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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 10 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 12: Eli the Elf

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

Rating: G

Word Count: 5394

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note: This fic was originally written for Fluffy Fridays in 2019

Emma collapsed onto the sofa in her living room. Being the parent of a rambunctious, mischievous three-year-old was not for the faint of heart, that was for sure. Not that she’d change her crazy life for anything. Emma loved Hope Swan-Jones with all her heart. After all the months and even years she and Killian had tried for a baby with no success, there was no doubt that Hope was their miracle, their second chance, their opportunity to be a family.

As Emma’s maternity leave had neared its end, Emma and Killian had come to the decision that they wanted to be there for and with their daughter every hour of the day. Daycare simply wasn’t an option for them, so they’d come to an arrangement: they’d trade off days. One day Emma went into the station and Killian stayed home with Hope, and the next day they swapped.

Lately, it seemed like Emma was far more tired at the end of her days with Hope than she was at the end of her days as the sheriff. Who would have thought those early months where Hope barely slept would actually end up being the easy parts of parenting?

Hope was a good girl, sweet, affectionate, smart as a whip, but she was also the daughter of a pirate. Seemed like Emma couldn’t turn around for a second without Hope making another mess or getting onto some sort of mischief.

Emma let herself succumb to sleep while Killian put Hope to bed–no doubt with a thrilling, overly dramatic bedtime story, like he did nearly every night. Hope adored his tales…and everything else about her Papa. Emma knew her daughter loved her, but there was no doubt she was a daddy’s girl.

The couch dipped beside her, waking Emma abruptly.

“My apologies love,” Killian said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Emma yawned before settling into Killian’s waiting arms. “Don’t worry about it. I was just kind of resting my eyes. Don’t want to sleep through the evening when we finally get to have a little alone time.”

Killian brushed a kiss against the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her. “I worry about you love. You’ve been so tired lately. Are you sure nothing’s amiss?”

Emma kissed him gently. “I’m fine, Killian, I promise. Guess I’m just having a tougher time navigating life as a working parent than I thought I would.”

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” she said decisively. “It’s just, we have a very busy, active toddler on our hands. I love her like you would not believe, but by the end of the day, I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep standing up.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “The lass is three now, old enough to begin to understand consequences. Perhaps we should begin discussing disciplinary tactics.”

“You know, I was thinking about that today,” Emma said, settling against Killian’s chest and resting her hand over his heart, loving the comfort his softly thumping heartbeat gave her.

“Christmas is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I thought maybe we could make use of some of the traditions to convince her to work on her behavior.”

“Swan, if you’re referring to that Santa Claus fellow, I’m not entirely sure I approve,” Killian said, voice sternly disapproving.

Emma laughed. “You are morally opposed to Santa Claus? Why?”

“One cannot seem to patronize any establishment in this town without hearing his song,” Killian said, “He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. Swan, this Santa fellow sounds like one of the worst villains we’ve faced yet.”

Emma laughed again. “Killian it’s just a song, and it’s all in fun. Kids love Santa. He’s the one who brings them presents.”

Emma could see in Killian’s face that he wasn’t convinced.

“Anyway,” she continued, “that’s not what I was talking about, not really. There’s this other tradition parents do sometimes. Called Elf on the Shelf. You get this toy elf, and the idea is that it watches the kids and kind of reports to Santa. Each night the parents move the elf, so it’s like it’s alive. The fun of it is that the kid never knows where the elf is going to show up next. Plus, knowing there’s an elf watching you, well, it’s extra incentive to be on your best behavior.”

“Are you daft, Swan?” Killian exclaimed. “This ‘Elf on the Shelf’ sounds, if possible, even more horrifying than Santa Claus! I’d rather not traumatize our daughter.”

“Would you stop being such a drama queen?” Emma asked, laughter still evident in her voice. “I promise you it’s all in fun. This isn’t some Christmasy ‘scare the kid straight’ thing. Kids love it. It brings the magic of Christmas to life.”

Killian was clearly still skeptical, but finally conceded. “Very well, Swan. We’ll try this Elf on the Shelf, but if it gives Hope nightmares, I must put my foot down.”

“Relax babe,” Emma said. “If the elf gives Hope nightmares, I’ll personally lock it in our dungeon.

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

The next morning

Killian stepped into Granny’s and made a b-line for the large booth at the back of the establishment, seeing David and Rogers already present.

