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Far Across the Land and Sea (8/?)

A/N: It’s here!! Feels™ are here!!! @kmomof4 and @carpedzem this chapter is for you! Sorry if I’ve been almost baiting you with this since Saturday but, uhhh, life? I guess? Thank you for being so supportive. Thank ALL of you readers for bein so patient with me!

This chapter puts an end to their first adventure and teases a bit of their second, which will be a bit clearer - I guess - in the next one. For now, enjoy ;)

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8 - I'm longing to be lost in you

Emma’s forehead was still gently pressed against Killian’s, and it was sheer force of will – or stupidity – that kept her from peppering his face with kisses in relief that he was still alive.

Slowly, she realized Killian had placed one hand on her waist, thumb circling over the leather of her waistcoat as his fingers wound through her hair, bringing her closer.

«I’m fine, love» he whispered, not sounding fine at all, but his nose was brushing her, now, and she felt like melting. It was a strange sensation, one she was completely unfamiliar with and didn’t feel like letting go of it. «Your nose is cold.»

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that, losing her inner battle and kissing the tip of Killian’s nose. She could feel the hitch in his breath and her heart fluttered at the sound. Uncapable of pulling away from him, Emma stared into his bright blue eyes, seeing in those irises the promise of a freedom she longed to have and she knew he would give her weren’t it for the glint of insecurity crossing his features like a shooting star.

And like a star would, it burnt her.

Forbidding her smile to turn into a sad one, Emma forced it to stay as it was and pulled away from him, resting for a moment back on her knees and trying not to read much into Killian’s expression. She helped him stand, hand slipping away from his when he could clearly keep his balance. Where he’d touched her, Emma’s skin burnt.

Before she could step away from him, Killian grabbed her arm gently but resolutely, drawing her gaze back on him. There may have been a silent plea in Emma’s eyes, but in Killian’s, oh, in Killian’s there was just too much hate. She knew it wasn’t aimed at her, rationally, she knew it was for the witch that had possessed and exposed him, yet she could feel he was angry at himself.

«Emma,» he whispered lowly, bowing his head for a moment and clenching his free hand into a fist, tremors shaking him from head to toe.

She didn’t let him continue, placing her own hand over his and squeezing it. «No, Killian,» Emma murmured, the soft smile stretching her lips a sad one, «you didn’t do anything wrong.» Her hand slid up his arm, caressing his neck with the back of her fingers until the came to rest on his jaw. «If anything, your strength helped me take the bitch down.»

The way his eyebrows shot up in surprise filled her heart with that same warmth she felt every time he was around; she didn’t even need to see or hear him: it felt as if he was stepping over an imaginary boundary. In the very beginning, Emma had felt threatened by it, but not because she was afraid of Killian, nay: it was because she didn’t trust herself. Oh, the way she reacted to his presence, always jumping in surprise, looking at her side or behind her, as if expecting to find him right there. Not even now she knew why that was, why her body and magic reacted to Killian that way, all she knew was that it wasn’t unpleasant at all. Quite the contrary. And this scared and excited her even more.

Emma could see his hesitation in letting her go, and she felt angry at herself at the sudden relief that washed over her when Killian removed his hand, briefly clenching that one into a fist, too, before looping his thumb over his belt buckle.

Disappointment followed like a tidal wave, crashing against the relief and drowning it: she didn’t want him to shield away from her, to keep her at arm’s length. Then she realized: her own hesitancy had pushed him away.

Fuck, Emma cursed mentally, wanting, needing for things to get back to the way they were before. All she could do for now, though, was making him understand she still saw him as a partner, a man of honour. «I’d say we make quite the team.»

The way his eyes lit up like actual stars made her heart do somersaults, starting then to beat wildly, like a little bird’s wings, almost wanting to come out from her chest and come to rest on Killian’s palms.

It was too much at the wrong moment.

The smile illuminating Killian’s face risked being the last straw. Thankfully, adverting her eyes, Emma’s gaze fell on the urn.

One problem at a time, she chided herself, bending to pick it up. It felt heavy in her hand, magic oozing off of it in an alarming way. It was neither light or black, or rather, it was a strange, unexplainable, intriguing combination of both.

Instinctively, Emma looked at the sleeping princess, wondering what else she knew.

As she stepped towards the bed, her feet hit something. Glancing down, she saw Maleficent’s grimoire.

