This event welcomes all santas old, new, santas that haven't made anything in a while, santas that have never made anything.
The gifts don't have to be fanfic or art. It can be anything from icons, gifs, playlist, fic recomendations, poem, anything! As long as its Captain Swan related/inspired and based off what your giftee likes!
SIGN UP TO BE A SECRET SANTA NOW HERE
Already signed up? Check the list twice for your name HERE
Can't be a Santa? Read about being Santas Helper HERE
SIGN UPS CLOSE NOVEMBER 26th! PAIRING GO OUT NOVEMBER 29th-30th!
Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.
I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.
I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)
Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.
Rated T I think
~2300 words
Read on Ao3
Read my Other Stuff
~~~~
Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head.
The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father.
In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested.
He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.
All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later.
And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????
Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image
Killian: What are you doing?
He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.
Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*
Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous.
Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!
Killian: That’s also where we live.
Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing.
Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother.
Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought.
Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips.
Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.
Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”
Killian: Attached: 1 Image
Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.
It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter.
Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video
Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again.
Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill.
Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese.
Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters.
Killian: I do.
Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????
Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent.
Killian: And for how that just sounded.
Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days.
Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex…
Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes.
~~~~
Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster.
Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child.
“Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose.
The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved.
“I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma.
“The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange.
She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”
“Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”
“Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them.
“It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”
Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited.
“I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his.
It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner.
Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her.
But then, she speaks.
“Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears.
“Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after.
“About the oarfish…”
He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”
“I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”
He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”
“Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”
His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly.
“If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”
Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs.
“I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times.
“I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”
“And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”
He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy.
“You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after.
“Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”
“Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”
To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family.
~~~~
I'm using my old tag list from 2 years ago. If you don't want to be tagged, I'm real sorry and let me know if I should remove you
At forty, Emma Swan is living her best life. She's happily single and owns a thriving art gallery with her best friend Elsa. And of course, there's the love of her life, her teenage son, Henry.
Since the divorce three years ago, her carefully curated life has been quiet, peaceful, ordinary. She couldn’t ask for anything more. So why does the one guy she ends up falling for have to be the rockstar her son has a poster of on his bedroom wall, whose life is nothing short of extraordinary?
The Idea of You AU
Rated: M
AO3
Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6
CHAPTER SIX
Colors bleed into one another like a masterfully painted canvas—streaks of pink and orange fading to purple as the sun dips into the horizon. Killian and I are poring over the menus in a cozy booth tucked away in a recessed alcove on the terrace, the ocean waves crashing into the shore. Twinkling lights are strung through the trees, illuminating the lush gardens. Flames flicker in the fire pits dotting the landscape, and soft music drifts through the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere.
His eyes rove over my red dress before his gaze catches mine, and he flashes me one of those heart-stopping grins that has my stomach doing a somersault. “Swan, have I told you how ravishing you look tonight?”
I manage a laugh, the familiar warmth creeping into my cheeks. “About four times already.” Twice during the car ride, once after he handed the keys to the valet and once again when we were shown to our seats. Though, neither time failed to make my cheeks heat.
“Is this place okay?”
I set down the menu and sit back, resting my hands in my lap as my eyes sweep over the alcove, taking in the fairy tale setting—a perfect blend of elegance and intimacy, with dark wood accents, plush seating and candlelit tables, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers, sea salt and delicious food. “It’s perfect.” My eyes come back to his, lips twitching into a smirk. “But honestly, you could’ve taken me to Mcdonalds and I’d be happy as a clam.”
He chuckles, a deep, hearty sound that sends goosebumps over my skin.
He thinks I’m joking.
“I almost opted for Nobu, but I wasn’t sure if you liked sushi,” he says.
My eyes widen. “Are you kidding? I love sushi.”
His smile is a thing of beauty, lighting up his features in a way that rivals the setting sun. He extends his hand under the table, seeking mine, and when our fingers intertwine, electricity zips through me. His touch is warm, firm yet tender. “Good to know for next time.”
Next time?
There goes my stomach again, doing another somersault.
I love the idea of next time.
“I should’ve known you loved sushi. Henry gets his good taste from his beautiful mum.”
A blushing smile crosses my lips, and I squeeze his hand, my heart pounding as I fight off the urge to pull him closer and kiss him. Even though we’re cocooned in a pocket of privacy within the restaurant’s lush gardens, we’re not entirely invisible. A few of Killian’s acquaintances have already made their way over, each receiving a nod or a handshake from him.
When he introduced me as his art consultant, I played along, grateful for the anonymity the title afforded me. I have no desire to become tabloid fodder, especially not when my heart is tangled in a situation it shouldn’t be. I’m supposed to be on a date with a furniture shop owner, not dining with a rockstar.
As we chat, I’m acutely aware of Killian’s hand in mine, the warmth of his skin, the strength of his grip, and I’m imagining what it would be like to be alone with him—truly alone. The possibilities send a rush of heat through my veins.
When his thumb traces gentle circles on my skin, tiny shivers shoot up my arm. The contact is tender, intimate, and I can’t help the way my breath catches just a little. Then he frees my hand briefly, making me miss his warmth, but it’s only long enough for the server to approach, jot down our orders and retrieve the menus from us.
“So, where is Henry tonight?” The softness in Killian’s voice matches the touch of his hand as he slips his palm into mine, threading our fingers together once more.
“He’s staying over at Roland’s house.” I take a sip of my pinot noir, savoring the rich bouquet of ripe cherries, a hint of spice and subtle earthy undertones. But the alcohol does nothing to soothe the fluttering in my chest.
He arches an eyebrow. “Is that the lad who was at Coachella with you?”
I nod, smiling. “Yeah, they’ve been best friends since elementary school.”
He leans back, a half-smirk playing on his lips as he watches me with an intensity that feels like it could pierce right through our casual facade. “That’s nice.” His eyes narrow slightly, a playful glint in them. “Did you tell Henry I was at your house for lunch the other day?”
I can’t help but laugh at the thought, picturing Henry’s reaction. His jaw would be on the floor, his expressive green eyes would grow impossibly wide and he’d launch into a barrage of questions, each one more incredulous than the last. “No way. He would lose his mind if he knew you were there. He’d probably also be furious with me for not including him.”
His thumb strokes the back of my hand beneath the table, a clandestine gesture that sends ripples of warmth through me. “Will you tell him you ditched your date to have dinner with me?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “No, probably not.” My fingers tighten around the stem of my glass, the truth settling heavy on my tongue. “I wouldn’t even know what to tell him at this point.” How could I possibly explain to my son that the man whose name alone would send him into a frenzy is the same man who turns my insides into liquid?
“Fair enough.” Killian squeezes my hand gently. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand answers or declarations, and I’m grateful for it. Grateful for this moment of reprieve, where I can simply exist beside him without the weight of explanations hanging over us. “You don’t have to tell him anything right now. We’re just having dinner, right?” There’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice that makes his British accent even more pronounced, a wink accompanying his words.
I smile wryly, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Right. Just dinner.”
But we both know this isn’t just dinner. Just like lunch wasn’t just lunch.
“What about Elsa?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
I can picture her now, her raised eyebrow, the knowing look she’d give me if she were here, witnessing Killian’s thumb caress mine. She would see right through our charade of “just dinner” without missing a beat.
As I’m about to respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of warm bread and a dish of herb-infused olive oil. Killian thanks him and offers the basket to me before taking a piece.
I break mine in half, dipping it into the olive oil.
We take a bite, and I savor the warm, fluffy texture as I continue our conversation. “I told her we went out to lunch but that it was only business. I think she’s on to me.” I’ll have to figure out how to tell her and Henry about Killian later. For now, I let myself be swept away by the moment, the uncertainties of tomorrow fading into the background.
“So, when do I get to meet her?”
My heart flutters, betraying my calm exterior. The idea of him meeting Elsa, facing her scrutiny, her silver-blonde hair likely to bristle like an indignant cat’s fur, is both terrifying and exhilarating. “She won’t be happy when she finds out I ditched Walsh for you. She’ll probably interrogate you to find out what your intentions are. Henry will too, just so you know.”
Killian’s chuckle rumbles through the alcove, warm and rich. “Can’t wait.”
I arch a brow. “You’re really up for that? Elsa can be pretty fierce, and Henry—well, he’s very protective.”
“I can handle it.” He flashes a smile, one that says he’s faced tougher critics than my protective entourage. “Besides, I have nothing to hide. Just ask Google.” The twinkle in his eye tells me he relishes the challenge—a man used to the spotlight, unfazed by scrutiny. Yet beneath the bravado, there’s a sincerity that makes me believe he’s not just playing the part. Killian Jones might be an open book to the world, but he’s still full of stories yet to be told. And I find myself wanting to read every page.
I smirk, my finger tracing the rim of my wine glass. “I could…but what I want to know are the secrets I can’t find on Google.”
A smile, disarming and far too charming, stretches across his lips as he leans back in his seat and rubs his chin, thinking for a moment. “Alright, here’s one—my moniker as a kid was Hook.”
Laughter bubbles up from my chest as I picture a young Killian, a boy full of spirit and spunk, bearing that nickname. “Hook, huh? Like Captain Hook? How did you get that nickname?”
His eyes, those deep pools of blue, hold mine, and in them, there’s a flicker of the boy he once was. “From a fishing trip with my brother Liam. We were out on the lake, and I was determined to show off my fishing skills. When I finally caught a big one, I thought I’d impress him by handling it myself. But as I was trying to remove the hook, the fish gave a sudden flip of its tail, and the hook ended up in the back of my hand. Liam couldn’t stop laughing, and from that day on, I was ‘Hook’.”
“Oh my God, that sounds painful.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment, but it certainly left a mark.” He holds up his free hand, showing the small scar on the back of it. “And a nickname.”
I lean in, my fingers gently tracing the rugged scar. My brows knit together involuntarily as I look up at him with a teasing smile. “That’s your big, juicy secret?”
“Well, maybe not juicy by tabloid standards, but it’s a part of me you wouldn’t find in any magazine. Liam and I made a deal long ago to not share embarrassing stories with the world. Some things we like to have for ourselves.”
I shake my head and laugh. “You know, I was expecting something more...I don’t know, scandalous?”
A playful twinkle lights his eyes as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If you want scandalous, I could tell you about the time my ex-girlfriend, Milah, a French actress, dumped me for Robert Gold.”
My eyes widen, my wineglass poised in the air before it can make it to my lips. “Wait, Robert Gold? As in the American singer and pianist?”
He nods regrettably, a shadow of some past hurt crossing his face. “Milah and I met before I became famous. She was friends with Mary Margaret, who had just started dating David at the time, and came to one of our gigs. We bonded over our love for music—she studied piano and classical music before going into acting.”
I nod, finally taking a sip of my wine.
“We kept our relationship a secret for a while.”
“But then she left you for Robert?”
“Aye.” His eyes meet mine, a storm brewing in their depths—a tempest that speaks of betrayal and heartache weathered and survived, like that of my own. “Apparently, I wasn’t mature or famous enough for her.” He lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s an edge to it that speaks volumes. “It stung, but then Midnight Moon started gaining popularity, we signed with a big record label and ended up outselling Robert in albums.” A sly grin returns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not that I was keeping track or anything.”
“Of course.” I smirk, understanding all too well the bittersweet triumph of proving oneself against the doubts of an ex.
Killian shrugs. “And it wasn’t until I became famous that Milah started reaching out to me again. But I haven’t responded to any of her calls or texts. Nor do I plan to.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Ah, becoming famous—the perfect revenge on your exes.”
He chuckles. “It really is.”
Then I think about something for a moment, recalling the last time I saw a picture of Robert Gold on social media. “But isn’t Gold like sixty?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I wince, hoping I haven’t prodded a tender wound too harshly. “Not that I’m one to judge someone’s age,” I add quickly.
“Aye, he is. But Milah…she’s a bit older than me. Thirty, to be exact. At the time we were dating, I was eighteen and she was twenty-four.”
I laugh, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “So, you have a type?”
“A type?” He shakes his head. “Not really. I actually liked Milah.” His expression softens as he leans in even closer, the distance between us diminishing further, and I’m caught in the gravitational pull. “But now I find myself drawn to blondes with eyes the color of emeralds.” He meets my gaze with a twinkle in his eye. “Okay, that’s a lie, there’s only one blonde—one woman—I’m interested in.”
My heart doesn’t just skip a beat—it falters, flutters, then thunders back to life with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. A wave of warmth cascades through me, pooling in my stomach and spreading to the tips of my fingers intertwined with his. His thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand.
“I hope I didn’t offend you that day at Coachella by mistaking you for Henry’s older sister.” He chuckles at himself. “I genuinely thought you were.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “No, not at all. I took it as a compliment.”
“Good. But don’t worry, I won’t ask how old you are because it’s impolite and also because it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, I just turned forty last month,” I admit, my cheeks heating. “Ready to run yet?” I ask, afraid he might think of me as a middle-aged woman clinging to the fringes of her youth.
He doesn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not.” He graces me with a reassuring smile, his eyes full of warmth. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me.”
My eyes lock with his, and I find myself ensnared in his cerulean depths that seem to hold galaxies of unspoken words. The air between us crackles, each second stretched taut with anticipation. I can’t help but wonder where the night will take us, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I just want to enjoy our time together, no matter how it ends.
Our server returns with sautéed lump crab cakes and a watermelon salad with feta and mint. After he leaves, we eat our food, falling back into easy conversation.
“My favorite place as a kid was this old lighthouse near our home,” Killian replies when I ask him about his childhood. “There was something about it—standing tall and resilient against the chaos of the sea. It always made me feel safe when I was inside it, like it could weather any storm. And now, I feel like that lighthouse sometimes. Trying to survive all the crowds and chaos. Trying to survive the storm.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing against my heart and leaving me speechless. His metaphor is profound, striking a chord deep within me. “That’s so beautiful,” I breathe, my voice almost a whisper. “I mean, it’s beautifully put. And I can definitely see how you would feel like a lighthouse braving the storm in your line of work. I could never do what you do. And you make it look so easy.”
He blushes, his lips quirking up into a smile. “Thank you, love.” He squeezes my hand, the tips of his ears just as red as his cheeks. “The lighthouse actually inspired a song I’m writing.”
My curiosity is piqued. “I’d love to hear it.”
“It’s still a work in progress. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll share it with the band. It’s something I wrote for myself.”
I nod. “I get that. Some things are just too personal to share. But if you ever feel like letting someone else hear it, I’d be honored.”
His eyes soften. “That means a lot. Maybe one day, I’ll play it for you.”
“Whenever you’re ready.” I find myself even more drawn to him, wanting to pick the creative part of his brain, the artistic side of him. “So, is that where you did most of your writing? When you were at the lighthouse?”
He chuckles, scratching behind his ear. “Actually, no. I do my best writing when I have the telly on in the background and an electric guitar in my hands. If someone saw me, they would think I was watching the telly while playing the guitar, but what I’m actually doing is coming up with song lyrics. Something about the noise helps me focus.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s so funny. That’s exactly how Henry does his homework. He always has the TV on, his laptop in front of him and his music blaring—your music blaring. But me? I can’t think if there’s a fan humming in the background. I need complete silence to concentrate.”
He nods, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “What about you, Emma? What was your childhood like?”
I take a deep breath, smiling softly as memories flood back. “Well, I grew up in a small town. My childhood was pretty normal, I guess. My parents were always supportive, but they were also pretty strict.” Their expectations were like the masterpieces they so loved—to be protected and preserved. “My father’s an art history professor at Harvard. My mother was a curator. She’s retired now.”
“Art is the family business, then?” he asks, a half-smile playing on his lips.
“Sort of, yes.” My answer comes out softer than intended, a hint of nostalgia threading through the words. “Their worlds revolved around art, and I got swept up in it long before I knew how to walk.”
“Did you attend Harvard?”
“I went to Brown. Then Columbia for my master’s.”
“Brown and Columbia,” he muses, lips curling into a smile. “That’s quite impressive, Swan.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Thank you,” I murmur, the words almost lost to the soft music.
“Did that piss off the professor?” His eyebrow arches in playful curiosity, his voice low and smooth. “Not going to Harvard?”
“A little.” A smile finds its way to my lips at the memory of my father’s stunned silence when I told him about Brown. It had been my first step out of his shadow, my own declaration of independence.
Killian’s eyes lock with mine, gleaming with mirth and something more—understanding, perhaps. He gets it, the need to forge one’s path, even if it means disappointing those we love. He knows what it’s like to choose the unexpected road, to chase a dream no one else can see but you. “Probably not as much as blowing off Cambridge to join a rock band.”
I laugh. “No, probably not.”
Once our glasses are empty, he refills them from the bottle chilling in ice. “Did you have a favorite place as a kid? Somewhere you could hide from your parents?”
I nod. “I loved spending time outdoors, exploring the woods and fields near our house. And there was this old oak tree I used to climb up and sit on one of the sturdy branches, sketching the landscape. I was always drawing—anything and everything. ”
His eyes light up. “You draw?”
I nod, my cheeks warming. “I do.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, Swan. Can I see some of your work?”
“Maybe someday. I haven’t drawn much lately, though. Running the gallery keeps me pretty busy.”
He eyes me thoughtfully. “You should make time for it. It’s important to keep doing what you love.”
His words hit me with an unexpected force, and I smile. “I’ll have more time this summer. Henry’s going to camp next month at Jameson Ranch.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he goes there every year. He loves everything there, the horseback riding, the rock climbing, the archery. I waited for the year when he’d say he’s too old, but it never happened. Now, this is his last year.”
“Sounds like an amazing camp.”