After the realms had combined, Dave had suggested he and Killian get together with Rogers, as the town decided to continue referring to his alternate reality version, to help him get adjusted to life in Storybrooke. This get together quickly became a weekly thing.

Emma referred to their weekly breakfasts as the “brot3 convention.” Killian hadn’t a clue what that might mean, but the phrase brought a delighted smile to Swan’s face, and that was enough to make Killian adopt the language. There was very little he wouldn’t do to make his wife smile.

“Hey Killian! Good to see you,” David said.

Killian noted the fatigue in his father-in-law’s eyes and the yawn he was attempting to stifle.

“The lass keep you up last night?” he asked sympathetically.

David and Mary Margaret’s daughter Ava was quickly approaching her first birthday. She’d come as a surprise to the couple who’d believed their family was complete after the birth of Neal, but she was a very welcome and loved surprise.

“Yeah,” David said, and then took a bracing sip of his coffee. “She was up every two hours last night.”

“I thought you said she’d finally begun sleeping through the night,” Rogers said.

“She did,” David said, “but I think she’s teething. Runny nose, running a bit of a fever, wanting to chew on everything.”

Both Hooks nodded in understanding and sympathy. “I don’t miss those days with my Alice,” Rogers said.

Their conversation was put on hold as a waitress, wearing a festive Santa hat and necklace made of Christmas lights, took their order.

“So how about you, Killian?” David asked after the waitress walked away, “How’s everything going with your family?”

Killian frowned. “I must admit, I’m a bit concerned about Emma. She’s been so exhausted lately and a couple of times she’s gotten dizzy. She insists it’s nothing, but I’m near to insisting she visit Doctor Whale.”

“Tired and feeling faint?” David asked. “Any other issues?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Killian said, furrowing his brow. “This morning I attempted to serve her her customary PopTart for breakfast, but she insisted she couldn’t stomach it. She actually asked for boiled mackerel and grapefruit.”

“Tired, feeling faint, and with significant changes in appetite,” David listed off. To Killian’s surprise (and consternation) a grin covered his father-in-law’s face. “I think Emma’s right. I think you have nothing to worry about.”

“Other than life getting significantly busier in eight or nine months,” Rogers said with a grin identical to David’s.

It took Killian a moment to put the dots together, but then his eyes widened. “You think Emma could be with child?”

“I have very little experience with these things, my own daughter’s birth being so very….unorthodox,” Rogers said, “but it certainly seems possible.”

Killian felt the joy bubble up in him. Another child! He and Swan may have another child. It was a blessing he hadn’t even allowed himself to wish for, given the difficulties they’d had conceiving Hope.

“I suppose there was that one weekend away we had just before Thanksgiving,” Killian said slowly, “when Alice and Robin stayed with Hope. We did engage in copious amounts of intimate activities…”

Rogers barked out a laugh and David groaned, reminding Killian of just how much his father-in-law did not want to hear the specifics.

Breakfast was a joyous affair following the pregnancy speculation, the three men discussing their lives over the past week.

Killian walked home with an extra spring in his step. This Christmas was shaping up to be one of the best he’d ever had.

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

“Grandma, what do you think about putting the wreath here?” Lucy asked, holding the Disney’s Captain Hook themed wreath against their front door.

Emma laughed. “Looks great kid. It’ll get a good natured grumble out of your gramps every time he walks by.”

It was still weird to get used to being called Grandma, but Emma’s heart warmed at the thought that Henry was back to stay and that she’d have the chance to get to know her daughter-in-law and granddaughter in a way she’d missed out on over the first decade of Lucy’s life.

Lucy laughed, turning to Charming to ask him to hammer a nail for her so she could hang the wreath.

It had become a Christmastime tradition since the merging of the realms. The whole family got together to decorate each other’s houses and then have dinner together. This weekend, a mere two weeks before Christmas, it was the Swan-Jones household’s turn to host (and get decorated).

Emma took a step back, watching as her family, her whole, big boisterous extended family worked to make her home look like something out of the Hallmark channel. Regina and Zelena stood by the impressively large pine tree stringing garland, Alice, Robin and Rogers worked to make the hearth festive, Henry, Jacinda, Killian and her dad were braving the frigid temperatures outside to string lights on the bushes and the front of the house, Neal was occupying Hope in the playroom, Ava napped in the nursery and Snow worked away in the kitchen on what Emma was sure would be an amazing dinner.

It was the type of scene you’d see in one of those cheesy Christmas movies. Happy family enjoying each other’s company while they decorate for Christmas and listen to carols. It was even picture perfect outside, with the snow gently falling.