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat.

Such knowledge was a tempting offer, yet she’d seen what it could do, and as much as she knew her magic was light, how could she be certain it wouldn’t be corrupted the more she learned those spells and potions? But what if it could offer more answers, remedies to curses she would encounter on her path? What if something as dark could bring light into the world?

On a whim, Emma bent once more, taking the book with her free hand.

For a moment, she felt like a scale, balancing good and bad. How could she, though, when in both there was the same amount of darkness and light?

Killian’s hovering, calming presence worked its own magic, sweeping over her like a breeze carrying perfumes of home. Emma knew he was mere inches away, his breath toying with golden strands of hair. He didn’t question her or her motives: whatever she decided, he would support; whatever she did, he would stop her from becoming like that witch.

He would try to keep her Emma no matter the fact that he didn’t own any form of magic.

A lone tear ran down her cheek, glad he couldn’t see it fall on the floor between her feet. Emma was under no doubt that he knew.

She looked down at the grimoire in her hand. «I’ve always believed curses could only be broken with True Love’s kiss. Of course the witch who brewed the original sleeping curse thought of another remedy.»

«Contingency plan,» Killian spoke behind her, his breath scalding against the nape of her neck. «If someone used her own weapon against her, she would have an antidote.» He stayed silent for a moment. «I wonder if she ever found her own True Love.»

There was sadness in his voice, but not for Maleficent, no, how could he? No, Emma knew whom he was thinking of, and all she wanted to do was turn around and let him know there was someone who cared about him still.

«She must’ve had someone to help her, some minion she’d entrusted with a vial of blood from the product of True Love.» Emma shuddered at the thought, turning slightly to hand him the urn. Once he took it, eyes boring into hers with such intensity she thought she might burst into flames. Brushing her fingers down his torso, fingertips hovering over his vest, Emma reached the dagger at his waist, unsheathing it. The hungry fire in Killian’s irises threatened to consume her. In any other moment, she would’ve stepped into the flames willingly. For now, she settled on a smile and the gentle touch of her fingertips over the warm hand at his waist.

With the grimoire in one hand and the dagger in the other, Emma stepped towards the bed. She placed the book on the old mattress, not needing to read it again to know what she needed to do. She raised her left hand, swiftly cutting her palm. Pain shot through her arm, paralyzing her for a moment.

Internally, she cringed when she moved her closed fist over the princess’ mouth, letting a few droplets of her blood fall onto the pale pink lips. Emma hoped she didn’t have to make her actually drink her blood and that just a tiny bit was enough.

The moment her blood came in contact with Aurora’s lips, however, a powerful surge of magic spread all around them, almost knocking them off their feet.

For a second, nothing changed, nothing but the silence, broken by Aurora’s quiet gasp as her eyes flew open.

Although they couldn’t compete with Killian’s, her blue irises were a sight to behold. They weren’t dull as someone would think after centuries spent hidden behind closed eyelids, untouched by the light, but the bright light blue of hydrangeas.

Slowly, the brunette sat up, Emma offering her a hand so to help her stand. Aurora’s every movement seemed studied in the detail when Emma could sense it was just simple, innate grace. A pang of envy shot through her but, as quickly as it came, Emma shrugged it off. Now was not the time for regrets.

«T-thank you,» Aurora began hesitantly, eyes flickering from Emma to Killian and then back to the blonde.

«I’m afraid we are the ones to thank you, Your Majesty.»

Inwardly, Emma winced.

Killian had chosen the princess’ rightful title: though she lacked a crown on her head, Aurora was the rightful queen to the kingdom.

It was strange to be in the presence of another royal after so long. It made Emma feel suddenly inadequate: she had no experience on how to rule over her people. Hell, she didn’t even know her people! How was she supposed to-

The sudden warmth of Killian’s fingertips running up her spine sent shivers running down her arms, every hair on her body rising. Just as it had appeared, the pressure of his touch vanished, leaving her breathless. It was a way for him to admonish her, she had to pay attention and not wallow in self pity and regret.

Looking down at her hand, Emma saw the blood coating her palm, thick rivulets tracing patterns down her fingertips. The moment she registered she’d not healed herself, Emma felt her palm grow warmer and a faint light glowed in her palm. Once it subsided, her skin was completely healed and stainless. That was a first.

«You are more powerful than you think, Savior.»

