I believe we’ve saved him.”

Snow hugged Johanna back as the tears rushed to her eyes. It was odd and a bit unsettling how emotional she’d become over a man she’d yet to exchange a word with.

“Thank you!” she murmured, stepping back and swiping at her damp eyes surreptitiously. “I’ll go see him now, if you don’t think it would be too much for him.”

Johanna’s answering grin was just a bit too knowing. “Oh, my lady, on the contrary. I think he’d be delighted.”

Snow wasted no more time, stepping quickly from her chamber and making her way down the stone corridor to the castle’s infirmary.

All her life Snow White had heard lovely tales of love at first sight, of love so strong the affected parties knew it in an instant, but she’d always dismissed those tales as fanciful nonsense. How could one possibly know another person was her soulmate simply from one meeting?

But now, now she wasn’t so sure.

Her reaction to the handsome stranger who’d gallantly rushed to her rescue was something that she couldn’t explain, something she couldn’t quantify. All she knew was that the moment she saw him, she felt a rush of peace, a rush of rightness. Even in the midst of the terrible danger she’d found herself in, the moment she saw him, she knew. She knew that whatever destiny lay before the two of them, somehow it was intertwined.

She’d never felt such fear as she had the moment the fight was over and she saw the man slump forward, a growing crimson stain along his side where he’d been stabbed. She didn’t know who this man was or why he’d suddenly appeared, but there was one thing she knew for sure: She could not let him die.

Snow had quickly untied the man’s horse and then maneuvered him on it with more than a little difficulty. He’d remained unconscious through the ordeal, but he’d moaned softly as she jostled him, setting him upon the horse and then mounting behind him, holding him to her, and setting the horse into a quick gallop.

The crown princess of Misthaven returning from the forest with an unconscious, gravely injured man had created no little stir among the residents of the Misthaven palace.

“Daughter? What has happened? Who is this man?” her father demanded as she dismounted and a servant helped the wounded man from the horse.

“I’ll tell you all, Father, I swear it,” she’d said, her voice not quite steady, “but first I must see him to the houses of healing. Father, he saved my life. The least I can do is save his.”

Over the several days that followed, Snow had barely left the man’s side. She’d spent hours sitting with him, reading to him from her favorite storybooks, talking to him, telling him about her day. His wound had slowly knit itself back together, and she’d been pleased to see no signs of fever or infection.

But he didn’t wake, and Snow was beginning to wonder if he ever would until just this moment when Johanna gave her the good news.

Snow tapped lightly on the infirmary door, her heart pounding with the inescapable belief that things were about to change for her forever.

“Enter,” came the reply from within.

Snow took a deep breath, her heart pounding, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She let her breath out slowly before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

The patient was sitting up in bed, propped up by a veritable mountain of pillows behind his back. His sandy hair was in disarray, his blousy white shirt open and slightly rumpled, his cheeks bearing a palor that spoke to the fact that while he might be greatly improved, he was still far from recovered.

She’d never seen anyone more handsome.

“You’re awake, at last!” she said, moving swiftly and taking a seat on the side of his bed.

“I am indeed, Your Highness,” he said, attempting to sit up more fully, only to slump back with a groan as he clutched his side.

“Don’t try to get up,” she said quickly, placing a hand over his to keep him still. “You don’t want to undo the healers’ work in mending your wound.”

“No indeed,” he said with a smile. “I hear I have you to thank for the exemplary care I’ve been receiving.”

Snow shook her head, only barely resisting the impulse to reach for him again. “On the contrary, It’s I who should be thanking you. You saved me.”

His answering grin was more than a bit mischievous. “It seemed like the honorable thing to do.”

Snow laughed. “You’re a regular Prince Charming, aren’t you?”

“I have a name, you know,” the man said playfully.

“Don’t care,” Snow returned, an equal playfulness to her tone. “Charming suits you.”

The man’s resulting laugh was joyous and boisterous--at least until it turned to a groan as he reached once more to cover his injury.

“Perhaps laughter is ill advised for the moment,” he muttered.

Snow busied herself checking the wound, applying salve and then covering it once again, before looking into his blue eyes, turning serious. “I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me back in the forest. If you’d not arrived when you did, the consequences for my entire kingdom could have been catastrophic. How could we do anything less than give your our finest care after the service you rendered to us?”

The man lifted his hand, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then took her hand in his. “When I heard your scream and saw a single elfen woman being set upon by no less than five wraiths I had to intervene. I only did what any man of honor would do.”

Snow shook her head, turning her hand until her fingers were laced with his. “Not any man would do what you did for me. Far too many would turn away from a fight that seemed impossible to win. If you don’t mind me asking, just who are you Charming? You fight like a trained knight, yet you’re dressed as a shepherd.”

“Perhaps it’s a bit of both,” the man said, his smile turning melancholy. “My name is David Nolan, and three weeks ago, my entire world was turned upside down.”

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

“What news have you from the convalescent?” King Leopold asked Snow later that evening as a special council meeting began. “Who is he, and does his presence represent a threat to our kingdom?”

Snow took a deep breath before standing to address the council members sitting at the round table on the palace’s terrace. “He had quite a remarkable tale to tell me, Father, and no. I don’t believe he presents any threat--quite the opposite--but he does bring us information about a very real threat that has been under our noses for decades.”

“Well, don’t leave us in suspense, Your Highness,” Grumpy said, characteristic scowl on his face. “What did you learn?”

“Our guest is named David Nolan, and up until three weeks ago, he was a simple shepherd, living with his widowed mother on their farm,” Snow began. “Three weeks ago, he was summoned to the court of King George. There he learned the truth of his early years. King George and his queen had been unable to conceive. Concerned about the succession of the throne, the king called upon the Dark One to help him solve his problem.”

There was a collective gasp around the room, and Snow nodded gravely, meeting the eyes of several council members.

“King George ended the meeting by making a deal with the Dark One. If Rumplestiltskin could produce an heir for him, King George would pledge his fealty to the Dark One but would do it in secret so as to essentially be a spy against the Dark One’s enemies.”

Bedlam erupted around the council as the full weight of King George’s treachery was revealed. Finally, King Leopold stood, raising his hand for quiet. “Continue, my daughter. What has this turn of events to do with our patient?”

“The Dark One fulfilled his end of the deal by targeting a desperate couple. Their twin infant sons were desperately ill, and it looked as though they would perish. The Dark One offered to provide them with the cure for the boys, but in exchange, he would take one of them. The desperate parents agonized over the decision, but in the end chose to take the deal. Better both of the boys live, even if one should be taken from them, than both of them die. The child the Dark One took and gifted to King George was Prince James. The remaining twin was David Nolan, our guest.”

The outcry from this revelation was louder and more furious than the first, with calls for the patient’s banishment from Misthaven coming from several corners. It took a full five minutes for the king to restore calm this time.

“You say you do not believe this man, this David Nolan to be a threat,” Marco said when order was restored. “Upon what do you base this assessment?”

“I base it upon the fact that David Nolan is an innocent victim in all of this,” Snow said firmly. “He did not choose to have his family ripped apart when he was an infant, and he didn’t choose what’s happening now.”

“What is happening now, if I might ask, your highness,” Graham asked.

“David told me that King George called him to the palace in order to make him his new son and successor, but when David heard of King George’s treachery and loyalty to the Dark One he was horrified. I may have just met him, but I can tell David is a good man, a man of courage and integrity, a man who will do what’s right no matter the consequences to himself.”

“And what did he do after learning of his king’s wishes?” King Leopold asked.

“He packed his mother and sent her away from the kingdom, knowing King George might retaliate when he learned that David had no intention of complying. Once David knew his mother was safe, he, himself set out to follow her under cover of night. It was while he was on this journey that he happened upon the wraiths attacking me.”

The council meeting lasted long into the night as the best and brightest elves of Misthaven debated what was to be done regarding these new revelations. More than a few members of the council stood firm in their belief that David Nolan should be banished from Misthaven. The son of a corrupt king could not be trusted in their midst.

But Snow was both adamant and passionate in defense of the patient. She’d known him only for a matter of hours, but already she felt such a strong connection to him she thought it would be physically painful to be separated. Already she felt as though she knew him, understood him, could vouch for him with absolute certainty.

“Don’t you understand?” she said finally, banging a fist upon the table in her frustration. “David is not in league with the king; he’s doing all in his power to undermine him! He’s willing to leave his home and live in hiding for the rest of his life rather than provide aid to the Dark One. David is our ally, not someone we should mistrust! And let’s not forget the critical point that he saved my life. He fought the Dark One’s minions in order to protect me, in order to ensure the Dark One wasn’t able to take my heart and use me to undermine everything we hold dear. Do we not at least owe him a chance to remain and finish convalescing for that service rendered to us?”

Snow’s impassioned speech was met with silence as council men and women contemplated her statements. Finally Merlin stood and gave Snow a significant, knowing look. She fought against the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

“Princess Snow is right,” Merlin said once again in his characteristic slow, measured tones. “Though King George has been revealed to be the worst of men, David Nolan is innocent in his schemes. What’s more, I believe David Nolan may be far more important than any here present yet understand. He may be pivotal in our ongoing fight against the Dark One.”

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

Land Without Magic, Present Day

“This is the last time, Swan. The last time!” Louie yelled from his perch across from her in his rather messy office.

Emma remained resolutely silent, attempting everything in her power to keep her expression neutral, to keep her anger from showing on her face. She knew from experience that her boss loved lording it over his employees and any backtalk only made his rants worse.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Emma said, trying her best to sound humble and contrite. “My new place is a lot farther from the bus stop. It took longer than I expected to get there. I won’t be late again; I promise.”

My new place.

Emma fumed inwardly. She had a new place alright, if you could even call that. Two days ago she’d been evicted from her crappy apartment because she couldn’t pay her rent. Since then she’d been staying in an even crappier hotel while she tried to figure out where to go next.

As if she could even afford to go anywhere.

Gods her life sucked.

Louie scoffed. “You think I’m interested in your bogus excuses? I run a business, not a charity. My employees can’t get their lazy butts to work on time, my restaurant goes downhill. This is the last time, Swan.” Louie repeated. “Next time you’re late, I can you. Got it? You think you’re special? You’re nothing! Mediocre waitresses like you are a dime a dozen.”

Something inside Emma snapped. Her face reddened and her heart pounded. She felt something bubble up from within, something warm and bright and almost like electricity rushed through her until it felt like it was right at her fingertips. The fluorescent light in Louie’s office flickered. It was odd how often the lights flickered when Emma felt particularly strong emotion.

Emma stood abruptly, yanked off her hat and apron, and slammed them down on Louie’s desk with such force that one of his stupid knick-knacks fell to the floor and shattered.

“Yeah, I’ll spare you the trouble. I quit!” She turned and stalked from the office, opening the door with such force it banged against the wall behind it.

Just before she stepped through, she turned back again. That strange electric feeling in her hands was even stronger. She had the weirdest urge to raise her hands toward him and--well, she didn’t know what, but something big; something monumental.

“And one more thing. I’m not nothing. I was never nothing.”

With that, she left The Main Street Cafe behind, metaphorically shaking the dust from her feet. She walked for what felt like hours, no destination in mind, no idea where she would end up. All she knew was that she needed to work off some of this anger and aggression before she ended up back at the cafe punching Louie in the face.

Her bad tempered ex-employer might have pushed her too far, and she’d finally pushed back, but some part of Emma wondered if she’d reacted so strongly because she knew what he said was true. Maybe she was nothing. She’d never been worth the trouble to her foster families, and obviously she wasn’t worth the trouble to her boss either.

What did she really have to offer anyone?

Emma walked until she felt the exhaustion wash over her. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the park bench behind her as the reality of her situation suddenly hit her.

What had she done?

Yeah, Louie was a bastard of mammoth proportions, but at least he’d given her a job. Now what did she have? A big fat nothing, that’s what. No house, no job, barely more possessions than the clothes on her back. She wouldn’t even be able to afford to stay in her hotel room for more than a couple days, then what?

She was so screwed.

The more responsible part of her urged her to go back to the cafe, eat crow and beg Louie for her job back. Better a horrible job she hated than being tossed out on the streets.

But the very thought made the bile rise up in her throat. She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t. She’d figure something out, she had to, because she’d never willingly step foot in that restaurant again.

Emma glanced over at the street on the edge of the wooded area she’d ended up, and it was then that she saw it. It was an apparently abandoned Volkswagon bug, its color a bright yellow that reminded Emma of sunshine. As she continued looking at it a crazy, desperate plan began forming in her mind.

With a vehicle, she’d have a place to sleep--albeit a rather uncomfortable one. With transportation, she could leave this stupid town and start brand new somewhere else, somewhere no one knew her, somewhere maybe things could turn around.

Her heart pounded as the plan formed in her mind. Was she crazy? Was she actually considering car theft? Yeah, she’d stolen things before when she needed them, but nothing as big or monumental as a freaking car. She was insane; stealing this bug would change everything.

But the more she looked at it, the more she felt drawn to it. Yeah, her plan was crazy, but she was going to do it.