It was perfect, and Emma loved every minute of it.

While Hope was occupied with Neal, Emma grabbed the elf on the shelf, looking around for the perfect place to move him. Maybe she’d put him in Hope’s room tonight.

Emma wasn’t sure if the elf was all that effective as a disciplinary tool. She hadn’t noticed a significant lessening of mischief since she and Killian had introduced “Eli the Elf”, but Hope certainly seemed delighted in looking for him every morning.

And the joy on her daughter’s face was really what was most important, when it came down to it. It was Christmas, the time for child-like wonder.

Emma wandered into the kitchen, pausing for a moment and taking stock of her stomach. Seemed like smells nauseated her at the drop of a hat lately—one of the main reasons her mom had offered to make the meal for their get together (the other being neither she nor Killian could cook worth a damn). Emma sighed in relief when she noticed the smells elicited hunger rather than nausea.

“Anything I can help you with, mom?”

Snow turned from the stove where she was stirring something as it bubbled merrily away. “You sure you’re feeling up to it? I know how rough it can be in the early months.”

Emma gave her mom an assessing look, subconsciously placing a protective hand over her belly. “You know, don’t you?”

Snow abandoned the pot on the stove and rushed over to give Emma a warm, motherly hug. “About the baby? Your father told when he came home from the last brot3 convention. Oh Emma! I’m so excited for you and Killian! Is it official? Do you know for sure?”

Emma felt the familiar mix of anticipation, joy and fear bubble up inside her. After his last breakfast with the guys, Killian had come home with a smile on his face.

“What’s up with you?” she’d asked. “I haven’t seen you so excited since they had that buy one get one special on rum at The Rabbit Hole.”

Killian had led her to the couch. “It’s been some time since your last monthly, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…yeah. I guess I’m a few days late. Why?”

“I was talking to your father and Rogers…”

“You were talking to my father about my period?” she asked, brows furrowed.

He laughed. “Of course not, love! I merely mentioned your fatigue and appetite changes.”

“Okay…..”

“Your father…” Killian said, taking her hand, “your father raised the possibility that there could be a very specific cause for your symptoms. Love, is it possible you’re with child again?”

Emma’s eyes had widened, the possibility not even entering her mind before he brought it up.

“With child? Killian, we haven’t even been trying.”

“No, but we’ve also not not been trying,” he said. “And I can recall a few very satisfying encounters over the past few weeks that could have very well resulted in a new life…”

Snow tapped Emma on the shoulder, and Emma realized she’d spaced out, her face flaming slightly as her mind went to a few of those “very satisfying encounters”. Killian’s skills as a lover were ridiculous. She’d really hit the jackpot.

“Uh…sorry mom,” Emma said, “what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you got it confirmed.”

“No,” Emma said, thinking of the pregnancy test currently residing in their bathroom medicine cabinet. “I’m a little afraid to take the pregnancy test, to be honest.”

Snow led Emma to a chair at her dining room table and urged her to sit. “Why, honey?”

Emma shrugged. “What if it’s negative? I mean I have all the classic symptoms, and this is exactly how I felt with Hope, but….I mean, we had such a hard time getting pregnant with Hope. What if this is just some weird flu or something? Killian and I are already excited about Baby Swan-Jones #2. If it turns out he or she isn’t actually on the way…”

Snow reached over and hugged Emma. “For what it’s worth, from what your father told me, I really, really don’t think this is a false alarm, but if it is…” Snow shrugged. “Well if it is a false alarm, you and Killian can have lots of fun trying to make it a reality over the next few months.”

“Mom!” Emma said.

Snow shrugged again, a wicked grin on her face. “Remember, I know how much you and Killian enjoy…pancakes.”

Emma made her hasty exit, opting to check on the kids before her mother started talking about her own taco sessions with David.

Still, apart from the very uncomfortable thought of discussing her sex life with her mother, Snow had a point. What did she and Killian have to lose? She resolved she’d take the pregnancy test the very next day.

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

The next afternoon, around nap time.

Hope Swan-Jones was not happy.

She wasn’t sleepy. Why did Mama make her take naps? Sleeping was no fun at all! Uncle Neal didn’t have to take naps; why should she?

She’d asked Mama that one day, and Mama said it was because Neal was twelve years old. Twelve-year-olds didn’t have to take naps.

Hope wished she was twelve. Not three.

Hope glanced over at the shelf high on the wall and noticed Eli the Elf peering down at her. She stuck her small, pink tongue out at him.