I nod. “It really is. I’m glad he gets to enjoy it one last time before he graduates next year.”
“Does he have any plans after graduation?”
I chuckle, lightly teasing, “Hopefully, they don’t include ditching college to start a rock band.” I raise an eyebrow playfully at Killian, who feigns offense, his hand over his heart in mock hurt.
“I’m kidding. Honestly, I’d be proud of him no matter what he does after high school.”
He smiles, taking a sip of his wine.
“But to answer your question, he’s been talking about going to LA Film School.”
Killian raises his brows, his eyes lighting up like the stars that have begun to pepper the evening sky. “Film school? Sounds exciting.”
“Yeah. He’s always had a knack for storytelling.”
“I bet he’ll do amazing. And how do you feel about him moving away for school?”
“I’ll hate it,” I admit with a laugh. “But I want him to pursue his dreams. Besides, he won’t be too far.”
“He can always come back during breaks and summers,” Killian reassures me with a nod.
“Yeah, it’ll be an adjustment, but I’m sure he’ll be ready to get out on his own and not have to live with his mom anymore.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure he’ll miss you like crazy when he’s gone.”
The waiter arrives with our entrées—herb-crusted salmon for Killian and a ribeye steak for me.
As we take our first bites, the flavors burst on my tongue—rich and perfectly seasoned, a hum of contentment escaping my lips.
Killian watches me with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Good, isn’t it?”
“Delicious.”
We eat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, stealing glances between bites.
“So, Henry and film school,” Killian says, returning to our earlier conversation. “Do you think he knows what kind of films he wants to make?”
I take a sip of my wine, loving the fact he’s asking about Henry and not just me. And even though I easily got bored listening to Walsh go on about his furniture shop, I’d be happy if Killian only spoke about himself. I could listen to him talk all day. “He’s still figuring that out, but he loves sci-fi and fantasy.”
Killian nods and smiles. “Ah, my favorite genres.” He takes another bite of his fish. “Oh, and by the way, I Googled that Ghost scene you were telling me about.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“I just have one question.” He holds up a finger, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Do potters always stroke the mold like that when throwing?”
I almost choke on my wine and laugh. “Uh, no. I think they were going for a steamy scene without going all pornographic.”
He chuckles, his cheeks red. “I figured as much.”
Finally, we’re served crème brûlée for dessert. The top is perfectly caramelized, with a thin, crisp layer of sugar that cracks under the spoon to reveal the creamy custard underneath.
I take my first bite and let out a small moan. The combination of the crunchy caramel top and the smooth vanilla custard is heavenly. I feed him a bite, and the way his eyes roll back, the rough groan he makes, sends heat to my core. I have to squeeze my thighs together to curb the temptation to have him for my dessert. At least for now, while we’re in public.
When the bill is paid, there’s a knot of dread in my stomach at the thought our evening might be drawing to a close soon.
Killian moves closer to me, his voice low and husky. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” My stomach flutters with nerves at the prospect of what his question might be.
“Please, feel free to say no if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure here.” Hesitation flickers in his mesmerizing blue eyes, so I place my hand on his leg, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
“I promise I’ll say no if I’m not up for it.”
“Would you want to come back to my hotel room? It’s just a little more private there…”
I pause, the final bite of the crème brûlée halfway to my lips as I turn my head to look at him, sincerity in his gaze. The air between us thickens, rich with unspoken possibilities, and something stirs inside me, a longing I’ve kept at bay, one that’s been restrained by caution and past pain. But Killian has a way of crumbling the walls I’ve built around myself.
I finish the bite of dessert, the spoon clinking against the porcelain as I set it down. I lean back, folding my arms. “Trying to get me alone, Jones?”
A rosy pink blush paints his cheeks. “Maybe I am.”
I can’t help but laugh as he gives me the same answer I gave him the other day when he asked me if I was flirting with him.
“And what are your intentions once you get me alone?”
He chuckles and wets his lips with his tongue, leaning closer. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his voice dark, almost a whisper. “Well, I watched you eat that dessert…the way you licked your lips and made those sexy noises…the way you kissed me the other day…”—His gaze moves to my mouth, his eyes ablaze with desire, his thumb caressing my shoulder—“and I really want that wicked mouth of yours on mine again. But honestly, I’d be happy to simply continue chatting.” The easy grin fades, replaced by something far more telling—a seriousness that belies his usual charm. “So, my intentions are whatever you wish them to be, love.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Really?” I challenge, my teeth catching on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the smirk that threatens to break free. “Whatever I wish?” My efforts are futile, it curls the edges of my lips regardless. “Alright then, how about you perform a song and dance number on this table?”
He arches a brow. “That’s your wish?”
“That’s my wish.”
He gives a nonchalant shrug, his cerulean eyes dancing with amusement. He launches from his seat, and before I know it, he’s halfway on the table. I reach out and grab his arm to stop him, giggles bubbling up from my throat at the thought of him actually going through with it. “I was kidding.” As he settles back into his seat, I narrow my eyes at him. “I can’t believe you were actually going to do it.”
His head tilts back slightly, and those piercing blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “Swan, you do realize you’re asking a rock star who’s used to outrageous requests and performing in public, right? You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to shock me.”
“Is that so?” I tease with a devilish smirk, placing my hand on his chest, feeling it beat under my palm.
He chuckles. “That is the most mischievous grin I’ve ever seen.”
My cheeks heat.
“What am I going to do with you, Swan?”
“Apparently, whatever I want you to do.” It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to be swept up like this—since I’ve let someone see the side of me that isn’t all business and pragmatism. Despite how flushed I am from all this flirtatious banter, I manage to make it out of the booth. I look over my shoulder. “You coming, Jones?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grabs his jacket and follows behind me.
When he catches up to me, I have to refrain from touching him until we get into his car. I can tell he’s just as tortured by the way he’s running a hand through his hair and looking over at me, a hunger sparking in those deep blue eyes.
Once we’re outside, the cool breeze sweeps around us, and I try to rub the goosebumps from my arms.
"Here, love.” Without missing a beat, Killian shrugs off his jacket and holds it open behind me, allowing me to slip my arms into the sleeves. He adjusts it on my shoulders and rubs my covered arms. The leather is warm from his body heat and smells faintly of his cologne, a comforting mix of spices and something uniquely him. "Can't have you freezing out here."
I pull the jacket closer around me, grateful for the warmth and the gesture. "Thanks, Killian." I smile at him. The jacket is a little big on me, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, but it's perfect. "Won't you be cold, though?"
He shakes his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry about me, Swan.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me a little closer. “If I get cold, you’ll keep me warm, right?”
I roll my eyes and laugh, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Ever the charmer," I reply, leaning into him as we wait for the valet to retrieve Killian’s car.
As soon as we’re in, his hand quickly finds its way under the skirt of my dress and around my thigh, and my hand finds its way onto his shoulder. But there’s too much distance between us.
He brings me back to my car at Blair’s, and I follow him on the twenty-minute drive to Sunset Tower, which stands tall against the cityscape. We agreed it’s better to arrive separately in case paparazzi are lurking around. I wait a few moments in my Bug after he disappears inside, my heart pounding. I check my hair in the mirror and make sure there's no food in my teeth about four times while I gather the courage. I want this, I know I want this, I’m just hoping he won’t take one look at me without my clothes on and run away. Or worse, give me a pity fuck.
I shake away the doubts clouding my mind. Killian is not like that, and I know this. Unlatching the car door, I step out and head inside the hotel. I may not know him very well, but each time we talk, it’s so easy, so comfortable. We don’t have to force the conversation, it just flows naturally. We’re not two people with sixteen years between us, we’re just two people drawn to each other. And the more I get to know him, the more I see the kindness in his heart. The man behind the rockstar persona.
Once inside, I step into the elevator and press the button for his floor. As I ascend to the top, my heart flutters with excitement and nerves. I check my reflection on the reverse camera setting on my phone and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. When the doors part, I step out and make my way down the corridor.
Tiny, Killian’s loyal bodyguard, stands watch at the end of the hallway, his hawk-like eyes scanning me briefly before he nods in recognition. Whether he knows what might transpire beyond the door to Killian’s hotel suite, he gives no indication.
Returning his nod, I continue down the hall—my heart pounding like a drum against my chest with every step closer to the suite number Killian had shared earlier. Taking a fortifying breath, I rap lightly on the polished wooden door.
Before I have time to talk myself out of this, it swings open and he’s standing before me, flashing one of his heart-melting grins.
“Hi, Swan.” He steps aside to let me in.
“Hi.” I manage a smile of my own, a thrill shooting up my spine as I enter his room, my stilettos clicking on the shiny hardwood floor.
He closes the door behind me, shutting out the rest of the world.
Finally, we’re alone again.
I’ve been waiting for this moment since he left my house. I couldn’t actually believe our kiss was a one-time thing as I was saying it out loud. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ignore my feelings for this man.
“Would you like something to drink, love?”
I shake my head and slip off his jacket, throwing it over a chair, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe.
All I want is him.
My heart races as we gravitate toward each other, closing the distance between us.
On the way here, I had questioned whether we would just chat or make out once we got here, or whether I’d even make it here at all, but now that he’s standing here in front of me, looking like he wants to devour me, I’m powerless to resist him—and truthfully, I don’t want to.
Our eyes are locked, the air crackling with a raw, electric charge that’s been building all night. I reach up, my hands finding the nape of his neck, pulling him down toward me. Our lips meet, a soft brush at first that quickly ignites into something more urgent, more demanding. The kiss deepens, and I taste the hint of the wine and crème brûlée we shared. I cup his cheeks in my hands, our mouths moving together with a familiarity that belies the short time we’ve known each other.
He wraps his arms around me as I snake mine around the back of his neck. My breath catches in my throat as his palms glide over the fabric of my dress, mapping the contours of my body as if committing it to memory. I’m already moaning softly into his mouth, lost in the sensations of him, the warmth of his body pressing against mine, the stubble on his jaw scratching softly at my skin, and the way his hands roam across my back, tracing the curve of my spine.
We break the kiss briefly, both of us sucking the same air into our lungs before reclaiming each other’s lips. I lean into him, deepening the kiss—his tongue hot and soft on mine, eager but not too much. It’s a dance we’re engaged in, and every move he makes only draws me in deeper.
He turns me around with a gentle insistence, and I gulp in air, my heart pounding against my ribcage, erratic and wild. His hands slip under the hem of my dress, his fingers brushing against my thighs, teasing, promising, until they find the silk barrier of my panties.
A gasp escapes me, unbidden, as he dips his hand beneath the fabric, his touch bold and unapologetic against my bare nub. I reach a hand behind him, cradling the back of his head as he kisses my earlobe, his breaths hot and heavy against my skin. Holding on to him is all I can do to not melt completely under the deft movements of his fingers, each stroke unraveling me even more. I feel like a teenager all over again.
“Swan…” His voice is low and seductive in my ear, sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cool air of the hotel room. “Gods, you’re soaked.”
I bite my bottom lip and close my eyes as I arch into him, seeking more of the exquisite touch, my body betraying its eagerness for his skilled caresses. “Killian.” His name is a whispered plea, a prayer, on my lips as his fingers explore with an artist’s finesse.
It’s surreal, being here with him in his hotel room. Out there, in the real world, I’m Emma Swan—pragmatic, collected, an art dealer, a mother. But here, under Killian’s masterful touch, I’m coming undone, my usual poise giving way to raw desire. He’s young, magnetic, a rockstar used to captivating crowds, yet here, it’s just us, and he plays me like the strums of his guitar—each note building to a crescendo only he can command. The world falls away, leaving only the here and now, the heat of his touch, the pounding of my heart and the insatiable hunger that builds with every passing second.
He dips his head, his breath hot against the nape of my neck as he unclasps the strap of my dress with his free hand, letting the top fall away. He reaches under my bra cup, his hand shaping my breast, his thumb toying with my nipple as he kisses my neck. I tremble, caught in a web of sensations spun by his deft movements. My moans fill the room, unrestrained and foreign, like the sounds belong to another woman entirely—one unshackled by past fears or reservations. It’s been so long since I’ve moaned like this. In fact, I don’t think I ever moaned like this with Neal, yet Killian’s able to coax the sounds out with only his fingers.
Both of my hands are reaching behind us, fisting his hair for purchase as I completely give in to this man. He finds a rhythm, a dance of fingertips against the most sensitive parts of me, driving me wild, pushing me toward a precipice I’m all too willing to tumble over. The edge looms closer with each stroke, and I cling to him, lost in the storm he’s conjured inside me.
“Killian!” I scream toward the heavens as I ride his fingers, my walls pulsing around them. And I’m there, crumbling to pieces, coming all over his hand, and I’m gasping for air, my fingers tightening in his hair, clinging to him as he holds me sturdy in his arms.
Holy fuck.
That was…
My brain is too much like mushy oatmeal to put together the words to describe it.
Killian just holds me for a moment as I catch my breath, waiting for my heart to slow.
Once I’m able to move again, I manage to turn around and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, wanting to kiss the smug grin off his face. His arms encircle me, and he lifts me with an ease that sends another jolt of desire through my veins. The world tilts and spins around me, but I’m anchored by his gaze, his eyes holding mine. As he carries me across the room, our lips crash together again, a messy, perfect collision, his heartbeat thundering against mine, a mirror of my own escalating pulse.
My head hits the pillow as he sets me down gently, our bodies and lips still fused. I work at the buttons of his shirt, craving the warmth of his skin against mine. The fabric parts beneath my touch, revealing the taut muscles that ripple on his torso. His hands are on me now, skimming over my sides, each brush of his fingertips like a match struck against my skin, igniting a fire within me I had long forgotten could burn so fiercely. He reaches for my dress, and my breath catches in my throat as the red fabric and black bra falls away, leaving me vulnerable under his heated gaze. With trembling hands, I help him shed the rest of his clothes, each piece discarded like layers of ourselves peeling away.
I lie back on my elbows, allowing him to slide off my panties—the last piece of fabric separating us. There’s a pang of self-awareness as I think about how much my body has changed since I got pregnant with Henry. Stretch marks map across my lower belly like silver rivers, my breasts are fuller now, no longer pert like they once were.
But when I catch Killian’s eyes, darken with desire, and his cock standing at full attention, hard and throbbing, any lingering uncertainty evaporates. His hungry gaze roams over every inch of me—the stretch marks, the fullness of my breasts, every scar and imperfection—as if they’re elements in an exquisite artwork he can’t wait to explore further. He wants me. All of me—the woman who carried a child within her womb—every curve, every scar, every part of me life has shaped.
My nipples are hard peeks under his gaze, begging for the warmth of his touch. His mouth. His tongue.
Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifts my foot and unbuckles the straps of my shoes one by one, his ocean blues not even focused on his task but roving up my naked curves instead, my center spread and bare to him, glistening with a hunger I haven’t felt in years.
Once my shoes are gone, he climbs onto the bed and settles between my thighs with a devilish glint, hiking my legs over his shoulders. He leans in, leaving soft kisses over my thighs and nub leaving me shivering in anticipation, my breath catching. He traces my slick folds with his lips, his breaths warm over my flushed skin, my heart like a jackhammer. Our eyes are locked in a steely gaze, but once he parts my thighs further apart, his grip bruising my skin in the most delicious way, and he slides his tongue through my slit, all bets are off. My elbows collapse underneath me, and my eyes are rolling to the back of my head, his tongue exploring with slow deliberate strokes, eliciting gasps and moans that echo through the quiet room.
For some reason, I’d thought he might be overeager, given his age, and not used to giving pleasure as much as receiving it, and maybe that was just my previous experiences. But, boy, was I wrong. Because, there’s reverence in each stroke and nibble, his mouth worshiping me, coaxing me closer to the brink with each flick of his tongue over my aching clit, delving into my depths as if he could find every secret I’ve ever kept hidden there.
“Killian!” I can’t help but cry out, the words ripped from my throat as electrifying heat consumes me. A shuddering “Yesss!” escapes, my thighs clamping around his head like a vice, involuntary while my hands become entangled in the dark tresses of his hair.
Even as waves of ecstasy begin to ebb, he continues his ministrations, languid licks that draw out the lingering tremors of my orgasm. His tongue moves with an unhurried grace, a contrast to the rapid beating of my heart.
Heat lingers on my skin, a delicious aftershock that trembles through me.
His lips start a blazing hot path from the apex of my thighs to my stomach, his mouth a brand, searing his claim on me. Every kiss imprinted on my skin burns brighter than the last, leaving no part of me untouched or undiscovered. His lips trace delicate patterns across my abdomen, pausing to dip into my navel before continuing their ascent.
The curve of each rib becomes a stepping stone as he climbs closer to my breasts, where he lingers, lavishing each contour and peak with his tongue. His kisses are equally soft and demanding around the areolas before he draws my nipples into his hot mouth, pleasure jolting through me.
By the time he reaches my lips, I’m a panting, trembling mess underneath him, our bare skin meeting, the contact sparking a fire that threatens to consume us both.
“God, everything about you is perfect,” he breathes, his voice completely wrecked. His words are exactly what a forty-year-old woman wants to hear about her naked body, but I know it’s not empty flattery. It’s the truth etched in the lines of his face, in the fire in his eyes, the way he holds my gaze when he says it.
His erection presses against my thigh, hard and insistent, ready to claim me.
And God, do I want him to claim me. Every inch.
“Should I wear a condom?”
Right. A condom—something I hadn’t even thought about. God, it’s been too long, I feel like a virgin all over again.
“Do you have anything I should be aware of?” I counter, my voice surprisingly steady.