Mind made up, Emma got up from her bench and slowly approached her target. She looked around, listening intently for the sound of someone, anyone around to catch her, but all she heard was the trill of a bird in a nearby tree. Working quickly, she picked the lock and hopped in the car.

It was the work of a moment to hotwire the thing and then pull away from the curb.

She’d just reached the stop sign at the end of the block when she heard rustling behind her, and then key’s were dangled before her. “Impressive, but you could have just asked for these.”

Emma screamed, jumping so high she hit her head on the roof of the bug. Cursing, she whirled around to confront the intruder, her heart racing.

She wasn’t expecting to find herself face to face with the single handsomest man she’d ever seen. With his messy black hair, his bright blue eyes, his slightly pointed ears, his reddish scruff and the straight, white teeth that were currently on full display thanks to the flirtatious grin he was sending her way, he quite literally took her breath away.

“Breathe darling,” the man said with a smirk. “It’s rather an important function.”

Emma blinked, putting the car in park and turning to face the man fully, the scowl on her face as menacing as she could make it. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my car?” she asked.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Perhaps the better question, love, is who are you, and what are you doing in my car?”

As the shock of the encounter began to wear off, the precariousness of Emma’s position began to sink in. He was right. She’d just stolen his car.

Holy crap! She’d just got caught in the very act of car theft!.

Emma reached for the car door handle, intent on jumping out and making a run for it. That would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? Getting arrested would be the perfect ending to this terrible day.

“Wait!” he said, reaching for her arm. “I don’t mean you any harm; I swear it.”

Emma had always had a gift; she called it her superpower. She could tell when someone was lying to her. She looked into the man’s eyes, really looked, waiting for the lie to jump out at her.

It never came. She didn’t know what this guy’s deal was, but he was telling the truth. He didn’t mean her any harm.

“You literally just caught me trying to steal your car,” Emma said. “Why the hell aren’t you calling the cops on me?”

He was silent for a moment and the smirk slid from his face, replaced with something else, something that looked like compassion, perhaps even care.

“I can recognize a desperate soul,” he said finally. “I don’t know why you tried to steal my car, but I can tell you feel you have no choice. I don’t think you need punishment; I think you need compassion.”

Emma didn’t know what she expected the man to say, but it wasn’t that. She was used to people seeing the worst in her. What was this guy’s angle?

“So, you’re just going to let me go because you feel ‘compassion’?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, drawing out the single syllable, smirk back on his face. “I’ll let it go if you’ll allow me to buy you lunch.”

“I’m not gonna sleep with you,” she said.

He laughed again. “I don’t recall asking. Besides, love, I think any dining establishment we patronize would rather frown upon us going at it right their tables.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So let me get this straight. I steal your car and not only do you not call the cops, but you offer to buy me lunch--no strings attached?”

“That seems to be about the shape of it.”

“Why?”

There was the soft look again. “We all have bad days where we could use a little understanding. Perhaps over lunch you could tell me how you find yourself in such straights that you feel you must resort to theft.”

Emma was silent for another moment, mulling it over, trying to figure out the ramifications of accepting this guy’s offer.

“I don’t even know you,” she said. “You could be some kind of pervert or serial killer.”

He laughed again. “Says the woman who is in the process of car theft. Of the two of us I think it’s I who should be concerned for my safety around you. After all, you are a proven criminal.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

The man sobered once again and then offered her his hand. “Perhaps we should begin again. My name is Killian Jones. I am neither a pervert nor a serial killer, and I offer you lunch merely to make what is evidently a very bad day marginally better.”

Emma hesitated another moment, before she reached back and took his hand. “Well then Killian Jones who is neither a pervert nor a serial killer, I accept—just as long as you don’t take me to the Main Street Cafe.”

“I think I can manage that.”

Notes

--I was hoping in the first section to call to mind a couple of different LOTR moments: 1. When Frodo woke up in Rivendell after being stabbed by the wraith and 2. Faramir and Eowyn in the houses of healing. While it’s not a direct parallel, I’ve been going with kind of a Gondor vibe with King George, James and David.

--In the present section, there are definitely intended parallels to the scene in Tallahassee where Emma steals the bug--only Killian will handle the whole situation much differently than Neal did.

--Up next: In the past, more Snowing. David heals and decides to leave so as not to paint a further target on Misthaven, but he quickly runs into more trouble. Luckily he’s got an elf princess looking out for him. In the present section, we get the CS lunch “date” from Killian’s point of view. He makes a bold offer, but will Emma accept?

NEXT CHAPTER -->

#cssns #cs supernatural summer #cs fanfic #cs lotr crossover #my fanfiction #until the stars are all alight

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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Of Earth and Sea: 2/9

In celebration of the one year anniversary of my first @cssns fic, I’m reposting a chapter a day until my 2019 drop date, especially since each chapter has never been posted to tumblr before. Amazing art above done by the talented @shipsxahoy.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rating: T

Tagging: @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @optomisticgirl @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @xhookswenchx @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter One

Killian grunted as he swung his arm up to the next ledge. He dug his hook into the craggy rock and pulled himself over the edge. Arms trembling from the long climb, he stood at the pinnacle of stone and gazed out at the horizon. He pulled the water skin from his satchel and took a long drink. He could see the Jolly Roger moored just a few leagues out from the rocky shore. His crew, especially Smee, hadn’t liked the idea of him making this quest alone. The witch, however, had made it clear. This was his journey to take and his alone. He was glad now for it; climbing over these rocks would have been even more difficult with a companion.

The salty breeze ruffled Killian’s hair and tugged at his blouse. He breathed deeply of it, the scent calming him as it always did. And yet there was another tug on his soul. That of rich loam, green moss, and the ancient groaning of trees. He shook his head as if to fight off that half of him. One thing was for certain; he was eager to be away from this rocky terrain.

He turned away from the view of the coast to make his way down into the valley below. The rocks were loose, held together by pebbly soil. Going up it had been both an aid to his hook and a danger. Imbed his metal appendage into a crevice too loose, and he could have gone tumbling to his death. It had been slow going. Now, the loose ground beneath his feet made it a quick journey to the floor of the valley below.

As he walked along the tiny trickle that he supposed could be called a stream, the ground slowly became less rocky. Soon, the water was a true stream, tumbling merrily over smoother rocks. Then it became a lazy river that emptied into a tranquil pool. A thin waterfall streamed from the cliff above, casting a shimmery rainbow in the mist.

By this time, the sun was beginning to dip low, so Killian made camp. He found a spot near enough to the water for the ground to be softer and more comfortable, but near enough the rock wall to keep him hidden in shadows. He didn’t dare make a fire. He ate from his meager rations and then curled up upon the grass, using his satchel as a makeshift pillow.

Dawn had barely come when a rustling sound awakened Killian. He started up from a light sleep, his sword quickly drawn. Heart pounding, he gazed about to see nothing. The silence surrounding him was an oppressive thing, causing the hair on his neck to stand up.

Then suddenly, something white was swooping down, almost clipping his head. He ducked, swearing under his breath, and then blinked in shock when he lowered his arms and looked up. There, standing calmly and regally by the water’s edge was a pure white swan. It lowered its head as if in greeting and Killian rose slowly to his feet. He eased closer to the bird, a question furrowing his brow.

“Is this the sign the witch spoke of?” he asked in a whisper. It felt odd to speak at all in this still and quiet place.

The swan bent its neck slowly, its beak almost to the ground. It seemed to bow before him. Then it turned suddenly, flapped its wings, and rose into the air. It spun in a circle above Killian’s head, then dove into the stream of the waterfall.

Killian rolled his eyes. “I suppose it wants me to follow it,” he muttered sarcastically.

He re-sheathed his sword, slipped his satchel over his head, and made his way gingerly across the slippery rocks to the waterfall. He reached out with his hand tentatively, and jumped slightly when the water parted like a curtain. On the other side, he could see the swan standing patiently, as if waiting for him.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered as he stepped through, “this better not be a trap.”

Once beneath the waterfall, the swan disappeared. Killian swore again as he turned in a circle. What now? He edged closer to the smooth, rock wall behind the falls, running his hand over the slick, wet surface. He paused when he felt indentations beneath his palm. He drew closer, and sure enough, there was a carving there. The elegant neck of a swan, the etchings of feathers at its back. Killian pressed harder against the carving, and a disk of rock collapsed into the wall, light shooting around its edges. Killian squinted against the sudden bright light, backing away hesitantly from the magic. But as the spots of light cleared from his vision, he saw an open archway and beyond it a tunnel carved into the side of the mountain.

Killian stepped inside, wondering how he would see in the dark cavern, only to see a light bouncing ahead of him. When he hesitated over following it, the light seemed to become agitated, coming closer and then skittering away again. As if the light were entreating him to follow.

Killian took a deep breath, reminding himself that swans – white ones at least – were an omen of light magic, not dark. Then again, his own heart was filled with nothing but black deeds. Perhaps the light here wished to snuff out the darkness of his villainous heart?

He made his way down the tunnel, hand hovering at the hilt of his sword, his hook held aloft and ready. The tunnel suddenly curved and dipped downward, and the light he had been following suddenly enlarged and morphed once again into the beautiful white swan. It seemed to stare at him for a moment, then it turned and flapped upward, disappearing in a shower of rainbow colored light. When the bird disappeared, there before him was a simple pirate’s cutlass hanging in an alcove of rock.

Killian shook his head in confusion as he stepped close. He picked up the cutlass, weighing it in his hand and examining the hilt. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head back when he saw the language etched there.

“Elvish,” he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice.

“You found it,” said a breathy voice behind him. He knew that voice well. It’s soft, airy quality that used to soothe him as a child.

Now it sent anger pulsing through his veins.

“You?” he choked out. He had meant it to come out accusing, but instead he sounded like a hurt and betrayed child.

Tauriel came closer, steps hesitant, her hands clasped before her. Her ginger hair was covered by a hunter green cloak. Killian took a step back, wary of her intentions.

“You were the witch in that glade?”

She shook her head, pulling the cloak from her head. “No, but she wasn’t a witch. She was one of my kind. One of the few willing to help elves in my position.”

“You mean the ones neither living nor dead?” Killian spat. “Nice of her. I should have known this was about you, not me. This weapon won’t even work against the Dark One, will it?”

Tauriel remained completely serene, though her eyes became dull and sad. It was an elven trait that Killian had always found infuriating, especially since his own emotions were always so volatile.

“No to both. No, it won’t help your quest against the Dark One. And no, my son, this is not about me at all. You are floundering, Killian, and I can watch it no longer.”

“Ah, yes,” Killian quipped, gesturing with his hook, “watch. All my mother ever does, ever has done. Watch. And what exactly about the show bothers you?”

Tauriel blinked as tears formed in the corner of her eyes, “You are in pain, Killian. You have closed your heart off, wary of love, and filled it with darkness instead.”

“What worries you, mother? That I will waste away like you?” Killian is practically snarling now, his fist clenching. His mother’s form is shifting, and he knows soon she will fade away. Trapped between the living and the dead, she can only communicate with him for brief moments at a time.

“No. For thankfully, the woman you lost was not your true love.”

“How dare you!” Killian cried, his face contorting with pain. “How dare you question the depth of my love for Milah!”

“Oh, my darling,” Tauriel said, reaching her arms out towards him, but they were now so ethereal, she couldn’t touch him, “that isn’t what I mean at all. But you can love again, I have seen it.”

Killian shook his head, “Please, none of your elven prophecies. All your kind ever does is speak in riddles. I’ve no time for it, nor do I put any stock in it.”

Tauriel was only a mere shadow now. “Even so, take the cutlass, my son. The swan would not have led you to it if it weren’t meant for you.”

Killian looked down at the weapon in his hand. It wasn’t delicate enough or ornate enough to have been wrought by elven hands. And yet the words etched into it were elvish. “What does it say?”

He looked up to find his mother gone; his question unanswered.

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

Killian Jones had varying types of dreams. Like anyone, some were a bizarre mixture of sights, sounds, and thoughts. Ridiculous tumblings of his mind with no meaning. And like anyone he also had dreams that represented his deepest desires and fears. Emma figured prominently in dreams like that and had for some time.

But being a few centuries old with far too many regrets, Killian also had dreams that were simply memories. *Most of them painful, causing him to wake with a start. Then he would take in his surroundings, see Emma lying peacefully next to him, and feel his heartbeat return to normal.

This morning was one of those times, though the memory of the swan, the cutlass, and his mother was not particularly disturbing nor wrought with regrets. Nevertheless, it troubled him, and he spent several minutes watching Emma sleep. He admired the way the early light of dawn shone against her hair. He lifted a few strands, relishing the soft feel of them between his fingers. The strap of her tank top had slipped from her shoulder during the night, and he leaned forward to fix it, his hand lingering against her skin longer than necessary. He leaned forward and planted a kiss there as well. Emma sighed and shifted, but didn’t waken.

He rose quietly from the bed, grabbing a t-shirt from the hamper and slipping it over his head. He didn’t bother with his brace, a fact that still, five years into marriage, filled him with gratitude and wonder. Emma truly loved every part of him.