“I’m not going to go to sleep,” she said rebelliously, “and I don’t care if you tell Santa!”

Hope continued to look at Eli as her eyelids started getting heavy in spite of herself. That was another thing. Why didn’t Mama and Daddy ever let her play with Eli? He was a doll just like the others she had in her play chest. Why couldn’t she play with him?

Hope knew better than to leave her bed when Mama said to take a nap, but still, she reached out her hand as though to reach for the elf. Suddenly she felt kind of funny, like there was something warm and bubbly just under her skin. She watched in amazement as a beam of white light shot from her outstretched fingers, and suddenly Eli the Elf was zooming towards her, right into her arms.

Did…did she have magic like Mama did?

Maybe she should try again.

She looked at the elf and then reached her hand out the way Mama did when she did magic. “I want you to play with me, elf,” she whispered.

The strange warm bubbly feeling happened again, and another burst of magic shot out.

Suddenly Eli the Elf stood up on his own, blinked twice and then grinned at her in a way Daddy would have said meant trouble.

“Eli the Elf at your service,” he said with a bow. “So kid, you ready to have some fun?”

Hope glanced toward the door, afraid Mama would hear. “Shhhhhh!” she said. “We’re supposed to be asleep!”

The elf rolled his eyes. “Naps are for Grinches. You’re not a Grinch, are you, kid?”

She shook her head no.

“Good,” Eli said, “so here’s what I think we should do next….”

Eli the Elf went on to outline a plan of chaos that made Hope’s eyes widen. Surely he wouldn’t dare!

She shook her head. “We can’t! We’ll get in trouble!”

“The threat of getting caught is half the fun,” Eli said, before jumping off the bed and making a dash for the partially opened door. “I’m going to do it, whether you follow me or not.”

Hope climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She had to stop him! She was going to be in so much trouble!

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

That evening

Killian closed Hope’s door and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen where he set about preparing a nice steaming mug of hot cocoa.

He had a feeling Swan would need it after the day she’d had.

Killian had come home from the station, smile on his lips and spring in his step…only to find the living room in shambles and Emma on the couch crying.

He’d rushed to her. “Swan! What happened? Are you hurt? Is Hope alright?”

Emma swiped at her cheeks and got to her feet. “We’re fine, Killian,” she rushed to reassure, stepping into his arms and burying her face in his chest. “It’s just…I’m so damn tired, and she was supposed to be napping, and I come downstairs, and…well, just look!”

Emma gestured to the living room. The bottom half of the Christmas tree was completely bare, the baubles that had previously adorned its branches were strewn over the floor, a couple of the delicate glass ones broken against the hearth.

His eyes widened. Hope had done this?

“Swan, there must be some mistake,” he said, “Hope is mischievous, to be sure, but she’s never blatantly engaged in destruction and she loves our Christmas tree.”

Emma collapsed on the couch, pulling him with her. “She was in here, Killian,” Emma said, one fat tear of exhaustion rolling down her face. “I caught her red-handed. Literally. She was holding that stupid red Santa ornament in her hand when I showed up. When I asked her what she was doing, she lied to me. Lied right to my face.”

“That doesn’t sound like my lass at all,” Killian said, his brow furrowing as he wrapped his wife in his comforting embrace. “I’ve never known her to speak a falsehood. What happened?”

“She told me…get this…she told me Eli the Elf did it! That damn elf on the shelf was lying on the ground next to the tree. Not only did she disobey me and leave her room during naptime, she somehow got her hands on the elf, went on a tree destroying spree, and then lied to me. Killian, I don’t even know what to do with her anymore!”

Emma started crying in earnest, and Killian hugged her to him, rocking her slightly and caressing her hair. “Where is the lass now, love?”

“She’s in her room,” Emma said, voice thick with tears. “I…Killian, I kind of lost my temper. I raised my voice a little. She looked so surprised and almost, I don’t know, betrayed. I sent her to her room, because apparently I can’t parent worth a crap, but I wanted a chance to cool down before I said anything else to her that I might regret.”

“Sh,” Killian said. “Emma you are a wonderful mother. Never doubt that. We all lose our temper and have moments we aren’t particularly proud of. We’ll sort this out. Together.”

He’d stayed with Emma a few more moments, holding her as she cried, and then he’d gone to have a talk with Hope.

Now, 20 minutes later, steaming mug of cocoa in hand, he returned to the Christmas carnage that was their living room.