He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, and you? Have you been with anyone since Neal?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m on the pill.” I glide my hand between us, wrapping my fingers around his stiff shaft, stroking softly, his smooth, velvety length easily sliding through my fist. “And I want to feel you inside me.”
He groans as he kisses me sweetly on the lips, a grin spreading across his face. “I want to feel you, too.”
With that settled, I place him at my entrance, and the connection sends sparks flying through me. After thirteen years of Neal and three years of nothing, Killian feels incredible inside me. No, incredible is a colossal understatement. And he’s not even fully inside me yet.
Our breaths, heavy and ragged, mingle as he eases into me, claiming territory with slow, tender strokes that belie his strength. My legs are wrapped around his back, my hands resting on his shoulder blades as I arch into him, every nerve-ending alight with fire.
He responds in kind, his hips a perfect counterpoint to mine, as if we’re two parts of a whole finally clicking into place. “Swan,” he whispers against my lips, and I shiver at the sound of my name wrapped in his accent, heavy with lust. “Bloody hell…you feel so damn good.” He captures my lips before I can respond, his tongue moving against mine with the rhythm of his hips, and I can taste myself on his tongue, which I’ve never had the pleasure of doing before. Neal always used mouthwash afterward before kissing me.
I lose myself in the sensations—the heat of his body, the weight of him, the taste of his kiss, the sound of our unified gasps filling the room. His size, the smoothness of his back, the firmness of his ass as I take both perfect globes in my hands, pulling him in deeper. It’s a heady combination, intoxicating, dizzying, and I drink it all in greedily.
“Killian...” His name spills from my lips as he draws me closer to the edge. There’s no holding back, no fear or doubt, only the boundless expanse of sensation he alone can evoke. My body gives in to the overwhelming tide of pleasure that threatens to sweep me under, my fingernails clawing into his back.
Heat coils inside me, raw and all-consuming as Killian’s body drives into mine with a primal rhythm, his voice, rough like gravel, cutting through the haze of pleasure. “Let go, Emma.”
And I do. I let go, surrendering to the waves as they crash over me, and I happily drown in the bliss of it, my walls fluttering around his beautiful dick that has me coming undone.
He follows close behind, thrusting harder and faster, the crescendo building as he chases his impending release. His hips falter, movements growing erratic, his body shuddering. He dips his head, teeth grazing my skin, breath hot against my neck. His grip tightens around me, hands like steel bands, and I’m certain there will be marks—temporary souvenirs—imprinted on my skin I’ll probably admire in the mirror later.
“Emma…” My name is pure heaven as it tumbles from his lips, wrapped in a thick, broken accent as he pours his warmth inside me.
Pure heaven.
We reposition ourselves so he’s on his back and I’m beside him, boneless, draping an arm around his torso. My breath steadies, our bodies a tangle of limbs, the echo of his touch, his kiss, on every inch of my skin, his chest a relentless drumbeat against my ear. The sheets are twisted around our legs, our fingers are laced together as he presses a tender kiss against my forehead.
“Emma…you’re incredible.” His words vibrate against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back.
I look up at him, my gaze meeting those deep blue eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smiles, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Your beauty,” he whispers huskily, “it’s not just in the way you look, Swan. It’s everything about you. It’s the very essence of you.” His touch is reverent, as though each word he utters is etched into my skin.
A warmth blooms in my chest at his words, at the admiration that laces each syllable. It’s as if every wall I’ve ever built has not only been scaled but completely dismantled by the tenderness of his gaze. He sees me, truly sees me—not just the polished exterior, but the tangled, knotted threads of my soul.
A teasing smile pulls at my lips. “Do you say that to all the women you’re with?”
He chuckles, his body shaking with the deep, hearty sound. “I would only say it if I meant it…so no, I don’t.”
I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, taking in the jagged edge of his stubble, the warmth of his skin. His eyes lock with mine, a stormy blue that speaks volumes without a single word. My heart swells, full to bursting with an emotion I can neither name nor contain.
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Or forever.”
I laugh. “I’ll stay tonight…but I’ll have to go back early tomorrow. Henry will be back home around noon.”
He nods, despite the disappointment flashing in his eyes. “Of course, love.”
Lying here naked, pressed against him, I allow myself to bask in the afterglow, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a state of serene bliss.
I don’t remember sex being so damn good before.
It’s never been that good.
Then it hits me. He’s the first, the only one who’s ever made me orgasm from sex alone. Sure, I’ve had orgasms but only from stimulation—a tongue, a finger or (mostly) a battery-operated friend. Never from penetration. I didn’t even think it was possible for me. And I’ve certainly never experienced multiple orgasms before tonight.
I always assumed I was the problem. That I was broken somehow.
But here I am, lying in Killian’s arms, fulfilled and sated in a way I never thought possible. It’s like he’s unlocked some secret part of me no one else could access before.
And maybe my history of being unsatisfied in bed is the reason I waited so long to be with someone else after Neal left.
Then again, if I had known it could be this good, I wouldn’t have waited.
But maybe it was Killian I was waiting for all along.
Hello. I know I shouldn’t start a new one but I couldn’t stop myself. I hope this will be incentive for the Muse.
Thanks to the @cssns
Thank you to my lovely beta that is a saint @ultraluckycatnd
AO3 FFN
Summary:
Witches are among us. After centuries of conflict, a truce was forged. Only one strict rule, magicks could never be used against humans. Killian Jones is the last witch hunter; he serves The Order of Blazing Sword and Cross and protects humans. Now, though, he needs help from an unlikely ally to put an end to the darkness that is worse than any known threat, and has been lurking in the shadows, threatening to destroy humanity
The fallen tree branches intertwined with the overgrown roots that covered the ground. The humid air made it difficult to breathe. The valiant champions included a widowed Killian, his priest brother, and their father. They were amongst the last line of defense. They had all lost so much already. Wives, fathers, mothers, husbands and children; families torn apart. They were walking into a death trap knowingly as they split away from each other. Each falling prey to traps and illusions created to not only torment their minds but end their lives. The only hope left was to end the Queen Witch’s power and in her death, humanity would find their salvation at whatever the cost. The band of brave men made their way through the ice cold mountains to her lair. The darkness of the forest aided the evil hag and her minions as they killed the men one by one. The screams echoed within the trees. They needed to reach her nest; the Hexen dwelled within the tallest tree in the center. The giant sequoia stood in the middle of the field covered in shadows, the vines bulging from the ground across the path. The perfect abode for those who worshiped the darkness. Light had no place here.
The temperature dropped as the brave man could see his breath in front of him while he struggled to keep his wits and focus on the task at hand. He stepped over his fallen brethren while making his way deeper into the nest. He knew there would be no surviving the quest but failure was not an option.
The ground shook abruptly and grumbled. His attention was drawn to the silhouettes in front of him. One was crouched on the ground, and the other was kneeling in front of the first one. He moved swiftly to get a closer look, and to his dismay, he could now see the witch had her hand inside the chest of a man. It was an older man whose features were enhanced by the flame of the fire surrounding them. It was his father.
"Liam!!" He bellowed for his brother to help as he rushed to save their father.
His father looked at him one last time as life was crushed out of his heart.
The ground trembled again, and it became icier as the sudden snow flurries covered his body. He reached the crone as she stood up to face him with an evil smirk. She moved quickly in front of him, and reached for his heart. He was able to evade her hands with a spin; he swung his iron blade at her as she cackled, mocking him.
Killian finally managed to do the unbelievable and get the upper hand. The witch struggled to stay upright and she shoved her hand inside his chest. "I curse you to eternal life. You will continue to live and see all those around you die. You will be left behind. Forever alone." She squeezed his heart one last time before taking her last breath.
***
His eyes shot open at the violent yawing of the craft. This went beyond turbulence. It was freezing. It was an abnormal storm. He stood up to find the culprit but the flight attendant stopped him. "Sir, you need to go back to your seat," the woman said as she pressed her hand on his hard chest.
Killian could see the interest in her eyes but right now was not the time. "I'm sorry, lass. I need to use the facilities," he said in a low voice while invading her space.
She smiled in return. “You should return to your seat.”
“I promise to do so after I’ve done my business.” He crossed his heart.
She looked around and noticed no one was paying attention to them. “All right, but try to be quick.” She smiled, hoping her leniency will earn her a nice lay over.
Killian walked past the restroom to the small flight attendant station. He grabbed a cup of water and pulled out a pouch from his wallet. It had a couple of small tools including a needle, which he quickly dropped in the water.
The plane jerked violently due to what appeared to be turbulence. The other passengers were beginning to panic as the oxygen masks dropped.
The needle guided him to the source, a redheaded young woman hugging a black bag. Luckily the seat next to her was empty, so Killian sat down. The girl looked up with wide eyes. He smiled and said, "Lass, hand it over." He extended his hand for her to place the bag in. She was about to object then she gasped as she realized his identity and placed the bag on his waiting hand. He opened it and noticed the runes were stuck. "Bloody hell, lass. Why did you think jamming weather controlling runes together was a good idea?" Killian scolded as he sped up his actions; he poured a potion to neutralize and separate the runes using tweezers. “I've been looking for these for a very long time. Lass, these tiny things manipulate the weather. Rain, cold, wind, heat... and you thought it was a good idea to put them together in your bag? Do you know what you get when you mix a thunderstorm with cool, moist air? You almost killed us all. We are lucky you didn't get them wet. You witches have no idea the power you possess." He shook his head in disbelief as he pulled out a case from his jacket pocket and placed each rune inside after covering it carefully with a cloth.
“I know you are the witch hunter. Are you going to kill me?” the girl asked.
“Why would I kill you, lass? I just saved your life,” Killian said. “I have a code.”
“Are you going to turn me in to the witch council? I didn’t do it on purpose. I inherited those from my sister. I swear it was an accident.”
“No need to fret. Enjoy your stay.” He winked at her and stood up, leaving her behind to go back to his seat.
The flight attendant noticed him walking back to his seat while she finished providing some water to the passengers to help calm them down.
"Excuse me sir, I thought I told you to go to your seat?" the flight attendant said, annoyed.
"I'm sorry, love, but a young lass was in distress. I just wanted to make sure she wasn't anymore. My name is Killian Jones, I much prefer being called that.
How about I buy you a drink to make up for my lack of listening skills?" he said with a sexy raised eyebrow.
The woman tried to play it as if she wasn't tempted but the blushed cheeks gave her away. "Well, Killian, I suppose that would be all right."
"We can meet at baggage claim and set sail from there," he said as he raised her hand to his lips.
Witches are among us
Descendants from an ancient race called Hexen
Their magick diluted, half-forgotten but dangerously powerful
After centuries of conflict, a truce was forged
Witches would live freely if they followed one strict rule, magicks could never be used against humans
A truce is a fragile thing…
There are those who long for the dark days of the Witch Queen, Gothel.
It is those whom Killian deals with.
For centuries, he has
served The Order of Blazing Sword and Cross.
I serve The Order in a different manner.
I write Killian's history.
I am his handler, his confessor, and his friend.Together we have kept watch and kept the peace.
I’m Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo
Father Nemo arrived at Killian’s place to take the report from the most recent mission.
The doorman smiled at the older man. “Father Nemo. I’m sorry, but he is in a meeting. Could you please take a seat while you wait?”
The elevator opened and a woman exited wearing a flight attendant uniform.
“I think the meeting is over, my boy,” Father Nemo said as he rose from his seat to walk to the elevator.
Killian opened his door with a wide satisfied smile on his face. "Hello, old friend."
Father Nemo rolled his eyes. "You know you are older than me."
Killian shrugged. "However, as you can see, I've maintained my youthful glow."
"That doesn't explain why you have no sense of time," Father Nemo scolded him.
Killian rolled his eyes fondly.
Father Nemo smiled at the man in front of him. Killian was physically younger, but was actually much older than him. However, time stands still for no one. We should get to business , he thought as he pulled out his journal and pen from his bag to prepare for the details. "I assume the mission was a success and you were able to recover the weather runes without incident?"
"Aye, they are safely put away in the vault," Killian replied. "Old man, really? You get upset at my teasing but I believe you secretly enjoy it. That is why you are not willing to use any of the tech I gift you with. Where's the iPad I gave you?"
"If you must know, I regifted it. Besides, you will not need to worry after my retirement." Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo reaffirmed his decision it was time to move on.
"Oh, you were serious. I thought you would reconsider but since you are set in retiring, I got you a small token." Killian smiled as he handed a box to his old friend.
"You didn't have to do this." Father Nemo grabbed the box and opened it to find a very rare, expensive Waterman 402 pen. "Oh my. I thought you didn't get sentimental. This is lovely but truly too expensive."
"We've had a good run. We took out many dangerous covens. I finally got used to you and now you want to find greener pastures."
"I'm going to miss you."
"You know you can still keep the pen if you reconsider," Killian said with a hopeful smile.
"I'm leaving you in modern hands. Besides, the vow was not til death but to face it at your side."
"You do know there are only two Dolan's advice I have ever listened to: my brother Liam, the first Dolan, and you."
"Fine company I'm in but wait a minute, you ignored it all the time!" Nemo said irritated.
"Perhaps, but I always listened."
"Killian, what if you could retire too? What would you do?"
"Ah, but I can't."
"Just humor me."
"I'm not blind to the importance of my job. Every day I wake up, the world is safe."
"I wish you could live. Truly. You are missing the best part. The one that goes beyond ships passing in the night. Flight attendants or whoever you found for the evening."
"There's nothing wrong with a dalliance."
"You need to find someone to trust and share your life with."
"Old man, let's finish this then."
After they finished the report they parted ways. Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo left to finalize his report and hand over the file on Killian Jones to his replacement, Dolan the 37th, Father Gideon.
Father Nemo's words of advice for the young Father Gideon were to serve with distinction and to remember that Killian was more than a weapon as the elders of The Flaming Sword and Cross loved to refer to him as. He was beyond his success rate or the numbers of witches in detention or the ones that paid the ultimate price for breaking the law.
The next day, Killian's phone rang. "Hello?"
"Mr. Jones, this is Dolan the 37th, Father Gideon. I'm sorry to inform you that Dolan the 36th, Father Nemo passed away in his sleep peacefully. The ceremony will be tomorrow."
Killian was alone now. His friend was gone and it served as a reminder to not allow anyone else to enter his heart.
The unexpected death of his old friend had reopened the scars left behind by the loss of his wife Milah, their young daughter Alice, his father Brennan, and brother Liam months later. Killian had spent years protecting his heart and focusing on the job, claiming he had a right to seek vengeance for all the world had lost. Now he was grieving for the last person he allowed himself to care for. He truly would die alone. The Order hadn't even given a proper burial to his friend as they now pledged the new Dolan. Killian couldn't stomach the ceremony and stepped out. He sat down on a bench and contemplated his life.
The young Dolan the 37th sat next to him.
Killian's eyes stayed focused on an object as he spoke. "Do you see that cornerstone?"
Dolan, the 37th, nodded. "Yes, Sir. I do. I'm-"
Killian interrupted him. "I watched them lay it in when all that was there was a cornfield. That was long ago. Everything changes, only I remain." Killian finally faced the young man.
"Sir, I'm sorry for your loss. I wanted to pledge my life and loyalty to you. Please, call me Gideon."
"Father Gideon, there are levels of evil everywhere. However, I've never seen people get old, retire, and die on the same day."
"Sir, I know this isn't the proper time but I need to sort you out with a new identity and all that comes with it." Father Gideon stated as he pulled an envelope from the briefcase.
Killian rolled his eyes. "I understand all of you Dolans are fierce rule followers but I will be clear. First, I don't need a new identity. Second, there are more pressing matters. Something doesn't add up. You were the last one to see Father Nemo. I need to go to his place." Killian stood and walked towards his black super sport 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle.
At least it's not red, Father Gideon muttered as he opened the car door and slipped in. "Sir, I understand, but a low profile is important to keep. As for Father Nemo, what are you thinking?
"I'll know when I see it." With that he started the car and drove to Nemo's home.
They entered and Killian looked around. "How do you know when there's magic in the vicinity? It comes from four elements; fire, water, earth, and air. The correct alchemical triggers will reveal its presence." Killian informed Father Gideon as he continued his inspection. "It appears there was no magic here. However, if the window hasn't been opened, how did this get in here?"
Gideon looked at the dead flies on the floor.
"One means nothing. Two perhaps a coincidence but three, that means trouble. He was killed by witches."
Killian got his confirmation once the glamor spell was lifted. "This is a declaration of war."
Trying Something New: Chapter 2: The Healer and the Thief -- a Captain Swan, Once Upon a Time fanfiction
Summary:
After Rumplestiltskin traps Emma and Killian in the past, they manage to escape him and realize they will have to live in the past in order to catch up to the future.
Read on fanfiction.net or AO3 or below.
Note: Remember that Emma and Killian have given themselves the aliases of Emily and Colin, and they told Marian that her name was Maria. So any POVs that aren't Killian or Emma with an exception or two, will call them Colin and Emily and Maria. I know it will be confusing for a bit, but that's partly why I chose names so close to their actual names, not just to help Emma and Killian remember but to help readers as well.
For my own sanity, Marian's POVs the narration still calls her Marian, but she will call herself Maria.
Also, while I was writing the muse went wild and decided to bring in a character from a certain kingdom that I wasn't prepared for.
And the muse decided Killian's new backstory, not me. I don't know why I let the muse out of the kennel, because she always goes wild.
Hope you guys enjoy.
Chapter 2: The Healer and the Thief
When they arrived in town, Killian led them to an inn further away from the docks where it wasn’t all that busy. The small inn looked quite cozy with its brick facade and warm light shining through the windows.
He opened the door for Emma and Marian, allowing them to enter first.
