Changing Tides - Chapter 24
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The Betrayal and The Sword
Despite Arthur’s insistence, there is no fanfare upon Emm’s arrival. Emma’s eyes scan the crowd gathered around the round table; her father, Lance, Arthur and Guinevere, Jeff and Patricia, Ruby, Dopey; all of them watching her and Killian expectantly.
The Promethean Flame is burning bright in its case, the hilt and dagger of Excalibur lying on either side of it. Killian is to her right, their shoulders almost touching and their magic glowing warm between them.
With a steady hand, she motions to the flame and it lifts into the air until it has risen to eye-level, then she turns to Killian.
A smile blossoms on his face. “Always, darling,” he replies.
She nods to the dagger sitting in front of him while she reaches for the hilt. He slips his left arm around her waist as he lifts the dagger and holds it up, the tip of it meeting the severed end of the hilt in the exact center of the flame. Energy surges up her arm and the flame intensifies, the brightness of it causing her to turn her face into Killian’s neck to protect her eyes. The energy spreads through her body, molten heat so powerful that she’s tempted to pull away. She doesn’t, though, instead squeezing her eyes tighter and burrowing in further until she feels Killian’s fingers under her chin to lift her face. She opens her eyes as he cups her cheek, his lips curved in a sweet and joyous smile and it hits her that if his hand is free he must no longer be holding the dagger. His grin widens, like he’s read her thoughts and then, with a lift of his brow, he motions for her to look. The light is still blinding but it doesn’t so much as faze her – or Killian apparently – even though everyone else in the room has been forced to avert their eyes. The sword is whole and in her hand and it’s… It’s magnificent. Time seems to stand still while she stares, the blade shimmering and sparkling in the bright yellowish glow of light.
“We did it, love,” she hears Killian whisper and her eyes are drawn back to his. His smile tells her he’s feeling the same awe she is, then he plants a kiss on her forehead and they both turn back to the sword, his cheek pressed into her temple.
The glow fades but the sword is still shining when the others are finally able to look.
“Incredible,” Arthur whispers.
Her father nods his agreement, then makes his way around the table to engulf both she and Killian in his arms. “I knew you could do it,” he says to them. But then he turns his full attention on her, cupping her cheeks as tears well in his eyes. “Soon, we’ll have your mother back.”
He says it with such reverence that her throat closes and all she can do is nod. When he wraps his arms around her waist, she drops the sword to the table and they both laugh as he spins her through the room.
“Nothing can stop us now,” he exclaims, his voice booming with joy.
The celebration is unparalleled, wine flowing and everyone talking and laughing. Killian stands right in the middle of it with Emma at his side, accepting congratulations from all their friends. They have every reason to be joyful, do they not? It’s a great feat that has been accomplished. Excalibur is whole after centuries of being separated and now their victory is imminent.
But Killian can’t shake the feeling that something is off – something they’re missing.
Still, he can’t deny the victory of today, so he pushes the nagging worry aside and pulls Emma with him into a dance. Her eyes are sparkling with happiness, her smile brilliant with joy and he spins them through the room with the ease they’ve always had. Arthur and his wife join in, then Jeff and Patricia and Emma giggles when Ruby is bombarded with simultaneous invitations from both Lance and Merlin. Lance is the lucky winner, so Merlin turns his attention to Grace who makes everyone laugh when she drops into a deep and formal curtsy before accepting his hand.
The night goes on like that, the ladies switching partners from time to time to make up for the lack of females. Killian stands to the side to watch Emma dance with her father, then snags Patricia from Jeff while Emma dances with Merlin.
The wizard returns her to his side, both of them a little breathless as he slaps Killian on the arm and compliments Emma on her tolerance when it comes to his two left feet. Emma immediately denies his lack of dancing skills, telling him he did very well – for a man of his age.
Merlin throws his head back in laughter but Killian…
Killian doesn't know what alerts him, what instinct compels him to move. Later, he might attribute it to a glint of light in the corner of his vision, or a muted gasp that floats on the air. But right now, in this moment, his body moves faster than his mind and he pushes Emma behind him, grabbing frantically for his sword in the same motion. His hand closes on the hilt just as a sting blossoms on his neck, but he disregards it, ripping the weapon from his scabbard and swinging blindly in the direction of the apparent danger.
A dull thud sounds next to him, then there’s a harsh clang of metal that echoes through the room as vibrations zing up his arm. Then there’s chaos – a barrage of frenzied movement that his eyes can’t even register. He spins, reflexively lifting his hook to stop the flash of silver that is rapidly descending upon him.
