#deluge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snowbellewells · 9 months

Text

CSSNS23 One Shot: “Deluge”

My first entry for this year’s @cssns23 event is a one shot based on a prompt I saw on Tumblr some years ago. A cloaked person breaks into the bookshop where the protagonist works. His glowing eyes transfix her as he grabs her wrist, baring hidden symbols on the protagonist’s arm and proclaiming, “It’s you.” (I would love to give credit to the original poster of the prompt, but I do not remember the user’s name. Whoever you were, if you see this, THANK YOU for the inspiration!)

I’m also incredibly grateful for @xarandomdreamx for her wonderfully encouraging and astute beta work, and to @eastwesthomeisbest for the TWO stunningly gorgeous pieces of story art she created for this. I love looking at both of them, and have posted one here at the start, and one in the text where the scene occurs, so you all can enjoy them both too. Thanks again to both of you lovely shipmates!!!

Summary: From the moment the cloaked stranger stepped through the door, Emma Swan's life was forever changed. She could never have imagined how much though, and that she would never want to return to the way things were before...

(This can also be found on AO3, if that is your reading preference...)

Rain poured down, beating on the roof overhead and sluicing across the windowpanes, blearing the world outside as she squinted to peer through. All day long it had been quiet and gray, the impending storm threatening to keep anyone from entering the tiny, overstuffed shop. However, despite the boredom, Emma Swan found herself still lingering past closing time, hardly anxious to brave the wind and rain that had at last been loosed outdoors.

Besides, the uninhabited silence was far from unusual; Emma spent most of her work days dusting, sweeping and tidying the stacks and shelves of the pawn shop’s open design and ostentatious displays, with little to no interruption or interaction at all. Waiting on company, from either rare customers or the proprietor himself was fruitless for the most part, so thankfully she’d never minded largely being left to her own devices, not having to bother with small talk.

She had locked the entrance door and flipped the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’ some time ago, dimming the lights as well, so that any curious passerby who might see her finishing up her tasks wouldn’t assume it meant they were welcome to shop late. With her gaze falling idly back to her hand swiping the dustcloth back and forth on the counter near the cash register, Emma sighed hoping the rain wouldn’t keep her there all night. Mr. Gold, the owner, with his superior attitude, three piece suits, and gold-topped cane, did not stop to check in often, but he wanted things tidy and precisely as he wished when he did so, and so she’d kept busy until the place shone..

From the beginning of her employment, Emma had easily sensed that the man did not run his odd little emporium for needed income; however, what she was still puzzling over some months later, was what his purpose might be instead. Nevertheless, she kept things organized and neat, and herself well aware of each item’s place, if not its purpose, whether or not it was necessary, as those who entered seemed to come already knowing what they sought. Even rarer, she turned a carefully blind eye when particular souls came desperately seeking Gold himself for something which could not be bought in stores - at which requests the man always managed to preternaturally appear.

It was strange. She wouldn’t even try to deny it. But she had felt open and exposed, on the run, for too long, and she liked the off-putting impenetrable feeling of the crammed corner shop. It felt hidden, safely ensconced and forgotten, unseen. Yes, when the gentleman himself slowly and deliberately limped in, his shrewd eyes seeing everything, he did make her more than a bit uneasy. Her skin crawled beneath the long sleeves she couldn’t help tugging at to cover her skin, if his keen stare focused on her for too long.

Still, she needed a job, and it paid well without demanding much of her. Not that she was without ambition either, but she’d had too much drifting and uncertainty in life thus far to walk away from something at least partially stable too quickly. Beyond all that, in the oddest of all ways, the things and their troubling owner, as well as the shop itself, needed her to keep watch; she felt it down to her bones.

Having finished dusting and re-alphabetizing the rare and limited edition tomes displayed in their prime location along the wall behind the counter, and with only a few lights left to douse before she had to leave and brave the stormy conditions, Emma ran her fingers rather proudly over the leatherbound and gilt-edged spines she had lined up precisely to beckon the right customers, who would know what was within their reach. As silly as it felt to care for a hodge podge of antiques, collectibles, and curiosities on a narrow, forgotten city street, she couldn’t help the pleased warmth in her chest for a moment at the sight of a job well done.

