#it’s also preparing arthur for the sudden reappearance of everyone he loves

[aetherdecember]

Another snippet from my Flipping the Coin au. Probably won’t make it into the actual fic, but I’ve been obsessed with these two and keep finding myself writing moments like this ^^

…

Mordred was sprawled over Arthur’s chest, with his thumb tucked in his mouth, and blue eyes serious as he listened to the story with the gravity of a judge. The two of them are slumped in their favorite armchair, the red velvet blotchy from numerous spilled drinks, sticky snacks, and misguided attempts at crafts. It was too warm for a fire, but in the dim evening, with the lone table lamp for light and the window cracked open for a breath of air, it took Arthur back to countless evenings spent in another room. One built of stone and lit only by candle flame.

Aloud, Arthur read, “Because he was the king…”

Personally, it wasn’t his favorite retelling, but Mordred had seen his name on the cover and insisted on hearing it, so he had conceded. Maybe he should’ve waited until Mordred was older before telling him that there were stories about characters who shared their names, but in these last few years, the events from long ago had been so close to mind Arthur had wanted to share it. He assumed Mordred would fixate on the sword fighting and tournaments. Instead, Mordred had picked a book that started with babies being sent out to sea.

“Two by two, he carried—“

Mordred pulled his thumb out of his mouth. “Did you really do that?”

“No.” Arthur marked his spot with a finger and ruffled the thick, black curls. Still damp from the bath, they were in need of a comb. And soon, if Arthur hoped to avoid dealing with tangles. “I never did that.” Dipping his fingers to tickle the back of Mordred’s neck, he smiled as Mordred giggled and tried to escape. “I could never.”

Sitting up, Mordred’s knobby limbs found all of Arthur’s soft spots as he settled knees first on top of Arthur’s chest. “If you had to, could you?”

“Would you,” Arthur automatically corrected.

“Would I?” Mordred’s pitch went comically high. “Nooooooo! Would you!”

Arthur gave him a look, one that Mordred immediately leaned in and mimicked with a giggle. “Would I, Arthur Penn, a man far removed from the ancient past, cast a boat full of babies into the ocean? Absolutely not.”

“What if Merlin told you to?”

He’d never had to. History hadn’t played out like that. But Arthur couldn’t tell his young son that he definitely knew it hadn’t happened because he couldn’t even explain his own past and all that entailed. All Mordred knew was that his father was named after King Arthur, so that meant he’d been named after Mordred. Because they were father and son and that was how it was supposed to be. He didn’t know that in another life they hadn’t been related and that the first time Merlin met Mordred he had helped save him.

“Nope.” Arthur popped the ‘p’. Out of Mordred’s sight, he set the book on the ground. It was time for a better story anyway. “Not even then.”

“What if Merlin did it?”

“Listen, let me tell you about the—“ He almost said ‘the Mordred I knew’ but luckily stopped. Instead, he says, “—the story I heard. It took place when Uther was still king. The first time Arthur met Mordred he was only a little boy…”

[lokiyan-blog]

Dear Ms. Mannion (2/?)

She had just finished setting the table when Patrick strolled in, a burst of frenetic energy as he hung up his coat, set down his case, and swept his wife up in a quick kiss. Apparently, Mrs. Danning's birth went well.

“A strong lunged boy. Both mother and child are strong as horses. We were all worried for nothing after all.”

“It's better to be worried and relieved than under-prepared and panicked. Now go wash up, please, before our son starves.” He kissed her lightly again, did as he was told, and reappeared at the table sans tie with the top button of his shirt undone. He tugged gently at Shelagh's apron springs and hung it on the hook.

“I'm pleased for Mrs. Danning. She puts up a strong front but I know she was worried about her age and even if she never said it, we all knew she wanted a boy. She had already sewn on blue trimming on the baby's nightdress.”