Emma was relieved to be inside where it was warm and where she was one step closer to a bed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could’ve spent walking, even with Killian's support. She felt like a freight train hit her and she'd collapse at any moment.
The late fall chill was settling in and soon enough winter would be coming. Emma hoped they’d be back home by then if she could get that stupid wand to actually work.
“May I help you?” An older woman with a kind smile, but sharp brown eyes, looked at them from behind round glasses.
“Yes, milady.” Killian stepped forward with a charming smile. “My wife,” he motioned to Emma, “our companion,” he motioned to Marian, “and I were all traveling on our way to your lovely town when our horses were stolen.”
The old woman’s eyes widened. “Oh my dears, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Killian played his part well as he asked her for two rooms; one for Marian and one for them.
The older woman looked at Emma softly, clearly pleased that a young, newly married couple (according to Killian’s story) were planning on making Marawick Harbor their home. As Killian laid on the charm, Emma smiled small and shy, acting the part of the blushing bride. Honestly, she was too tired to try to speak and add to their act.
Marian smiled as well, but with her memories gone, she wasn’t too confident in her interactions.
“Of course, dear.” The old lady smiled a little bigger. “I’m Mrs. Wright. How long will you three be staying with us?”
“Well, we’ll be here for a while.” Killian said. “It might take some time to find more permanent lodgings.”
“Oh how wonderful.” Mrs. Wright smiled. “Since you don’t know how long you’ll stay, perhaps pay for five days and should you find more permanent lodgings before then, you’ll be reimbursed.”
“A lovely idea.” Killian said. “I’ll be paying for both rooms. Poor Maria here lost the most in the robbery. She helped us when we needed it, so it’s only fair to return the favor.”
Emma looked around as the prices were discussed and the room paid for; it was very clean and tidy, which gave her hopes for their room. It was then that Emma realized a flaw in the marriage plan. They’d be getting one room which very likely would have just one bed. Even if it was a big bed, it was still one bed. They’d slept near each other before, camping out in the Enchanted Forest and Neverland, but this would be different. They’d be in closer quarters for one thing. He’d probably be a gentleman and take the floor, but having slept in worse places, Emma didn’t want him to suffer a full five nights or longer if they couldn’t find a place to live.
“Ready, my love?” Killian asked, turning to her.
Marian was already following Mrs. Wright up the stairs.
Emma smiled and took his arm again. Her heart skipped hearing the “my” before love, but she knew that it was just for show for the old lady. Of course, he had feelings for her, but he couldn’t love her so soon? Well, all right, they’d known each other for over a year and a half, but the better part of it they were separated and she hadn’t even remembered him.
They were led to a room on the second floor, the lady unlocked one for Marian and then the one across the hall for them. One key went to Marian and the other to Killian. “A hot bath will be brought up shortly for both of you young ladies.”
Emma and Marian both thanked her. When Mrs. Wright disappeared, Emma stepped towards Marian. “I could heal your head if you’d like.” Really Emma felt obligated to since they caused her head injury, but she wasn't sure if she could stand to use more magic.
Marian shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve done so much for me already. Both of you. I don’t even know where to begin thanking you.”
“No need to worry about it.” Killian reassured her.
Marian smiled before entering her own bedroom.
“So what do we do now?” Emma asked once they were ensconced in the sanctuary of their private room. Emma unbuttoned her cape, glancing at the single bed at the center of the room. It looked to be about full sized. That would be close sleeping quarters. Emma draped her cape over the back of the armchair by the fire, which was low, but still burning. She ignored the singular bed for now, moving instead to sit in the armchair in front of the fireplace. It was a great relief to sit down.
“Well, if we’ve learned anything on this adventure, we can’t mess with the main timeline.” Killian said, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. “So best thing to do is stay low. We’ll need to find work and a place to live since we don’t know how long we’ll be here. Marawick is a busy port, but it’s far from your parents and Regina.” He explained. “I can guarantee my crew only docked here in emergencies, and since we know my ship, should that happen, we can easily avoid that.”
“Okay.” Emma nodded. “What job is low profile?”
“What skills do you have?” Killian asked.
“Well, I’m a former thief, waitress, bail bonds person, and sheriff.” Emma said. “I doubt the Enchanted Forest has many female law enforcement officers.”
“Well the military is the law.” Killian said. “But you’re not wrong. Female soldiers are unheard of. I’m not sure about waitresses, but a barmaid might be too risky, especially if someone we knew or my past self showed up.”
Emma could agree with that. In her time, bar brawls were a constant, so she expected taverns in this day and age would be full of fights that would draw way too much attention. “So that leaves me with nothing.”
“We’ll figure it out, Swan.” Killian reassured her. “We just have to stick together.”
Emma couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like that.”
His heart stuttered a bit in surprise before he smiled shyly at her.
Emma’s own heart skipped a beat. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Hurrying over to the door, Killian opened it to find maids with the bath. Once it was settled and they were given towels, rags, and soap, the women asked if anything else was needed.
“No, thank you.” Emma smiled, allowing Killian to usher the maids away.
Killian set up the privacy screen. “I can leave if you’d like.”
“The privacy screen is enough.” Emma said, walking behind it. She saw Killian’s silhouette through it due to the firelight behind him. She watched him sit in the armchair, which had its back to Emma. As she took off her clothes, hanging them up, she realized that they didn’t have clothes for bed. With how much magic she used today, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to use it anymore. “What about you?” Emma asked, making conversation to distract herself from that line of thought.
“I can live without one.” Killian said. He took a seat in another armchair and closed his eyes. It had been quite an exhausting couple of days.
“Why don’t you use the bath after me? I’ll be quick so the water will be warm.” Emma suggested as she soaped herself up.
“Don’t worry about me, love.” Killian said. “Also, soap in this time isn’t used in hair. You’ll have to use hair oil. Over there on the vanity.”
Emma glanced over towards the vanity where there were a few bottles of oil, a hairbrush, a comb, a hand mirror, and other items sat ready for use. “Killian, we can both take a bath. We both need it.”
Killian wasn’t too sure about that. Then he looked over at the bed. The lone bed. That was an easy enough fix. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
A huff of frustration left Emma over the subject change. Why was he being so stubborn? “We’re adults, Jones. We can responsibly share a bed.”
He sighed, sensing that they’d only end up arguing more about it if he didn’t concede. Maybe she’d fall asleep first and he could sneak onto the floor. It probably wouldn’t effect her as much as it would him for them to share a bed together anyway. “Fine.”
Emma knew the conversation wasn't over and he was still going to fight her on this, but Emma was tired enough to take whatever victories she could get. Sinking into the warm, steaming water, Emma bit back a moan of pleasure. It wouldn’t do to make sex sounds in mixed company, particularly company she knew would enjoy hearing those sounds. Despite the warm water, thinking about sex and Killian in the same go sent a thrill down her spine. Stop it, Emma. Come on, you can’t think about this. When you get back home and things settle down, then you and Killian can have a long talk.
Emma continued to lather herself up, trying to dismiss the man from her thoughts, despite him being only feet away.
Killian stared into the fire, desperately trying to block out the sounds of water splashing behind him. The last thing he needed was picturing Emma naked and wet. Shaking his head, he thought about the next steps that needed to be taken. They needed more clothes. Emma couldn’t keep conjuring things or transforming items. She was hiding it, but he could tell that her magic was draining her. Perhaps in the morning, they could go to a tailor and order some clothes. He’d also have to give some money to Marian as she was as much his responsibility now as Emma, even if he felt Emma was his priority above all else.
He walked over to where he left his coat and took it back to the armchair. Going through his pockets, he emptied everything out onto a small circular table beside the armchair just to double check how much he had after paying for the rooms in advance. A handful of gold and silver coins, which would last them awhile. Various jewelry pieces with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and opals. Those would fetch a good price. He’d probably use up the coin they had while job and house hunting and save the jewelry for emergencies. He returned everything to his pockets and realized the room was silent. He looked over at the privacy screen. “Emma?”
There was no answer.
“Emma?” He called again. When there was still no answer, Killian hesitated, but he had a feeling she’d fallen asleep. Carefully, he peaked around the screen, trying not to see anything he shouldn’t. As he looked, he saw Emma was asleep, her head bent back over the tub rim, hair cascading out. Knowing how tired she was, he was loathed to wake her, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to get her out of bath without her consent. He walked over, kneeling next to the tub. Reaching out his hand, he gently shook her exposed shoulder with his hand. “Emma, love, wake up.”
It took a few more shakes and calling her name for her eyes to flutter open. “Killian?”
“You fell asleep in the tub.” Killian explained. He stepped away and grabbed a towel as Emma moved to sit up. He held it out for her, diverting his eyes.
Emma sleepily stood up in the tub and took the towel from Killian, shakily wrapping it around her body. She swayed a bit as the fog of sleep refused to clear. Damn, her magic took more out of her than she thought.
Realizing that Emma was still tired, Killian held his hand and fake hand out to her. “Here, love.”
Emma took his hand and allowed him to hook his arm around her to help her out of the tub. “Thanks.” As she steadied herself, she looked up at him. “We don’t have sleeping clothes.”
And she was too tired to conjure any. Killian understood her meaning. “Go ahead and dry off. You can sleep in my shirt.”
Emma nodded and walked over to the bed.
Killian quickly unbuttoned his vest and hung it up, before pulling off his shirt. He walked over to find Emma sitting on the bed, wrapped in her towel. “Here you are.” He set the shirt beside her and turned away.
Quickly Emma shrugged on the shirt over the towel. She stood up, straightening the shirt, and dropping the towel to the floor. She pulled back the covers and fell into the bed, letting sleep claim her once more.
Killian turned after a few minutes and saw Emma passed out, the covers haphazardly over her. His brows drew together with concern. He shouldn’t have pushed her to use her magic so much when she wasn’t used to it. Walking over to her, Killian properly tucked her in before taking his own bath. The water was lukewarm, but that was fine. At least he’d get clean. Once he was done, he took a throw blanket and the other pillow and made a pallet on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d slept on worse. Finally letting the days catch up to him, Killian let his exhaustion take over and he soon fell asleep.
****************************
After her bath, Marian realized since they were robbed, she had no other clothes. She dried off and decided to sleep in her tunic and undergarments. There was no money on her, so she wasn’t going to be able to buy much of anything without a job.
Colin had been too kind to pay for her room for the week; he and Emily both did so much for her that she felt she could never repay them.
Still, her lack of memory didn’t sit well with her. Her head ached, but it dull now. Colin and Emily looked so surprised at her amnesia that Marian doubted they were involved. They’d been so kind she doubted there was anything nefarious motivating them to help her.
But why could’t she remember anything? Even her own name eluded her until Colin told her it was Maria. Her name didn’t feel quite right, but if that’s the name they knew, surely it had to be her name? Who was Maria though? Where was she from? Why had she been on her way to Marawick Harbor? Did she have family here? Or had she left family behind her?
It was all so confusing and overwhelming.
Dressing for bed, Marian tried hard to think of anything. What was her mother’s name? Her father’s? Did she have any siblings? Aunts? Uncles?
Nothing came to her. Her mind filled with absolute nothingness.
She fell into bed, her dull ache pounding as her mind fought to uncover its secrets.
Tears filled her eyes as a deep sense of pain and loneliness overcame her. No one knew who she was, not really, and she had no memory of those who knew her. Colin and Emily, kind as they were, were strangers. Even they admitted they’d only just met her on their travels; likely they’d known her for a day or two at most.
Why had she been traveling alone before? Perhaps she was independent and stubborn. Had she decided to go out on her own? Had she left a home behind to forge a new path?
Her pillow muffled her sobs as Marian allowed the emotions of the day to possess her.
****************************
He was up before the sun, still feeling exhaustion in his bones. Pushing himself up, Killian looked up at the bed from his position on the floor, finding Emma still asleep. Good, she deserved rest after everything that she’d been through. Unfortunately, that also meant that he couldn’t get his shirt back just yet. He hoped to get some things done this morning, but he didn’t want to wake her. Perhaps he could don his vest and coat, but that would get him some strange stares. It wasn't cold enough to have his coat fully buttoned up. No, he’d just have to wait until Emma awoke.
Killian rose from the floor and stretched away the soreness from the past few days and sleeping on the floor. After a good stretch, he went over to where the water pitcher was and poured a glass. Leaning against the dresser, he watched Emma sleep while he drank the water. Sometime in the middle of the night, she moved to the middle of the bed, her arm stretched out over one side. Her face was relaxed in sleep, not peaceful, but at least open and unguarded. It was a nice sight to see. One day, he hoped to see her unguarded in her conscience state as well.
He wondered if Marian was doing all right. Before they headed out into town, he’d need to give her some money to buy herself some things. While they had to look out for Marian, Killian wished he could keep his focus on Emma. Even though Marian had no memories, surely some things from her life still stuck with her, but Emma was completely new to this world and he had to help her learn. It would be hard to help her with Marian around and not raise Marian’s suspicions.
When he finished his water, he perused the room for something to do. There were a few books, but nothing piqued his interest, so he chose to sit in the armchair. Once Emma was awake, they’d dress and get Marian and then get some breakfast. Then they’d get clothes and much needed items. After that, permanent lodgings would be a priority. Jobs would be another matter. Since this was a port town, perhaps he could be a fisherman or find some job on the docks. Those were the ones he was best qualified for. For Emma, that would be a little harder. Marian was another story altogether.
They agreed a barmaid was too risky for Emma. There weren’t truly any jobs that her bail bonds or sheriff skills would be of use. It truly was unfortunate how limited jobs for women were in the Enchanted Forest. There had to be something that Emma could do. Though they wouldn’t know what jobs were even available until they ventured out in the town.
He watched the sun rise through the window of the inn, lost in thought as his mind turned to ways to return to their future. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t a viable option, but Killian didn’t know much of other sorcerers or witches around who could help. They still had the wand, of course, but Emma hadn’t gotten it to work. He wasn’t sure if Rumplestiltskin had been lying or not, but if he’d been telling the truth and Emma’s magic was back, then why hadn’t it worked? What was keeping them here?
As the morning sun rose higher, Killian's attention returned to Emma. Concerned that she wasn't waking, he walked over to the bed, sitting at her side. Gently, Killian brushed a few errant locks away from her face. "Emma?"
No response. She was breathing; her chest rising and falling steadily.
That was a relief, but Killian wondered if her magic use had unintended consequences. "Emma, love, can you wake up for me?"
Not even a groan or grumble left her. She was warm to the touch, but not feverish. She was sleeping, just not waking.
There was a knock on their room door.
Killian silently cursed. Clearly her magic exhausted her, but it wasn't something he could explain to the maids. Not if they wanted to keep her magic secret. "Who is it?"
"It's Maria." Marian called through the door.
Killian waked over to the door and opened it, pulling her inside, before shutting the door.
Marian registered that he was shirtless and tensed up. "Now just wait a minute, you cannot just manhandle..."
"I know, I'm sorry." Killian said, cutting her off. "Emily isn't waking up." He headed back towards the bed, not sure what to do.
"What do you mean she's not waking up?" Marian followed him, concerned.
"I think she used too much magic." It was the only thing Killian could think of for Emma's state. "She's not use to using it so much."
Guilt settled in Marian's gut. Hadn't she pushed Emily to use her magic? "What can I do to help?"
Killian brushed his hand against Emma's cheek. He figured she'd be all right for now if she was just sleeping off the ill effects, though Killian worried about just how long Emma would stay like this. "For now, I don't think there's anything we can do." He turned to Marian. "I need to go around town and get some things done. Since we didn't have sleeping clothes, Emily borrowed my shirt. Can you help me change her into her undergarments?"
Marian nodded, walking over to the vanity where Killian folded up Emma's clothes the night before.
Killian leaned over Emma and whispered. "Forgive me love. I'll be on my best behavior." His joke fell flat even for him.
When Marian brought Emma's undergarments and tunic over, they worked together to undress her and redress her, Killian keeping his touch as light and noninvasive as possible without causing suspicion. After all, he was meant to be Emma's husband. This wasn't supposed to be the first time he ever saw her fully unclothed. With Marian's help though, it was a quick process.
"Could you stay here with her?" Killian asked Marian. "I know it's a lot to ask..."
"Not at all." Marian said. "You've done so much for me, this is the least I can do."
Killian nodded gratefully. He pulled on his shirt and began to fully dress for the day. "I don't know if a healer can help her, but I look around for one. I have other things to do, but I'll come check in when I can. If there are any changes, send someone for me." He ensured all of his coins and jewels were on him. Once he was ready, Killian couldn't help himself, he went back to Emma and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back, Swan." He whispered. "I promise you'll be all right."
He turned to Marian. "Take care of her."
"I will." Marian said, not sure exactly what she else she could do.
Killian left the room with a determined stride. He needed to find a healer, but not just any healer. He needed one who understood or had magic. Could he find one here?
Mrs. Wright might know where to start.
He headed down to the front desk.
"Good morning, Mr. Jones." Mrs. Wright greeted. Then she saw his grim expression. "Is everything all right?"
"My wife seems to have fallen ill." Killian said. "Do you know where I can find a healer?"
"Oh yes," Mrs. Wright said. "There's a woman who lives near the docks. Vivienne Wilder. I'm not one to fall ill myself, but others say her touch is like magic."
Magic. That intrigued him. "Thank you, Mrs. Wright."
Now, he needed to find out if it was like magic or actual magic.
****************************
“Oh leave me alone.” An old man growled at the young woman standing before him. His scowl deepened the wrinkles on his pale face. One milky blue eye didn’t see ahead of him, while the other glared at Vivienne Wilder, the resident healer of the Wharf.