Aurora’s voice had Emma’s head snap upwards to look at her. The princess – no, the queen’s expression was solemn. It scared her.

From serious, Aurora’s expression turned bashful as her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. Life was starting to come back to her, but did she still have one? Her parents, all her relatives, her True Love, they were all dead, along with the subjects she may have known once upon a time. No one needed a queen, here, and somehow, Emma doubted Aurora could just mingle with the villagers.

«I wouldn’t ask this if I didn’t deem it important, but I suspect I can’t wear one of my old dresses,» Aurora began, nose slightly wrinkling in disgust as she saw the ruined pieces of fabric, a sorrowful frown marring her features an instant later, surely cataloguing what she’d lost during all those centuries.

Or maybe not. After all, she’d been a ghost, or a spirit, whatever the right term was, and she’d seen the world change, she knew everyone she loved was already dead.

Emma didn’t hear Aurora’s request, coming back to reality when Killian’s fingers brushed down her back once more.

Her face growing warm, Emma licked her lips, unable to form a coherent answer. She’d talked about dresses, hadn’t she?

«What colour?» she finally blurted out, gaze wandering and focusing everywhere but on the princess. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma could see the small but warm smile curving the queen’s rosy lips.

Aurora looked down at her lilac gown: despite the centuries, it was in good conditions, unlike the ones in shreds. Apparently, the curs preserved not only the body but the clothes, too. However, Emma could understand why Aurora was asking her for a change in her wardrobe.

With a sympathetic smile, Emma raised her hand slightly, studying the woman’s clothes. She needed something that made her stand out but hide from indiscreet eyes when the situation called for it.

Emma was no seamstress, but she’d also lived a life in which, without her magic, would’ve forced her to wear torn clothes until she couldn’t afford new ones. The pack had been very much grateful to her when she’d provided new garments for them without them asking for it. Nobody ever dared, the respect they had for Emma too strong, much like their pride. She may not indulge in beautiful gowns anymore, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any kind of taste or longing to dress comfortably and look good, not for the others, though: for herself. It gave her the illusion of being in control of her life, of being a princess still.

Shaking her head, Emma bit back a yearning sigh.

White-grey smoke enveloped Aurora, who let out a quiet gasp. When the cloud dissipated, the queen was dressed in a lilac velvet gown, the waistline low and defined by a belt which silver embroidery could be found on the cuffs wrapped around her elbows and from which pale lavender silk descended forming bell-like sleeves. The same precious fabric delineated the chaste neckline, but what captured the attention was the silver vine lace embellished by gems.

It was a dress fit for a queen no matter how simple it looked.

Aurora beamed at Emma, making the latter smile widely in return.

«What are you going to do, now?»

The smile on the queen’s face didn’t disappear, but it might as well did. «During my time under the curse I reached out to the fairies, it was their leader, Reul Ghorm, who told me about the urn. They don’t usually mingle with human beings, except on very rare occasions, as you very well know, they have their own agenda and all they did was teach me the spell to summon the urn, then where to find you. As a spirit, I couldn’t move too far away and for too long, and at first I couldn’t movie but a few feet from my own body.» A sad chuckle left her lips. «Of course I couldn’t, what kind of course would it be, otherwise?» Tucking away a strand of hair, Aurora went on: «They agreed to take me in for a while. After all, three of them were my godmothers, and they do feel responsible for what happened.»

Emma could picture Killian silently raising an eyebrow behind her. She wondered if he ever met a fairy before. Perhaps she’d ask him later.

Though she could have, Emma didn’t offer Aurora a place on the Jolly: it wasn’t her decision to make. However, she couldn’t let the queen just face the world alone. «How far-» Emma started, interrupted by a blue light coming in from the broken window. She knew that light, she’d seen many times when she was a little girl, trying to hide behind her mother’s gowns whenever it was near. Now, instead, anger filled her along with a fear of unfairness: why was Blue here now? Where had she been all these years she’d needed her?

Squaring her shoulders, Emma wore an impassive look on her face, her eyes as hard as jade and her mouth set in a firm, thin line.

When she finally manifested herself in human form, Blue was wearing a bright, warm smile. «Emma,» was the only greeting she gave before her eyes shifted and focused on the man behind her. Blue squinted slightly, icy smile never fading as she greeted him. «Captain Jones.» It was no wonder that she knew who he was, yet Emma couldn’t help to shudder. «I believe you have something that belongs in a much safer place.»