He walked downstairs to the kitchen and used the Keurig machine to make a quick cup of coffee. He grasped the mug in his right hand and made his way to the back porch. His eyes scanned the quiet yard. Many would have missed the figure on the edge of the property, her green and brown garments blending into the trees. But Killian had the keen eyes of a sailor.

Okay, and the keen eyes of an elf, too.

He ground his teeth, his jaw clenching as he made his way across the yard to her, the dew on the grass wetting his bare feet.

“Mother.”

“Killian.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m always near, my son.”

Killian closed his eyes tightly. So many emotions swirled through him, it was hard to pin down exactly what he was feeling.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Tauriel raised her hand as if to touch him, then retreated. “Now that you’ve made a home, and are no longer at sea, perhaps we can . . . get to know one another again?”

“And how is that going to work exactly? 5 minutes at a time?”

As if to confirm his words, Tauriel’s shape began to fade. As she disappeared into mist, she smiled and said, “I love you, Killian.”

When she was gone, his fist clenched around the coffee mug. For some reason, anger surged through him and he threw the ceramic as hard as he could against the nearest tree where it shattered into pieces.

“Killian?”

He turned to see Emma standing on the porch, her arms tight around her chest as she shivered barefoot in her knee-length bathrobe. As he walked towards her, he tried to give her a bright smile, and she gave him a crooked one in return.

“I never liked that mug either,” she quipped with a nod of her head towards the trees.

That got a laugh out of him as he walked up the porch steps. He enveloped her in a hug, placing a kiss against the top of her head. “Sorry, love. Tis nothing.”

“Why are you so upset with her still?” she asked, lips pressed against his collar bone. “I thought you both said what you needed to.”

Killian sighed as Emma pulled back to look into his face. His mother had shown up five years ago, right before their wedding. It had been a lot for Emma to process, finding out he was a Dunedain – half-elf. But she had taken it all in stride, including his mother who hovered between the land of the living and the dead.

“So did I, love. But I didn’t expect her to linger here.”

“She loves you,” Emma said, rubbing his arms gently up and down.

Killian gave a half-hearted smile. “I know. It’s just hard having a mother who’s . . .”

“A ghost?”

“I told you, she’s not a ghost. She’s not dead.”

Emma shook her head. “Okaaay, but she’s not really alive, either. Ghost is the easiest label.” Killian opened his mouth, and Emma lifted her hand to stop his explanation. “I know, I know. She’s immortal, but your father broke her heart, so she wasted away, blah, blah, blah. Got it.”

“Are you regretting marrying me? With my elf ears and my half-dead mother?”

Emma truly laughed as she lifted her arms to loop them around his neck. “With my life? You’re one of the most normal people I know. Even at three hundred plus and counting.”

Killian quirked a brow at her teasing. “And at least I’m not a flying monkey.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him in the chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She kissed him lightly as they both laughed. Killian then steered her towards the door back into the kitchen. They made breakfast, moving around the space together with five years of practiced ease. Then Emma went to take the first shower while Killian did the dishes.

If she noticed that he had side-stepped her question about his mother, she didn’t let on.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat x lotr crossover #killian as half elf #cs canon divergence

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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Of Earth and Sea: 9/9 (Epilogue)

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drops TOMORROW, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Rated T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @welllpthisishappening @kday426 @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @profdanglaisstuff @wellhellotragic @xhookswenchx @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @lovepurplepumpkins

Epilogue:

Killian still wasn’t quite used to seeing his mother this way: sitting with a cup of Granny’s coffee, wearing a cream colored blouse and dark wash jeans. A necklace hung around her neck of green, blue, and brown beads, a gift from Emma and Elien. His little girl had explained that the colors reminded her of the elven lands. Tauriel’s red hair was pulled back from her face in a barette rather than in the loose knots of an elf. But the hairstyle still put her pointed ears on display.

“How are you settling in?” he asked her before taking a sip of his own coffee.

She smiled contentedly. “My room here is quite comfortable. And Moe French is being very patient with me at the flower shop. I’m still having trouble with that . . . what’s the magic box called again?”

Killian grinned over the rim of his cup. “A computer, mother.”

“Right, the computer,” she replied with a matching smile.

Belle was kind to put in a word for Tauriel with her father. The shop was the perfect fit for her, putting her close to the sights and smells of growing things. Still, he sometimes caught her looking longingly towards the woods at times. That was why he was secretly negotiating with Rumple to purchase his old cabin. He knew she would be happier out there.

Tauriel set down her mug and regarded him thoughtfully. “But checking up on me isn’t the reason for this breakfast, is it?”

Killian sighed. “No.” He ran his finger along the edge of his mug nervously. This had been Emma’s idea, though he knew she was right. He and his mother needed this conversation.

“You can tell me anything,” she said softly.

His mother already knew his darkest sin. How could he possibly make things worse? “Why did you stay away so long? After . . . you know, what happened with father.”

Tauriel’s brow furrowed. “You asked me to stay away.”

Killian swallowed hard. “I thought . . . perhaps . . . that I had fallen too far. Become too dark for you . . . to love me.” He blinked furiously, willing himself not to let a tear escape. He suddenly felt like a small boy again.

“Oh, darling,” Tauriel said, reaching across the table to grasp his hand and hook, “nothing could ever erase my love for you. And trust me when I say I was never far. But you had suffered so much loss, had so much pain and anger, I thought it was best to heed your wishes and give you space.”

Her eyes shone with tears as she continued. “And I was watching when you met Emma the very first time, and I knew you had found your true love.”

Killian chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly love at first sight.”

“A mother knows. So I kept watching, so proud when you became the hero I always knew you were. And when Emma accepted your proposal, I finally thought that maybe you would allow me back into your life again.”

She squeezed his hand and hook with affection and Killian lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss there. “I love you, mother. I’m so happy you’re here with us.”

Tauriel’s smile was beaming as she pulled her hands into her lap. “I have waited so many long years to hear you say that.”

The tender moment was interrupted by a perky voice bustling into the diner.

“Tauriel,” Snow exclaimed, approaching their table with a large binder in her arms, “I hate to interrupt your breakfast, but I found some things on Pinterest this morning for the party, and I just had to show them to you.”

Emma was behind her mother, her hand grasping Elien’s. She caught Killian’s eye. “Sorry, I couldn’t stop her.”

“Nonsense!” Tauriel said, sounding almost as eager as Snow, “I can’t wait to see it all.”

She gestured for Snow to sit next to her and the two women began to eagerly pour over the contents of the binder. Elien insisted on sitting between her Grandma and her Effie, practically climbing over the table to squeeze between them. Emma shook her head at the three of them as she slid into the other side of the booth next to Killian.

“Oh, I like this,” Tauriel said, pointing at a picture in the binder.

“Isn’t that adorable?” Snow gushed, “The kids get to decorate little bottles and put sparkly sand inside as fairy dust.”

“Real fairy dust?” Elien asked eagerly.

“No, sweetie,” Snow laughed, running her hand over her granddaughter’s strawberry blonde curls, “just pretend.”

“Oh, and look at this, an archery competition,” Tauriel continued, turning the page.

“With foam tipped arrows of course,” Snow explained, “I thought we could put it right next to the horses. David’s going to dress up in his Prince Charming clothes and give the kids rides.”

“Mom,” Emma spoke up, “it’s just a kid’s birthday party. It sounds like your throwing Elien a full blown Renaissance festival.”

“Five is a big birthday,” Snow argued, and Emma laughed lightly at the indignation on her mother’s face. “And she’s a princess.”

“On both sides,” Tauriel put in.

“That’s right,” Snow said, a hint of teasing creeping into her voice, “Killian never did tell us he was of royal blood.”

Killian coughed, his face turning red. He scratched behind his ear as he muttered, “Well, I never said anything about being part elf either.”

“But Papa’s proud of being an elf now, and so am I,” Elien announced, pushing her hair back to show off her ears. “See how cool my ears are? Just like Papa’s and Effie’s”

Everyone laughed at Elien’s pronouncement and Tauriel pulled her in for a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Emma watched her daughter, sandwiched between two grandmothers who looked no older than her parents but were technically 60 and 500. Then Emma squeezed the hand of her daughter’s father, who was 300, but didn’t look a day over 35. Emma was sure there would be days when Elien got older that she would roll her eyes in embarrassment over her crazy family, but Emma hoped she would also know how incredibly blessed she was.

Killian leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Nin ylv na-pant.”

Emma grinned, her eyes bright. She always loved to hear him speak elvish. “What does that mean?”

He kissed her forehead before answering, “My cup runneth over.”

He always could read her mind. She wondered if that was an elf thing.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat/lotr crossover #killian as half elf #cs canon divergence

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

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Of Earth and Sea: 7/9

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Rated T

Also on Ao3

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list): @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @kday426 @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @lovepurplepumpkins

Chapter Six:

For all the stories of hospitality and loyal friendship of elves, they were by and large an isolated people. Their lands were cloaked with magic and protected from what they saw as the corrupt influence of men and dwarves. They scoffed at the fairies who helped people while living high above them, using magic that the elves considered crude. The magic of elves was a mysterious thing; tied to the earth and highly spiritual in nature. They didn’t flit above it all like the fairies did, and if a human or dwarf needed their healing arts or their bows and swords, they would gladly give it.

Yet they still rarely fraternized with those not of their kind.

Tauriel mused over these things as she made her way through the forest towards the nearest village. She had never been to a tavern, but Legolas had. He said that the men’s ale and other spirits had little to know effect on elves. But the company was distracting.

And Tauriel desperately needed a distraction.

There were so many things she didn’t understand about the ways of her people. They were such a study in contradictions, and often Tauriel wanted to rebel against some of that hypocrisy. Why hide away in enchanted lands while men suffered and died? And why was it so scandalous for an elf to love a man when everyone knew of the Dunedin –the half elf. They had to come from somewhere.

And why was it so scandalous to love a dwarf?

She shook her head against that thought and massaged the ache that still rested at her breast. Perhaps she would not have been so open to the man she met that day and his charms if her heart had not been so raw.

She was still almost a mile from town when she saw him. He was of slender build, though broad shouldered, and he held a bundle in his arms wrapped in a dirty muslin cloth. With rapid, purposeful steps, as if he couldn’t complete his task fast enough, he approached the large, smooth stone by the tree line. He bent and deposited the squirming bundle gently. Pudgy little hands lifted from the folds of the fabric, grasping in the air for something, tiny fingers flexing then closing again.

“Glad, gar-hi hen,” he cried out into the woods.

It was the cry of human parents who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – care for their infants. They believed the elves would find these orphans and take them in, and sometimes that was true. But the woods were wild and sometimes, by the time the elves found a child, it was too late.

The man began to back away from the infant, who began to cry as if he understood his fate. Tauriel could contain her indignation no longer. She burst from the shelter of the wood and dashed to the child shivering on the slab of stone. She scooped him up while simultaneously shouting at the child’s father.

“Why are you humans so cruel?” she cried as he stopped and turned back towards her in surprise.

The man looked truly stricken as he lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “I can’t care for him,” he attempted to explain, “and everyone knows the elves foster many human children.”

“Many is a slight exaggeration,” Tauriel snapped. She tore her eyes away from the man’s much too attractive face and gazed instead at the babe in her arms. The child grasped onto her finger and pulled it to his mouth, sucking hungrily. He was still red and oh so small. And much too thin. Understanding dawned and Tauriel gasped, “His mother died birthing him. Didn’t she?”

The man before her ran a hand wearily over his face, nodding his head as he did so. His anguish seemed so deep, that she took a step forward and placed a hand to his arm.

“Keeping him is too painful, for it will remind you of her.”

He shook her hand off in irritation, and shouted, “No! It’s that I have no bloody idea what to do with him. Feed him? Care for him? I’m no father!” He began to pace, mumbling in agitation, seemingly caring little that she was listening. “He’ll remind me of his mother? That’s ridiculous. Remind me of a woman I just paid coin for? I was . . . lonely. I thought those type of women took care of those things . . . and then this,” he gestures almost in disgust at the tiny bundle in Tauriel’s arm, “shows up on my doorstep. The old woman who brought him said there was no doubt he’s mine. He’s probably got diseases . . .”

“A boy needs his father,” Tauriel said in disgust after his tirade. The man collapsed onto the large rock, his head in his hands. To her shock, he began to weep.

Tentatively, Tauriel sat beside the man. She shifted the baby to the crook of one arm and put the other hesitantly about the man’s shoulders. Her touch made him stiffen, and he sat up suddenly, rubbing at his face. Unsure what to do, she withdrew her arm and focused once again on the baby in her arms. He had the lightest peach fuzz on the cap of his head, and she ran her hand over it gently. She couldn’t help smiling down at him as he let out a little shuddering sigh, seeming to melt into her embrace. When she began to speak again, she was addressing the man next to her, but she kept her gaze trained on the infant’s face.

“Elves are not entirely welcoming to those not of their kind, especially the Woodland Elves. They will raise this boy, it is true, for they will never abandon an innocent to a cruel fate. Yet he will always be an outsider, never to fully belong.” She traced the baby’s petal-soft cheek and let out a small sigh as she finished.