Emma took the cocoa with a grateful smile. “How is she?”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “She’s settled for the moment, and she seems quite apologetic over what happened. What say we put this tree to rights, aye?”

“Killian, you don’t have to…” she called after him as he began gathering discarded ornaments and placing them on the tree. “I can just zap it with my magic…”

“Nonsense, love,” he said, “you’re exhausted and at your wits end. Rest, let me handle this.”

He made quick work of righting the tree as he heard Emma sigh behind him. As he worked, his brow furrowed. He knew Emma was upset after her difficult day with Hope, but he knew Emma Swan-Jones, perhaps better than she knew herself. There was something else on her mind, something else that was causing her significant distress.

Killian set the last bauble on the tree and then sat beside his wife, opening his arms and waiting for her to settle against him before he spoke.

“Swan, I know when your heart is heavy,” he said. “Share your burden with me. What’s amiss?”

“Well Hope…”

He stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips. “Aye, she’s been rather difficult today, but there’s more isn’t there?”

She glanced aside, before reaching for the small box on the coffee table and handing it to him.

He glanced at it, noting it was one of those wands that could tell if a woman was with child.

“Swan…?”

“I…I thought I should take the test,” Emma said, voice thick, “you know, to make sure we’re really pregnant like we think we are.”

“But it’s still in its box unopened.”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing aside. “I wanted to wait for you to take it, and then…”

“Then?” He prompted.

“Well I got scared.”

“Of what?” he said, hugging her to him, “what frightens you?”

She was quiet for a moment, taking the test back, and turning the box over and over absent-mindedly. “What if it’s negative?”

Killian rubbed her back in a comforting motion. “Swan, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

“But I know how excited you are already about this kid…What if…?”

Killian stopped her with a soft kiss. “Emma, I would be delighted to welcome a new wee pirate or princess into our home, but even if it doesn’t happen, even if it never happens, I will be perfectly contented. I have a wife I adore, a daughter I love beyond measure, and a step son with a family to dote upon.”

She sat up and looked carefully at him. “Do you really mean that?”

“Aye,” he said with a decisive nod. “But I can see the toll this uncertainty is taking upon you. Perhaps it’s best if we find out once and for all.”

Emma took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself for whatever was to come, and then she got to her feet, taking the box with her. “Okay, I’m going to go take the test. Wait here.”

Emma padded to the powder room off the kitchen, emerging two minutes later, pregnancy test in hand. “Okay, babe, moment of truth,” she said, handing him the small, white wand. “I can’t look.”

Killian took a deep breath and then looked down.

Two pink lines.

“Swan,” he said, smile suffusing his whole face, “it’s positive!”

She reached for the device, looking for herself before letting out a joyful shout. “Positive! Killian, we’re gonna have a baby!”

Killian got to his feet, enveloped her in his arms and swung her around, both of them laughing and crying. Emma leaned down and captured Killian’s lips with her own, pouring all of her joy and relief into her kiss. They collapsed back onto the couch, the kiss continuing as they smiled against each other’s lips.

Suddenly a shout pierced through their haze of love and happiness. A shout coming from the direction of Hope’s bedroom.

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

Hope swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks. It wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair! Eli the Elf was the one who did the bad things and she got in trouble for it.

No one believed her. Not even Daddy. Oh, he wasn’t as upset as Mama was, but he didn’t believe her either; she could see it in his face.

And he was disappointed in her. That was the worst.

She wished Eli the Elf had never come here!

As soon as she’d followed him from her bedroom and saw him about to start messing up their pretty tree, she’d tried to stop him. She’d tried to use her magic like Mama did, but it hadn’t worked. Maybe Hope sized magic wasn’t as powerful as Mama sized magic.

When her magic hadn’t worked, she’d tried to catch him and make him stop, but he was too fast for her.

He wouldn’t stop until Mama walked into the room. Then he played dead and let Hope get in trouble.

“How long you gonna let them keep you couped up in here, kid?” Eli asked from the shelf where Mama had tossed him when she marched Hope to her room. “The Christmas tree was fun, but there are lots of bigger and better things we can do to shake up this place a little.”

“Don’t you dare!” Hope growled at him under her breath. “You already made Mama yell at me and cry.”

Eli shrugged, and hopped down from the shelf, opening her drawers, rifling through, tossing toys and clothes every which way.

“You stop that right now!” Hope shouted.

The little imp ignored her, continuing on with his perusal of her things.