Conversation went as it always did with a meander down an article in The Lancet and an anecdote of how Trixie had awkwardly attempted to ask him for a “man's opinion” of her latest courter. Finally, Timothy rolled his eyes and interrupted yet another fanciful account of Sister Monica Joan's never-ending font of eccentric quotes. “Are you really going to call that man, mum?”

His boy so very rarely interrupted that Patrick started before turning to his wife, who had frozen with her fork a hair's breath away from her lips. She swallowed visibly and returned the fork to the plate before responding, “I haven't quite decided yet. Perhaps.”

“What man?” Patrick Turner was not a jealous man by nature. Not only did he trust his wife completely as her work brought her in contact with every manner of man, but everyone in Poplar knew his family and Tim's memory was still strong and clear in his young age. He rarely referred to anyone as anything other than their proper name. That compounded with the strange reactions – Shelagh's sudden nervousness and Tim's uncharacteristically abrasive tone toward his mother – sent a shiver down Patrick's spine.

“We ran into him while we were walking back from the shops today. He called himself Arthur and shook my hand. He said he was an old friend of mum's but mum looked like she had seen a ghost.”

Shelagh shook her head with a soft smile. “I was just shocked, Timothy. He is just someone from a long time ago. Last time I saw him, he must have been about your age.”

“Were you really friends then?” Patrick was thankful that his son was curious, for he could ask these questions without feeling as though he was prodding at a past he was never meant to know. Shelagh spoke so rarely about her life before the order and he never wished to push. Though they've come to an understanding about his old demons, the scarred over tissue was still raw and tender.

“We were. His father and my father were close friends and they worked together so his mother would watch us after school until they came home. He was more like a brother, really.” Patrick covered Shelagh's hand on the table for all the things she didn't have to say, that her own mother had passed away and she had spent many hours alone as an only child.

“He didn't seem like a brother. And he called you Shelagh Mannion.”

“Well, it's been many years. His father took another job when we were younger and I suppose we lost touch. Perhaps I will call, just to see how old Mrs. Stewart is doing. She was always so kind to me.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea. If he and his family were important to you, I'd like to meet him as well. Perhaps you should invite him to supper.” His tone was light, but Patrick could feel the lump in the back of his throat slowly expanding to choke him. Shelagh's tense nod did nothing to reassure him and he speared a bite of asparagus to wash it down.

In bed that night, Patrick turned to look at his wife. Not for the first time, he noticed the difference between the two of them, the most apparent being their age. He and Marianne had had Timothy later in life when he was well into his thirties. He had been resigned to being a bachelor doctor for life when his first wife pulled the rug out from under him and made him fall madly in love. He never expected it to happen again near ten years later.  

In the moonlight, Shelagh's face glowed an opalescent blue, smooth and unlined. Her lips were a becoming shade of pink in contrast and her long lashes cast an elegant shadow on the tops of her cheek. Though she was strong and capable in the daylight, her competencies in organization, midwifery, and nursing well known throughout their little corner of the world, she felt so delicate at times that he was afraid he would break her. He sometimes felt a complete oaf when standing beside her, unkempt, weary, and dwarfing her small frame.

Yet he loved it. He loved watching her swim in his coat when he places it on her delicate shoulders to keep off the chilled night air. He loved when she learned into him, her head fitting snugly in the crook of shoulder so that his nose could breathe in the warm scent of her shampoo lingering at the top of her head. He loved being able to lift her off her feet and place her gently on the bed as though she were a feather. He loved making love to her and covering her soft, pliant body with his own bulking mass of trembling need.

He was acutely aware that he was the only man she ever had, a fact he was sometimes embarrassed to be proud of. But he couldn't help but wonder at times if he had been selfish in his proposal so soon after she left the order. He was so certain and she had given every indication that she, too, felt the same, but she had also spent ten years in near isolation from the mere idea of the company of men. She was hardly Shelagh Mannion for a week before he asked her to renounce that name and become Shelagh Turner. She had burrowed herself into his life so nicely that he rarely questioned it. Shelagh Mannion was a woman who only existed for a season; Shelagh Turner was her true calling.