So she startled when the little bell over the door jangled with someone’s abrupt entrance, blown in with the swirl of wind and raindrops that slammed the door closed in a resounding snap behind them. Spinning on her heel quickly, and with a startled gasp she couldn’t quite restrain, Emma’s nerves jangled with alarm and awareness in equal measure at the tall form standing just inside the door, shrouded almost completely in a dripping dark green cloak. Unmoving, unspeaking, and yet holding every ounce of her attention, the being stood panting and facing her as drops of rainwater falling onto the floor made the only sound.

Her momentary fear tossed aside, Emma straightened her spine, eyes burning as she faced the intruder. She could have sworn she’d locked the door as well as moving the sign to closed, even if he had ignored honoring the common courtesy of business hours. Wary but determined, she moved carefully to the end of the counter, moving to step out from behind it and see that this trespasser moved on. She wasn’t foolhardy either though, and she held a pewter candlestick behind her back that she had picked up unseen and would not hesitate to use if the need called for it.

“I’m afraid we’re closed for the day,” she stated plainly, even if it was more of a hoarse croak than the automatic statement she’d aimed for. “You’ll have to come back during normal business hours.” Something crackled in the air between herself and the still-silent interloper, as she came to stand just a few feet before…him.

Oh, she could tell that it was a man standing before her now; that much was certain. As she’d drawn closer, she could glimpse a strong, dark-stubbled jawline partially bared by the hood haphazardly draped over his head. The large hands fisting and unclenching repeatedly at his sides, as they worked to forestall some tension, were unmistakably masculine as well.

Yet, settled as she was that it was not some unearthly monster standing before her, it did not keep her from stumbling backwards into one of the numerous bookshelves with a cry of alarm when he lurched forward toward her, grasping her wrists in a strong, inescapable grip and choking out, “Is it really you?” His voice was rough like metal being raked over gravel in its intensity. “After all this time…”

It was then that the hood fell back, exposing his full visage to her and nearly stopping her breath. There was no other possible reaction; the man before her was stunning.

Tilting her head back slightly to take him in, her eyes trailed from the disheveled dark hair standing up from his head wildly, to the thick, strong brows near black as ravens’ wings, the proud broad shoulders and lean frame practically vibrating with some energy she couldn't quite grasp, back up to the startlingly deep faceted blue eyes, glowing like twin diamonds.

Wait, no - glowing?!? Emma shook her head, disbelieving her own sight as her mouth fell open and she involuntarily tried to take another step back. There was no denying the proof in front of her. Unblinking, his eyes glowed with an unearthly light, near mesmerizing her with the effect.

As he’d swooped forward, trapping her in his grasp, Emma let out a strangled gasp. The press of his body against hers, had her coming to rest heavily against the end of one of the long bookshelves; the heavy candlestick she had hoped to use against him fell nervelessly from her fingers to the carpeted floor.

Wide and frightened, she felt as though her own eyes might pop out of her head, but she forced herself to raise them and meet his implacable stare, trying to appear unafraid, despite trembling in every limb. Clenching her jaw with resolve, Emma willed herself not to wither at his close proximity and obvious strength. Fruitlessly she tried to push him back, only to find it impossible. In truth, she hardly wanted to. It was an instinctive reaction, but as the tall frame somehow pressed closer still, his height looming over her in a way that overwhelmed but warmed her deliciously, her nerve endings tingled. Possessive or protective, Emma wasn't sure which, but she could not truly pull away, shivering as the stranger continued to stare down at her - blue eyes seeming to penetrate beneath the surface of her soul.

Shaking her head, Emma struggled to put the questions flying through her head into words, but nothing came. The sound died in her throat with a pitiful squeak she shuddered to recognize as her own. What was happening to her? Who was this man, and what did he think he was doing? As if forgetting that she was pinned between his frame and the solid barrier behind her, Emma once again attempted to step away, to gain some distance, only to be brought up short.