Vivienne, who looked in her twenties, sported long black hair in a tight bun. Sepia skin stood out underneath her pale yellow top, and her brown corset and skirts were plain. Sharp dark eyes rested under an arched brow. “Mr. Holbrook, I need to check your ankle.”
“Grandpa.” A young red-haired girl of about ten poked the older man in the shoulder. “Let Miss Vivienne take a look. Grandma says it’s been bothering you.”
“I don’t need no healer.” Mr. Holbrook huffed. “Me ankle is just fine.”
His granddaughter shook her head and spoke to the healer. “Grandma says he’s been limping for days now. Thinks he pulled something.”
“You hush now, Eileen.” Mr. Holbrook admonished. “I can move around just fine.”
“Mr. Holbrook, are you in pain or is your ankle just causing discomfort?” Vivienne asked, deciding to ignore his cantankerousness.
Holbrook huffed. “It’s just fine I tell you.”
Vivienne shook her head. “Fine. If it’s causing true pain I suggest drinking a cup of ginger tea in the morning and at night.” She handed a vial of oil to Eileen. “Also, rub rosemary oil along the ankle every night and wrap it in a cold compress.”
“How much for the oil?” Eileen asked.
Vivienne smiled. “No charge this time, but if he’s still having problems, let me know.”
“I ain’t having problems.” Holbrook grumbled.
Vivienne shook her head and walked away. Mr. Holbrook would come around; he was just old and stubborn. She needed to see to other patients. While she'd lived in Marawick Harbor for just over a year, it took time to earn trust and build up her reputation.
It wasn’t the first time she had to start over and she doubted it would be the last. There were times she missed home, of course, but going back wasn’t an option.
As Vivienne turned up an alley, an old woman caught her eye. Wrap in a cloak of black, with silver hair framing her ancient features.
The Crone’s grey eyes pierced Vivienne in place.
Vivienne curtsied. “Well met, Wise One.”
“Well met, daughter.” The Crone said. “Lir’s son returns. He has the Light with him.” The Crone was never one to beat around the bush.
Vivienne’s heart stopped for a long moment. “The older one or the younger one?”
The Crone grinned showing crooked, yellowed teeth. “The younger one.”
“And he has a Savior with him?” Vivienne scoffed. She remembered him well. Always trailing after her and his brother. Unlike his brother, Lir’s younger son inherited the sea’s tempestuous nature. Leap first, think never.
“Not just any Savior.” The Crone said. “The Savior. The one to finish what your father began.”
Disbelief was a rather paltry term for what Vivienne felt in that moment. “The Savior?” It took a moment longer to compose herself. That’s why the Crone was here. “You need something of me?”
“The Savior is untrained. Reckless with her magic.” The Crone said. Her ancient eyes looked Vivienne up and down. “You’ll have to do.”
“Me?” It didn’t take long for her to understand. “Me? You want me to train the Savior in the craft?”
“It isn’t as though your father is available.” The Crone lamented.
Of course, she’d prefer it if he was. Vivienne thought bitterly. Her father was The Sorcerer after all. “What of Lir’s son?”
“He remembers nothing.” The Crone shrugged. “That is for the best. He’d be much more dangerous if he did.” The old woman stepped forward, looking Vivienne straight in the eye. “Train the Savior, and you will be rewarded.” Then she disappeared in a swirl of mist.
“Fuck.” Vivienne cursed. The last person she wanted to deal with was Killian Jones.
****************************
His eyes searched the market for a new mark. Sure, he got proper work once in a while being a lamplighter or a courier ever so often, but Dodger couldn’t let his skills get rusty.
Any thief worth their salt kept perfecting their art.
A new face to market caught Dodger’s attention. Average looking fellow, with a thick beard. His clothes were rather nice. A determined stride told Dodger the man was on a mission, which meant he’d be too focused on his goal to pay much attention.
Dodger used the alleys to get ahead of the man. It looked as though the man was headed in the direction of the docks, so Dodger hurried along in between buildings, coming out near the end of the market, closer to the Wharf end.
He was now in front of his mark, watching the man walk through patrons with ease. Dodger pretended to be looking at stalls as he made his way towards his mark. Passing by closely, Dodger’s feather light touch fished a few coins out of the man’s pocket.
Smirking at his success, Dodger didn’t expect a hand on his arm, jerking him back.
Fierce blue eyes glared at him. “I’ll have my coins back, if you please.”
His mark marked him. Great. Okay, time to play the innocent victim.
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Dodger’s offended act was instinct. Even as he looked at the man, sensing danger, he thought maybe he could keep it up. After all, how dangerous could this posh bloke be? "Whatever do you mean?"
The man rolled his eyes. “I don’t have times for games. Hand over the coins and I won’t alert the authorities.” He held out his hand expectantly.
Dodger stepped back to put distance between them. “Good sir, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about." He needed to convince this man that he was wrong; if he left now, the man would alert the soldiers, and Dodger hadn't gotten caught in Marawick yet, but he didn't have the means to leave the city.
The man smirked and Dodger's blood ran cold. Calculating anger filled blue eyes. Dodger swallowed. You sure know how to pick 'em, Dodge.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly." The man stepped closer, hand grabbing Dodger's arm in a vice grip. "I've no time to mess about. Give me my coins, and I won't gut you like a codfish and leave you here for the vultures to pick apart."
Something in the man's eyes made Dodger believe his threats. Unassuming as the man was when Dodger marked him, this man was far from unassuming now. Dodger debated for a moment longer; run or give in. Though he doubt he'd be running from this man for long. He handed the coins over.
"Thank you," The man grinned tightly before walking off.
Dodger watched him go, an intense curiosity filling him. Just who was that man?
Don't do it, Dodge. He told himself. Leave it be.
Ah hell, he was the Artful Dodger. When did he ever leave well enough alone?
Dodger kept to the shadows as he followed the man into the Wharf.
****************************
Emma woke up in a meadow of pink flowers. The sun shone through the canopy of trees, birds chirped, but the world felt as though it was covered in haze.
"Killian?" Emma called out. Where was he? Where was the inn? She remembered being in the bath and then briefly Killian helping her out.
She was fairly certain that she fell asleep in a bed. "Killian?" She slowly stood up, looking around at her surroundings.
"He isn't here." A man spoke, appearing out of nowhere.
Emma stepped back. "Who the hell are you?"
The man appeared young, in his late twenties or early thirties, it was hard to tell. He was dressed in a thick, brocade shirt, underneath a brown leather tunic vest, and brown pants. His dark brown eyes felt ancient as they looked her over. "I'm Merlin." He said simply.
Emma stared him down as she processed that. "Bullshit."
Merlin grinned. "You're parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, you've met the Evil Queen, Rumplestiltskin, Peter Pan, and your lover is Captain Hook, but Merlin existing is a stretch?"
"Hook isn't my..." Emma shook her head. "Never mind. So what, Camelot and Excalibur are real too?"
"Indeed they are." Merlin smirked knowingly. "But they are also concerns for another time. Right now, I'm more concerned about your appearance here."
"Where is here?" Emma asked.
"The Astral Realm." Merlin said. "A plane of existence in between living and dead." He motioned to the meadow around them. "This is the Middlemist Meadow of Camelot. I used to tutor my students here. It's a place I find calming. You see, I'm in between life and death myself, trapped for eternity. This is my piece of home." Merlin focused on Emma. "It worries me that the Savior is here."
"I'm not dying, am I?" Emma asked, fear gripping at her heart. She didn't want to die without seeing her family or Killian again.
"Depends on how you came to be here." Merlin said. "What happened, Miss Swan?"
"Uh, well, it's a long story." Emma said.
Merlin smiled patiently, a paternal air about him. It made Emma wonder just how old he truly was. "I have plenty of time." He sat down amongst the flowers and beckoned Emma to join him.
Warily, Emma joined him, uncertain about whether or not to trust him. Even so, she briefly explained her plight leaving out some details here and there she didn't deem necessary, but explaining about the time travel and her overuse of magic.
"Ah, so you've been training under the Evil Queen." Merlin said.
Emma hadn't mentioned that. "How did you know that?" Her eyes narrowed as she leaned away from him.
"The Astral Realm transcends realms." Merlin said. "I can be anywhere, any time, and watch anyone."
"Creepy." Emma huffed.
Merlin shrugged. "It's useful. I've seen Storybrooke and I'm aware that Regina and the Dark One are the only two people you could learn magic from. Considering your magic is the antithesis to the Dark One, he certainly would never teach you. That leaves Regina, and she isn't one to actually sit you down and explain things."
"You're right about that." Emma said. "So what is happening to me?"
"You're fine." Merlin said. "You're in Healing Sleep."
"What is Healing Sleep?" Emma asked.
"Magic drains the system." Merlin began. "Regina uses magic all the time, so she's built up a tolerance to the drain. More than that, she also isn't very powerful and limited on how much magic she can expend, so even if she felt the drain, it wouldn't cause total exhaustion. There are certain beings, demigods, products of True Love such as yourself, elves, true sorcerers, who have so much power that it's harder to control. You aren't limited on how much magic you can use like Regina is, which means you can overdraw your power. Thus causing Magical Fatigue. Healing Sleep happens when you over use your magic to the point your body forces you to rest in order to refill your magical reserves."
Disbelief overcame her. "Wait, I have unlimited magic?"
"No, you have a higher limit of how much magic you can use." Merlin explained patiently. "True Love is the most powerful magic of all, but you don't have the same benefits of other species, who have power. You're still a mortal, you still bleed, and you will fatigue. Even after training and building up your tolerance, you would still need to watch how much magic you call upon."
"Okay, well, I'm stuck in the past for the next four years," Emma sighed. "I'll need to learn this stuff. I just need to wake up first."
"Fate already has a teacher in mind." Merlin smiled. "You'll meet her soon. As for waking up, well, depending on your body's recovery time and how much magic you used, you could be asleep for days, or weeks, or..."
"Don't finish that sentence." Emma glared. "If you're some great sorcerer, why can't you teach me?"
"I'm indisposed at the moment." Merlin said. "You can only meet me in the Astral Realm, but it's dangerous to spend too much time here if you're a novice. It likes to play tricks sometimes, which means if you aren't careful to spot them, your soul could move on into the Afterlife."
Definitely want to avoid that. Emma thought. "Is there a way to speed up this sleep?"
Merlin's infernal knowing grin returned. "You'll learn in due time. Until then, rest and enjoy the Middlemist."
****************************
Marian ate only a little of the soup the maid brought up for her and Emily. She told the maid that Emily was just sleeping off her illness, and she hoped she was right. Emily was still breathing, and she was warm. Nothing seemed amiss other than Emily would not wake.
Marian attempted to wake her for lunch, but the blonde woman didn't react. Not a mumble from her lips, not a flutter of her eyes.
She worried that Emily might not ever wake up. Colin was convinced that her magic had something to do with this, and he would know better being Emily's husband. Marian wondered if this was common. She wasn't surprised by magic existing, though her memories were gone, so surely magic was commonplace.
Why then did Colin and Emily want to hide Emily's magic? Was magic good to have, or was it dark? Colin and Emily didn't seem like bad people, and Emily's magic seemed so helpful.
Could she really trust these strangers after all? Or was it better to move on, and try to rebuild her life on her own? Her gut said Colin and Emily didn't mean any harm, but they also didn't know her. Should she try and find out who she was? Should she ask them if she mentioned where she was from and why she was moving here?
It was just strange that everything was gone. Even her dreams were hazy images, but nothing indicating her past.
Marian sighed, pushing away her half eaten soup. She glanced where Emily lay, sleeping peacefully, wishing she could sleep just as well. "Why can't I remember?" She whispered to the silence around her. She looked at her hands. There were callouses, light as they were, so she was used to work off some sort.
But what work? Did she do cleaning? Was she a barmaid? A seamstress? That was just another thing to figure out. Once Colin returned and she knew Emily was going to be all right, Marian needed to go into town and figure out just what to do next. She couldn't rely on them forever. It was time to figure out what little she could and go from there.
Starting with a job.
****************************
Killian waited outside a boarding house, where he was told the healer currently was checking on a patient. He hoped this Vivienne could help him. He figured someone with magic would be better, but perhaps the healer knew someone who could help with their situation.
He just wanted Emma to be all right. He couldn't let anything happen to her, not when he promised to get her home. Not when he needed her safe and happy for his own sanity.
A young woman with black hair exited the building, a basket of herbs, potions, and poultices in hand.
Killian pushed off the wall of the house across the street and put himself in her path. "Excuse me, Miss?"
The healer froze at his voice before turning to face him. Oddly, her dark eyes recognized him.
An uneasy feeling settled over him. Had Emma unintentional glamoured the face of someone from around here? He doubted it.
The woman glared at him. “How can I help you sir?” Her defensive stance had Killian backing up a bit.
He wasn't sure why she didn't like him, but he wasn't going to chance pissing her off more than she already was, not when he needed her help. “So sorry to bother you.” Killian smiled gently. “My name is Colin Jones. My wife and I recently moved to town.”
Surprise flickered over her expression. Vivienne relaxed a bit, realizing Killian truly didn't seem to remember her. Though she was confused about the wife part. The Savior couldn't be his wife, could she? That was a dangerous match if that was the case. As it was, the Savior needed to work on her glamour spell. It worked well for non-magical people, but if Vivienne could see through it, then so could the Dark One, or others a might more powerful. This close to the sea, it would be better to disguise Lir's son as strongly as possible. "And why am I interested in this information?"
"I heard you're the healer in town. My wife fell ill on our travels." Killian said. "I hoped you'd come look at her. She's not waking up."
His concern for the Savior was genuine. What did he mean by her not waking up?
Vivienne wanted to tell him no and go back to her rounds, but the Crone wanted her to teach the Savior. It seemed that for the time being Killian and the Savior were a package deal. Vivienne would deal with that later. "Does she have a fever?"
Killian shook his head. "No, she's warm, but not feverish." Killian glanced around and slowly stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. "What do you know about magic?"
"Enough." Vivienne challenged. There was no way she'd give away her hand. Not to him. "Why?"
"Because my wife has magic." Killian spoke lowly as to not be overheard. "I think she used too much of it." He looked at her imploringly.
Here's where Killian not having his memories hampered him. He'd been one of her father's best students, all the more why Vivienne disliked him, and now he had to come to her for basic magical knowledge. She'd feel smug if she didn't hate him so much.
Alas, she had to teach the Savior, so she'd have to suffer Jones all over again. "All right, take me to her and I shall see what I can do."
His immense relief was palpable. "Thank you, miss."
A Tropical get away will provide Omega Emma and Alpha Killian with the chance to meet. And a chance to Bond.
Orchid Island was a special getaway providing someone a chance to be introduced to their potential mate. If their instincts aligned, they would be given a cabana and a hut to join as a mated pair.
The island resort was exclusive to Alphas and Omegas. Only Betas were employed, and even they were only around when providing refreshments or other necessities. Other than that, they were to remain as far away from the mating beings as possible.
Each Alpha and Omega was flown to the private island in a small charter plane. Unless it was a boat transporting supplies or staff, no other vessel was allowed entry. Beta guards were employed for the sole purpose of ensuring the safety and privacy of the guests.
Some say the island calls to the Alphas and the Omegas who feel drawn to the place at the same time as their potential mate. Others claim that it is the primal instincts that guide the being when their perfect other half longs for a bond.
Whatever the case, Emma Swan and her friends found themselves as the latest arrivals to the lush tropical paradise.
“Are you sure about this, MM?”
“Trust me Emma. This place has a one hundred percent success rate. Any Alpha and Omega yearning to find a mate always finds one.”
“I hope you’re right. I’m tired of going through my heats with only a toy for relief. I feel like if I don’t have an Alpha pin me down and claim me soon, I’m going to go insane.” Ruby huffed, already keeping her sharp eyes out for any sexy Alpha hotties.
Betas wearing crisp white uniforms guided them to the Omega quarters, where they would be staying until they found an Alpha match.
Emma noticed an abundance of the color fuchsia everywhere, as well as the scent of sweet tropical fruits.
“I wonder what the Alpha quarters look like?”
“You can ask your mate after you meet him.” A Beta woman answered Ruby’s question as she walked into the room. “But I’m sure there will be other things you will have on your mind at that point.” Looking at the rest of the Omegas, she said, “I want to welcome you all to Orchid Island. I’m sure you will have a wonderful time here. Though you are no doubt here to find a mate, please do not put pressure on yourself to do so. Allow yourself to relax and let things happen in their own way.”
"I can't believe I let you guys talk me into coming here."
"None of us are having much luck meeting Omegas. This place promises every Alpha and Omega will find their perfect mate."
"But what if we don't live anywhere near our potential mate? How can it be perfect when there's a chance of being separated again?"
"I don't know how it works, I just know that every person I've talked to who has been here has met the love of their life."
Killian Jones left out that he may have had an ace up his sleeve. He knew that the Omega he desired most was going to be on this island.
He had yearned for Emma Swan since the first day he saw her take down an Alpha who was trying to get too handsy with her.
He saw her regularly in the bar him and his brother owned, but there was never a good time to talk to her.
And then one night he overheard her and her friends discussing going to a tropical resort they just heard about. The moment he found out where they were going and when, he was booking tickets for himself and his friends. Then he did some research about exactly what Orchid Island was, just so he could convince them all to go.
It was unsurprisingly easy. Both Graham and David were pretty sick and tired of the single Alpha lifestyle.
Killian hoped the magic of the island would allow him to spend some time with Emma and let him know once and for all if there could be a future with her.