Hope was normally a good tempered child. She rarely got upset, but now, finally this elf had gone too far. She was not going to get in trouble again for something he did! She closed her eyes, concentrated as hard as she could and then thrust her arm toward the elf.

Hope knew her magic was working even before it shot from her fingers, the warmth and electricity flowing from her surrounded the elf, wrapping him in light magic bands, like a glowing rope.

“There!” she cried triumphantly. “Now I’ve got you!”

Eli the elf grinned. It was not a pleasant sight.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Eli said in a smug voice. “You see kid, your magic brought me to life. It can’t stop me. It can only make me stronger.”

Hope watched in horror as Eli puffed himself up until he got bigger and bigger and bigger. Soon he was almost as big as Daddy.

“Mama! Daddy!” Hope screamed, knowing things had gone completely out of her control.

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

Killian burst through the nursery door, his hook at the ready, prepared to battle whatever foe was menacing his daughter.

Or so he thought.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Elf on the Shelf not only alive but gigantic. For a moment, he stood frozen in the doorway, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide, and then he jumped into action, bursting through the door, putting himself in between Hope and her elf.

“Cygnet go! Get to safety!”

The elf laughed, knocking Killian aside as though he were merely a ragdoll. “You think you can defeat me?” the elf taunted. “You think you can…”

But before he could finish his thought, suddenly he shrunk, eyes becoming glassy, body turning back to cloth and cotton.

“Yeah, I’m sure he could have,” Emma said, stepping into the room and kicking the elf she’d just turned back into a toy, “but he doesn’t have to. I’ll take great pleasure in kicking your…” she glanced toward Hope “butt all the way back to the North Pole.”

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

Several hours later, Emma climbed into her big, comfortable four-poster bed and burrowed into her husband’s warmth.

“So, never a dull moment in Storybrooke is there?” she said, deadpan.

Killian laughed, rubbing comforting circles along her back. “Final battle won, final villain defeated, and yet it still seems there’s more excitement in this small burg than in any of the realms.”

Emma chuckled and then sobered. “I didn’t believe her, Killian. My own daughter, and I didn’t believe her when she told us the truth about what happened. What kind of a person does that make me?”

“A human being,” Killian said gently. “Her story was rather outlandish. I had my doubts as well, if you’ll recall. Hope is resilient love. She knows how much you love her, and she’s forgiven you already.”

After she’d zapped the elf, turned it back into an inanimate object and then locked it in their creepy Dark One dungeon that they kept padlocked until they could figure out how to turn it back into a normal basement, Emma had returned to Hope’s bedroom and given her a long, comforting hug, feeling her toddler sniff against her as the fear and excitement of the day slowly receded.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Emma murmured into Hope’s riotous blond curls. “I should have listened when you tried to tell me the truth.”

“It’s okay Mama,” Hope said. “It was my fault Eli comed to life.”

Hope had gone on to explain the whole story to her stunned parents.

“We really did make an amazing kid, didn’t we?” Emma said. “How did it never even occur to us that she might have magic?”

“A terrible oversight on our part, love,” Killian said, chuckling. “She’s the second generation product of True Love. Of bloody course she has magic.”

“We need to talk to Regina, have her train Hope, get a handle on this thing,” Emma said. “Magic’s great, but man can it go wrong if you don’t have it controlled.”

Killian kissed her. “Aye.” Reaching down, he cupped her still-flat stomach, caressing their unborn child in the only way he could at the moment. “What do you think are the odds this wee one will have magic as well?”

Emma groaned. “We’re in for a wild ride with two of them, aren’t we?”

Killian laughed. “That we are, Swan, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Together, this family can handle anything.”

Emma hummed in agreement, and for a moment they fell silent, and then Killian chuckled.

“What?” she asked, noting the mischievous look in his eyes.

“I think it would only be good form, love, for you to admit that I was right about the Elf on the Shelf.”

Emma rolled her eyes with a grin. “And you’re never going to let me forget it, are you?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

Emma sighed. “There’s going to be no living with you after this. I dread the moment you learn about the Easter Bunny.”

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #ce fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #eli the elf

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bardcore-jaskier · 2 years

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♡ Elder blood Jaskier headcanon ♡

(Edited post)

I actually had this headcanon for a while now, probably started tossing ideas around in my head a few days after I watched Blood Origin. Here is a special thank you to @melinoiaagesander for reminding me about it and inspiring me to do something about it as well. Seeing as I tend to be a very lazy person (executive dysfunction go brrr), I will not be writing a fanfiction unless the mood strikes and if that happens, I shall gladly fall victim to hyperfixation and shit out a 50 000 word masterpiece with very bad grammar. And no, if I do write it, I will not fix the grammar mistakes unless rereading it brings forth the fattest, most scrumptiously painful dose of cringe in my life.