“You sound as if you’ve experienced such rejection personally.”

She turned to find the young man gazing intently at her, his lips turned up in a charming smile. She now saw that his eyes were a bright blue, like the forget-me-nots that bloomed in the meadow. Tauriel glanced away from his penetrating gaze, a blush rising to her freckled cheeks.

“I may know a bit of what it feels, I suppose. My people are very . . . set in their ways.”

“Yet you push the boundaries.”

She turned at his words to find him regarding her with unabashed appreciation.

“I’m Brennan,” he told her, his smile widening to a full grin.

“Tauriel,” she replied with a simple nod.

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, “And a lovely lass such as yourself must either be an elven princess or betrothed to an elven prince.”

She blushed deeper at how he had unwittingly hit the mark. “There are those who wish to choose my fate for me,” she told him bitterly.

“An arranged marriage?” Brennan questioned, scooting closer. So close, that Tauriel became completely intent upon the baby in her arms. “While your heart belongs to someone else . . . a simple warrior perhaps?”

Tauriel gazed into the distance. “I almost loved. Once. And you guess rightly that he was a warrior. He died in battle before I had a chance to give him my heart. “

“But he loved you.”

Tauriel turned, surprised. Brennan reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers barely brushing against the pointed tip. It sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“Yes, but it would have been forbidden. He was not of my kind.”

Brennan’s gaze was fixed on her. Uncomfortable with the feelings he stirred in her, she looked down at the baby who had now fallen asleep in her arms. No one had gazed at her that way since . . . well, in a very long time. Her heart swelled also at the solid warmth of the child she held.

“What’s his name?” she asked almost in a whisper.

“Liam.”

“Liam,” she breathed, leaning forward and brushing a kiss to his forehead. The place where her kiss had landed glowed slightly, and some of her elven strength seeped into his small frame. He let out a deeper sigh of contentment, and Tauriel relaxed when color rose to his slightly plumper cheeks.

“Come with me and be his nurse,” Brennan asked, voice eager. For the first time since he set the child down upon the stone, he reached out and set his palm against the boy’s head. Tauriel looked up again, not realizing how much closer he had drawn to her. His smile was intoxicating, his nose almost brushing hers. “You love him already, I can tell. We could be . . . almost like a family.”

Tauriel could admit, years later, that it had been a rash suggestion on his part. And on hers, she had been an absolute fool to accept. But her future among her people had seemed so stifling, and Brennan’s bright blue eyes seemed to hold so much promise. And the desire in those eyes lit a longing in her heart that had lain dormant after so much grief.

So she went home with him.

It wasn’t long before she became more than a nursemaid, finding herself in Brennan’s bed. She gave herself to him completely, in the elven way, giving him another son. But instead of naming him after Brennan or someone in the Jones family, Tauriel insisted on naming him after a warrior who died too soon, before she could really love him. She changed the name slightly, so Brennan would think it was elvish, but it was a tribute nonetheless.

She named him Killian.

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

Emma hit the ground with incredible force, almost face-planting into the ground. As it was, she got a mouthful of grass and when Killian rushed to help her to her feet, she was gagging and spitting.

“I forgot how jarring portal jumping was,” she muttered, “last time we did this, I landed on my feet.”

“Well,” Killian chuckled, as he helped brush her off, “it has been awhile.”

Emma picked some stray leaves from her hair as she turned in a circle and looked around. The trees seemed much taller and denser than she remembered in the Enchanted Forest. “What realm is this?”

“Still the Enchanted Forest, just a different kingdom. Middle Earth.”

Emma looked at her husband with an arched brow. “Seriously?” Emma rubbed her temples where a headache was beginning to form. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. And I don’t care what this place is as long as we can find our daughter.”

Killian put his arm around her and drew her close. “We will, love.” Then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s the family motto, isn’t it? That we always find each other?”

Emma attempted a half smile. “Well, this time around we need your mother’s help. Have you seen her?”

“I’m right here,” Tauriel called out, and Emma turned to see the woman striding from behind a large tree. She had never seen the woman look so determined. “You’ll need my help or you won’t get anywhere with the council.”

Emma crossed her arms. “The council? And how are you supposed to help when you keep disappearing?”

“I will let my son explain everything to you on your journey. You must go and retrieve the Arkenstone. It is the key to saving Elien,” as she spoke, Tauriel began to fade.

Emma dropped her arms, clenching her hands in to tight fists. “What? No! We don’t have time to go on a quest for some stone; we need to find our little girl!” Tears sprung to Emma’s eyes. “Elien’s only four! She’s probably so scared . . . “

Killian took her in his arms immediately, cupping her head and running his fingers through her hair soothingly. “Emma, I am just as frantic as you are to get to my little cygnet. But if my mother is right, and the elves have taken her, then no harm will come to her. Elves are the guardians of children, and their lands are enchanted with the strongest light magic. The worst that can happen is that she’ll miss us. And Granny’s onion rings.”

Emma managed to chuckle against his chest at that. She looked over at Tauriel and straightened, throwing her shoulders back resolutely. “Okay, then, how do we get this . . . stone thing?”

Tauriel’s face fell, “Unfortunately the answers you seek are with my people. Specifically my mother.”

“Who’s your –“ but Emma’s words trailed off as Tauriel disappeared.

“Well,” Killian said with that false smile he always used when he knew they had a difficult task ahead, “to the Woodland Elves it is.”

Emma turned to her husband and pinned him with an intense stare. “Killian. Who is Tauriel’s mother?”

The smile fell from Killian’s face and he swallowed nervously. “That would be the queen herself . . . “ he paused for a bit as if wary of continuing, “Galadriel.”

Emma blinked rapidly. “Galadriel? Are you kidding me?” She shook her head. “Captain Hook’s grandmother is Galadriel from The Lord of the Rings?”

Killian shrugged. “Come now, Swan, after all this time, that’s the weirdest connection you’ve heard?”

Despite the stressful situation, Emma had to laugh. After all, she lived in a town with Rumplestiltskin, the son of Peter Pan and the Black Fairy. She had gone to a wedding in Oz to see Red Riding Hood marry Dorothy. Her son, the grandson of Snow White and Prince Charming, had taken the daughter of the Mad Hatter to the prom.

“Point taken,” she grumbled. She fished a rubber band out of her pocket, then pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. “So, pirate/elf, do you know how to get to Galadriel’s kingdom? Cause your mom sort of vanished on us again.”

Killian closed his eyes for a moment, tilted his head, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, they seemed even bluer than normal. “I can feel it in the water, I can feel it in the earth, I can smell it in the air. Those aren’t just pretty words in a lullaby. As a Dunedin, I have a connection to nature that’s difficult to explain. I especially have a connection to the land of the elves. Therefore, I have no doubt that we must head northeast. And luckily, I also know we will be there before sunset.”

“That’s good news at least,” Emma sighed as she followed her husband deeper into the forest, “will these elves have dinner ready, too?”

“Actually, they probably will. Elven food may be different from what you’re used to, but its always sweet and always refreshing.”

“You had me at sweet.”

Killian chuckled, then they both fell silent for a few moments. The woods seemed darker and denser by the moment, and Emma reached out to grasp her husband’s hook. “Um . . . babe . . . what’s the name of this forest?”

Killian hesitated, scratching behind his ear. That gesture was like a neon sign to Emma – whatever forest they were in, it wasn’t good. “Ahem . . . Mirkwood.”

Emma’s face paled remembering the movie The Hobbit. “Shit. Killian, I swear, if one of those spiders comes after me –“

He pulled her against his side and gave her a squeeze, “I won’t allow it, darling.”

“You better not because you know how I feel about those things. Ever since Gideon . . .” she trailed off again, eyeing the forest nervously. Was it just her or was it filled with all sorts of creepy sounds? She tripped over a thick root, and Killian quickly steadied her with hand and hook at her waist.

“Well, love,” he told her with a cheerfulness in his voice that was in sharp contradiction to the setting, “my mother did want me to explain some things to you. So how about a story?”

Emma squeezed the hand that still rested at her waist. “You are good at those.”

“So, this elven council - and part of this your Tolkien fellow got right – was formed thousands of years ago when an elf named Cilbarin forged nineteen rings of power.”

Emma clambered over a group of mossy stones. “You mean the ones Sauron corrupted when he made the one ring?”

“Aye, one ring to rule them all. So it goes. Anyhow, the elves were given three rings, the race of men nine, and the dwarves thirteen.”

“I remember that from the movie. I never understood why the dwarves needed so many.”

“Well,” Killian laughed, “apparently they like to do things in large groups.”

Emma laughed too. “So that’s where the elven council came from?”

“Aye. These three elves were chosen because they were the rulers of the three races of elves. The Lake Elves, the Woodland Elves, and the Elves of Rivendell. Water, earth, and air.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What’s Rivendell got to do with air? I thought it was full of waterfalls and stuff.”

“Aye, but it’s in the mountains. And when we go there to bring Elien home, you will smell something different in the air there. I can’t describe it exactly . . . it’s the way I imagine a star would smell.”

Emma shook her head. “I didn’t know stars had a smell.”

“They do,” Killian said, almost wistfully.

Emma tugged gently on his hand. “Is that why you wanted to name our daughter the elvish word for star?”

Killian smiled as he tucked a strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “No. I wanted to name her Elien because she, and you, are the lights that I know will always guide me home.”

Emma couldn’t help herself, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him soundly. “Then let’s go get our little star and take her home.”

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

Killian knew that the sun hadn’t set, and yet there was no denying the darkness that surrounded them. He could sense Emma trembling slightly next to him. She had tried to brush it off, saying she was cold, but Killian knew better. The giant spider Gideon had sent after her did a number on her. Ever since, she was absolutely petrified of spiders. His tough Swan, who hadn’t flinched at the sight of a giant, would scream bloody murder if she saw a spider in their house. Once she had walked into a spider web and almost had a panic attack. Not that he blamed her. Being trapped by a giant spider wasn’t something he wanted to experience either.

Killian tried to be subtle when he pulled his cutlass from its scabbard, but Emma’s widened eyes showed he hadn’t fooled her in the least. Emma’s face drained of color, but she still lifted her arms in determination, ready to send a burst of magic at anyone – or anything – that might attack. And Killian definitely had a bad feeling about this part of the forest. The air smelled dank and his ears kept picking up scuttling sounds.

He thought he had a tight grip on his sword, but when he suddenly found himself yanked off the ground, he lost hold of it. Emma shouted his name, and he saw a burst of magic shoot over his head. A hideous screeching sound followed, and Killian went crashing back to the forest floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Emma muttered as she pulled the sticky string of webbing off his back, “it had to be spiders.”

“I get that reference,” he chuckled, and even in the dim light he could see Emma roll her eyes. “Back to back.”

Emma nodded and turned, her hands up and ready. Killian widened his stance and held both sword and hook aloft. Spiders seemed to be scuttling through the trees above by the thousands, but Killian knew it was probably only a dozen or less. Half of them sent lines of webbing out with their spinnerets as the other half clambered down the tree trunks and charged at Emma and Killian. Emma’s magic seemed to be incredibly effective in stunning them, but not destroying them.

“What are these, zombie spiders?” she snapped. “This magic I’m using ought to be frying their asses.”

Killian didn’t have time to answer as he battled three spiders at once. He hacked two front limbs of one and stabbed the other through one of its many eyes. But the third grabbed him by the leg, yanking him backwards towards the trees. Killian managed to keep hold of his weapon this time, but his position was an awkward one. Before he realized what was happening, he was dangling in the air again, this time upside down.

“Emma!” he screamed, not for help, but because he could see her below, the spiders closing in around her.

What happened next was chaos. One moment Emma was turning to look up at him, trying to blast the web that held him with her magic, and the next a spider was leaping at her, knocking her to the ground. Killian screamed and fought his bonds as Emma wrestled the spider, narrowly missing stab after stab of its stinger. Killian heard a loud hiss above. He tore his eyes from Emma to see a spider hovering over him, its stinger ready and its arms reaching out to grab him. Then there was a whizzing sound right near his ear followed by an arrow imbedding itself in the spider’s head. Arrows were twanging everywhere, and light was illuminating the darkness. Spiders fell and others retreated back up into the tallest branches of the trees.

“Emma!” Killian yelled as the blood continued to rush to his head.

“I’m okay!” she called back.

There was another twang and a “whoosh,” and then Killian once again plummeted to the ground below. He groaned and rolled over just as Emma rushed to his side. She was trembling as she peppered his face with kisses, then she let out a tremulous sigh as she buried her face against his neck.

“I hate spiders.”

Killian held her close as he looked at the figure standing behind her. The elf gave him a smug smile as he slung his bow over his back. “Killian Jones. About to get himself killed. Again.”

Killian shook his head. “That was one bloody time.”

“That I witnessed. But tales of you have become legend, my old friend. Survivor indeed. How old are you these days? 300?”

Killian groaned as he hoisted himself off the ground. “Give or take. And my joints are beginning to feel it.” He then extended his hand, which the elf shook heartily.

Behind him, Emma cleared her throat. “Want to introduce me to your friend, Killian?”