Yet she was Shelagh Mannion for years before she became Sister Bernadette. The few pieces she had given him about that part of her life barely formed the edge of this puzzle made of thousands of unique memories and experiences. They made up who she was – the way she spoke, the way she walked.

And now a man from that identity-forming part of her life has reappeared like a long awaited prince. A man her own age and, by Tim's own description, handsome and well off. He pulled her closer and, in her sleep, she nuzzled her nose against his shoulder. What would he ever do without her?

[hungrywhovianjedi]

It Hurts To See You and Him book two: I’ll Fight It for You: chapter 5

New Dark One, Killian Jones, finds himself in a frighteningly familiar situation, as he struggles against the aftermath of protecting his love. Emma Swan and the hero gang is left in shock after the sudden disappearance of the Pirate, and now must figure out how to get wherever the Dagger has taken Killian, before the darkness can swallow him whole.

Read where it all began: : Prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6chapter 7 Epilogue

IHTSYH Also on: FFN

The rest of I’ll Fight it for You: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

I’ll Fight It for You also on: FFN

read the rest of If I Never Leave: The prologue, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

If I Never Leave also on: FFN

tagging a few who showed interest last chapter: @andiirivera @the-corsair-and-her-quill @sherifffjones

as a bonus (and apology for being four days late on the update) there will be a sneak peek at the end of the chapter, for the next chapter. Happy reading!

It was amazing how quickly his day turned around. Now he stood on the hill of stones, surrounded by the people he had come to see as family, and Regina. He had made a shaky level of peace with Merida, before she ran off into the woods, after the wisp he had very nearly killed her for. It still left one thing though, well two. How did they get there? Why did they all come, it was dangerous for them all to be around him. He would never forgive himself, if he allowed something to happen to Henry, or Emma's parents while they protected him.

"Why did you all come, it's too dangerous." He voiced.

David was the one to answer him, a hand on his shoulder. "Because, you're not just the pirate, dating my daughter. You're also my friend, and I wouldn't leave a friend to face this alone. Especially when that friend is also dating my daughter."

Snow chuckled softly behind her husband, "You are family, Hook. This family, they find one another. Of course, we all came."

Regina shrugged. "I wasn't about to let Henry go into the woods without me." She told him.

Emma smiled at him softly, all of her concern coming through her expression, as she moved towards him. "I wasn't going to let you face this alone, especially, because I know you wouldn't have let me." She said gently. "I also know, you would have trusted me, no matter what, to make the right decision." She reached into her coat, and Killian had a feeling he knew what she was going to offer him. "So I want to show that same trust to you." She held out the dagger. "You should have this, because no one should have that kind of power over you."

Over her shoulder, there came a loud bored yawn. "Alright then, she's offering it to you, take it, then finish what we started." The other Emma told him.

The reappearance of the dark Emma steeled his resolve, and he shook his head.

"Take it. If anyone should be able to have control over themselves, it's you." Emma, his Emma told him voice soft and imploring.

He shook his head again. "No. It wouldn't be wise."

"Think about it Killian. If this dagger falls into the wrong hands, think of what it could do. What you could do." She said, her voice shaking, and her hand joining it.

He took her hand in his, steadying it, but making no move to take the dagger, even as it called out to him, and the dark Emma urged him to take it. "Aye luv, I am thinking about what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands. I already entrust you with my heart. I know you would never use this dagger, unless it was truly necessary. I think you should keep it, there's no telling what I might become tempted to do, if you place that dagger into my hands."

Emma took a deep breath. "You would trust me, that much?" She said, her voice held a tinge of awe to it.

Killian nodded, "Aye, but there comes a catch. If I do go out of control, if I cannot be stopped. I'm entrusting in you, that you will use that dagger to stop me, before I hurt any of you."