A tray of tropical drinks, complete with tiny colorful umbrellas was presented to the guests as they entered the gathering lodge.
A live band on the stage provided fun background music for the guests to get to know each other in the well lit space.
The intoxicating scent of the tropical flowers filled the night air.
It all lent to an environment that felt peaceful and relaxed.
The music stopped when a Beta woman walked up onto the stage and introduced herself as the Resort Hostess.
“Wellcome All. We who operate the resort can guarantee the safety and wellbeing for all. For each rotation, there are no new guests who are brought in until the day after all previous guests have left. For the first day, we are all simply getting to know one another. Alphas and Omegas can meet and discuss whatever should come to mind. But by the end of the night, all Omegas go to their quarters and all Alphas return to theirs. There will be no mating on the first night. Tomorrow, Alphas and Omegas will be tested to see who is compatible with whom. The elements of the island lend themselves to providing the ideal conditions for finding a true mate. If a suitable mate is on this island, then you will find them and join with them. If anyone has not found a mate, then they will be offered pampering and other fun singles activities. For those who do find mates, their things will be transferred to the other side of the island. Each newly mated pair will be given a private hut and a cabana on the beach, to partake in activities for couples. The next three days are yours to do with whatever you like, to spend however you like. The last day you pack your things and return to your life, hopefully with a new mate.”
The Beta host did not mention that it was very rare for anyone to be partaking in the singles activities.
In all of the time the island had been hosting mating gatherings, only two kinds of beings did not find a mate.
1: Those who were too young and immature, and therefore not yet ready for a mate.
Those in that category were often dragged to the island by well meaning friends and or family members who were trying to force things because they thought their loved one was lonely.
Many of them would return of their own choosing years later, and would happily find mates.
2:Those that though they were fully mature physically, were not suitable lifemate material.
These were the beings who didn’t fully understand what it was to be a lifemate. Alphas that wanted to completely control an Omega. Omegas that wanted to manipulate Alphas and play them against each other.
Both sexes had been noticed to attempt to seduce and become intimate with more than one partner. It never worked out in their favor, since everyone else who came to the island was looking for a life partner, and could always sense who was and who was not suited for them.
Many of them had to be escorted off and banned from the island. There were incidents of them attempting to interfere with the matings of the couples who had paired up.
A few of those in the second category were rejected former companions who were hoping to get their ex back and or sabotage their chance at finding someone new.
The Beta host truly hoped that she wouldn’t have to be dealing with anyone from the second category.
Becoming intoxicated by anything other than the perfume of the tropical flowers or the scent of their mate was highly discouraged. So drinks were switched to strictly the non alcoholic kind.
“You are all here to find a mate. And one can not do that if their head is clouded by artificial means.” The Beta Hostess explained.
There were a few in attendance who seemed irritated by the rules, but most of the guests agreed with the idea.
The real fun to be had was when they found their lifemate.
Killian, spotting Emma, made his way to her, hoping it was the first step toward a life with her.
“Hello, my name’s Killian. Will you allow me the honor of a dance?”
She thought the Alpha was incredibly sexy, but she hesitated. “I”m Emma. I would like to, but I feel the need to warn you, I don’t know how good I will be.”
“As with most things love, there is only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
Emma allowed Killian to pull her onto the dance floor.
As they moved together, his eyes never left her face. The intensity in the way he was looking at her set her heart racing.
“I have a confession to make. I’ve seen you in the Rabbit Hole on multiple occasions. You were always there meeting someone, so I never felt it wise to approach you.”
Emma laughed. “I’m glad you didn’t. Or you would have cost me a lot of money.” Realizing how that might sound, she clarified. “I’m a bail bonds enforcer. It’s my job to lure in bale jumpers. Every one I bring in earns me money. Since I’m an Omega, it’s easy to lure in Alphas who have broken the law. I get underestimated, and then I get the element of surprise and the feeling of satisfaction when I take down Alphas twice my size.”
“I must say, I’m impressed. I sensed there was something special about you, but I had no idea just how amazing you were.”
Emma could tell Killian’s compliment was completely sincere and felt her cheeks grow warm.
All too soon, the resort host announced the end of that day's festivities.
“All Alphas and Omegas are advised to return to their rooms and get some rest. Tomorrow's planned events will reveal if your potential lifemate is here.”
There was obvious disappointment on the faces of both the Alphas and the Omegas. The attraction was already strong. Looks of longing were cast as each group was escorted back to their designated rooms.
“I have a strong feeling we are not going to be single after tomorrow.” Mary Margaret stated.
“That’s an understatement.” Ruby practically groaned. “I nearly presented for Graham right there in the meeting area.”
Emma knew exactly what Ruby was talking about. It took everything in her not to rub her backside against Killian’s groin and expose her neck for him to mark with a claiming bite. She could already sense that he was the Alpha for her.
In the Alpha quarters, there were similar statements.
“How am I supposed to sleep knowing that cute little Omega is so close?” David groaned.
“You think you got problems? I swear, that Omega, Ruby, smelled like she was about to enter her heat. I could drill through steel with what I’m dealing with right now.”
Killian could barely hear what David and Graham were saying. It was taking all of his focus and willpower not to rush to where Emma was and claim her that very night.
The hours until morning were certain to feel as if they were dragging on for an eternity.
The next day, everyone was eager to get started. There was a rush to get ready and make themselves presentable for their potential mate.
A Chase through the island was the test for the potential life mates.
All Omegas were to be given a fifteen minute head start. And if their Alpha could find them through the heavily scented forest, then there was no doubt that they were true mates.
The Alphas were kept locked away in the dining hall until fifteen minutes were up. No one wanted to risk an Alpha starting the pursuit too soon. Or having an unfair advantage because he saw the direction in which his desired Omega went.
The Alphas immediately started to become restless the moment they heard the giggle of the Omegas as they started off.
There was no clock in the hall, meaning they had to wait for the doors to be opened to know when the time was up.
The moment they heard the locks click, every Alpha was running toward the doors, which thankfully for the well beings of the Betas, had opened quickly.
The island was large and the number of guests was small, meaning that they soon all lost sight of one another.
Killian focused on tracking Emma’s scent. He had memorized it while they had been dancing, determined to trace it no matter how many smells were in the area.
Killian stopped suddenly when he heard Emma’s voice calling for him. He looked to where the sound came from and saw long blonde hair among some dark pink orchids. But his senses were telling him Emma had gone in a different direction. Though the perfume of the flowers was heavy, they could not hide Emma’s unique scent.
Dismissing the voice as him mishearing things and the vision as someone else, Killian followed his instincts and returned to the chase through the tropical forest.
In a short time, he caught sight of her. She ducked behind a tree, peeking out at him flirtatiously before pushing off and heading toward a clearing with a small waterfall and a pool of crystal clear water.
Emma, still at a distance from Killian, keeping eye contact with him, unclasped her dress, allowing it to pool at her feet.
Killian’s member became rock hard as his hungry gaze devoured Emma’s fully naked body.
The tips of her fingers trailed along her side. His eyes followed her path as if in a trance as he admired his Omega. But was soon brought out of it when her sultry voice promised, “If you can catch me, you can have me.”
With all of his strength and speed, he pursued the woman he desired as she bounded away with a naughty gleam in her eye.
She was quick. And quite agile. Years of having to avoid unwanted touches and containing misbehaving Alphas had made Emma’s body a finely tuned machine.
Killian was certain Emma would be caught only if she wanted to be, and that he just needed to prove he would never give up chasing her.
Killian nearly had her when he was suddenly halted by a tree branch snagging on his pants. Only the tips of his fingers were able to graze her lovely skin.
Emma giggled as she darted far from his reach.
With a growl of frustration, he tore the offending trousers from his body and continued his pursuit of his little blonde vixen.
Both completely naked now, they chased each other around the clearing.
Killian in all of his glory made Emma hesitant to test his skills for much longer.
He had already proven his determination to have her as his mate. And had revealed, in more ways than one, that he was fully equipped to provide Emma everything she needed in a mate.
Both driven by desire, him to have and her to be had, the game was brought to an end. Killian was finally able to get a hold of Emma. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, determined to never let her go.
He maneuvered them and pinned her against a very large boulder. They were both laughing at the conclusion of their little game until Emma’s backside brushed against Killian’s manhood.
They both let out a needy moan. Emma widened her legs, encouraging Killian to rub his manhood between her folds until they were both slick from her moisture.
“Do you consent?” Killian asked huskily, his lips brushing along the Omega’s ear.
“Yes.” Emma whimpered, nearly disparate to finally be claimed by the sexy Alpha.
It seemed fitting for their first time to be outside, surrounded by lush tropical foliage and the sound of the waterfall.
His instincts told him how to touch her and where.
He tilted her head back to claim her lips with his own. And used the other hand to knead and squeeze a breast.
Keeping his mouth sealed to hers, he plunged into her Omega cunny with his Alpha cock.
“Oh that feels so good.” Emma moaned, angling her hips back every time Killian thrust forward.
“Aye love, best I’ve ever felt.” Killian groaned.
It felt as though a thousand silk bands were wrapping themselves around the lovers, until their very souls were fused together, never to be severed again.
He never stopped kissing her, or touching her. He explored as much of her as he could.
“Alpha, claim me!” Emma called out. Killian was helpless to refuse. His inner beast demanded he heed the call of his true mate and bond them together forever.
The bite was the thing she needed to push her over the edge. Her walls tightened with a vise-like grip on his expanding knot.
He held her trembling body tightly, but tenderly, kissing wherever he could.
After resting a while, Killian and Emma realized that they were starving for food. They agreed that it would be a wise idea to get dressed and find out where they would be staying now that they were mated.
“Congratulations to the two of you.” The Beta hostess greeted the couple. “You passed the test of the forest. You did not become confused by the heavy perfume of the flowers. And you were not distracted by the visions the forest creates to trick unworthy Alphas. You have found your mate and can now enjoy the wonders the island provides for lovers.”
“This makes three out of three for your group. The two Omegas that you arrived with, Miss Swan, have each found a mate with the two Alphas you arrived with, Mr. Jones. We will set you up with a hut near theirs so that you can all discuss your new found happiness.”
“Oh, Emma, you have a mate now too!” Mary Margaret shouted with glee, running up and giving her friend a hug.
“And he’s a friend of your new mate.” Emma revealed with a grin.
“Really, that’s wonderful! No one will feel left out when we’re talking about mated life. And we will all have so much to talk about. And we don’t have to worry about our mates not getting along.”
“Isn’t she the sweetest? So worried about maintaining peace.” David beamed, wrapping his arm around his Omega.
“We all seem to have gotten pretty lucky. We each found a mate that is perfect for us.” Graham commented, standing behind Ruby with his arms around her.
“Looks like Mary Margaret was right.” Ruby chimed in. “This place really can help whoever wants a mate to find one.”
The mated pairs were escorted to their huts, and informed of the things that would be provided for them.
Emma would later realize she had barely paid attention to how many mated pairs there were. But to be fair, Killian was really good at keeping her attention focused on him.
In the place for eating, relaxing and being entertained, there was a collection of large chairs, “outdoor daybeds” a resort staff member informed the couples.
To Emma, they looked like large wicker baskets turned on their sides, mostly closed off except for the opening for entering and exiting. Each had a thick soft mattress and a lot of pillows.
“They’re similar to nests.” Mary Margaret observed.
“Perfect for an Omega comfort.” David smiled at his mate.
“It would seem a shame to pass up the opportunity to enjoy them to their full extent. If you’ll excuse us, Graham and I are going to keep getting in touch with our wild side. We can talk about how happy we are to be mated when we get home.” Ruby said, pulling her grinning mate with her into a daybed.
Each couple settled into one of their own and enjoyed the platters of food that were brought to them.
Live music and entertainment were provided as each couple continued to get to know one another.
Clothes were discarded as the need to press flesh to flesh grew stronger.
As they lounged together naked in the outdoor daybed, Killian brushed his fingertips around Emma’s breasts. He marveled at the beauty of his Omega. She was everything he had ever dreamed of, and more.
Emma was just as pleased with her Alpha, he was everything she wanted. Her fingertips drifted slowly down his treasure trail.
Killian’s own fingers needed to explore and caress the beauty, and made their along her most sensitive places.
He kept his eyes on her, gazing in admiration while his hand traveled down between her legs.
She gripped tight to his wrist, unsure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
He noticed her jaw was clamped shut and understood her concern.
“You can be as loud as you want, love. I promise you that everyone else is far too lost in their own encounters to give any notice to what we are doing.”
Realizing he had a point, that no one would care what she and Killian were doing since they were no doubt doing the exact thing, Emma allowed him to continue.
With her relaxed and open, Killian proceeded to bring Emma to ecstasy. He pressed his thumb to her clit and rubbed in a circular motion.
“oh!” Emma called out, her chest heaved as a warm pleasure began to build.
“This is what I long to see every day and every night for the rest of my life; your beautiful face when you're consumed with ecstasy.”
If Emma could have formed words, she would have told him she wanted to hear his voice for the rest of her life. But the very sound of it had taken her to the point of sweet bliss.
But Killian didn’t stop his ministrations. He pushed her past the point of discomfort and back to hot pleasure.
“Just take me Killian, please, I want you to.” Emma gasped as she felt herself on the verge of a second orgasm.
“Not yet, my darling. I want to see you come undone, again.”
The coil inside her wound tighter and tighter. Killian’s skilled fingers stroked Emma’s little bud with just the right amount of pressure. The coil snapped. A sweet wave of Euphoria washed over her. It was so intense that no sound could be heard when she opened her mouth to cry out.
Emma’s beauty when she was lost in ecstasy was so great that Killian just had to claim her lips with his own and thrust his tongue into the cavern of her mouth the way he would thrust his member into her quim.
She brought her hand up from gripping his shoulder to cup his head, running her fingers through his hair as she did so.
Killian continued to stroke her through, causing her body to tremble with the aftershocks.
When their lips parted for air, Emma looked into his eyes and murmured, “More.”
To let him know exactly what she meant, she moved his hand from her center. Emma then pulled Killian on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist and aligning his member to her core.
“You’re so greedy, my Omega.” Killian groaned, sliding into her. “I love it.”
Emma arched her body, throwing her head back.
“Yes!” She cried out, long past caring who could hear her in the throes of passion.
Killian may have reveled in knowing he had brought Emma so much pleasure that she had been able to forget herself, if he also had not been brought to mindless ecstasy.
Their bodies began to glisten with sweat. Each reached for something only the other could provide.
Killian became torn between wanting to fasten his lips to Emma’s, or leave her mouth uncovered so he could hear her shout her pleasure. He wanted to look at her. And he wanted to kiss every inch of her.
Ultimately, it was Emma who decided for him. Her little nips and bites along his shoulders drove him wild, taking him beyond the point of consciousness.
He took her mouth with his own, entwining his tongue with hers.
Her walls squeezed tight around his shaft, fluttering and contracting, causing his knot to emerge.
Their arms tightened around one another as their pleasure began to intensify.
Three hard thrusts into her was all it took to make them both reach that point of release.
The warmth of the island night and the heat from one another’s bodies made it easy and comfortable to sleep in the outdoor spots the couples had been provided.
Which meant that many lovers would fall asleep in one another's arms when their bodies were spent and sated, then wake naked with their equally naked mates body pressed against them. And then their carnal desire would be renewed.
Killian and Emma were in that moment between sleep and awake. The consciousness was dormant, allowing instinct to be in control.
Killian was aware enough to know his mate was naked in his arms. The primal part of him needed to have his beloved.
His hands slid over her. His body covered hers. His lips brushed along her face and her neck.
“Killian” Emma breathed his name, the sound going straight to his manhood, stirring his desire for her.
“Emma” was moaned from his lips when he joined with her.
Pure instinct controlled them both. Their movements slow and languid while their conscious minds gradually become aware.
Killian’s kisses grew deeper and lasted longer. The thrusting of his hips took on a more purposeful rhythm.
Emma’s eyes flew open and she called out as a great wave of bliss crashed over her.
Her eyes were filled with love as she looked up at Killian moving above her, making love to her.
It was the best way possible to wake up. Body filled with pleasure from the virile Alpha pumping his cock into her relaxed and willing body, and surrounded by the view of a tropical island beach.
He was just as in awe of her as she was in him.
He was amazed at how pliant she was, willing to be manipulated into any position he desired. And she seemed to greatly enjoy every one of them. He wanted to please her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life pleasing her.
“I’ll be so good to you, my love. I will fill your every moment with pleasure. And I will only stop when you tell me too.”
“Don’t you dare stop. Never stop.” Emma gasped in a lungful of air as she tried to pull Killlian deeper inside of her.
The shear curtains offered the illusion of privacy without blocking any of the breeze.
The cool air caressed Emma’s skin, soothing the flush of heat.
The mated pairs along the beach who were enjoying the same activities Emma and Killian were enjoying might as well have been on another island. For the two, the whole world was reduced to that little cabana.
Killian’s massive member thrusting into Emma’s tight heat was the only thing that existed.
“You feel so good. My sweet Omega. How lovely you look when you’re speared on my cock.”
Emma, panting and gasping, raked her claws over his arms. She loved when her Alpha talked while he took her. Her body seemed oversensitized, eager for everything her Alpha offered.
One arm under her lifted her, forcing her back to arch and bringing her plump breasts closer to his greedy mouth.
His tongue slid around her nipple then pinched it between his teeth, sending lightning bolts of sensation through her.
She dug her fingers through his hair, holding him to her as he suckled her breasts. She yanked and pulled, unable to control her movements with her body taken over by pleasure.
But it didn’t stop Killian from taking her to the very heights of ecstasy. And beyond.