“Yes, darling, I’m sorry. Emma, this is Legolas.”

Killian had sat through hours of Peter Jackson with Emma and Henry, so he knew his wife would have a reaction to this latest introduction.

But he hadn’t expected her to faint.

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

“Perhaps she is simply overwhelmed by the events of the day.”

Killian shifted Emma’s weight in his arms as he stepped carefully over some roots. “My Swan is of much tougher stuff than that. I have never seen her like this.” He wished she would yell at him, demanding he put her down. Or at least mumble a sarcastic comment against his chest. About Legolas and his pretentious speech and how she should have known Killian was an elf, too.

“Your mother and your grandmother both said the savior would be your true love. But I must confess, I never really believed them.”

Despite his concern for his wife, Killian managed a roguish grin for his old friend. “Considering the mess you had to get me out of all those years ago, it’s no wonder you were skeptical. To be honest, I can scarcely believe it myself sometimes.”

“Your mother always said you were more like your name sake than your father.”

Killian couldn’t help gaping at that revelation. He shook his head as he pressed his lips together. “I doubt she would say that now after what I’ve done.”

“After what?” Legolas chuckled. “What mischief have you done in the last few hours, Dunedin?”

Killian stopped, the elf’s words confusing him. “What do you mean?”

“Your mother told me how much you reminded her of Killi on multiple occasions, the most recent being earlier today.” Legolas clapped Killian on the shoulder. “How do you think I knew to come for you?”

The fair haired elf gave Killian a wide grin, then continued forward into the thick wood. Killian stood still, blinking in surprise at his words. He glanced down at Emma, growing more concerned at her waning complexion and shallow breaths. His regret and shame could be pushed aside for now, his wife needed the healing arts of the elves, and soon.

Ahead, Legolas pushed aside a thick curtain of moss that clung between a huge tree and a pile of boulders. To the casual eye, it seemed to simply cover more large stones. Yet when the elf pushed it aside, it revealed an opening. Killian followed him through to be bathed in soft, ethereal light. Sound seemed muted here, the air filled with the haunting song of elves. Killian suddenly felt simultaneously lighter and stronger. He remembered this feeling from his childhood when he would visit the elven lands in his dreams. The Woodland Elves walked on their light footfalls, almost floating around him as they went about their ordinary tasks. One woman came forward with lambas bread on a large waxy green leaf.

“Some food for our guest,” she said in a gentle voice.

Killian shook his head then nodded toward Emma in his arms. “I can’t think of food until my wife is seen to.”

“I know what ails her.”

Killian would know that voice anywhere. Deeper and more commanding than his mother’s, yet still airy and breathy. He turned to see Galadriel herself regally descending a wooden staircase that wrapped its way around the bottom of a wide tree trunk. Legolas beside him bowed deeply to the queen, and Killian did the best he could with Emma still in his arms.

“Put her here,” Galadriel ordered, gesturing to a pedestal that looked like some sort of stone altar. Elven runes decorated it, and the parts Killian could see read, Of true love intertwined, a heart of stone turns to flesh. Though what exactly that meant, he had no clue. Elves loved being cryptic. Yet Killian obeyed the queen, and deposited Emma gently upon the thick pile of pure white cloth artfully draped across the top of the stone pillar.

Killian pulled his arm gently from behind Emma’s head and ran his hand tenderly across her check and then rested his palm against her heart. He looked up at Galadriel in alarm. “Her skin is like ice yet her pulse is racing.”

“She is the savior. Her heart knows it must free the Arkenstone. All things have aligned. The time is now.”

Killian shook his head in frustration. “There you go with those elven riddles again. Would you please just get to the bloody point! How do we make her better?”

Galadriel came forward, reaching her arm out to hover over Emma’s body. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then they snapped wide as they regarded Killian coolly. His own blood suddenly felt like ice in his veins. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.

“The Arkenstone,” he said as the silence stretched too long, “my mother mentioned it. Said we needed it to convince the council to relinquish Elien. She said you knew where it was.”

“I do,” Galadriel replied in an almost bored tone, “but you already have it.” She lifted her arm and pointed at the cutlass at Killian’s hip. “You’ve had it for years.”

Killian pulled the sword from its scabbard and stared at in confusion. He then looked back up at the elf queen with an arched brow. “This is just a crude pirate’s cutlass that just happens to be engraved with elvish runes.”

“Your mother sent you on a quest for some old useless sword? Think, Killian. I foresaw the same future as she. What led you to the cave that held that weapon?”

Killian looked down at his wife in wonder. “A swan,” he whispered hoarsely.

Galadriel reached down and ran a delicate hand over Emma’s golden hair. “Long ago, an elven maiden fell in love with a man – a boy, really - of a race called the Tuor. They were a people with the sea in their veins, and they were not willing to dwell long where they could not hear the sound of its waves. The elf and the lad were very young, and their parents forbade them to be together. Foolish and young, they sought a witch and asked that she join them together eternally. They didn’t stop to ask the price.”

Galadriel waved her hand over the hilt of the cutlass. The elvish runes shimmered and then morphed into a blood red stone. Killian startled.

“The Arkenstone!” He reached down with his hook and tried to pry the gem free.

“That won’t work,” Galadriel said, infernally calm. “The Arkenstone is the heart of the elven maiden; the cutlass the heart of the Tuor youth.”

“That’s . . . morbid,” Legolas spoke up for the first time. He leaned over Killian’s shoulder in curiosity at the weapon.

“The elf’s parents were devastated,” Galadriel continued, and Killian wanted to scream at her to hurry up and get to the point of the story. “They enchanted the sword, protecting the Arkenstone with those runes. Then they constructed this altar. They were my great, great, great grandparents,” Galadriel looked up to fix her gaze on Killian, “and you, my grandson, are a descendent of the Tuor. That is why the earth and sea are so balanced in your blood. It is why you are happy in that quaint little town by the ocean. Why you aren’t fickle like your father was, always drawn to the open water.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “As fascinating as my lineage may be, I’m more concerned with the here and now. Mainly my ill wife and my kidnapped daughter. So if you could kindly get to the point.”

Galadriel pressed her lips together, then released a long sigh. “The runes foretell of a love that will make right all wrongs. A love between a redeemed one and a savior. Your mother and I have known for many long centuries that the redeemed one was you. You can use Emma’s heart to release the Arkenstone.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Take the cutlass . . . and run it through Emma’s heart.”

Killian tossed the sword upon the ground in anger. “No! Never!”

Galadriel picked the weapon up and handed it back to him. “You must. Trust me, Killian. All will be right.”

Killian swallowed hard, refusing to take back the sword. Tears pricked his eyes as he looked down at his wife and back at his grandmother.

“If you wait much longer, she will die.”

For a long agonizing moment Killian caressed Emma’s face. He couldn’t deny that her skin was growing colder and her lips were faintly blue. He took a deep breath and slowly took the sword from Galadriel.

“Consider it pay back,” Galadriel remarked with the slightest twitch of her lips.

Killian scowled openly at her. “That isn’t funny.”

Galadriel gave a slight half shrug, as if the entire situation was of no consequence. It irritated him and gave him hope in equal measure. He swallowed again, several times, his throat going dry. Tears welled up in his eyes so that it was hard to see Emma through them, but he didn’t let them fall. His hand was clammy as it squeezed the hilt of the sword.

“You must drive it straight through her heart,” Galadriel instructed.

“And you promise she’ll be okay?”

Galadriel nodded serenely. “I give you my word that all will be right.”

Killian took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly and raised the sword high, poised over his true love’s chest where her heart beat such a rapid rhythm, he swore he could hear it. He opened his eyes to be sure his aim was true and plunged the sword into Emma’s chest. Her eyes flew open and a gasp flew from her lips. Then she choked and sputtered in pain. Blood poured from the wound in her breast.

“K-Killian?” she asked in anguish, a single tear slipping from her eye.

The cutlass turned to ash and blew away on the wind, much like another sword from another dark day so long ago. The Arkenstone fell into Galadriel’s outstretched palm. With the weapon gone, Emma’s wound poured thick red blood. Killian cared nothing for the ancient gem. He fell to his knees beside his wife, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he choked out. His hand hovered over the rapidly bleeding wound, unsure what to do. “What’s happening?” he shouted at Galadriel.

Emma convulsed as he drew her in his arms. She kept trying to speak, but all she could get out was a broken attempt at his name. He sobbed as he held her in his arms.

“You said she would be okay!” he screamed at Galadriel. “Do something! You promised me!”

Galadriel still stood, so calm and regal before him. “I said all would be right. I never promised she wouldn’t die.”

“What!” he screamed.

“Killian,” Emma said weakly against his chest. When he pulled back to look at her, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands “I love you. Take care of Elien for me.”

Then she shuddered and went limp in his arms. Killian’s wails now were unintelligible. Legolas raced forward, his face pale, but Galadriel stopped him. The sight of her, still so self-righteous and calm, sent rage through him.

“You lied to me!”

Galadriel shook her head. “This isn’t an ending, Killian Jones. You are her true love. You still have a heart beating in your chest. Share it with her.”

A tiny flicker of hope flared to life within him, but it sputtered out just as quickly. “How can I? You said yourself her heart is – was – pure. Mine? It’s blackened. I can’t curse her with it.”

Galadriel shook her head. “Do you ever listen? Just like your mother before you. How many times have you been told that your heart is elven through and through? It is steadfast, loyal, devoted to a fault. And above all else, it is of pure origins. Men were molded of dirt and clay; elves were molded of the stars. They can never be fully corrupted.”

Killian didn’t know exactly where she was going with this (why did elves talk so bloody much, anyway?), but before he could interrupt her with dripping sarcasm, she reached out and unceremoniously yanked his heart out of his chest. He cried out in pain. (Seriously, he would never get used to that very unpleasant sensation.)

But when Galadriel held his heart up in front of his face, all the pain was a distant memory. For there, pulsing in his grandmother’s palm, was a perfect, pure red heart. His heart. From his own chest. If he hadn’t experienced it himself, he would have thought it a trick.

“B-but . . . how?” he stuttered.

“Redemption, Killian.” And the smile she gave him was gentle and kind. All he could do was swallow and give her a nod in return. He lay Emma down gently upon the blood-stained cloth of the altar. He then lay down upon the mossy ground next to her.

The pain he had felt when Galadriel removed his heart was nothing compared to the pain when she twisted it and tore it in two. He felt dizzy and disoriented for a moment, until she plunged half of it back into his chest. Life seemed to surge through him, and he sat up quickly and rushed to Emma’s side. He smiled tentatively when he saw the color in her cheeks, and he reached out to brush her hair from her face as her lips parted with a tiny puff of breath. Then he laughed with happy tears streaming down his face when her eyes fluttered open.

“Killian?” she asked, her brow marred in confusion.

All he could do was pepper her face with kisses and then draw her close, cupping the back of her head with his hand. She hugged him back, but he could tell from the stiffness of her body that she was still confused.

When she pulled away from him, she looked around at the blood, then touched the jagged rip in her blouse. She blinked several times then cocked her head at him and asked, “Did I just . . . die?”

Killian laughed again as he kissed her swiftly on the lips. “Yes, but you’re back. You’re back.”

“Wait a second,” Emma said, pushing him a bit roughly by the shoulders, “did you stab me, pirate?”

Killian glanced up at the elf queen and then gave his wife a smirk. “We can consider it payback.”

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly in the chest. She swung her legs over the side of the stone altar, and Killian put his hook at her back and took her hand in his. “Easy,” he warned, “you did just die, love.”

“Yeah,” she told him as she shooed away his fussing, “and I feel like shit, to be honest. How have you done this so many times?”

He chuckled again and couldn’t help grabbing her and kissing her again. God, he was so relieved that he hadn’t lost her. Emma laughed herself and gladly kissed him back. Then she shook her head and placed her hand to her chest in awe.

“Did you . . . ?”

He grinned broadly at her, but also couldn’t help scratching behind his ear. “Aye.”

She shook her head and kissed him again.

“I must say,” Legolas quipped, “you both really embrace this true love thing wholeheartedly.”

Emma pressed her forehead to Killian’s, blushing prettily. Then she looked at the elf and pointed a finger at him. “And you’re seriously Legolas?”

The elf sketched a quick bow, “Ah, so you’ve heard of me?”

Emma shook her head and glanced at Killian, “I can see you come by your cockiness honestly.” Then Emma saw the queen, who had taken a seat upon a throne of polished branches. “Galadriel?” Then she whispered to Killian. “Are we supposed to bow?”

“I think that ship has sailed, love,” he whispered back.

Galadriel spoke, “While I am grateful for the savior’s help in releasing the Arkenstone, your presence here is not wanted, Dunedin.”

Killian’s jaw twitched as he snapped a reply, “If you didn’t want us here, grandmother, then you shouldn’t have kidnapped our daughter.”

Galadriel arched one eyebrow. “That was Elrond’s doing, not mine.”

“Please,” Killian scoffed, “you’re the most powerful of the council of three. Even if Elrond acted alone, you would have known of it. Now what purpose do you have for my little girl?”