Emma looked up shocked. "It's not going to come to that! Because you're strong. You're going to beat this." She promised. She looked down at the dagger, and nodded. "But I promise. I promise, if it comes to that, I will stop you, before you do something you can't come back from."

"I trust you Swan. I know you wouldn't let me hurt anyone, nor would you take my will away from me." He whispered softly.

Emma had tears in her eyes, as she took the dagger back, tucking it into her jacket, and pulling him into her arms. "I won't let your faith be misplaced. I promise."

Killian leaned into her arms, inhaling her unique scent of leather and cinnamon, and he looked up, feeling the relief rush through him, as he noted the Dark Emma was gone. Chased away by the real woman in his arms.

He took a deep steadying breath, and pulled back. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you all, but how did you get here?"

Emma gave him a smile. "That, I think will be easier to show you." She told him, as she extended her hand out for him to take.

He cocked his head to the side in question, and took her hand, relishing in the warm sensation of her fingers, and the way he felt the darkness inside of him recede like the ocean tide. His Emma was pure light, just by making contact she drove the darkness away from him. So it was with a genuine smile, and shoulders feeling slightly unburdened, that he followed her lead.

The walk through the forest seemed to take no time at all, before a familiar building began to take shape before them. Killian let a small chuckle slip past his lips, as he took in the small diner planted in the middle of the forest, looking completely out of place surrounded by trees, in the land that its proprietor originated in.

"You brought… Granny's?" His voice held a disbelief, that made Emma grin. The door to the diner swung open, and Granny stormed out, going on about generators and fryers. He looked at Emma, "And Granny…" The next arrival shocked him most, as Leroy came out after, grumbling about 'terrible news' and 'onion rings' "And Leroy…"

It was Snow's turn. "You're not the villain you used to be. Just like with any hero, there's plenty of people that want to help, plus we took her diner, she wasn't about to leave us alone in it."

"Damn straight." Granny told them. "I have a week's worth of lasagna in those freezers, I'm not letting you tout it to the Enchanted Forest, without me."

Killian shook his head, still not sure how the irate, but lovable old woman, and her diner wound up being their ride to the enchanted Forest. He knew one thing though, he wasn't about to look a piece of lasagna in the face, and say no.

"I know that look, I'm not running some soup kitchen, any food you all eat, is going right on the tabs." She told them, and just as she finished, there was the sound of braying horses in the distance.

Killian found himself sidling in front of Emma, using his body to block her from the approaching men astride horses. Already he saw flashes of red from their clothing, and sleek shining fur from the backs of horses.

"Stay back!" Emma called out to everyone, she sidestepped Killian, taking up place at the front of the group.

"Swan, please." Killian murmured, a hand on her arm.

Emma looked back at him. "We don't know they're hostile."

Killian eyed the men, as their horses cantered into the clearing. "We don't know they aren't." He informed her, feeling the dark magic in him coil and prepare to strike, if they so much as drew a sword.

Emma gave him a look, and stepped forward. "Who are you?" She demanded. "What do you want?" Her voice held a cold edge, that told them, not to mess with her.

Killian felt pride well up inside of him. He knew Emma was not to be trifled with. Knew she would kick all of them back into the next kingdom if they tried anything.

The man at the front of the invading men smiled with great mirth, he held himself like a royal, and Killian knew even before he spoke, that the man was a king. "I am King Arthur, of Camelot! We have come to find you." He told them, looking down from his pristine white horse.

Killian's first thought was of the few ships he had raided from Camelot, their wares thin and lacking. Then there was whatever possible reason, the once and future king would wish to find them? "To find us?" He demanded, the sudden paranoia that it was him they were after front of his mind.

One of his guard chuckled, as though he dealt with children, making Killian silently seethe. "My lord, they seem to think their arrival is a surprise."

Snow cocked her head to the side. "You were expecting us?" She questioned, glancing at Emma out of the corner of her eye.