The man still held her wrist circled in his grip like an iron band. Her mouth went dry as he pulled it forward and shoved back the sleeve she always kept pulled down to her wrist before she could even attempt to stop him. Wordlessly, he stared at the skin he had exposed, his focus narrowing, even as she shook in fear. Her awareness was like a shock of electricity at the feel of another’s eyes on the bared skin she had hidden for so long.

This time it was the mysterious interloper who drew in the sharp breath, stunned and unsure, frozen for a second at the impact of his discovery. Emma’s eyes fell to take in the oddly beautiful markings that stole across her skin, up from the pulse at her wrist to just past the bend of her elbow, scrolling and twisting, curled around her forearm and each other like intricately inked tattoos in a pearlescent, unearthly jade. She hadn’t sought them out though; the markings had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. And though Emma felt connected to them, found them pleasantly comforting, she had learned long ago to keep them from sight. Others were troubled by them - confused, concerned, frightened or disgusted; none of the reactions she had seen were pleasant. It was easier to avoid their detection altogether, though it meant shrouding a piece of herself.

But the look in his disturbingly captivating orbs reflected none of those expected responses. He appeared almost entranced, as if he would brush each whorl of color with feather-light lips if she allowed it. It was a strange thing to think, and yet she knew it with unmistakable clarity; despite how intimate and gentle the action would be from someone so abrupt and unexpected - a complete stranger so far - she could see it in her mind’s eye.

“It really is you,” he breathed, reverent low voice whispering in her ear almost musically. “After all this time…Emma. I’ve found you at last.”

Her brow crinkled immediately, and her pulse kicked back up at the inexplicable familiarity. In her consternation, her words found a sharp voice. “What?!? Who are you? And how do you know my name? What are you talking about, ‘found me’? I’ve never met you!”

Standing up to his full height, Emma was stricken by the infinite sadness in this stranger’s deep gaze as he looked down into her face. Gently, he shook his head from side to side, and his next words escaped in a longing whisper, “Ah Lass, but you have…”

Opening her mouth to argue, Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly. Though he had released his grip and retreated a step to give her room to breathe, her visitor continued before she could interrupt.

“You do know me, Emma. You simply cannot remember.” He paused, seemingly trying to gather himself, swallowing hard and cheeks flushing a red that spread even up to the tops of his ears, which she realized were uniquely pointed where they peeked from his mussed dark hair. “This will sound like a made-up tale, but I have sought you for so long. You have been alone, and you deserve to know why.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed, focusing on his handsomely shadowed face. She prided herself on being able to read others well - to see their truth or their lies in their bearing or their expressions beyond the words they spoke. And she sensed nothing but honest sincerity in this man, making what he said next all the more staggering.

“I am Killian Jones, Captain of the Guard of the high fae court of these lands. You are fae as well, Emma, born to our people in the forests near here. You were left as what is called a changeling, with a human caretaker, when you were a mere few hours old. It happens often among our kind,” he hurried to add, seeing the shocked and hurt expression on her face. His hand rose yet again, as if to forestall anger or tears, even if she couldn’t yet believe any of his nonsensical words. She knew she had never quite fit, never known her family, but to claim she was of another species entirely?

Finally, she had to break in, catching his hand and jerking it toward her, forcing him to feel her seriousness. “K-Killian, is it?” She spoke hesitantly, though she felt quite certain she would never forget the name he had offered in that voice, or the look in his eyes, as long as she lived. “You can’t mean any of this. It’s insanity! Why would I believe you?”

Killian’s eyes fell to the floor, dropping contact with hers so completely that she felt the loss like a chill through her insides. He sighed again, the sound forced from his lungs. When he spoke, his words were the barest murmur, melancholy and pained. He raked a hand through the fringe falling over his forehead, but was gentle when he took her wrist once more, turning her hand palm up and carefully inching back the long sleeve which had fallen back down to cover her skin.

“You do not have to believe me. I realize, as I have said, that this all sounds far fetched. But I also think that, deep inside yourself, you know I’m right, that something has always been different about you, setting you apart. This is why.”

Those mesmerizing blue pools rose to envelope her again, and he seemed willing to wait for her signal, her permission to go on.

