Back in October on her birthday, I promised @kmomof4 a bday fic, and even offered up a sneak peek, but it has pathetically taken this slow writer another month to finish and post said offering. (Let’s not even talk about how long @itsfabianadocarmo has been kept waiting on the story I hoped to write for her birthday...)
At any rate, Krystal has always been kind enough to show love to my little French Revolution-set CS au, and it’s largely due to her that more than a single drabble of it exists at all. Here for her belated birthday gift, I offer at last the conclusion to “A Private Revolution”. Hope you enjoy, my lovely friend!! :)
(A link to the start of the story on AO3 can be found above ^^^)
Summary: On the eve of Revolution, when it seems his whole world is falling down around him, nobleman Killian Jones is given a wonderful reason to keep fighting for his life.
Part Four
by: @snowbellewells
Darting through shadows, over downed branches, and empty grasping limbs that caught at her hair and cloak, Emma Swan dashed as fast as she could through the obscuring forest, praying she was not making more noise than those who followed. She could hear the lumbering of their heavy boots on rough terrain, as her pursuers shouted reports to one another. It seemed to her own ears that every rasp of breath through her lips or snap of a twig underfoot was magnified in heartstopping volume, sure to be the sound which gave her away, despite the much heavier and louder sounds of her enemy in pursuit. At the moment, she could do nothing else but fervently hope that impression was a product of her own panic and not the truth of the matter.
She had just hurtled over a narrow gulley before the ground sloped upward to a higher plateau. Nearly tumbling to her hands and knees, Emma righted herself - lungs screaming in protest and painfully crying for breath. She forced herself onward, shaking the moment of weakness from her thoughts and willing her trembling legs to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The rise was gradual, and she had long since come to recognize the sign that the encampment she sought was nearing. Just a bit further, and she would be safe…
Though she had managed to slip into the revolutionaries’ base and retrieve the maps and documents they sought, Emma had known it was only a mater of time before the absence of such important papers was discovered. As if to reassure herself once more of their presence, she traced her hand over the rolled bundle she had stuffed down the front of her bodice before momentarily closing her eyes and offering up thanks to the Lord that she had managed to reach the surrounding trees before hearing the rebel leader’s voice at her back, bellowing for his men to hunt down a thief.
“Halt! You there!” a far-off voice sounded, coarse and demanding as the terrifying rabble of which its owner must be a part. The sound was nothing like the sedate and genteel tones she had heard spoken in the quiet halls and grounds of the estate they had left behind - the place which had been as a second home to her all her life. Nor did it even resemble the more raucous, but still good natured, tongue used in her family’s modest cabin on the border of Jones land. Those comforting echoes of her father and brother joking by the fireside, complemented by her mother’s laughter crinkling her lovely, rounded cheeks and warming the small space even more than the flickerings in their hearth could do, seemed further away from her present than Emma could bear. No, these calls were the war cry of the monsters who had overtaken countrymen she would once have viewed as brethren. She could hear their muffled tread along the forest path off to her right, making her skin crawl with apprehension as they seemed to gain ground despite her nearing destination.
Far from pausing as demanded, she somehow found the reserves to put on one more burst of speed. Though she could hear those voices coming frighteningly closer, the first telling the others that he had seen a flash of green which moved too quickly to have been a waving branch or grasses amid the dried browning landscape of the countryside as it edged from autumn into winter.
She was just nearing the rockface which, when rounded, led toward a frozen riverbed and beyond to the temporary base of her allies atop the growing rise, when suddenly, arms gripped her with startling force, jerking her into a hidden enclave in the rock, one that - even with her newly-acquired familiarity to the area - she had not seen, nor even known existed.
Firm, calloused fingers pressed over her mouth, smothering the angry yell that rose in her throat, and a muscled arm circled her waist tightly, immovable as steel, making escape impossible. Eyes wide, Emma fought her unseen assailant’s hold; bucking against his implacable force and clawing to break free. Until, incongruously soft lips brushed against the shell of her ear and an almost crooning tone from a voice she could never mistake, broke through her alarm. “Calm yourself, ma tigressa. Emma, ‘tis only me.”
Her body went limp with relief, collapsing against his wiry frame and the support it offered, even before he removed his muffling hand from her mouth, assured now that she no longer meant to cry out. “Killian…” she breathed, her terror melting away in an instant. On ordinary occasions she chafed at his overprotectiveness, trailing her steps to make sure she was safe, no matter how often she reminded him bluntly that she knew how to handle herself. If he were not often gone on scouting missions when she was sent into nearby towns to spy and listen for news of the insurgents’ movements, or when they needed her light-fingered touch to procure something when the bonds of military protocol did not allow such leeway, Emma knew she would have been forever tripping over Killian’s shadow as he watched over her anxiously.
But after the breathless mission from which she was returning, Emma could not deny the comfort it brought her to see him facing her, pulling her to safety in his arms as they both vanished into the unseen crevass out of their enemies’ view. Her heartbeat was still thudding rapidly against the walls of her chest, eyes wide with near-panic she quickly attempted to calm and hide. Though she had been determined to run for all she was worth, she’d not been at all certain she would escape them in time and return to see the gleaming blue depths of his eyes full of mischief and love once more.
Leaning into his steady warmth, she allowed herself the tiniest shiver of realization at how close she had come, resting her forehead against his sternum and breathing out a steadying huff of air while his lips brushed the top of her head and his arms held her, wrapping his dusky brown cloak around the both of them for further camouflage until their surroundings were truly clear.