Galadriel sighed as she lounged back upon her ornate seat. “Our people are dying out. In particular, none of the council leaders has an heir. Arwen wed a Dunedin, your mother . . . “ here Galadriel gave a wave of her hand as if Brennan Jones weren’t even worthy of mention, “and Legolas here refuses to wed, spending his days fraternizing with dwarves.”

Legolas pushed forward off the tree where he had been reclining. “Why single me out? Everyone knows it’s rare for an elf to wed, even rarer to procreate. Why do you think we’re going extinct?”

Galadriel gave Legolas a withering glare, “As Prince of the Lake Elves, it would have been your duty.”

Legolas released the fists he had subconsciously been clenching and let out a quick breath. “Killian,” he said, taking his old friend by the hook and giving it a shake, “it’s been a pleasure, but I will take my leave.” He then turned and scowled at Galadriel. “Perhaps then her majesty can focus on the more important matters at hand.”

As for Emma, her mind was still whirling with the implications of Galadriel’s words. “Wait. You’re talking about heirs and the survival of the elves. You’re not talking about . . . I mean . . . my daughter’s only four-“

“And we wish to raise her as an elf in the safety of Rivendell. Messengers have already been sent to King Aragorn, and we hope a betrothal between Elien and his son will swiftly be arranged. They are both Dunedin, so it isn’t ideal, but eventually their bloodline-”

Killian and Emma spoke at once, interrupting the queen.

“Hell no.”

“Over my dead body.”

Emma reached over and put her hand to Killian’s lips, “I think we’ve had enough dead body’s for one lifetime, babe.”

He kissed her hand quickly then turned to the queen. “Emma and I make one thing perfectly clear: Our daughter is not a pawn for political gain. She will be raised by her parents, given the happy home we were both denied, and all decisions for her future will be Elien’s and Elien’s alone.”

Emma nodded firmly in agreement. “No one decides our daughter’s fate for her. No one.”

Galadriel hung her head for a moment or two, then lifted it to gaze intently into Emma’s eyes. “I know what it is to marry for duty. It is why I broke with the council over this.”

Emma’s expression softened. “Thank you.”

Galadriel rose regally, extended the Arkenstone, placed it in Emma’s palm. “This is the key. It can only be used once; to transform an elf into a human, fully mortal. Arwen and Aragorn sought it for ages to no avail. It was meant for you.”

Emma gripped the stone in her fist and turned a wary gaze to her husband.

“So that,” he asked, “will remove any elven blood from my daughter? She will no longer be part elf?”

Galadriel turned away and walked over to retrieve a pitcher from a table beside her throne. “Aye,” she answered simply before filling the pitcher from a stream of water that poured over a mossy opening in a nearby tree.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t like this, Killian. It’s still taking away a part of her. Against her will.”

Killian nodded in understanding as he closed his hand over Emma’s, the both of them now clutching the stone. “I know,” he said slowly, his jaw clenching, “but it may be the only way to peacefully take our little girl home.”

“Or we can bust in there and take her by force,” Emma snapped.

“Don’t underestimate the power of the elves,” Galadriel warned, “they are fierce warriors.”

“And there are only two of us, love,” Killian added gently.

Emma sighed deeply, her brow furrowed in concern. Killian knew she didn’t like it, but what choice did they have?

“Your mother,” Emma said hesitantly, “perhaps she can convince the Rivendell elves to let her go?”

“Don’t be so sure that you will find help from my daughter,” Galadriel said cryptically. She had moved to stand before a shallow stone basin filled with water. She gestured for them to come closer. “See what there is to see.”

Emma grasped her husband’s hook and found comfort in the nod of his head and his hesitant smile. They took their place in front of the basin. If this was anything like the movie Emma had seen, she knew what this was. Galadriel’s pool. The elven queen poured water from her pitcher in the water so slowly and carefully, that it barely made a ripple on the surface of the water. Emma leaned closer.

“This is a mirror into time,” Galadriel intoned, “showing what is, what was, and what will be.”

Emma glanced up with an arched brow. “Do you really have to say that? Or is it just for dramatic effect?” Galadriel pierced her with such an icy glare, that Emma quickly diverted her gaze and mumbled, “Sorry. Continue, your . . . er, majesty.”

“Another possibility is before you,” Galadriel said as the waters of the pool shimmered. A male elf appeared, with a tight, serious face and dark hair. “Elrond may be willing to trade Elien for the Arkenstone.” The pool rippled again and showed a happy family, an elven mother, a human father, and a curly headed little boy. “His daughter Arwen is destined to live a long, lonely immortal life. The Arkenstone can spare her that pain.”

Galadriel poured a bit more water into the pool, and this time the ripples caused the basin to shake and the water to swirl. Killian pulled Emma closer to his side as they looked down into the churning water. They both gasped as they saw Elien being pulled away by a group of elves, screaming, “Papa! Mama!” Emma clutched the front of Killian’s shirt, her heart breaking. What they saw next confused Emma and made Killian’s jaw clench and his hand tighten into a fist. Tauriel held the Arkenstone in her palm as a red mist swirled up from it. She seemed to breathe it in until the stone was drained of its color and it lay like gray rock in her hand.

“What does that mean?” Emma asked, glancing between Galadriel and Killian, utterly confused.

“She will steal it,” Galadriel told them, “and use it for herself.”

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat/lotr crossover #killian as half elf #cs canon divergence

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

Text

Of Earth and Sea: 6/9

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Rated T

Tagging: (please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from this list) @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @kday426 @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter Five:

Night fell on Neverland, the only discernible difference between it and day being the piercing cries of Lost Boys. The fact that over half of Hook’s crew could hear them was a testament to what turned an innocent lad into a cutthroat pirate. Smee, Starkey, and a handful of others were the only ones who could sleep peacefully on the island. And as a whole, Killian’s crew preferred to anchor far enough away from shore to escape the haunting sounds. Actually sleeping on the island was something few of them were willing to volunteer for.

But on this particular night, it wasn’t an option. Pan had some sort of job for them again, and it required two things: close to a dozen men and readiness before dawn. So here they were, trying to get comfortable despite the constant weeping.

Killian had volunteered for first watch and sat against a tree, nursing his flask. He rubbed his forehead wearily, wishing desperately for a respite from the agonizing wails. When he dropped his hand, he thought he saw something moving amidst the trees. Hand at the hilt of his cutlass, he eased forward hesitantly. He almost started at the blinking green eyes that caught the moonlight. Then he saw the pale, pointed ears against red hair.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he muttered, leaning back against the tree and taking another swig of rum.

His mother stepped forward on silent feet. “I know these cries torture you, my son.”

He shrugged. “Course they do. Orphans understand other orphans.”

She blinked, obviously hurt, but he had long ago stopped caring. “I hear them too,” she said softly, ignoring his jab.

Killian furrowed his brow curiously. “How is that?”

“Elves have soft hearts towards children. We understand them.”

Killian scoffed as he tilted back his flask. He had heard stories of elves fostering orphans. Ironic.

“I see you got Dionysus’s flask back,” Tauriel commented.

He shrugged and lifted it high, making a show of admiring it. “What can I say? Your old boyfriend knows me well.”

Tauriel scowled openly. “Since you’re in a foul mood, I’ll leave you. There are hurting children who could use an elvish lullaby.”

Killian ignored her, relishing the burn of the rum as it went down. Soon the lullaby his mother had mentioned floated on the breeze, and one by one, cries were stilled. Yet the more peaceful the night became, the more Captain Hook drank.

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

Killian didn’t know if it was the vast amounts of rum he had consumed the night before, or if it was the tall tales of his crew, but his head was bloody pounding.

“It’s a ghost, I tell you!” Smee insisted. “I saw her myself, floating through the trees.”

“And then the crying stopped!” another mate added.

“What of it?” another scoffed. “How do ya know it had to do with the ghost?”

“Because she sang,” Smee told them, “in a foreign tongue.” He turned to his Captain, “Did you hear her, sir?”

Killian clenched his jaw in irritation. “I’m much more interested in this mysterious job of Pan’s, Smee, so I’d ask that you not distract the crew.”

“Y-yes, sir, of course, sir,” Smee muttered, twisting his red cap in his hands before sticking it back on his head.

But that didn’t stop the whispers among the men. Whispers that a ghost haunted Neverland. The ghost of a mother whose child had died, they reasoned. The mother searched the island for her dead child, soothing the cries of the lost ones. Of course, some of the pirates took the story in a more sinister direction, blaming the ghost for luring Lost Boys and pirates alike into Mermaid’s Lagoon, Dark Hollow, or the Echo Caves.

By the time they arrived at the rendezvous point, Killian was ready to send his entire crew over the bloody plank. Dawn had not yet broken when Pan appeared on a pile of boulders above the pirates, flanked by his most trusted Lost Boys. Felix eyed Killian coldly, beating his twisted club repeatedly into his palm. Killian met his gaze with a cocky smirk and a small salute of his hook. He still prided himself on giving the little bastard that nasty scar down the side of his face. He’d deserved it and then some.

Hook then addressed Pan with equal sarcasm. “So what is the purpose of this odd little parley?”

“Funny you should call it that,” Pan answered, “for I have given your request some thought.”

Hook raised his eyebrows. “My request?”

“To leave this island.”

Killian attempted to school his features. It couldn’t be that easy; this must be one of Pan’s games. Pan jumped down from the boulders and drew closer with cold, calculating calm. He got right in Killian’s face, but the pirate refused to retreat a single millimeter.

“Do you hear that?” Pan asked him.

Killian shook his head and gave a short, dismissive laugh, “There’s nothing to hear, imp.”

“That’s exactly it,” Pan said, turning away from Killian to pace around him. He said nothing for a long moment, and Killian found it difficult not to roll his eyes. The little demon did have a way of drawing out the dramatics. Finally, he stopped pacing and looked Killian straight in the eye. “And you and I both know you can hear them. The cries of the Lost Boys?”

Killian swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as his men whispered behind him. He had never told them he couldn’t hear the weeping; he had merely avoided that topic of conversation. Clearly, his men had assumed their fearless leader was immune to that type of psychological torture.

Pan drew close. He leaned forward and whispered in Killian’s ear. “You’ve never wanted those who sail with you to know what you really are, Dunedin.”

“Let’s speak privately,” Killian hissed back.

“Fine,” Pan spat, “let’s.”

Hook shouted for his crew to return to the ship and ready it for departure. Pan likewise dismissed his companions. When it was just the pirate and the imp in the small clearing, Pan smirked and took a seat upon the rocks.

“I tried to kill her,” Pan informed him, as casually as one would discuss the weather, “alas, I can’t kill someone who isn’t really alive.”

Killian tried to stop the muscle in his jaw from jumping, but he couldn’t. As much anger and hurt that he felt towards his mother, as much as he fought with her, he loved her dearly. More perhaps even than he had loved Milah or even Liam. At least, it was a different sort of love. One with a bond he couldn’t sever, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to.

Pan laughed sadistically. “That bothers you!”

Killian narrowed his eyes. “Okay, I see what you want. My crew and I leave, and my mother is forced to go too. That way, your Lost Boys stay desperate and miserable, just the way you like them.”

“I’m not the only one who leads with fear, Captain Hook,” Pan sneered, “and if you think leaving is as simple as all that, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“Then what is your price?” Killian hissed through clenched teeth.

Pan lounged backwards against the rocks. “Oh . . . just Tiger Lily’s hiding place.”

His eyes widened. “What do you want with her?” The fairies on this island – Tiger Lily and Tinkerbell – were honestly the closest he had come to friends in a long, long while. Perhaps it was because they had both lost their wings. Tiger Lily in particular, seemed to understand the allure of darkness and its crushing weight more than most.

“Let’s just say my history with her goes way back,” Pan shouted, lurching up from his casual posture, face contorting. It was the most unhinged Killian had ever seen him. He quickly composed himself, a slight red tinge to his cheeks. “All I’m asking is where to find her.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “So you can kill her.”

Pan shrugged. “Maybe. It really isn’t your concern.”

Killian closed his eyes, weighing his options. He had longed to leave this island for so long. Milah’s memory deserved vengeance, and with knowledge of the Dark One’s dagger, he could finally achieve it. Tiger Lily may not have magic, but she was a fierce fighter. All Killian was doing was giving Pan a location. He could send a message of warning to Tiger Lily once the Jolly Roger was far enough from shore.

“Hangman’s Tree,” he finally told Pan.

This was exactly why Captain Hook didn’t have many friends.

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

Killian Jones had conflicting emotions right now. On the one hand, it was a gorgeous early September day with bright sunshine, a pleasant breeze, and the first hints of yellow and orange in the trees. His little girl skipped merrily between her parents down the sidewalk, her little navy jumper and knee socks making her the most adorable picture. Elien’s light red hair was pulled up into pigtails that curled at the ends and bounced as she skipped along.

On the other hand, it was his baby girl’s first day of preschool.

“What are you brooding about Killian?” Emma laughed as Elien darted ahead. “Don’t you dare jump in that puddle, Elien! You aren’t wearing your rain boots!”