His muscles strain, his hook frozen in front of his eyes as they finally focus, revealing the curved blade of Excalibur caught between it and his own sword mere inches from his face. King Arthur’s features appear behind the weapon, his eyes alight with madness and his face dark with determination as the two of them struggle against one another for several tense moments. The weapons teeter between them, muscles shaking from exertion, but with a rush of strength and a deliberate twist of his wrist, Killian sends the legendary weapon clattering to the floor just as a dagger comes to stop a hairsbreadth from Arthur’s throat held by none other than his most trusted knight, Lancelot.
The treacherous king raises an eyebrow when his gaze flicks to Killian’s neck and a devious smile spreads across his face, but Killian doesn't have time to ponder on that as Emma shoves past him and falls to her knees at his side.
“No!” she screams, and he follows the sound of her voice to see Merlin sprawled on the floor, his hand soaked in blood when he lifts it away from the red stain on his chest. Emma’s hands dart out to cover the injury and Killian immediately feels the spark of magic in his stomach.
“What have you done?!” King David bellows, drawing Killian’s attention back to Arthur just in time to see Emma’s father adding his sword to the dagger Lance still holds against the man’s throat.
Arthur snickers. “Why, I’ve betrayed you, Dave,” he replies with a touch of pride.
David’s brow draws together, his eyes widening with understanding. “It was you,” he breathes. “All this time, it was you. You’re the one the prophecy foretold.”
“I suppose so,” Arthur replies pleasantly.
David’s face slips into a mask of rage, his hand tightening on his sword as he takes a half-step closer, the tip of his blade pressing into Arthur’s neck. “Why?!” he demands at a shout. “Why would you do this?”
Arthur’s eyes turn cold, “Excalibur was meant to be mine! To be wielded by me!” He motions to Merlin. ”He told me it was supposed to heal MY land! He sent me on a fool’s errand to… what? Just hand it over to you? Let you and your daughter claim all the glory?”
“Glory?” Merlin asks in a strained voice, disdain dripping from the word. “Is that what you want?”
“I want what was promised to me!”
Merlin blinks rapidly a few times, obviously fighting against the pain to stay focused. “And this is going to get it for you?” he asks. “You want to go down in history as the man who murdered me?”
“It's better than going down in history as the fool who spent his life fulfilling someone else’s destiny!”
“Oh, what a disappointment you are,” Merlin croaks in reply.
“I’m the disappointment?!” Arthur rages, breaking free from Lancelot and stepping away from the group gathered around Merlin. “I’m the one who did everything that was asked of him. And what do I get for my loyalty? Both of my closest friends have betrayed me. One has stolen my destiny to hand it over to his daughter and the other has stolen my wife!”
Lancelot blanches but it’s Guinevere who speaks up. “That’s not true! It’s not like that – ”
“Enough with your lies! I see how the two of you look at each other. Do you think me a fool? But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll have what I deserve. Regina is going to reward me handsomely for this.”
“If you believe anything she said, you are a fool,” Merlin tells him, falling into a fit of coughing as soon as the words are spoken.
Emma’s body stiffens and she pushes harder over the wound, the usual warm tug of magic in Killian’s stomach shooting an unexpected flash of pain up his chest. Their magic seems to be having no effect and he instinctively drops to his knees by her side, slipping his arm around her waist in the hope that his touch will help. Her hands shine brighter and the discomfort in his chest intensifies but Arthur’s next scathing comment distracts him.
“It's no use,” the bastard chides, “a wound from Excalibur can't be healed.”
“He's right, princess,” Merlin gasps, “don’t exert yourself. It's futile.”
“No, there has to be a way,” Emma replies with determination.
Merlin’s eyes fill with gratitude and he even manages a small smile but Killian can tell he’s only placating her, especially when he next slides his eyes to David’s. “Well, I guess now we know why I could never see how this ends.”
Killian glances to David whose brow is furrowed in sympathy. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he whispers.
But Emma is not one to give up, frantically shaking her head. “No! There has to be something we can do. There has to be!”
As if to specifically contradict her words, a dense black fog suddenly appears, filtering out of the wound and through Emma’s fingers. Its abrupt and sinister appearance causes Emma to jolt away from the fallen wizard even as Killian pulls her back. The room goes deathly silent, everyone watching in horror as the eerie cloud splits into slithering tendrils in the air, coiling and twisting slowly toward the ceiling.
“What is it?” Lancelot asks quietly.
“It's my magic,” Merlin replies on a choked sound. “Looks like the legend was right.”
Once the fog stops oozing from the wound, a rush of air comes from nowhere and the cloud disintegrates, breaking into millions of tiny flecks that all blink out in the same instant.
“And that’s my cue,” Arthur speaks up, his voice much closer than it should be.