Unexpectedly, Blue waited for Killian to hand her the urn, ringed fingers tightening around the artefact for a brief moment, as long as the blink of an eye, before he let it go. It looked like he didn’t want to, as if he actually wanted to keep the urn. Did he want to deal with Maleficent by himself? Sorrow shot through Emma’s body: of course he did, she’d violated him, after all.

«Thank you, Captain.» The tight-lipped smile the fairy wore widened and became warmer as her attention moved onto Aurora. «Are you ready to go, dear?»

A pang of something bloomed deep inside Emma, something that felt like a briar of roses, its thorns anchoring onto her and refusing to let go.

Jealousy, that was Emma felt, that was what was eating her from inside. All her life, Emma had known someone out there knew how to bring down Cora’s barrier, how to defeat her forever, and that said someone were the fairies. Only, whenever she’d wished upon a star, no fairy ever appeared, none of them had wanted to help them. And now? Now their leader showed up as if nothing ever happened, as if they were still in good terms, but spared her only a glance and a mock of a greeting, focusing her attention on another woman she’d failed – or was unwilling – to help.

On one hand, Emma knew she was being unfair: Aurora had been under a curse for more than two hundred years, and now everyone she ever loved were dead. Yet…

«Why?» she found herself asking the fairy, who now regarded her with confusion in her doe eyes. «Why did you show up after all this time? Why didn’t you help her earlier?» Why haven’t you ever helped me?

Blue’s expression shifted, and Emma would even dare say it was almost regretful. She snorted internally at the thought. «I’m afraid the answer you seek is not the one you want to hear, Emma. Some things must happen in order to write the future how it has to be written and not how other people think it should be. It’s my understanding that you already know about your other title, Savior.»

The fairy’s words cut deeply, the confirmation that she knew hurting like a knife through the heart. So that was it? Her only excuse? How was that fair?

A warm hand was pressed against the small of her back, sending ripples of calmness through her whole body. She wanted to hate him for how easily he could calm her down with the lightest touch, but she couldn’t. Emma knew trying to argue or even just get an answer out of Blue was a lost battle, all she could do was live with the disappointment she tasted in her mouth, its flavour as rotten as a spoiled fruit’s.

Before she could ask more questions that would be left unanswered – or strangle the fairy – Aurora let out a low gasp, lilac fabric fluttering after her as she ran to the broken window, one hand gripping her skirts to keep them out of her way.

Emma’s eyebrows rose as she saw the queen coo at whatever was on the windowsill. When she turned around, what could be easily mistaken as a dove but was in fact a cumulet was perched on her hand, talons gently digging into her index and middle fingers.

What-

«I know you,» Aurora was whispering, knuckle brushing over the soft feathers on the bird’s neck, «you are not just any cumulet, are you?»

Instinctively, Emma turned her head, searching Killian’s gaze. His own dark eyebrow was cocked as he returned her look. A warm sensation coiled in her stomach at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

Aurora’s voice carried Emma’s attention away from the man she longed to get lost into. «I believe I have to ask you for another favour, Savior.»

Do you, now?, Emma wanted to ask when a glance from Blue had her biting her tongue. It was as if the years hadn’t passed, as if the fairy had never disappeared from her life. Part of Emma wanted her to be gone forever, the other one needed her to be by her side all the time. That was a foolish little girl’s desire, Emma no longer should need a fairy by her side although she’d be a powerful ally. The person she needed by her side, however, was someone loyal to her, someone who would never betray her, and her heart knew who that person was.

«There’s a restless soul in a kingdom not so far away, Savior,» Aurora began, eyes never wandering from the bird, «her True Love has been cursed to wander the lands forever. My friend won’t find peace until she’s reunited with him.»

Emma blinked several times, looking at Aurora with slowly increasing shock. «You want me to kill this person?» Was he a person, even? If the queen was talking about a friend, did she mean… Surely she- «How old is this man exactly?»

Was she really considering heeding Aurora’s request and go wherever in search for this lost soul and her cursed True Love?

Aurora’s head snapped up, her mouth set into a thin line, eyes shining with disapproval. Emma laughed to herself: her mother had tried to scold her one too many times with a very similar look and she’d always failed. «They both are about as old as I am, if this is what you’re wondering. Neither of them is still alive, although my friend the king is still alive, cursed to live forever, or so I’ve been told.»