It was only once she gathered a shaky breath and gave a short nod of acquiescence that he continued. “You see,” Killian intoned, the cadence becoming a soothing lilt the longer she listened to him speak, her eyelids fluttering as he lightly traced the loops and swirls along her forearm, dancing over the veins and nerve endings in a sweet caress. “I was the one to place you in the human home. The woman and man who lived there were poorly matched. He did not care for her as much as for his own pursuits, though she had not yet seen the extent of the dark shadow in his heart. She loved books and learning and wished desperately for a child to care for, to share all her stories with and bestow her love upon. But she could not conceive. We knew she was aware of the legends and lore and would understand the gift you were, as our people often seek to leave fairy infants with humans for a time. The child is cosseted and cared for, and we return for them when they are able to live and move about the forest as the rest of us do.”

Biting her tongue, Emma forced herself not to interrupt with questions. She had always carried only vague memories of her earliest years - jumbled and impossible to put together in any kind of order. Just as she could sense he spoke the truth, she felt she was finally on the cusp of having answers, as wild and outlandish as they might appear. The story was about to take a turn, and she waited anxiously for it.

“You were placed in the home of this strange spinner and his beautiful young wife. And though he had no true interest in you, she loved you dearly. It had been my duty to choose the home, and it seemed, in watching from a distance, that all was proceeding as it should. She carried you with her wherever she went, whatever the chore, hardly letting you leave her side for a moment. Her happiness was complete in at last having a child on whom to shower her affection, even knowing she would not have her little one forever. Unfortunately, none of us realized… and I… I failed to see… the folly that was coming.”

With the cloud that passed over his sculpted features, Emma suddenly grasped the truly ethereal beauty he possessed. It would only make sense if he were not a mere mortal man. His troubled visage made her wish to comfort him, to assuage some of his clearly felt guilt. She almost told him he did not have to keep speaking, but she needed to hear the rest.

“There was an uprising. Another group of our kind, from another realm, twisted and changed by greed and thirst for power, attempted to overrun us and take our kingdom as their own. The conflict was long and bitter, and though we prevailed, fought them off, and send them back from whence they came, many good and powerful fae were lost. There was much damage and confusion. When things were at last put to rights once more, and I resumed my patrols, it was discovered that the old spinner had at last let his baser nature, his desire for strength and influence, overwhelm him. His dear wife had finally come to understand his nature and had fled from him, taking you with her. Observation told us that her former mate had gained some manner of dark magic of his own, and that he had learned of the changeling who had dwelt beneath his roof. Hurt and angry, and vengeful to a fault, he used all the means he had to seek his poor spouse - no woman should leave him as she had, he reckoned - and you… He became convinced you were the key to holding yet more magic and power in his grasp. Though we continued to keep an eye on the old scoundrel, his former wife and the fae child with her - you, Emma - seemed to have vanished without a single sign. Until you came to our attention, only recently, here in this shop. And… I had to see for myself.”

Emma felt her heart thudding in her chest so strongly that it seemed to slam against her throat, climbing up to pound and echo in her ears and blur her vision. She shook her head mutely as tears clouded her eyes. She didn’t want to fall for any of this, and yet somehow her heart recognized it as the truth. Though she couldn’t remember it all, she remembered glimpses of being rocked and held by a crackling fire, an unusual accent that she’d never heard since telling her tales in the sunlight and summer breeze. Had she possessed a mother after all? One she just couldn’t recall? Why else could she not summon anything before coming to this town some few years ago and scraping by on the streets as a pickpocket until she was old enough to seek honest employment?

Blinking the tears away, Emma looked down, only to suck in a rasp of breath in shock. The ink along her arm, that had always seemed a dark, marring emblem to keep covered and unseen, now shone with an ethereal light under Killian’s fingers. Transfixed, Emma reached out to touch the suddenly glowing marks for herself, finding the skin slightly warm, but otherwise just as it had always felt. Meeting the open, welcoming gaze of Killian Jones once more, she wasn’t sure how to respond, what question to ask first, utterly flabbergasted and overwhelmed. She honestly tried not to hold the bit of knowing swagger on his face against him, particularly when he smiled again through the pained regret which had radiated from him as he told the tale. True, he must have known her arm would light up with its strange insignia, but he had tried to prepare her and keep it as the last proof to make her see that what he told her was true.