The days passed quickly, seeming all to blend together as just moments of pleasure and passion.
“We’ll be going back home tomorrow. I wish we didn’t have to leave this island.” Emma sighed.
She and Killian were swaying gently in a hammock. Her head rested on his chest while he held her.
“I know what you mean, love. These past few days have been amazing. I dislike that when we go back we won’t get to spend every minute together. We’ll just have to snatch whatever fun we can when we can.”
She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “What if we’re not like this,” Emma gestured to their position, “back home.” What if it’s only the magic of the island that had made us so passionate?”
Killian’s hold on her tightened. “I told you, Emma, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you. Everything in me says we could not be more perfect for one another. And you’ll see. Our life together may not be as tranquil as it is here on the island, but it will be just as passionate. How can it not be?”
Killian took Emma’s lips with his own, and in his kiss she felt his full devotion to the bond they shared.
Then she was assured that they would always feel the passion they felt for one another during their stay on Orchid Island.
I’m looking for a Captain Swan fic. It’s a Princess Diaries 2 au. I don’t believe there was a fic before it to follow the first movie just the second.
I remember reading the first chapter and it followed the same as the movie Emma narrating previous events (her finding out she’s a princess and blah blah blah) that leads to her birthday ball.
I specifically remember Roland running up to wish Emma a happy birthday and saying his Papa told him Emma had to dance with all the eligible bachelors (butchering the words) and saying that’s him. Emma dances with a bunch of people before dancing with Killian and Roland cuts in and Emma is like “why that one I liked that one” and Roland says something like “because he’s competition.”
I think Zelena was Killians Aunt and Elsa was Emma’s Princess friend and Ruby was her friend from highschool. But I’m not entirely sure.
Someone else had to of read this. I didn’t make this up.
another late contribution for this year's CS Supernatural Summer - hopefully it'll be worth your while ! i clearly lied last year so i'm posting the long-awaited second chapter of last year's entry today. you should definitely check out the first chapter before.
i hope you like it and feel free to share your thoughts!
thank you so much to @th3capta1n for being my beta
Summary: Ever since he was a boy, Killian Jones could see ghosts. Some were kind, others were a nuisance and rarely, he found the worst of them. This time he meets a woman who remembers nothing, except her name. Together, they’ll find out her story and help each other.
Word count: 7211 words
Rating: Teen and Up
tag list: @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff @winterbaby89 @stahlop @winterbythesea @sotangledupinit
read on AO3 | read the first chapter here and AO3
Chapter Two The Swan
“Alright, can we all just calm down?”
Killian stepped away from the table under the looks of barely contained excitement from Emma and Henry. One of them should have a leveled head and it apparently fell on him.
“There is a mysterious book written in a completely foreign language that conveniently appears exactly when we need it and you’re not even the slightest bit suspicious?” His nervous expression didn’t seem to dissuade his audience as they just smiled.
“It’s clearly a magic book.”
“It’s magic, Mr. Jones!”
He exhaled a defeated sigh as he threw his head back.
“Magic? That’s your justification?”
“Mr. Jones,” Henry crossed his arms with a completely unimpressed look that almost put his mother’s to shame. “My gym teacher is a mermaid and a werewolf serves me hot chocolate every Friday. Magic is the only explanation.”
There was a satisfied smile on Emma's face as she mimicked the boy’s pose.
"So, Mr. Jones." Emma's use of his last name called his attention to her. "Do you have any other easily explainable issues or can you take a leap of faith and see what's in that magical book?"
A leap of faith. As he looked between Henry's eager eyes and Emma's worriedly excited expression, he thought he could. That it would take the sheer belief in a centuries old ghost and a 10-year-old boy to get him to believe wasn't lost on him.
"Fine." Killian sighed amused at the excitement clear on Henry's face. He turned a reassuring smile to Emma's steadying breath. "Let's see if the magic book has some answers."
“Yes!” Henry was quick to reach for the book while rushing around the desk to sit at Killian’s chair.
“You said it was written by Alice Jones?” Killian asked as he stepped to Henry’s left side.
“Do you know her?”
“Alice was my mother’s name, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her write a book, much less in a language she didn’t speak.”
“Maybe it’s your ancestor?” Emma offers. “I have been dead for a long time.”
“My mother named me after my grandpa, maybe it’s the same?”
Killian’s fingers stroke the ring still clutched in his hand trying to rationalize their suggestion. “This situation just gets curiouser and curiouser.”
“Maybe I should read the book?”
“We should see what Alice Jones has to tell us.”
Killian nods. Trusting a mystery book seemed to be the least crazy thing for him today.
There is a story that no one knows, the story of the Princess and the Huntsman. Of how they fell in love and wished for happily ever after. The story that no one knows but me.
“I can see now why you’re so dramatic.”
Killian rolled his eyes at the teasing kid - and the snickering ghost - despite the uptick of his lip, gesturing for him to carry on reading.
Misthaven was a kingdom of peace and prosperity and it had been so since before my youth. Its people loved their royalty and they loved them back. Those good times didn’t last for long. I remember my mother’s solemn face as she returned from work - a handmaiden to the Queen must be her confidant, but even she couldn’t keep Queen Snow’s worry to herself.
Ships with black sails threatened to surround Misthaven’s borders; black armored knights terrorized provinces; a menacing cloud of dark magic frightened everyone.
No powerful villain stepped forward to claim such attacks and no accomplice confessed. The Queen appeared to be frightful even as she summoned every war council available.
Despite their efforts, the darkness seemed undefeatable. The fairies’ light magic barely managed to keep it at bay. The kingdom needed a solution.
A neighboring kingdom housed a powerful King. A King whose army was unbeaten by any forces that threatened him. A King whose power didn’t compare to Misthaven’s light. A King who wanted unlimited power. King Rumplestilskin.
Misthaven was, for a while, blessedly ignorant over the imminent threat. As well as its young Prince. As for Princess Emma, she had been allowed to participate in the war councils presided by her parents since she became of age. Now, a decade after the first, she was more than ready and shared opinions with intelligence and level-headedness.
Killian could see Emma’s blush covering her cheeks and he wished he could hold her hand. He wished she wouldn’t be so surprised to hear such compliments. He wished a lot when it came to Emma.
I have been her handmaid since we were both children. I have watched her grow beside me, never feeling like less, but like an equal. I still hold fond memories of afternoons of joy and companionship. I also learned things that I will take to my grave, however her story of love won’t be one of them and for that I apologize. This I do to guarantee my princess’ rescue.
“Do you want me to keep reading, Emma?”
She seemed startled from Henry’s sudden stop, looking from the book, to the boy and back before looking at Killian. He hoped she saw the reassurance he was trying to show. She nodded.
“You can carry on, lad.”
Henry nodded and cleared his throat.
Once she became of age, there was no end to the line of suitors hoping to gain her hand in marriage. (Killian pushed down on the surge of jealousy in his chest.) However, the Queen and her Prince had married for love and they wished the same on their daughter. Every suitor she refused was led out with a tight lipped smile and well wishes. There was no talk of arranged marriages for the throne was hers regardless of matrimony.
And the Princess treasured her freedom - if not of life, of heart. Her father had started his life as a shepherd and was now the Queen’s prince consort. Perhaps an unknown sailor would have the same luck.
But it was no sailor or baker who won such honor as to hold the Princess’ heart in his hand. It was a huntsman.
As the Princess’ closest friend and confidant, I was able to hear about their first meeting, when he was nothing but a crude hunter. How she had been out for a pleasant ride. How he was ready to kill a defenseless deer. How she didn’t quite like my reminder that her table was regularly filled with defenseless animals too. How she blushed and said her issue was his rudeness, not his eating habits. How he had finally let the animal go. How she could not stop talking about him for the next few days.
I was also able to witness their second interaction. See the Princess’ provoked by the handsome Huntsman’s quips. See how she liked his quick wit and he enjoyed the irritated blush on her cheeks. See how she gave him her name with her nose in the sky and how he smiled and gave her his. I was able to hear it all again for the next week.
During the next month, Emma would go see him alone. And when she came back, there was always something to talk about. From the annoyance she felt about him to the quiet confession about her restless heart when around him. From the way he had almost hit her with an arrow to the way he had helped her off her horse. From the way he was also too close to the way he was never close enough. From crude hunter to Graham.
“Graham…”
Her whisper caught his attention and he saw a multitude of emotions behind her eyes.
“Do you remember him?” Killian asked.
Henry had stopped reading and was now looking between them.
“I do.” Her voice quivered and when she looked at him, he saw her glassy eyes.
“Should I stop?”
That seemed to bring Emma back, the determination replacing the grief.
“No, I need to know how it ends.”
“Are you sure, love?”
“I am.” The strong tone in her voice was enough to convince him even as worry filled him.
Killian nodded to Henry who seemed to feel the same as him.
Emma wished to keep him secret. He didn’t know she was the Princess, as he seemed to have lived in the woods since childhood and she wanted to keep it as such. She wanted to keep the pressure away from their budding romance. For that’s what it was. From blushing cheeks to tangled hair. To stained riding pants. To-
“I think you should skip to the next paragraph, lad.” Killian insisted as he scratched behind his ear.
“Why? What does this mean?”
“It just means that Emma and Graham became boyfriend and girlfriend.” He screamed internally as he wished he didn’t have to have this conversation with his boss’ son.
He didn’t have to look at Emma to see her blushed cheeks and embarrassment.
“Oohh!” Henry’s expression would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so focusedly hoping that the subject be put to rest. “I understand.”
He really hoped for this not to get back to Regina. She’d kill him faster than one can say ‘fireball’.
Their secret courtship turned into love. Her books were filled with dried flowers, one for every encounter. I was the only one who knew of their relationship. Despite her trust in her mother, Emma knew how difficult it would be to bring Graham into this life, keeping the Queen in the dark was the only way to assure the ease in their romance.
However, every good thing must come to an end.
The threat becomes more dangerous. The dark magic encroaches them. There is no other solution. The fairies’ light magic isn’t strong enough. Emma wants to help, as she did before.
Once, when the Princess was no older than 11 years old, Prince James invaded the kingdom. A Prince from a kingdom led to poverty by its careless royalty. A Prince who wasted his years fighting battles that did not involve his kingdom and spending its money. Until his father died and there was no kingdom left to rule - its people either migrated or dead. A Prince who was the Prince Consort’s twin, since the King had wanted a child and took one of the shepherd’s wife’s twins, a mother who only wished the best for her children. A mother who accepted the deal to make sure her babies did not succumb to illness.
Prince James invaded the kingdom claiming injustice for the way his twin brother’s life had progressed while he rotted away in misery. It should have been a quick matter to resolve had it not been the dragon whose wrath James had unleashed on the kingdom. The dragon had wreaked havoc in the kingdom and as everyone watched, threatened to burn the royal family to a crisp had it not been for the burst of magic that saved them.
No one knew exactly what happened, but the ones who saw remember seeing a bright white light coming from the Princess making her resemble a wide winged bird - a swan. The dragon was quick to escape as the wave of magic because there was no other name for it, incapacitated Prince James and his crew. Everyone clamored Emma’s bravery and songs were written and played in the streets.
However, despite their efforts that seemed to be the only magical experience the Princess would experience. Nothing the fairies did seemed to bring forth another hint or spark from the young girl. Songs were corrected and Emma’s magical achievements were seen as a simple blessing, a power born from her parent’s true love that protected the family. They called her the Swan Princess - not only for the circumstance of her magic, but also for the fact that under her beauty hid a vicious bravery.
To say that Emma had been disappointed over her magical failure was an understatement. But so much like her family, she chose not to give up and dedicate herself to learning sword fighting from the soldiers, something she could actually grasp.
And now, just as before, Emma wants to help. She offers to join the soldiers, defend her home and her people. Unfortunately, that is not what her parents have in mind. “We can’t risk losing you, Emma”, They said. “We need a powerful alliance.” And Emma was smart enough to understand what they meant even before they confessed their plans.
An arranged marriage. Something she had been assured all her life wouldn’t happen. The tears that fall down her face are unconscious as she begs her parents for a different solution. She speaks to them, for the first time, of how her heart belongs to another even though his name is never even whispered. But Emma knows. This is her parent’s plan, the only solution that will keep her and the kingdom safe. So she accepts, even as her heart breaks.
I try to console her tears that night, to no avail.
The arranged marriage would be to the Kingdom’s closest neighbor. A Kingdom whose King owns the strongest army. A Kingdom whose King has fathered only one son, close to Emma’s age. Give or take a couple of years. There isn’t much to say about Prince Baelfire. King Rumplestilskin shelters him from everyone, practically confined to the castle. His mother escaping a life of such imprisonment, according to rumors, by joining a band of pirates. The young man is said to be a fairly nice Prince, educated and capable.
This union would entail a merging of Kingdoms. Such creation would result in the strongest Kingdom in existence. A merging that still required more planning, were not for the desperation of Queen Snow and Prince David for Misthaven.
But Emma’s stubbornness is unrivaled. Her room is vacant the next morning when I arrive to wake her up. Nothing, but a letter. A letter explaining that she will be leaving in search of another solution. That her heart is not ready to forget her love. That despite the love she has for her kingdom, she doesn’t wish to marry someone she doesn’t love. But she promises to return, after she finds a solution or once she realizes her journey is fruitless.
At the breakfast table, the Queen, her Prince and the Princeling await the arrival of the heiress. They receive me and the letter. Their expressions are full of pain and the whole castle is sent to a frenzy as they prepare an expedition to find her.
As a handmaiden, I am given no task except to wait for my charge. But I know I must attempt to find her. She is my Princess, but most of all, a friend, the only one I’ve ever had. The journey to that place in the woods isn’t familiar, but it takes merely a blink of an eye. But the camp is empty. The Huntsman has left - not in search of a new home but, I suspectbecause a stubbornly determined Princess has asked for his help in her quest.
The Princess has always been more than capable to defend for herself, that is without doubt. She who survives a dragon, can survive much worse. But I worry. And such worry is blinding when it comes to the ones you love.
Killian pretends not to notice Emma’s quiet sniff.
The Blue Fairy was known by all of Misthaven. If there was ever a blue star in the sky, children were told to wish upon it for she would grant their wishes if they were pure of heart. A child’s story for centuries, she seemed to be on familiar terms with the royal family.
The Blue Fairy was, once, Misthaven’s savior. When Queen Snow was but a runaway Princess, she was the one who helped her regain her throne. Regardless of her lack of involvement now, I was sure she would still be eager to help. My worry grew when Emma hadn’t gone to her first.
Under the shade of a willow tree, I called for her. My heart was put to the test but it seemed to be pure enough. Her voice called my name and there she was, in front of me. She was the size of a human, not as small as an acorn as my mother had told. It didn’t matter, in the end. I urged for her help, to bring back my Princess safe and sound.
Her magic was a light blue and it felt cool to the touch. I saw as she surrounded herself with magic and then sigh in disappointment as it got warmer once more. She said that my wish was a wish she couldn’t fulfill, for my Princess was no longer safe and sound. “Emma is no longer in our plane, I’m afraid she has been taken from us.” She explained and I attempted to fight my tears.
His hand reaches for hers, subconsciously. The cold feeling extends to his whole hand as he sees Emma do the same. There was no feeling of her hand in his, but there was something.
I begged for another wish. I wished for a way to save Emma. A way to bring her back to the people who loved her. My vision was filled with blue and I was able to feel the coolness of the Blue Fairy’s magic. I felt no different. “Your wish was granted. I have given you all I can to realize your heart’s desire.” It wasn’t much of an explanation.
Magic, she said, was as hard to explain as it was to understand. Their magic came from a higher entity, a Sorcerer. A powerful being capable of seeing the future. She couldn’t bring Emma back as it was far beyond her capabilities, but she had granted my wish, given me a tool that would help. I saw her when a blur of yellow caught my attention. She was sitting closer to the branches as if she had been there since I had arrived, but that wasn’t possible. I hadn't seen her.
There was an odd expression in the Blue Fairy’s face when I asked about her. Though I received no explanation except for an expression of grief in her face, I was told as to what gift I had been given. A capacity to see those who are no longer in the plane of the living.
"How will I be able to bring her back with this?" I asked, feeling as if the Fairy's help hadn't been so helpful. "This gift will help you save the Princess." Cryptic as all magic is. I tried not to feel frustrated as I exited the willow tree. When I reached the Huntsman's camp, I saw him.
I was angry and I snapped as I could only think he had left Emma alone. He simply looked at me with surprise. Surprised, I learned, that I was able to see him. He told me how he had attempted to beg for help from anyone whose path he'd crossed, but no one seemed to see him.
He was dead.
"He was dead."
That was the only explanation. As cryptic as magic was, it seemed to work. I wasted no time asking for Emma's whereabouts. He told me that he had been killed at the neighboring Kingdom's castle when Emma and he had requested an urgent meeting with the King.
The shrill sound of a phone startled them all. Henry took a breath as he saw the name on his phone's screen.
"It's my mother." One look at the clock and he winced. "I was supposed to be in her office ten minutes ago."
"Go, lad, we'll stay here." Killian reassured the curious boy as he glanced at Emma's expression, an expression of grief that clawed at his heart.
"I'll be back." In a rush that none of the other adults could muster, he exited the library.
"Are you alright, Emma?" He gave her a moment in the silence, hoping her whirling thoughts had the chance to calm.
"I can't believe I would forget all of this. I would forget falling in love, the love of my family."
"It isn't your fault, there is clearly something else at work here."
When she looked into his eyes, his heart broke. There was pain, grief, anger. "I remember what happened, I remember why Graham died. I know who did this."