Killian whips around in alarm to find Arthur only a few feet away, his forearm closing around Guinevere’s throat. Apparently, while everyone was distracted, the retched king had slinked his way back into the group.
Lancelot immediately raises his weapon, but Arthur is too quick, putting Guinevere between them like a shield.
“Ah ah, old friend. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this flawless skin, would you?” he asks, one finger brushing against his wife’s neck.
Guinevere struggles. “Let me go,” she demands.
“I can’t do that, dear wife. You’re coming with me.” His eyes flick to Lance. “And soon you’ll forget all about your gallant knight.”
“You’ve nowhere to go. The knights – ”
“Are more loyal to Lancelot than to me. Yes, I know. But I’ve got a better way.” He pulls a potion bottle from his pocket and holds it up to show the group, his eyes triumphant as he scans the faces. With one last look at Killian, he raises an ominous eyebrow and throws the potion bottle to the floor.
Lance lunges into the purple smoke that engulfs the couple but when the mist clears his arms are empty.
There’s a tense moment of silence, no one moving an inch, but Merlin’s strained cough breaks it. Emma shoots forward, her hands already glowing again as she covers the injury. Merlin’s breathing is starting to hitch, his chest wheezing with each intake of air and Emma’s hands glow brighter with power. Killian feels it yanking at his lungs, making his own breathing difficult but he keeps his arm in place around her waist. She must be putting a great deal of effort into it because his vision blurs again and he has to balance his weight on his hook to keep from fainting dead away at the quick onslaught of dizziness that assaults him.
Merlin says something, and David says something else but he can’t make it out past the roaring in his ears. There's something wrong, he's never gotten weak or nauseous from their magic before, but now it's sending waves of pain through him, waves that start in his stomach, travel up through his chest and collide in a spot near the pulse pounding in his neck.
Without thinking, he lifts his hand to cover the excruciating pain and draws it back to find blood covering his fingers.
“Emma…” he breathes, his voice barely even a whisper as it all starts to make sense. The sting on his neck when he'd pushed her out of the way… the triumph on Arthur’s face… and the last glance he’d given him as he’d disappeared.
A wound from Excalibur can't be healed.
His stomach drops and he fights the darkness descending upon him, forcing his eyes to stay open even when his vision grays. “Love…” he tries again but he can’t get it out. With the last bit of strength he has, he grips at her waist, his fingers barely contracting on her hip just as the dark swirl of dizziness engulfs him and he collapses to the floor.
Emma’s ears are ringing, magic saturating every cell in her body. She can feel Killian behind her, his hand resting lightly on her waist, his heartbeat humming alongside her own but then…
Then, the furious beats lose their synchronization.
She feels one instant of confusion before her father shouts his name.
Even before she sees him… she knows.
Her breath stops and the most agonizing panic she’s ever felt seizes at her lungs. A low hiss sounds in her ears; a terrible, grating sound that intensifies until it pounds against her skull. Her movements are sluggish when she turns, like every muscle in her body rails against what she already knows she’s going to see.
When her eyes land on him, the scream rips through her throat, “NO!!”
The wound on his neck looks like it’s already festering, the edges of it curled and the skin raw. It’s also oozing blood, painting a crimson streak that disappears behind the collar of his black shirt. Her hand covers it immediately and she can feel his pulse working beneath the cut, each frail beat soaking her fingers in red. There’s also a sheen of sweat on his brow and he’s so pale that it makes his lips appear as red as the blood now coating her hand.
Gripping at his collar with her free hand, she shakes him with all her might. “KILLIAN!”
He sucks in a harsh breath and his eyes open, the blue riddled with pain as they land on hers.
“STAY WITH ME!” she shouts desperately, pressing harder on his neck, “YOU HAVE TO STAY WITH ME!”
“Emma…” he gasps, his eyes squinting like he's not sure if she's actually there.
“I’m here,” she reassures him, already calling on their magic again, “you're going to be fine.”
He gives a pitiful shake of his head as her palm glows, his eyes blinking several times even as he tries to raise his hand to touch her. His fingers make it to within inches of her chin before the effort becomes too much and his hand drops to his chest.
Quickly, she links her free hand with his, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of it and digging deep into her heart to gather as much magic as she can and push it into her palm. The glow strengthens but the injury doesn’t respond, another drop of blood escaping and rolling down his neck.
“It was Excalibur,” Killian croaks, his voice sounding almost apologetic.
Emma’s eyes lift to his and her stomach plummets.
This isn’t – It can’t be…
She can’t lose him now, not after everything they’ve overcome, after everything they’ve been through…
This can’t be it. Their story can’t end like this.