So OK, here we go....

I think it is common knowledge (despite the few times I've seen posts from confused Witcher fans right after the mini series aired), that Ithlinne's prophecy was about Ciri, the Lion Cub of Cintra and the descendent of Elie & Fjall. However, thanks to a brief lapse in judgement on the production team's part, either because of the way it was shot and edited or the because of the way it was written, when Seanchaí recited the prophecy:

"The Lark's seed shall carry forth the first note of a song that ends all time, and one of her blood shall sing the last"

It came across as delightfully misleading to many of us, even if most of us quickly understood to whom Seanchaí was actually referring to. Still, my bleeding Jaskier stan heart has never felt more glee at the prospect of getting another little Netflix "oopsie" to play with! (The other one being that they forgot to age Jaskier in season 1 and then decided to not even bother for season 2)

Which is why I took my ritalin, rubbed my clammy, cold little fingers together like a cartoon villain and dug deep into the lore, to find a way to spin an intricate web of realistic and clever facts that would serve as my personal foundation for this exciting headcanon! Jaskier is another descendent of the Lark and her Witcher, he has elder blood coursing through his veins and is distantly related to Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon!

(If Netflix weren't a bunch of pussies and if a disgusting majority of the Witcher fandom weren't a bunch of gatekeeping, racist and homophobic Plot-Guardians, this could have been the coolest curveball ever! The adorable, frilly and fragile bumbling human of a bard, going from side-character to focal point.)

Let's lay down the groundwork:

(I AM SO GIDDY AAAAAHHH, somebody catch me, I think I'm gonna faint!!)

- While Witchers as we know them are sterile, Fjall is clearly not. Because his mutation process wasn't designed by a group of mages who spent a long time on optimizing the serum to better serve it's purpose. Fjall was an experimental prototype, created from desperation and a few rush-job elixirs, so his precious elf balls weren't tampered with.

- Elie and Fjall made love after Fjall's transformation, bringing the first child of elder blood into existence. Which happened ca 1200 years before the canon era that the main Witcher series is set in, meaning that Ciri has a shit ton of ancestors that predate her entire canonical family tree, all going unaccounted for.

- Jaskier, as we can obviously see, has visually not aged a single day since meeting Geralt in Posada at age 18-19 (don't quote me on this, finding a reliable info source is a nightmare). He traveled with Geralt on and off for approximately 20ish years, making him at least 40 in the Rare Species episode and at least a little bit over 40 in the Family episode of season 2. That alone has inspired hundreds if not thousands of headcanons about Jaskier not being entirely human, one of which is: Jaskier is part elf.

- And OH BOY, isn't that neat?!?!?! I mean, we see a talented young bard, whom everyone assumes to be human, whom Blood Origin's ending accidentally implied to be a descendent of another bard, an elven bard who lived 1200 years ago and had a child with an elven Witcher. That should be enough metaphorical fapping material for my brain, shouldn't it?

Not so fast....

What if instead of imagining that some long fossil type beat long dead ancestor, lost to history, somehow ended up siring a child into a family of Keracki Nobles (Lettenhove doesn't seem to appear on any map of the continent I could find, but several sources claim that it is a small Viscouncy located in Kerack).....I could instead put in some effort and figure out how to make things more interesting, how to make Jaskier's elder blood ancestor actually traceable and as an awesome bonus, make Jaskier's and Ciri's relation a little closer. Not by a lot, obviously, it wouldn't make sense, but just enough for a new dynamic for fanfiction writers to explore. Personally, the idea of it has the potential to heal my poor broken heart, I adore Jaskier so much, but the way the main 3 characters of the series have treated him until Yennefer finally grew a braincell makes me sad.

Geralt's shitty apology aside, Lambert's cranky "No" aside (yk what I'm talking about), Yarpen Zigrin's unfriendliness aside, I DID NOT enjoy the scenes in which Ciri interacted with Jaskier. This headcanon though? Oh man, if I only had enough juice in me to write something for AO3, spin some epic ass Jaskier-centric tale, sprinkle in some geraskier/yennskier/lambskier and tag it with fix-it? I would!