Elien skidded to a halt just at the edge of a murky puddle and glanced up at her mother with a mischievous grin. “I was just looking!”

Emma elbowed him in the ribs. “Who does that sound like?” she teased. Then she threaded her arm through his as they walked along behind Elien. “Now, about this brooding . . . “

Killian sighed. “Doesn’t four seem awfully young to go off to school?”

“Well technically, she’s four years and five months old,” Emma quipped, then laughed at the tortured look on his face. “Relax, Papa Bear! It’s half day preschool. We’re taking turns picking her up at lunch every day. Aurora – gentle, soft-spoken Aurora – is her teacher. What could go wrong?”

Emma would kick herself later. Almost a decade of peaceful, small town life had obviously made her complacent. Because why else would she have tested fate with a statement like that?

One minute, Elien was poking at a worm in the rain puddle with a stick while Killian shouted a warning for her not to get her socks muddy. The next minute, there was a roar and a scream, and Elien was gone. Swallowed up in an instant by the swirling portal that opened up beneath her. Emma and Killian dove forward to catch her, but the portal closed just as swiftly as it opened. They both ended up rolling with groans onto the hard pavement. Heedless of their injuries, they scrambled to their knees, and pounded at the unrelenting pavement, screaming Elien’s name. Both of them were near hysteria, and their panic brought a crowd running to help.

People joined them in their pointless pounding, calling Elien’s name over and over again. Other’s asked questions that only made Emma and Killian snap in anger. Were they sure it was a portal? What color was it? Where did it lead to? Emma was grasping at her hair in frustration because there were simply no answers. An ambulance arrived on the scene, which made Killian practically lose it. His daughter didn’t need medical attention, she needed a bloody magic bean.

But Emma and Killian did need medical attention. Emma had broken her arm diving to the pavement while Killian had scraped his knuckles raw and sliced his knee with his own hook. But Emma shooed the paramedics away like pesky flies and merely waved her hand, using her magic to heal them both. Elien needed them, and she needed them strong.

The problem was, they had no idea where Elien had ended up. Anton arrived with a pouch full of beans, but where did they begin? There were hundreds of realms, each of them containing thousands of miles of terrain.

Emma sat on the curb, rolling a bean between her fingers. Killian paced along the sidewalk behind her. The crowd had long ago dispersed, and only Anton, David, and Snow remained.

“Do you think it was Elien’s own magic?” David asked hesitantly.

Anton shook his head. “Not even Rumplestiltskin could just open a portal. You need a bean, or a magic door, or a wand. Some magical object.” He turned to Emma. “Unless Elien had something like that?”

Emma rubbed her head wearily, “I don’t think so. But how can I know for sure? This town was created with magic, she could have picked up a freakin’ enchanted pebble for all I know.”

“Listen,” Snow said calmly, “instead of focusing on how the portal opened, let’s try and figure out where she might have gone when she went through. I mean, how do portals work?”

Killian stopped pacing, a grin lighting his face. “They take you to the place you’re thinking of.”

Emma scrambled to her feet. “And Elien visits the Elven Lands all the time in her dreams!”

“Which means she’s in Middle Earth.”

The group turned to see Tauriel standing near the pavement. She was more ethereal than usual, which happened when she ventured this far into town. She was frantic as she gazed first at Emma, then at her son. “They’ve taken her. My people. Hurry. I’ll be right behind you.”

Then she was gone.

Everyone exchanged glances, and Emma lifted the bean that she held in her hand. With her other hand, she reached out for Killian’s hook. “Well, I’m relying on you, elf. Never been to Middle Earth.”

Killian shook his head at her good-natured teasing. “Let’s not wait another minute, love, our little girl needs us.”

Emma stepped closer, but before she tossed the bean, she gave Killian an accusing look. “This wasn’t some grand scheme to keep your baby from starting school, was it?”

Killian arched a brow. “This entire situation is making school look better and better.”

Emma glanced back at her parents. “Hold down the fort while we’re gone?”

Her parents gave a nod of assurance in answer. Then Emma tossed the bean, and with a deep breath and a clear mind, she jumped, completely trusting her husband’s memories to take them to their daughter.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat/lotr crossover #killian as half elf #cs canon divergence

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years ago

Text

Of Earth and Sea: 3/9

Rating: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this tag list) @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @xhookswenchx

Chapter Two

Whenever The Essex made port, Killian always felt a pull deep inside of himself. There was, of course, the energy pulsing from everyone on board, as well as the cacophony of sounds. Docking a ship this size was no easy feat, and all hands were needed. The creaking of wood, splashing of waves, and the slapping of sails were all magnified as the large vessel was maneuvered into port. Added to that were the sights, sounds, and smells of whatever portside town they were approaching.

But for Killian, it was more than that. He loved the sea, the same as his brother and his father. Salt water was in his veins, as the old expression said, and there was something calming about the moon reflected on the glassy surface of a calm sea. Something invigorating when an entire crew battled the crashing waves.

And yet . . . there was another part of him that yearned for the feel of soil and grass between his toes. A part of him that missed the sight of sunlight filtering through tree branches and the cool feel of bark beneath his palm. He sometimes felt torn in two.

On this particular day, Killian felt a tug towards the forest that hugged the tiny village where they had docked. His bare feet slapped against the wet wood of the deck as he surged forward when the gangplank was lowered. But before he could descend, a gnarled hand grabbed him across the chest and pulled him back.

“And where do ya think ya be goin, lad?” snarled the Captain.

“Shore leave,” Killian answered, tilting his head back to look up at the wizened old man. He glanced over at Liam, who shook his head wearily. His brother clearly had a look of frustration on his face.

“And risk ya runnin’ off like last time? You belong to me, boy.”

“I didn’t run off!” Killian argued, his eyes darting between the captain and his brother. “I just wanted to go to the woods, that’s all. To play.”

Liam stepped forward then and wrapped an arm around Killian’s shoulder. “See, sir? He’s only nine. He just wants to run and play.”

“Run is the part that worries me,” the man scowled. “You both are my property, so the answer is no.” He stooped and fished a dirty rag from a bucket near the railing, then tossed it at the boys. “And there’s plenty to do while she’s docked. So get to it.”

Killian tried to be brave; he really did. He knew every tear he shed only made his brother’s own pain worse. But he couldn’t hold back the sniffles as he bent to swab the deck on his hands and knees.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” Liam whispered, giving his shoulder a light squeeze, “we’ll get these chores out of the way, and then the captain will have a change of heart. You’ll see.”

But it didn’t work out that way. There was always another chore to be done, and waiting for the captain to have a change of heart was like waiting for the sea to run dry. The most Killian was allowed to do was run up and down the docks and play in the tide pools beneath the pilings. Even then, the captain was there shouting for him to come back aboard before he had much chance to get a good game going or make a friend with a village child.

He also never got a chance to see her. He got a glimpse one afternoon as he played in the dirty sand, trying to catch a crab on the end of a stick. The little crustacean scuttled into the water, and as Killian watched it swim away . . . there she was. She normally wore green, but here in the surf she wore a dress of filmy white.

“Killian,” she smiled, her green eyes sparkling. But just as he straightened and went to run into her outstretched arms, he heard his name again. This time shouted from the docks overhead. He hesitated for a moment.

“Killian!! You good-for-nothing little rat! Where’ve you run off to?”

“Go on,” she told him softly, “it’s okay. I’ll see you tonight, remember?”

Killian grinned at her promise and then took off. It wasn’t as much time as they had when he’d managed to get away to the forest, but for now, it would have to do. They were setting sail this very morning.

He dashed as fast as he could down the boardwalk and up the gangplank to the ship. He was surprised when he got on board to find most of the crew gathered against the far railing, leaning over, jostling, and shouting.

“I saw her, I swear I did!” shouted the boatswain, pointing down the beach.

“What?” Killian asked, hopping up and down trying to see over the men. He ducked beneath legs to try and get closer to the railing, but he kept getting shoved back. “What did he see?”

“The ghost,” the third mate finally answered him. He was one of the few on board who treated Killian and Liam with kindness, and he hunched down to look the nine year old in the eye. “Sailors tend to be superstition. Don’t let it worry you, lad.”

“Ain’t no superstition!” the boatswain argued. When he grinned down at Killian, there was a wicked twinkle in his eye. “I seen her many times. Every port we come to, there she be, haunting the docks. One minute she be there, the next, she’s vanished into thin air!”

The third mate shook his head. “Sea foam and fog, nothing more.”

“With pretty red hair and a haunting song?”

Killian gasped at the boatswain’s description. Liam was suddenly behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder and clapping a hand to his mouth. Killian squirmed in his brother’s grip, scowling up at him.

“He gets scared real easy,” Liam explained to the crew, “so can we not talk about this?”

The boatswain chuckled and leaned towards the boys. “She’s a heartbroken window, haunting the docks for her long-lost husband. And any sailor she fancies, she grabs him and yanks him down to Davy Jones’ locker.”

The man clenched his hand in a fist right in Killian’s face to emphasize his point, and the entire crew laughed uproariously. Killian wrenched free from his brother’s grasp.

“That’s not true! She wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

The crew exchanged confused looks, and Liam rushed forward.

“My brother has a vivid imagination,” he chuckled as he pulled Killian towards the hatch that led below deck. Killian kept fighting him, even as he hauled him down the ladder.

“It’s mum, Liam! They’re talking about mum!”

“Shut up!” Liam shouted, shoving Killian so hard that he fell with a crash into the barrels of rations lining the far wall. Killian bit his lip, trying to keep back his tears as he gazed up at his brother in shock. Liam’s eyes widened, and his face went pale. “I’m so sorry, little brother, I didn’t mean to . . .”

Killian jerked away from his brother’s extended arms, turning and curling in on himself. He buried his face in the circle of his arms as the tears could no longer be held at bay. Liam reached out hesitantly and put an arm around him.

“I just can’t talk about her anymore,” Liam whispered. “You’re all I’ve got, and I can’t . . . I don’t . . . She only comes to you, and I guess I know why, but it . . . it makes me so angry!”

Killian turned towards Liam and threw his skinny arms around him. Liam was right. They were all each other hand.

Tauriel still “haunted” every port; still visited Killian in the night. But that was the last day he ever spoke of her. To Liam or to anyone else.

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

Storybrooke had become a sleepy little town in the five years since Emma and Killian’s wedding. So sleepy that patrolling was often a boring chore of traffic violations and warnings about jaywalking. Occasionally there was a truant teenager or a disorderly drunk. Emma constantly made Mayberry jokes. Which she of course had to explain to her husband.

Emma was relieved on this particular morning that the town was so peaceful. Her eyes were scanning the alleyways and sidewalks of main street as her yellow bug rolled slowly along, but her mind was elsewhere. Mainly on her husband. His hurt and sadness was completely understandable to her. In many ways his situation with his mother reminded her of those early years with her own parents. Her mind had understood why they had sent her away, but all her heart understood was the abandonment. As Killian himself had once said, the wounds of childhood lingered.

“Hello there, love.”

Emma grinned as Killian’s voice came through the static of the walkie talkie. She snatched it from the passenger’s seat and pressed the button.

“Still not using talkie code, Deputy. Over.”

His responding chuckle sounded odd through the static. “A deputy must wax eloquent when his sheriff is exquisitely beautiful. Over.”

Emma rolled her eyes although he couldn’t see her.

“And I know you’re rolling your eyes at me, Swan.”

Emma laughed at that. The way he read her was even more uncanny five years into marriage. “That’s Sheriff Jones, Deputy Jones. And I’m heading back into the station. Over and out.”

Emma set the walkie talkie down on the dashboard as she rolled slowly to a stop at the traffic light right beside the park. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red hair. There, along the tree line, stood Tauriel Jones. Her mother-in-law. The woman fixed her gaze on Emma. Emma pressed her lips together in a firm line as she pulled the bug over and parallel parked. It was eerie the way the woman could communicate with a look, and it was clear she wanted to chat with her daughter-in-law.

Actually, everything about Tauriel was eerie. The fact that she wasn’t really alive, for one. Emma was constantly calling her a ghost, and Killian was constantly correcting her. But the last time Emma checked, “not fully alive” meant a ghost. The whole “not fully dead” thing was still confusing.

Tauriel had shown up in Storybrooke about five years ago when Emma and Killian were engaged. Killian said he hadn’t seen her since right before Regina cast the curse. Emma could see in his eyes that the timing bothered him for some reason, but she hadn’t pressed him about it. At any rate, his mom showing up had thrown them both for a loop. Killian had issues with the woman, that was certain. And then there was the bomb dropped on Emma that her husband was a Dunedin.

In other words, not fully human. As in, half elf. As in, he was blessed with unnaturally long life. Neverland aside, he most likely would have lived to 200 or so and aged only slightly.

It had been a lot to take in, for sure, but nothing could shake Emma’s love for this man. She would march to the Underworld all over again if she had to. So she was marrying a man who was half-elf, so what? As Killian would tease, it was better than a flying monkey.

In all seriousness, Killian was her true love, no matter what, and she would do just about anything for him. Hence why she was walking across the park to talk to his “mostly dead” mother. She actually chuckled at her own Princess Bride joke.