“They’re runes, Lass. Fae symbols unique to each of us, identifying us to one another when words are not possible - or in cases such as yours when all else has been forgotten.”

Gulping down the lump in her throat, Emma aimed for gentle teasing, though the rasp of her words made them sound less playful than intended. “Cases like mine? I hope it doesn’t happen very often!”

Immediately, a furrow of worry puckered the skin between his brows, and that clear guilt and self-recrimination passed back over Killian’s face. Nodding to her in quick deference, he murmured, “Of course, right you are. I only meant… they are another way to bring a fae’s true nature to light, when all else fails…”

Releasing her arm, he turned to face the darkened street through the window outside. Emma got the definite sense he was ashamed to meet her eyes now, as if he deemed her more angry than she actually was. She was confused, surprised, uncertain, but not as upset as one might expect. She had been helpless to put the fragmented bits of memory together until he came. Her past had always been a mystery to her; who she was, where she’d come from, and where she belonged, was always a shrouded blank that she had no way of bringing into focus. It had felt as though something was missing, and now she knew why. Relief and knowledge were both coursing through her with a rush she could barely contain.

She didn’t want him to blame himself or to mourn what was long past, and before she could second guess or pull back, Emma had closed the space between them once more, laying a hand on his shoulder in a gesture she hoped would bring comfort. “Why are you taking all the blame?” she asked carefully, causing him to twist quickly, eyes full of surprise at her calm curiosity instead of harsh accusation. “The little I remember of who must have been the young woman you left me with is pleasant. I don’t know what happened to separate us, but it would seem you chose well. You couldn’t have predicted what would follow.”

Shaking his head adamantly, as if warding off her attempt to free him from responsibility, his broad shoulders rose and fell heavily while he heaved out a ragged breath. “Don’t you understand?” he ground out at long last. “I failed you. I was meant to be your guard. I was appointed to bring you back into the fold when the time came. Instead I - I lost you, and you were cut off in the world. Without your people, your heritage, any idea of who you were and what you could do. You should hate me, Emma. You have every right, and I would not blame you… I already blame myself.”

This time, when he finally turned to face her, Emma could see the moisture he would not allow to fall clouding the brilliance of his seaswept eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly she could feel the muscle working in his cheek; his conflict so obvious she was powerless to do anything other than lift her hand to stroke her fingers along the spot, anxious and needing to ease the ache. “But don’t you see?” she rejoined in equally fervent tones. “Now I know… after feeling so alone, so blank and lost, I finally see why. It isn’t just that I’m strange and unwanted; I belonged somewhere else. All this time, I was not nothing. I was never nothing. You’ve shown me that, and… while I may not understand everything yet,” she blushed, and let her gaze fall slightly to where his chest rose and fell erratically, and her other hand now toyed idly with the open collar of the tunic beneath his cloak, drawn by the warmth radiating from him despite the cool evening air around him and the lingering dampness of his clothes from the storm outside.

Killian trembled beneath her touch, eyes falling closed, attempting to hold himself back. Then, as if snapping free of the self-imposed restraint, his dark lashes flicked up, baring her to his stare once more, and he turned his head to press full, tender lips to the inside of her wrist, over the strange tattoo that had fascinated and puzzled Emma all her life. The runes, as Killian had called them, seemed to flare to an even brighter life at his touch, and she held her breath, struck by how good it felt, giving herself over to his reverent ministration.

Murmuring against her sensitized flesh, he assured her, “Of course you are not nothing. You have always been something special. Always.”

A moan of pleasure left her throat at that; his lips and his words both a long-needed balm to her heart and a heady pleasure that rushed through like a tidal wave. Pressing nearer to his solid frame, she suddenly felt as if she could not get close enough. Not unless she burrowed inside him and under his skin.

She was only momentarily surprised, and thoroughly pleased, when he flipped their positions, this time bracing her between the counter and himself and bending her back over the surface with the strength and passion of his kisses, moving from her arm and up her neck to claim her mouth ravenously. Emma had never felt such a thrill of connection to anything or anyone in her life, nothing even came close enough to compare to the tendrils of awareness mapping throughout her insides and setting her alight to a degree she had not known was possible until that moment.