There was a fragment of a second, only one, in which Aurora’s blue eyes almost flickered towards Blue. It was brief, but it didn’t escape Emma’s attention. Perhaps the queen wasn’t as foolish as Emma believed. However, Blue would never give them answers she didn’t want to give, probably saying it wasn’t up to her or that the time hadn’t come yet.

Still, there was nothing that forced Emma to go. «Why should I help them?» It didn’t seem that people had helped her so much against Cora, and there was no mistaking her words as her eyes zeroed on Blue.

As she expected, it was the fairy who answered. «Why not? You have so much to learn, Emma, both about yourself and your magic.»

You are of no use in Misthaven.

Emma wanted to cry. She could clearly hear those unspoken words, she could see the flicker of pity in the fairy’s eyes. Killian’s hand pressed against her spine, trying to comfort her. She turned to look at him dead in the eyes, her lips moving before she could be aware of the truthful words she spoke: «It’s not a decision I can take alone.»

It didn’t matter whether Blue wanted her to go be the hero Emma didn’t want to be, Emma would never dare make a choice without consulting with Killian first. If he didn’t want to pursue whatever call she may have, Emma would give it up: how could she give up the freedom she felt whenever he was near for what, exactly? More unsatisfying answers? A life of sacrificing her freedom to help others? If she had to help people and kingdoms, Emma would do it willingly, not because a damned fairy told her to.

At Blue’s clear tentative of objecting, Emma looked back at her with the determination of a queen in her eyes. She didn’t care her choice might seem selfish, and it wasn’t that she didn’t care about stranger’s lost souls when she was somewhat of a lost girl herself, but it was time she started doing something for herself.

She knew, even without looking at him, that Killian was regarding her with a startled expression. It made her heart ache: did he really think she wouldn’t give him a choice? She wasn’t like that, and after today she would think twice before trying to take his free will away from him by choosing for him.

Reluctantly, Blue nodded, attention moving onto Aurora, who had freed the bird and was looking longingly out of the broken window, her heart probably shattered as well. Exhaling a long sigh, Aurora squared her shoulders and nodded to the fairy before smiling politely and Emma and Killian.

«You will always have my gratitude, Emma. You, too, Captain. May the gods be with you both if you ever decide to set sail for Orléans.»

With that final blessing, Aurora and Blue were enveloped by a bright blue light. Emma had to close her eyes to shield herself from it. When the light ultimately faded, all they could see was what looked like a blue star floating out of the window.

Instinctively, Emma followed it, fingers resting on the windowsill, their pads brushing the broken glass there. The sting of the tiny shards digging into her skin was nothing to the astonishment at the sight of the forest outside: where once briars created a barrier between castle and village, now tall trees stood, their foliage so bright under the sun not concealed by the dark clouds anymore that it almost hurt to look at it.

«Breathtaking, isn’t it?»

Killian’s voice, so close behind her, made her wince slightly, the movement making her collide with his chest. She sucked in a breath, wondering what he would do, if he would. So she waited, holding her breath. It took her a while to remember he’d asked her something. «Yes,» she breathed, still looking at the forest spread almost at her feet without really seeing it. «Yes, it is.»

They stood silently, each one lost in their respective thoughts, hearts thundering in their chests. For what seemed a century or so, neither of them moved if not to breathe, not even when their fingers itched to touch, to feel each other.

At last, it was Emma who broke first, unable to bear that silence, that distance between them anymore. She turned around, eyes looking up at him and heart breaking when she found him looking out of the window still, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle pulsed there.

«I think it’s best we return to the Jolly, unless you want to be here when the villagers reach the castle.»

At her words, as if shaken out of a dream, Killian looked at her, but if she were to be honest, Emma felt she was looking at a stranger.

«Aye,» he agreed, voice somehow hollow as he swallowed, taking a step back from her. The fake smile he wore on his face broke Emma’s heart. «Your… what did you call it? Poofing method will make it easier for us to carry the chests to the ship.»

Despite the ache in her chest, Emma couldn’t help to blush a little at his teasing tone, another mask she blatantly ignored in favour of the escape he was offering her. «We’d better deliver what goes to the villagers to Nifty.»

All Killian did was nod, moving further away from her. Emma watched his stiff back disappear in the dark of the staircase, sad eyes not noticing the golden briars had turned to dust, much like her heart.