For more soothing, silent minutes than Emma cared to measure, she huddled there with him in that break in the rocks. Little by little, the calls back and forth, the pounding of booted footsteps in pursuit, faded, moving further and further away. Still, neither of them stirred; Emma’s hands clutched tightly to Killian’s waist, her desperate hold giving away much more than she would wish. Yet, despite her lowered walls, he remained quiet, gently running his hand over her back, rocking them ever so slightly to and fro as the forest emptied to the two of them alone.
When at last she pulled away just enough to look at Killian gratefully and draw a ragged breath into her lungs, her handsome noble didn’t push, nor did he gloat. Instead, he offered her a crooked, endearing smile with twinkling eyes. “Now, now, mon trésor, missed me that much did you?”
He was allowing her to play off her fright, making light of it to put her at ease, but Emma found all that would cross her lips was the unvarnished truth. Meeting his gaze fully, she assured him, “Indeed, ma moitié. Indeed I did.”
~~~**~~~
It was well into evening by the time they once again found a quiet moment together. They had presented Liam’s superior with the maps and communications she had procured. Kudos, congratulations, and joyous celebrating had lit their camp as much as the flickering bonfire. With the newly acquired intelligence on the planned movements and targets of the rebels, it was fair to consider that they might at last strike a strong enough blow to slow the terrorizing rout plaguing their countryside. It was high time some sort of order was restored to all the innocent bystanders frightened and caught in the middle. Perhaps at last they had the foreknowledge necessary to see the work begun.
Hand-in-hand Killian and Emma made their way to a nearby clearing as the sunset burst across the sky in vibrant pink, orange, and gold. Barren and brown with fast-encroaching winter on its way, the calm and quiet of the open space, even without the tall grass and wildflowers of the field back home where they had lain under the sunlight and wide blue sky, was still a comfort. Anywhere which brought to mind the first time Killian’s tempting full lips had touched hers was welcome for how it returned to her the feeling which had fluttered within her chest as she realized for the first time that she loved him, body and soul.
Looking over at her with such warmth in his eyes, she felt that Killian must know what she was thinking and be experiencing that same fondness for the moment long ago, and gratitude that they were still together, despite how far they had come. Wordlessly, he brought their joined hands to his mouth, pressing kisses to her knuckles before loosening his grip to spread the blanket they had brought out over the ground and following her in taking a seat.
Hardpacked dirt riddled with rocks and clods was hardly ideal, nor as soft a blanket as the clover and timothy they had once enjoyed without realizing how quickly it could all be taken away. Still, Emma found herself every bit as comfortable as she lay back next to her love and gazed up at the same blue sky, despite the miles between. A sharp, biting chill had entered the air, and she shivered slightly there on the ground, but not for long, as Killian pulled her in closer to his body, wrapping the the warm material around them both. Emma gratefully snuggled further into his side, thankful as she often was, for the heat which seemed to constantly radiate from his very skin. It was almost as though the gentle warmth of his character spread throughout his physical body and she could not help but feel it when she was near him. Yet the drop in temperature made it a trait she didn’t take for granted as she tucked her head beneath his chin, resting her cheek upon his shoulder. Idly she stroked her fingertips through the hair that covered Killian’s chest where his linen shirt opened loosely at the neck, almost mesmerized by the soft feel of those dark curls to her touch.
His long, sturdy fingers eventually came up to clasp her roving hand, and pressed it to his chest, held in his own, as if wishing to keep them there in such safety and contentment despite the danger and madness raging around them constantly in the light of day.
“If only it could always be like this…” Emma whispered into the curve where Killian’s neck met his shoulder.
Hearing his wistful exhale, Emma could only huff an amazed breath when he murmured, “Aye, mon ange, if I could stop time upon this very moment, I would do so without question.” Neither of them spoke or moved for several long moments, as if holding their breath not to alert the universe to whirling and set time moving around them once more. Emma was transfixed in her lover’s sea blue gaze, transporting her as it always had to a place where she only felt cherished, safe and loved. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she studied him, blushing and almost as nervous as she had been the first time she had shared with him her true feelings. Killian was a living, breathing work of art - and she knew her desire to touch him, to drink him in, must be conveyed plainly across her features.
Whether he read her desire or it was the sight of her lips bitten and then wetted with the tip of her tongue, Emma wasn’t sure, but Killian released a pained sort of groan in his chest. The fire radiating off his body, already a flame by which she ached to be consumed, flared hotter, and as he rolled them quickly, encasing her beneath his lithe framr, she felt just what was causing his discomfort.
Naturally opening to him as his hips settled within the cradle of her thighs, welcoming him as his delicious weight pressed carefully over her - not enough to crush, but for her to feel braced, protected, and held together. She clung to his wiry arms, savoring every shift and flex as it rippled beneath her touch. Though they might not be able to remain like this always, she would treasure each second as it passed. If she closed her eyes and allowed the sensations Killian’s teeth and tongue were causing to carry her away, Emma could almost believe they had returned once more to their familiar meadow. Instead of being separated from the people and places they knew and might not see whole again, she felt as if they a part of her again. In the end, nothing else which had been lost could matter, if she still had Killian’s hand to hold and a path to tread beside him. With Killian, she would always be at home.
Tagging a few others who might enjoy, or who have read the earlier parts: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @stahlop @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @wefoundloveunderthelight @donteattheappleshook