Arthur smirked. "It was Merlin." Killian perked at the sound of the name. Could it be, that they had already found Merlin? Despite the fact the apprentice had told him he was long lost? "He prophesized your coming. Just as he prophesized many things."

"Merlin?" Killian asked, taking an unplanned step forward, his shoulder brushing against Emma's.

"Where is he?" Emma finished for him. "We were told he's been missing…"

Arthur suddenly looked pensive, eyes cast down, something about him, drove Killian to question the man's sincerity. "He is, yes." His expression brightened, as he gave Emma an appraising look, that set Killian on edge. "But not for much longer. Because, according to his prophesy, you are destined to reunite him with us!" Arthur's gaze flicked to the others in the group, lingering for a moment on Killian, before going back to Emma. "Now, if you'll all come with us."

"Where?" Killian demanded sharply, not liking the way he eyed Emma at all. Like she was a bit of property, or some tool to be used.

Arthur gave him a level look. "Why, to Camelot, of course." He told them, as he pulled the reins and urged the horse to turn away from them.

Emma reached back and took Killian's hand soothingly, just as a whisper came from behind him, that made him shiver. "He wants to take her from you. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants. Deserves what he gets…" The Dark Emma hissed in his ear. "You should kill the king, before he makes a move on your love." She warned. He clenched his eyes shut against the intrusion of his mind, willing her away.

Emma's hand was warm in his, as she gently tugged on his arm. "Hey." She whispered. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked.

He opened his eyes, meeting the concerned green before him, and he cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, and found only Granny and the others behind him. "Nothing luv, it's nothing." He assured.

~~I'll Fight It for You~~

The kingdom of Camelot, was as grand as one would expect, well not by the state of their merchant ships, but indeed from the stories. Killian felt Emma shift her hand from its spot on his bicep, and move to clasp around his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, as the gates opened before them. Arthur led the way into the kingdom. Arthur seemed to disappear soon after they entered, but Killian worried not, as he followed Emma's lead.

They moved toward the palace that gleamed before them, and for the first time since taking this curse, Killian felt hope flourish inside of him. They could reach the palace, and set out to find Merlin, and then be home before dust could begin to settle on his ship.

The people of Camelot paused, and turned curious gazes on the group as they passed, a few women leaned forward, and whispered, pointing. Apparently their arrival had been well documented, before they reached Camelot.

"Which one do you think is the savior?" He heard a young boy whisper to his mother.

"Hush now, Oliver." The mother hissed.

Emma shifted nervously. "Gee, I haven't felt this much pressure on me, since Henry brought me to Storybrooke." Emma murmured to him softly.

"I wouldn't worry, Swan." He responded, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I still, have yet to see you fail."

Emma smiled, a small and slightly embarrassed smile, and bumped her hip with his. "Stop, you're going to make me blush."

"Now why wouldn't I wish to do that? You're lovely when you blush." He told her, and he thought he caught a glare from David, one which he promptly ignored.

Emma ducked her head, but not before Killian saw the pink tinge to her cheeks, and it took all his control not to burst out laughing.

Soon the gates to the palace loomed, and Killian felt a lump form in his throat. This was it. Soon the voyage to rid him of the darkness would truly begin. As though reminding him why he fought to rid himself of the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a severe bun, and malicious green eyes in the crowd. His own personal demon, raised a hand as they passed, and rather than wave, she blew him a kiss. He looked back down at his Emma, and clutched her hand tighter. She looked up concerned, but he had already turned to face forward, jaw clenched.

They mounted the steps, and Killian watched as the doors parted before them, and yet more horns blared. It seemed this kingdom was mostly show, he highly doubted that Snow and David had this much pomp and circumstance in their kingdom. As they entered, he spotted Arthur descending the steps, with the man that had spoken earlier beside him.

"I am so not dressed for this." Snow whispered behind them, and Killian wished he could be as jovial as she was, when a Dark mockery of Emma made a show of hanging off the King's arm.