Keening low in her throat, not caring how desperate it might sound, she grappled with clutching fingers to pull him closer still, to rise on the very tips of her toes, and bring her face on a level with Killian’s, aching almost to drink him in through hungry lips and be merged as one. His breath was warm on her throat as an answering chuckle huffed out of him on an unsteady gasp. Both of them were panting when the kiss broke, their foreheads resting together as each of them attempted to draw in needed air, eyes dancing with pleased mischief and happy discovery.

Her eyes followed every tiny movement he made, as Killian’s sweeping gaze raked heat along her body from the top of her head all the way down to her feet. When his tongue flicked out to trail along his lower lip enticingly, Emma felt her own copy the gesture, anxious to taste him again, and allow him to once more taste her. “What say you, Emma?” he pressed avidly, “Shall we sail away from here?”

And indeed they did. The one good thing perhaps to how long she had spent adrift was how little it took to be ready to go with him. She traveled light and had never collected many possessions she would truly miss. The offered hand and hope for answers, for companionship, for a future and a home, were enough to seal her decision well beyond any hesitation she might have harbored.

Stealing away that very night, her cryptic employer found no trace of her upon entering his shop the following morning. He’d had his suspicions of just who and what this Emma Swan he had hired might be. He had intended to lurk stealthily, watching and waiting to see if she was indeed as powerful as he suspected and how he might make use of that power. Once he had ascertained what he needed, Gold had hoped to keep her there, adding her into his collection like another of the rare trinkets in the shop she tended, a boon to be possessed. That she might well be the child his younger wife had doted on and adored so many years ago gave him not a moment’s pause. He had long believed the infant to be the reason his Belle had finally left him and so sealed her tragic fate. If this Emma were indeed that babe grown, it gave him all the more reason to see her put under glass, where her beauty and strength could benefit his aims, but do him no harm.

That she had slipped through his fingers and escaped without a trace - and taken some of his most potent, and therefore most valuable, wares in her flight - drove him to smash his shop almost to pieces in a fit of rage and tormented him the rest of his miserable long life.

But Emma at long last was free and at peace. Once she and Killian crossed the borders of that small village and passed into the deep, surrounding woods, a weight lifted from her shoulders, lightness suffusing her being in a way she had never before experienced. The scales fell from her eyes, at last allowing her to fully see the beauty of this place which had been just beyond her reach all the time.

Every cell in her body seemed to tingle. She was lit from within and fully alive. Killian beside her smiled knowingly at her expression, understanding just how she felt. Perhaps he did, to some degree. How long had he spent searching for her? Blaming himself for her loss and missing some piece of himself as well? He had always been meant to be her protector, and now at long last he had guided her back to her people, her place in the world.

When she turned to look up at him beneath the branches overhead and with fireflies just beginning to light the air in bright pinpricks around them, he took Emma’s breath away with his tender eyes and gentle touch. With the way he gazed at her, she knew as he leaned closer that the kiss he was about to bestow would be different from their previous ones - soft and lingering, but no less astounding in its effect.

The sensuous warmth in his touch and the feel of his lips on hers swept Emma up in sensations she never wished to escape; she wanted to wrap Killian around her and never let go, savoring every moment. Humming into his kiss, she placed both hands on his cheeks, caressing his face before teasing over the pointed tips of his ears and threading into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring herself to him. She knew there was so much more to learn and to see about this place - her birthright - and this man before her, but she couldn’t wait to tackle it, anxious for what lay ahead as she had never been before. She wasn��t about to let go; she would hold onto this chance - and Killian Jones - with both hands and every breath that was in her. Emma had finally found the love, the home, she had always missed, and she wasn’t about to leave it again.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @darkcolinodonorgasm @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @drowned-dreamer @xsajx @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter @xarandomdreamx @eastwesthomeisbest @goforlaunchcee

#cssns23 #cs oneshot #Fae cs au #deluge #changeling au fic

53 notes · View notes