Back to business, this is Ciri's family tree, it has the royal family of Cintra, girlboss Calanthe is there, Ciri's mom Pavetta is there, her sick son of a bitch father too. As you can see, besides the unknown descendents of Elie and Fjall, elder blood has deep roots and it can all be traced back to these folks: Lara Dorren aep Shiadhal & Cregennan of Lod, as well as Cerro of Redania & King Vridank of Redania....however those two are of no importance to this post.

Instead of trying to squeeze Jaskier into the equation by picking some rando as far back in time as possible, I stumbled across a treasure when trying to go from the bottom up. That treasure being another direct descendent of Lara Dorren as well as Elie and Fjall, his name was Crispin!

See him there? He happens to be Queen Calanthe's grandmother's twin brother! Although his name box is blue and not red, unlike King Goidemar of Temeria, the line that leads us to him is dark red, which means he is of elder blood and bears the activator gene as well, just like his sister. Now, if one needs a sex partner with the green latent gene in order to awaken the dormant powers in this blood line (which although watered down, still is incestuous), then I am not sure how Jaskier could inherit the same powers as Ciri. I myself prefer to headcanon that since Lettenhove is in Kerack, the small Viscouncy is located near the borders of Brokilon and therefore the Pankratz family could easily have a few drops of mixed blood with one of the Brokilon nymphs.

I am not much of a biologist (despite getting good grades in it back in high school), but it does make sense to me that being at least a little bit mixed with nymph DNA could theoretically aid in strengthening Jaskier's elder blood & activator genes. Sort of like how dog breeders play God to make a better specimen for many different purposes. In Jaskier's ancestry case, I like to think that one of his forefathers got seduced by a Rusalka, found out that she used him to get pregnant and then stole the child from her and raised the kid alone, in doing so, introducing nymph DNA into the Pankratz lineage.

Back to Crispin

Crispin aep Amavet, turned out to have a rather convenient backstory!

Apparently, his mother, Anna Kameny, was married to Count Roger Kameny and less than a year before her twins were born, she had an affair with Prince Amavet of Temeria (Queen Calanthe's great grandfather and Ciri's 4x great grandfather).

So with Crispin and his twin sister Muriel the Delightful, both being children of Prince Amavet, making them illegitimate to Count Roger Kameny, their mother Anna had to fight in court three times so that her kids could inherit Roger's estate. Muriel was content with that, she didn't care that her real father was a Prince and didn't push to be recognized as Amavet's daughter. Kameny wealth and her beauty combined, she didn't have trouble finding a husband and leading a happy life.

Crispin on the other hand, knowing that he is of royal blood, proud of his elven heritage, wanted that relation validated. So he started wearing the Kameny coat of arms, which he had custom made to hint at who his real father is by adding burgundy to the Temerian lilies. This caused a MAJOR scandal, turns out his little stunt was illegal and he got his ass arrested. He payed a fine and swore to never repeat that mistake, but what did he do instead????

Yeah, he fucking did it again, enraging enemies and his own mother as well, who fought so hard for his "legality" for the Count title. After that, Crispin, as a massive "Fuck you" to everyone, joined a gang of mercenaries and referred to himself as Crispin aep Amavet. Time went by, battles were fought and eventually he just disappeared off of the face of the earth. People assumed that he died and they were glad about it...ain't that convenient?

For the sake of this headcanon, I think Crispin could have easily just gone into hiding, wandering the continent under a fake name and impregnating some Pankratz de Lettenhove lady in the process. Could have just been a one night stand and nobody would know, nobody would know that Jaskier is related to the Cintran crown, to Ciri herself, to Lara Dorren and finally to another bard, so much like himself, Ellie the Lark.

I fucking LOVE this headcanon to bits and pieces! There is so much here that one can play with! Like Jaskier's meeting with Seanchaí somehow triggering the dormant powers within him and what those powers would look like, I don't think the first sign of it would be a deadly scream. I like to think that his newly awakened chaos would somehow tie into his singing, there is so much potential here, so many ideas to explore!

In canon, Ciri is destined to destroy humanity and return the elves back to power, but Jaskier has already beat her to it a little, kick-starting the process by smuggling elves to Xin'trea.

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Sorry for editing this post 5 times, I was still working on it while waiting for AVATAR to start at the Cinema and accidentally published it in panic when the lights went out. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it and I hope that this post can be of use to you if you decide to write a fanfic about/inspired by it! :3

(Please tag me if you do, I would love to read it! May your writing process be smooth, may your updates be frequent and may AO3 maintenance not impact your creativity!)

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