“It's alright, love,” he grits out, “you have everything you need now.”
“No. I need you. I can't do this alone.”
“You won't be alone. You'll have… your parents…”
His eyes slide shut and she shakes him desperately, “No! You have to stay. You have to stay. Please, Killian!”
“Take that sword and defeat her, darling. You're the only one who can.”
Her throat closes. “I can't, not without you.”
“You can,” he insists, prying his eyes open with obvious effort, “you can do anything.”
Tears cloud her vision and she shakes her head frantically to clear them.
“I love you, Emma,” he whispers, lifting his hand one last time to touch her face. The tips of his fingers make it to her chin, grazing lightly before his strength gives out and his arm falls limply to the floor, his eyes slipping shut.
Her hand leaves the wound on his neck, urgently holding it over his chest to check for a heartbeat. It's there but it's faint and she clings to it, her mind racing.
There must be a way. He can't leave her. There must be something. Her eyes dart in every direction and come to land on the legendary sword that did this and her temperature spikes. Merlin said it was selfish, he’d warned her it was greedy, and as she stares at it lying benignly on the floor a few feet away, she feels such rage that her skin heats from it.
“Don't Emma,” Merlin gasps, and Emma feels an instant of guilt because she'd forgotten all about him lying on her other side.
“It could save him,” she replies. “It could save you both.”
“But you don't know that.”
“Emma? What are you…” her father asks slowly.
But Emma doesn't answer as she continues her desperate train of thought. She needs something solid… something stronger than Excalibur… something…
Rushing forward, she nearly trips as her hand closes around the hilt of the weapon, the handle sending a shock up her arm when she lifts it and turns on her heel.
“Emma, what are you doing!?” “Emma, stop!” “You can't!”
But the sword… the sword hums as if in encouragement, vibrating in her palm. It slides easily into the sheath of the stone and she'd swear she hears a light sigh of relief. Once it's buried, she grips the hilt with both hands and yanks.
Killian fights against the inevitable, clinging to the sound of her voice. No matter what he said, he doesn't want to leave her and he combats the approaching darkness with every ounce of will he has. His consciousness goes in and out, one instant he can feel her presence next to him and in the next she's gone, then the next there’s a bombardment of shouts and yelling, enough so that he manages to force his eyes open. They're telling her not to do it; they're screaming at her to stop and Killian struggles to search the room for her, desperate to see what’s happening.
His eyes land on her and, if his body had the strength, he’s sure his stomach would clench. As it is, though, his body has no physical reaction but his brain screams in protest. She's at the stone, the sword buried half-way into it while she pulls on the handle with all her might.
She's trying to break it.
No, his brain screams, it's too valuable. You’ll need it to defeat Regina. He's not worth this.
But then their eyes meet over the hilt of the weapon and with one last jerk that has her bellowing with rage and exertion, the blade snaps in a shower of sparks.
It feels like an instant later that their magic is flowing through him again. It's warm and shimmery and it swamps every single blood vessel in his body. There's a gasp and an echo of it and then he's jolting up, sucking in a clean, fresh breath of air that fills his lungs for the first time in what seems like ages.
Emma crashes into him and he almost falls back over from her weight, his strength not fully returned yet but he manages to catch them just before they hit the ground.
“It's alright, love. I'm alright.”
Her tears soak his shirt, her face burrowed in his neck and he pushes them up into a better sitting position so he can return her embrace, tangling his hand in her hair and burying his face in her throat.
“I'm alright,” he assures her again, but she’s not letting go, she just nods into his neck while their magic burns through him, the life of it warming him from the inside out until even his skin feels hot.
Emma is nearly suffocating him, but she’s shaking so badly that he doesn’t dare move for fear that she’d not be able to sit up without his support. As to him, his strength is returning rapidly in the wake of their magic, his lungs expanding more easily with each breath. He sees a glimpse of Merlin getting to his feet, he hears some murmured words being spoken between the wizard and the rest of the group but when he tries to turn, Emma grips tighter.
“No, don’t let go yet,” she pleads roughly, “Just… I need another minute.”
His heart constricts and he crushes her closer, a rush of reverence pouring through him as he realizes just how broken his brush with death has left her. He knew she loved him – it’s not that he didn’t – but the unreserved urgency of her touch in this moment is more powerful than any words that have ever been spoken between them and it’s… well, it has him closing his eyes and basking in it, has him pressing his nose into her cheek while her fingers dig urgently into his back.
And that’s where they stay, cradled together on the floor, both of them oblivious to the conversation going on around them, both of them trying and failing to get their breathing under control. He’s not sure how long it lasts, how many times their chests rise and fall, but he’s in no hurry to end it.
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