300 years earlier
His hand in hers gave her strength, strength she wasn't sure she felt. Emma needed this mission to be successful, she didn't intend to spend her life attached to someone she didn't love, burdened by duties that she never thought she had to fulfill. Her heart was still set on saving her kingdom and she would, if there was no other way, but she needed to try first.
The halls of the castle were cold, quiet and dark. There was a prickling under her skin at every step, as if she was being watched, pursued. There was an eagerness in the dark corners of the room, eager to pull you in, drag you. The great hall wasn't better - still as cold, quiet and dark as the rest of the castle. And the man sitting on the large throne was the epitome of darkness.
He wore a wide, almost mad, smile, his eyes expectant. She felt like a prey. Graham's hand was no longer wrapped in hers, but she still felt his strong presence. She had a hunter on her side, it would all work out.
Next to his father's throne, sat a young man, close to her age. Give or take a year. Prince Baelfire, of course. A curious man, he was. The darkness didn't seem to reach him but entrap him. He seemed fragile - not by choice.
“Welcome to Aur, your Highness.”
As she was taught, Emma bowed. And so did Graham, playing the part of her escort. She saw the Prince bow to her from the corner of her eye and ignored his father’s admonishing gesture in response.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit in this early morning?”
Emma swallowed at the predatorial look in his eyes. It didn’t help that there was no one else in the room but the four of them. She could sense Graham’s discomfort matching hers.
“I’ve come to discuss the agreement you have made with my parents.” She attempted to keep her voice determined, brave - all she knew she was despite the threatening aura of the room.
“Yes, Prince Baelfire and I are looking forward to this union.”
“That’s what I wanted to discuss, your Majesty. You see, I don’t wish to marry your son if there is another alternative.” She held her breath as the royal looked at her, analytical. Emma sees Prince Baelfire await his father’s judgment - no disappointment, no joy, merely expectant with a hint of fear.
“It doesn’t seem to be your decision, is it, Princess? Your parents, as rulers of the Kingdom, have blessed this union, therefore there is no other choice.”
“I understand that it was their decision, but I am here hoping to reach another solution. The merging of our two Kingdoms won’t be easy and it might lead to complications with lineage.” As she speaks, she realizes just how complicated this deal is.
“I have no intention in merging our Kingdoms, Your Highness, so there will be no complications.” King Rumplestilskin’s smile turns wider, his eyes glinting with excitement. Prince Baelfire lowers his head at his words. Graham takes a step closer to her.
“What do you mean?” Emma was confused. There was a feeling deep in her gut that told her to run - her stubbornness was unrivaled. “My parent-”
“Your parents made a deal with me. I would help them with their threat in exchange for you marrying my son.” His giggle was manic and caused shivers down Emma’s spine. “They were so desperate, poor things, that they didn’t question my intentions.”
“And what are your intentions?”
“To take over Misthaven, of course. You’ll marry my son ensuring lineage and after your parents mysteriously pass away, I will be free to reign Misthaven as I see fit.”
“And what makes you think I will let that happen?” There was a scowl in Emma’s face as she balls her fists.
“There is nothing you can do about it, dearie.” Rumplestilskin rises from his chair, a far more threatening presence than she expected. “You underestimate my power.” He makes his way slowly to her. “Who do you think has been terrorizing Misthaven in order to make this happen?”
“It was you…” She whispered, reluctantly surprised. “But how? You don’t have magic. Especially not magic as dark as that.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Emma tried not to feel like a caged animal as he began walking in a circle around her. “But I made a friend, a friend who does indeed wield such magic. A friend whose plans match mine.”
“You won’t get away with this, I promise you that.”
Her threat lost its power at the King’s loud laugh. He seemed relaxed as if she posed no danger to his plan. And she believed it, it made her feel small. She wasn’t accustomed to being made to feel small.
“There is nothing you can do, dearie.”
With a snap of his fingers, dark tendrils wrapped around the two visitors. While her restraints seemed focused on her wrists, Rumplestilskin had Graham by the neck. As strong as he was trying to be, he was no match for such powerful magic.
“Please, he has nothing to do with this, just let him go!” Emma kept her eyes on the King’s hoping he wouldn’t see exactly how much it hurt to see Graham suffer as he was.
But she couldn’t help it.
She could pinpoint the moment he noticed, the way his smile widened and his tongue ran through his teeth - like a crocodile preparing to eat his prey. Her heart hammered against her chest praying to every entity she knew for their safety.
But no one was listening.
There was a crack and a heavy body falling to the ground. Her heart stopped. Her future destroyed in a second. The love of her life gone. There was no stopping the distraught cry that exploded out of her.
She didn’t notice how she had freed herself until she had her arms around Graham’s lifeless body. Her tears had landed on his unmoving face. And there was silence around her. She saw the King’s unconscious form laying on the floor as well as the absence of dark magic. A burst of magic, it seemed, to save her.
Unfortunately, not to save her from heartbreak, as she continued to hold a dead Graham in her arms. Her hands caressed his face and she felt it growing cold under her touch. She wished, more than anything, to have him open his eyes, to have him smile at her one more time.
“Princess?” A too small voice from a young man startled her and she raised one hand, hoping for another burst of magic to save her - but there was nothing, not even a spark.
Thankfully, she knew where her Huntsman kept his dagger and she quickly wielded it. She kept herself embracing him, however, one hand on his face.
“Take one more step and you’ll regret it.” Her voice was shaky but her determined stare wasn’t.
To her surprise, the dagger pointed at him doesn’t seem to frighten Prince Baelfire. He approaches with his hands raised to his chest until he stops a step away from her.
“I’m sorry.” He sounds honest in his whispered words as he looks into her eyes.
Emma lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and her whole being deflates as even the dagger falls to the floor. She turns back to the man laying on her lap, her hand cupping his cheek.
“If you must kill me, do so now. Your father won’t have my Kingdom.” Her voice is small, not usual for her.
“I have no intentions of killing you or of marrying you.”
That calls her attention and she looks back to the Prince.
“I simply do as my father wishes, he’s a powerful man.” He sighs as he kneels in front of her. “I have been carrying this for years.” Her eyes watch him closely as he removes a small vial from his coat pocket. “And I think it’s supposed to help you.”
“What is that?” She is wary, nothing good should come from such a dark liquid.
“I’m not quite sure, I was never fond of magic. I found it in the library. It had a note.” He removes a small paper from the same pocket which he gives to her.
She will need this.
“Who is ‘she’?”
“I don’t know. There isn’t anyone I know who would need this but you. My father won’t give up. This is all I can do to help.” He extends the vial to her.
“How do I know you speak the truth?” She took the vial even as she kept her eyes on him.
“I don’t know. But I am.” The Prince shrugged his shoulders as he returned the eye contact. She had always been able to tell when someone was lying to her. He was telling the truth.
Both turned when they heard a groan from their right. Rumplestilskin was regaining consciousness. She needed to act fast.
“Thank you.” She quickly said to the Prince as she removed the cork from the vial.
There was no time for second thoughts. It was trusting a mysterious vial with an even more mysterious message or seeing her Kingdom conquered by this villain.
With a deep breath and a final look to her hunter, she drank the strange liquid to the last drop.
Everything went black.
Now
“The potion killed you, then.” Killian didn’t know what to think, it had been a strange story. He wasn’t sure whether he’d like to hug Emma or punch someone who had probably been dead for centuries.
“I don’t think so… Remember the garden?” Killian nodded. “No other ghost has been there, I don’t think I was dead.”
“Aye, I just-” Killian interrupts himself when he turns to her. There is the wet streak of a tear on her cheek. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry about Graham.” His hand inches closer to hers.
“That’s alright, I remembered…”
The door opens suddenly for Henry to run inside.
“My mum is going for a meeting so I still have an hou- is everything alright?” Henry asks as he looks at Killian’s expression. The small lamp on his desk flickers on and off slowly. “Emma?”
His call seems to catch her attention. She turns to him with a small smile.
“I’m alright.” The lamp stops flickering.
“Everything’s alright, lad.” His smile is reassuring and Henry seems to deflate as he feels a more calm environment.
Wanting to give Emma a few moments to rearrange her thoughts, Killian busies himself giving Henry a resumed version of what Emma had told him.
“So that Baelfire turned her into a ghost!”
“Actually, the potion did.”
“Someone must have given that to him, someone who knew what was going to happen!” Killian swore he could see the cogs in Henry’s brain turn.
“Perhaps we’ll get some answers if we carry on reading.” Emma’s voice seemed back to normal, quieter but more herself. Looking into her eyes, she nodded.
“Aye, we should keep reading, lad.”
“Right!” Henry quickly ran to the book that had remained open on the desk.
Graham told me what happened. How the King-
“Okay, she’s saying what we know, I’m just going to skip.” Henry interrupted.
After he passed away, there was too much. Too much confusion, too many sounds, too many colors. Once he was able to concentrate on his whereabouts, all he saw was Emma laid on the floor next to him as Rumplestiltskin paced angry. Prince Baelfire seemed to be telling him how Emma had killed herself out of grief. How she had taken a potion, a poison he assumed, how he had been unable to stop her.
“He’s protecting you.” Henry seemed surprised by the revelation.
“He didn’t seem to be as bad as his father.” Emma admitted.
“Aye, the lad had courage.”
Unfortunately, there was nothing else I could do. I couldn’t go to the castle to retrieve the Princess nor could I tell the Queen where she was. While magic is common, talking to the deceased did not seem to be something that would be celebrated.
“Right you are.” Killian whispered. Henry turned to him followed by Emma, making him blush. He cleared his throat. “Carry on, lad.”
It was hard to see how distraught the Royal Family was about the Princess’ disappearance. The castle seemed too quiet at times and her room even emptier. But it didn’t take long to receive news. Prince Baelfire arrived at court with Emma’s body carried by a fleet of guards.
The tall ceilings of the hall echoed the Queen’s cry of anguish as she saw her only daughter’s lifeless body. The Prince with a wall of bravery behind his heartbreak, commanded the servants to take Emma to another room. Everyone was dismissed. As the last to leave, I saw as the Prince attempted to comfort his wife, even as he cried with her.
Prince Baelfire was quick to leave the castle. I, however, couldn’t stay far from my Princess. I followed the procession as they took Emma to a guest room. I entered as they did, but did not leave as they did. I touched her hand, it wasn’t cold, it was rigid, it was as if she was sleeping. Graham stood by my side, a mournful expression in his eyes as he kneeled at her bedside. I pretended not to see his sadness as he attempted to hold her hand.
“Do you want me to continue? I know this can’t be easy…” Henry interrupted, looking to where he felt Emma’s presence.
“We need to know what happens next.” Emma’s voice was determined even as she wiped a fresh tear from her cheek. Hearing her parent’s pain wasn’t easy. She then turned to Killian with a nod. “I’m alright.”
Henry turned to him when he didn’t say anything, but Killian couldn’t take his eyes off Emma’s, hoping he was able to give her some reassurance. Finally, he nodded.
“She is not dead.” The Blue Fairy watched from the end of the bed. She startled me. I had never known her to be able to appear wherever she wished. Regardless, it was reassurance. She wasn’t dead. “I was told that I needed to come to this room at this time, now I see why.” Cryptic.
With a wave of her hand over Emma’s body and a familiar spark of cold, blue magic, she seemed to have her answer. “She is asleep. A cursed sleep.” She said. The half-answers and enigmatic posture were maddening. And I said so. “She will remain asleep until someone breaks her curse.” I turned to look at Graham, but he hadn’t moved, he seemed unwilling to care about anything else but the sleeping Princess. He was dead, unable to be with her again.
“Oh, Graham…” Emma whispered.
I was determined to break the curse. Not only to spare her parents the heartache, but also because I needed her back. “You mustn’t wake her up now.” The Blue Fairy told us. I was angry, why should Emma be suffering when we can help her? “Rumplestilskin believes her dead, his plan has been stopped. Wake her now and we’d be doomed.”
“She knew Rumplestilskin’s plan?!” Killian’s fist was balled against the table as he attempted to hold back his anger.
She knew his plan, even though no one had told her! “The Sorcerer knows all, Alice Jones. He’s seen this and more and we are to follow his plan.” His plan to destroy a family? To take their daughter from her? “Yes. All is as it should be.” I cursed. I never cursed anyone before. But I did now. “I understand your frustration, but all is as it should be.” She repeated, with an infuriating calm.
The feeling of inadequacy was like a fireball in my chest. But as angry as I was, the Blue Fairy was right, Emma was safe while she was asleep. What was I to do next? “I will place a preservation spell on her body, you will urge her parents not to bury her for it will surely kill her.” Before I could say anything else, she was gone.
Bloody fairies.
Bloody fairies. As helpful as she was, the hardest part was my chore. I left Graham to his vigil. I only returned the next day, her parents having had some time to compose themselves. But still I saw the lack of light in the Queen’s eyes and the slumped shoulders in the Prince’s posture - for a stranger, they would look the image of collectedness but not for me.
It was easier than I thought to convince them not to bury Emma. I was never fond of lying but saying that the Blue Fairy had blessed Emma’s form to withstand the course of time was nothing more than a half-truth. In a matter of days, a glass coffin was produced to hold the Princess. It was placed in the family’s mausoleum and everyday for years, the royal couple would place fresh flowers, usually accompanied by the young Prince.
The story was kept quiet. Both to ensure the Kingdom’s trust in their leaders’ safety but also to prevent any conflict between the two Kingdom’s involved. King Rumplestilskin remained quiet, his plan had failed. The dark magic surrounding the Kingdom was unable to get in. Even with Emma gone, there was too much light to let in the darkness.
His failure drove him to madness, pushing the darkness as far as it could. Until, decades after, he was killed with a dagger through his heart. A culprit was never found and the Kingdom, as fragile as it was, accepted the new King without protest. King Baelfire would do great things. Both Kingdoms fell into peace once more.
Life had returned to normal after Emma’s presumed death. Even as the country mourned, they celebrated Prince Leopold’s milestones.
Despite mine and the family’s desire to keep working with them, they had no need for me, not with the Princess gone. But, a year or so later, I was married. This might not seem important to you, but I discovered something. I welcomed a son soon after. A son who would grow up, as children do and would talk to entities no one else could see but me. The Blue Fairy’s gift was passed down. I was able to witness a granddaughter with the same gift.
We kept it secret, as well we could. I attempted to share this story with my kin, but I see now my time is short so I’m hoping that writing it will preserve it in its most perfect state. I understand now that I am not the one supposed to save Emma. But I hope that one of my own blood will.
I saw her, long after Rumplestilskin was killed, after her parents passed away - one not far from the other -. She was as if no day had passed her by, still in the clothes she wore when she fell asleep. She did not recognise me, but she was the one who found me. She did not recognise me because she did not remember who she was. All she knew was her name.
Emma.
You, who reads this book, my kin, I hope your heart remains true. For that is the only way to save her. Please, save her.
“Wow…” Henry breathed.
“Indeed.” Killian sat on his desk feeling his shoulders tight.
“I’m sorry.” Emma spoke softly, catching his attention.
“What do you mean? Why are you apologizing?”
“This was never supposed to be your burden.” Emma looked at him, her eyes a mix of apology and determination. “The only one who’s supposed to save me is me.”
“This isn’t a burden, Emma. I’ve spent years helping people like you. Apparently, generations. This is my mission and I’m gladly doing it for you too.” His smile was reassuring and he hoped that he wasn’t showing too much.
She doesn’t seem to notice as she looks down with a hint of pink in her cheeks. “Thank you, Killian, for helping me.” Her smile when she looks back at him sets his heart hammering against his chest.
Henry’s attempt at being quiet is louder than he seems to want as it breaks their moment. His cheeks are red and he tries to hide his satisfied smile.
“There’s nothing else in the book?” Killian asks, clearing his throat, hoping to get the attention off their small moment. “There seems to be some writing on that side.”
“Oh!” Henry’s brow furrows as he stares at the strange writing. Emma, he sees, has moved back to standing next to the boy. “I can’t read it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s in a weird language, even weirder than what I just read.”
“Hmm, strange.”
The library door is opened once more, the sound catching their attention.
“Henry?” Principal Mills calls from the door as she looks around for her son.
“It’s time to go already?” Killian can hear the pout in the boy’s voice and knows it’s there when Emma shows that soft smile that, he learns, is reserved for Henry.
“Yes, I’m done with the meeting. Come on, you have homework to do.” There is a smile on the Principal’s face too, it seems involuntary when Henry is involved.
“Fine.” He huffs as he rushes to put his backpack on. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Jones.”
Killian nods with a grin. “Master Mills.”
“Mr. Jones.” Regina dismisses him with barely a look. As Henry reaches her, she places her arm around his shoulders and kisses his forehead.
“You may think she’s scary, but Henry knows how to soften her.” Emma quipped as the door shut behind the mother and child.
“The lad has abilities that we don’t know half of.” Killian winks.
After such a heavy afternoon, it seems odd to be in silence. There is much he wants to say but doesn’t know how to start or if he should. He shouldn’t.
“Would you like to watch a film tonight?” Killian asks quickly.
She seems to startle but relaxes almost as quickly. “In the box that has the people inside?”
“The people aren’t exactly ins- Nevermind,” He laughs. “Aye, in the box.”
“I would love to.”
The headiness her smile causes chases him out of the door. They keep silent. There is no need for anything to be said. Nothing needed to change the quiet, light mood between them.
Of course, their plans are meant to be ruined. A short blonde woman carrying a bright pendant stops in front of them, stopping their walk. She looks at him with curious eyes.
“Are you Killian Jones?” She asks, igniting his curiosity.