One of the men with the horns announced Arthur, as he reached the bottom step. "Now!" Arthur began, and Killian couldn't tear his eyes from the woman on his arm. "May I introduce the loveliest creature in all of Camelot…" Arthur began.

"Or darling, you don't need to be so sweet. Emma will do." The mockery said, leaning up to kiss Arthur's cheek. Killian attempted to look away, but the image flickered and faded, as his Emma squeezed his hand gently, sensing his distress.

"My Queen, Guinevere!" Arthur finished, with a flourish as a woman in a rich purple gown stepped into view, and began down the steps. Once she reached the bottom of the steps, the entire troupe of people from Storybrooke, dipped into bows, and curtsies, though Emma didn't release him during hers.

"Your majesty." Snow greeted.

Guinevere's face was humble, as she shook her head. "The pleasure is ours." She stated gently, "We have been awaiting your arrival, since we heard Merlin's prophesy."

David rose. "Well, we hope you haven't been waiting too long." He smiled.

"Only a decade or so" Arthur said, though the good humor remained in his expression, Killian sensed there was something else there, but he couldn't place what it was.

David suddenly looked contrite, "Ah, sorry."

Arthur smiled again, his eyes glancing once more to Emma, "I'll wager, it's more than worth the wait, besides, it has given us plenty of time, to plan a ball in your honor tonight."

Killian wasn't sure that a ball was the best use of their time, he wanted to get on with their quest. He didn't need to have a dance! There would be plenty of time to dance, when he was no longer haunted by this demon! He heard the flurry of excitement flow through the people around him, and Emma gently tugged his arm.

He looked down at her, and saw that she wanted to talk to him. He sighed and allowed her to pull him to the side.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" She asked in a soft voice. "Talk to me, Killian." She pleaded, when he didn't tell her.

He Took a deep breath. He couldn't tell her about the dark version of her, then it would lead to telling her about the trip, where he saw the dark Emma… He couldn't do that to her, let her know what she almost had, but didn't because of him. He looked her in the eye, and pulled another truth from inside, so she wouldn't read a lie. "We don't have time to waste, on some bloody dance!" He hissed.

Emma rubbed her hands up his arms. "Calm down, Killian, you're not going to go dark, in one night." She assured him.

Killian shook his head, and sighed. "I'm not willing to take that chance." He told her, before he turned away. "Your majesty!" he called to Arthur, noting the disapproving glance he got from the guards standing along the wall, at his abrupt address of their monarch.

Arthur turned to him, from where he spoke with David. "When are we going to start our quest to find Merlin?" He demanded.

Guinevere and Arthur shared a look, and Killian wasn't sure what it meant before Arthur spoke. "Find him? We don't need to find him. We know exactly where he is." Arthur told them, and Killian raised an eyebrow in question. "Come, allow me to show you to Merlin."

sneak peak

Now that the euphoria had worn off, he still couldn't stop touching her, assuring himself she was there. The ends of her hair, the skin of the back of her hand, the warm leather that covered her back, every part of her that was appropriate for him to touch with the audience they held. He wanted more, but first he needed to get Arthur to leave them, and felt a wave of relief when the door closed behind the King.

Once they were alone, Emma turned to face him, and buried her nose into the crook of neck. "I was so worried, that I would never find you." She whispered, arms tightening around his shoulders.

Killian was in shock for a moment, but then clutched her closely. "You did. You found me Emma. You found me, gods know how, but you found me." He assured her.

Emma pulled back just enough to bring her lips up to his. He sighed against her lips, relishing in her taste, like sunshine on his tongue. He deepened the kiss, loving the small sounds that slipped out of her. The barely parted long enough to breathe, before they were back together, frantic in their passion. It seemed that their chaste reunion had been leading to this.

He spun them around, till he could press Emma back against the wall of their chamber. Emma pulled back with a soft giggle. "Easy tiger" She said nipping on his lip. "Don't start something, you can't finish, pirate."