“Are you laughing at me?” Tauriel asked placidly.

Killian had explained to her once that elves had little, if any, sense of humor. That was definitely an understatement.

“No,” Emma said with a wave of her hand, “I was just thinking about . . . never mind. What’s up?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t as if Tauriel had a lot of time to shoot the breeze. Elves were immortal, Killian had explained, though they could be killed in battle, or . . .

Or they could waste away of a broken heart. And Brennan Jones had been many things, but faithful sure wasn’t one of them.

“You know because of my broken heart, I am cursed to wander the realms.”

Emma nodded, circling with her hand for the elf to get to the point. “Yeah, and I also know you’re gonna get all fuzzy soon and disappear on me, so . . .”

Tauriel gave that tinkling sound that Emma had come to learn was an elf’s laugh. “Aye.” She scratched behind her pointed ear, looking so much like Killian, that it made Emma’s heart ache. He always seemed to think he was like his drunken, dead beat father, but Emma saw so much of him in his mother. “My son is hurting, Emma. And I wish to help him.”

Emma bit her bottom lip. “I know, but I just don’t know how you can fix it.”

Tauriel reached forward and grasped Emma’s shoulders. “Yes, he is still angry with me. But that isn’t what I speak of.”

Emma gasped as the hands resting at her shoulders became lighter. She could now see the red leather through the outline of Tauriel’s hand. The woman’s face fell as she realized her time was ending.

“Ask him to give you a child, Emma.”

“I can’t!” Emma cried, surprised that those panicked words were the first ones from her mouth.

“You must. You wonder why you aren’t with child yet. I can see it on you, Emma, the desire to have a child with the man you love. He must will it.”

Emma shook her head as Tauriel faded almost completely away. “What do you mean?”

“An elf must will a child into existence.”

Those were Tauriel’s final words as she disappeared completely. Emma swore under her breath and stomped her foot in frustration.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

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

“Tauriel wants me to tell her son to knock me up.”

Emma dropped the bomb on her mother causally at lunch right before cramming an onion ring in her mouth. Just as she had anticipated, Snow’s mouth dropped slightly and her fork hovered over her lasagna.

“Um . . . she said that?”

Emma laughed as she dragged another onion ring through ketchup. “Well, not in those exact words.”

Snow took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed and dabbed her napkin against her lips before responding. “Well, what was your reaction?”

Emma smiled at her mother as she took a sip of coke. She should have known her mother would respond diplomatically. She was a queen, after all. But then Emma’s face grew serious as she thought about Tauriel’s request.

“It scared me.”

Snow’s brow furrowed. “So you don’t want to have a baby with Killian?”

Emma shook her head, frustrated when tears welled in her eyes. “No, actually, I do.” Emma glanced around nervously, then leaned closer to her mother, “That’s why I went off my birth control pills.”

Snow clasped her hands under her chin. “So you’ve been trying.”

“Not . . . exactly,” Emma hedged as she carefully broke her grilled cheese into two pieces. When she glanced back up at her mother, those identical green eyes were wide.

“Emma,” her mother admonished under her breath, leaning in closer and lowering her voice to a whisper, “do you mean to tell me you went off your birth control pills without talking to him first?”

Like a child caught in a lie, Emma took a huge bite of her sandwich to avoid answering for a moment. When she swallowed, she quickly attempted to explain. “I meant to! It just . . . every time I started to bring it up, I don’t know. I got scared, okay?”

“Oh honey,” Snow replied softly, taking her daughter’s hands in hers, “you must know he wants the same thing.”

“How?” Emma asked, her eyes darting nervously, “How do you know that?”

“Because,” Snow said simply, “I have eyes. I saw how he was with Henry. I see him with the children of Storybrooke. Every kid in this town adores him because he’s putty in their hands. He’s even good with the lost boys at the convent.”

Snow took a few more bites of her lasagna, and Emma did the same with her grilled cheese and onion rings.

“He is good with kids,” Emma finally conceded, “but that doesn’t mean he wants one of his own. Besides Henry, I mean.”

Her mother shrugged one shoulder and gave Emma a teasing smile, “Well, there’s only one way to know for sure, honey. And can I be honest?”

Emma laughed nervously as she gnawed on her lower lip. “Do I have a say?”

Snow laughed too and squeezed her hand. Not letting go, she said, “Emma, sweetheart, it’s a conversation that’s about five years overdue.”

Emma sighed and squeezed her mother’s hand in return. She knew she was right.

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

Later that night, Emma exited the bathroom of their master suite, rubbing lotion into her hands as she approached the bed. Killian was sitting up against several throw pillows reading a book, but he eagerly tossed the volume aside when he saw her standing there in nothing but one of his old pirate shirts. He reached his arms out as she drew near, circling her waist. His hand slipped up the back of the shirt to rub her bare skin and his stump rested at her hip. He tilted his face up to hers, and Emma pressed a kiss to his nose. He pulled her down into bed with him, gathering her close to his chest. When they were first married, every touch went from tender to passionate in sixty seconds flat. But as the years waxed on, they had learned to cherish the moments of simple intimacy. The kind that built slowly to a deep molten heat. Not that fast and frenzied wasn’t still fun at times. But they had time to cherish now, and they luxuriated in it.

Emma enjoyed the feel of being in his arms for a moment. Then with a sigh, she sat up next to him, running her fingers through his hair as she spoke.

“I talked to your mother today.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Aye?”

Emma nodded. “She . . . just wanted to make sure you were happy.” She bit her lip, knowing she was dancing around the subject. “Are you? Happy, I mean?”

He sat up a little higher in the bed, seeming vexed about the question. “Of course I am, my love. You doubt it?”

Emma attempted to soothe him by running her thumb along his cheek and then his jaw line. “No, of course not. I just . . . I mean, it does get boring around here.”

Killian laughed and cupped her face. He brushed a kiss against her lips. “After all we’ve suffered, I’m okay with boring. Besides, I prefer to think of it as contentment with family by my side.” He searched her eyes for a moment before adding, “A family, that . . . hopefully, continues to grow?”

She swallowed. It seemed the perfect segue to the topic that, as her mother had said, was five years overdue. But what if he was only referring to Henry giving them grandkids? She decided to test the waters. Emma traced Killian’s ears with her fingertips. Biting her lip and swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she spoke with what she hoped was nonchalance.

“You know, when – if – we have a baby, I hope he has your ears.”

Killian blinked and his jaw fell open. “You . . . are you saying you want to, I mean, that you’d like . . . a baby? With me?”

Emma chuckled nervously, “Who else would I have it with?”

The silence that stretched between them had Emma so nervous, she slid down and snuggled next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his heart. Was it her imagination, or was it pounding in his chest?

“I have a confession to make,” she whispered against his skin, “I stopped taking my birth control pills.”

“You did?” she couldn’t read his voice at all, yet she was too nervous to lift her head and look him in the eye.

“Mhm.”

“How long?”

Emma let out a shuddering breath as she answered, “Two years.”

Killian’s arms tightened around her. “And you’re probably wondering why you still aren’t with child.”

Emma sat up abruptly, her turn to gape at him in shock. “That’s your response? What about the fact that I went off birth control without even discussing it with you?”

“Getting a woman pregnant has never been something I have to worry about,” Killian explained, his eyes darting about the room. “Not that I’m telling you it isn’t possible, it’s just – “

Emma sighed. “Killian, I know. Your mother explained it to me. Sort of.”

“What?” he exclaimed, his eyes finally settling on Emma’s. “That’s what she wanted to talk to you about?”

Emma shrugged. “She said she could tell that I . . . longed to be a mother of your child. Her words.” Emma suddenly found her hands twisting in her lap suddenly fascinating. “And she’s right. But she also said that it would never happen if I didn’t talk to you, which for some reason, I’ve been terrified to do.” She finally looked up, struggling to keep the tears that were rising at bay. “Do you not want kids? Because I thought when you picked out this big house, that it was sort of implied, but then time went on, and you never brought it up, then your mother tells me –“

Killian cut off her words with a swift kiss, pulling her onto his lap. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want a child with you, Emma, more than anything. I guess I was waiting for you to bring it up. I’ve never wanted to push you into anything, including this.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she slipped her arms around his neck. “How do we still suck this bad at communication?”

He laughed as he thumbed her chin, “Long years of loneliness does that to a person, I suppose. But we keep making progress, don’t you think?”

Emma nuzzled against his shoulder. “So, this whole elf conception thing . . . “

Killian’s groan reverberated against her cheek. “An elf – or in my case Dunedin – has to will a child into conception. It’s why you have no need to worry about dozens of my illegitimate children running about the realms.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “So, you do . . . what exactly? To conceive a child, that is?”

Killian shifted beneath her. “I don’t know the biology exactly. All I know is that I have to sort of let a part of myself go when I make love to you. It’s sort of like . . . giving a piece of myself away, if you were.”

“And only male elves have to do this?”

“No, a female does as well. Or both, if it’s two elves,” Killian explained, rubbing her upper arm absent-mindedly.

Emma tilted her head to smile up at him. “Which means your mother wanted you from the start, Killian. She willed you into existence. That’s pretty cool.”

He smiled softly, his gaze a bit distant. “Aye, I suppose you’re right. I never thought of that.”

Emma sat up and shifted, straddling him with a mischievous smile upon her face. “So,” she said teasingly, running her hands through his chest hair, “if you wanted a child, why didn’t you just will it before now?”

She was surprised when Killian’s face actually tinted with a faint blush. “It isn’t exactly something I could do without you . . . er, noticing.”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “Will it hurt me?”

Killian smiled a bit cockily, “Oh no, Swan. I have a feeling you will thoroughly enjoy it.”

Emma cocked her head, smiling even more broadly, “Oh really?” She leaned closer to him, her lips hovering just over his. “So, are we doing this?”

Killian just nodded, then pressed his lips to hers. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated, and soon what little clothes they were wearing had been discarded.

Killian was always an attentive lover, ever in tune to what Emma needed in order to climax. He knew Emma’s favorites, but he also seemed to intuitively know when she wanted something different. In short, the man was just plain good in bed.

But tonight was different. Emma was glad that Henry had moved out and that they had no neighbors on this corner street because she had never cried out so loudly in ecstasy. Emma couldn’t even explain the sensations that washed over her. In some ways, it was as if they truly became one person for a moment. She also saw herself in that moment through his eyes: her body incandescent and dazzling. For one exquisite moment in time, she felt what Killian felt when he made love to her, and it was indescribable.

Afterwards, Killian was trembling in a way she had never seen, and his skin felt clammy as he drew her close.

“Oh. My. God.” she gasped. “That was the most amazing experience of my life. How are there not millions of elves? I want to do that again. And again. And again.”

Killian laughed wearily. “Well,” he gasped, “that’s going to be a bit difficult on my end.”

Emma shifted to see Killian struggling to keep his eyes open. His face was pale and waning. She reached up to cup his cheek, and found it cold. “Are you okay?” she asked in alarm.

“Aye,” he gasped out sliding farther beneath the covers, “I just need to sleep . . .”

His voice slurred as he spoke, his eyes fluttered closed, and then he was fast asleep. He was like any man, ready for a nap shortly after sex, but she had never seen him like this. Her brow furrowed slightly in concern as she leaned over and kissed him gently. She rolled over to go to sleep herself, but she lay awake for a long while, her hand on her abdomen and a smile upon her lips.

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

Killian had mentioned to Emma once that elves rarely conceived children, and as the days went by, she saw firsthand why. Killian had her scared to death, sleeping for three days straight. Even when he finally woke up, it was another five days before he had the strength to get out of bed. Yet every time she went to check on him, he assured her it was normal when conceiving an elven child.

“Well,” she quipped one day as she sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back from his face, “it better have worked.”

He smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “Oh, it worked. Trust me, love. When an elf wills a child into existence, he always succeeds. You are with child at this very moment; there’s no doubt about that.”

Emma rested her hand upon her still flat stomach, a look of wonder lighting her eyes. Killian’s own eyes were bright even as they drooped with fatigue. Emma thought she felt a fluttering within, though she knew it was far too soon for that. It was only her imagination, filled with joy and anticipation.

As if he could read her mind, Killian told her, “You aren’t imagining things, my love. The babe is moving within you.”

Emma gasped in surprise. “How is that possible?”

Killian mumbled his next words as he drifted off to sleep, “Did I mention that the gestation period for elven babies is different?”

Emma shook her head at her now sleeping husband. “No, Killian Jones, you left out that little detail.” But then she felt that fluttering again, and she couldn’t really be angry. This was going to be interesting, that was for sure.

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

Dr. Whale didn’t know any more than any other doctor when it came to Emma’s very unique pregnancy. According to the books on elves in the library, an elf was pregnant for only three months. But Emma wasn’t an elf, and Killian was only half elf, so they really just had to wait and see. And so it was, that after less than six months of pregnancy, Emma gave birth to a healthy, seven pound baby girl. When she first held her, warm and squalling, Emma laughed as she traced the baby’s tiny ears.

“Look, Killian,” she told him, “elf ears.”

She was perfect.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat lotr crossover #killian as part elf

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