-/-

Emma’s head fell against the door of her cabin with a dull thud. She sighed, eyelids so heavy every blink was a battle. Part of her snorted at the thought that she’d just broken a sleeping curse.

She felt drained, both physically and emotionally, and she just knew that, if she somehow made it to the bunk, she’d fall asleep with her clothes on. For how long she would sleep, Emma had no idea. Probably the whole day and all through the night.

Using her magic to get back the ship with their reward and poof several chests heavy with riches right under Nifty’s nose had been easy, almost like snapping her fingers. Part of her was wary of that: it was as if her magic had been somehow unlocked, as if something had shifted deep within her and made her even more powerful.

Was she? Aurora taking possession of her body had perhaps added to her magic? Could it happen? But if Emma had somehow absorbed the spirit’s magic, why didn’t she feel any different? All Emma felt was stronger.

With a frustrated groan, Emma marched to the chest at the foot of the bed. Inside lay her belongings, both clothes and Regina’s supplies. Tempted as she was to throw Maleficent’s grimoire inside, Emma carefully placed it next to her grandmother’s, knowing one of these nights she would end up reading it. She’d already gone through a few pages of Regina’s, some of her spells and potions too dark even for her, albeit useful.

The lid of the trunk fell shut with a thump, the wood creaking slightly under her weight when she sat down on it. As exhausted as she was, however, Emma knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyway, not when Killian felt so distant and her heart shattered in a million little pieces. After they’d appeared in one of the desert alleys near the docks and made their way to the Jolly, Killian had retired in his cabin without so much of a word, completely shutting her out.

It felt as if another barrier had been raised between her and another person she deeply cared about. Of course she couldn’t compare that distance to the one dividing her from her parents, yet she couldn’t stop herself from feeling as lost as she’d been since the separation.

This time, however, there wasn’t a barrier physically separating her from Killian. Had Emma been a coward – and sometimes, admittedly, she was – she would’ve let him be, let him put an abyss between them, even. But, for the first time in her life, Emma had the chance to make her own fate, to decide whether or not she would fight for the man who filled her mind and dreams and, undoubtedly, had started to fill her heart.

Despite Maleficent’s words, Emma wouldn’t simply offer her heart on a silver plate or place Killian in front of an ultimatum: she was not bloody ready for the former and she would never have the heart to go for the latter.

What Emma could do, however, was going to him and lend him an ear, if not a shoulder on which to cry on. She feared that, if she left him alone for too long, he would drink himself to a stupor and become more and more detached.

It was time to take destiny in her own hands, no matter how terrifying that was.

Taking a deep, preparatory breath, Emma squared her shoulders and faced the door. Before she could even think of changing her mind, she marched out of the cabin and went straight for Killian’s, the Captain’s quarters, the inside of which she’d seen already yet her heart started beating faster when she came face to face with the door.

Beneath her skin, Emma felt her magic tingle, humming in apprehension. She knew it wanted to be used, to poof her to the other side of the door, because it meant she would enter for sure: a door between her and Killian meant a barrier, one he could choose to open or keep closed. The choice was in his hands, now, and somehow it scared her more than Cora’s barrier.

Just like when she went through Cora’s barrier, Emma inhaled deeply and raised her hand, bracing herself for whatever pain might come.

Her knock was soft against the hard wood and, for a few moments, she didn’t hear anything behind it, not a sound, not a-

Dull footstep became louder, slow on their path towards the door, door that opened just slightly, enough for Killian to see who was disturbing him and for Emma to feel her heart skip a beat at the sight of the state he was in.

A whiff of rum, strong and piercing, reached her nostrils. To her, he didn’t look drunk, though she’d seen on the very first night how much he could handle without looking so. No, his mind was clear, just like his eyes, clear and penetrating like a sharp shard of glass.

Masking her features, Emma returned his gaze, never betraying her feelings. They needed to talk, and she didn’t want to run. She just hoped he didn’t, either.

For moments, ages, probably, they stared at each other, neither of them wanting to step back, both pleading the other, one to do exactly that, the other to let her in.

Ultimately, Killian sighed, his breath smelling of his best rum but not in an unpleasant way. He opened the door enough to let Emma in. Ducking under his arm, Emma entered the dark cabin, the single candle on the desk the only light in the room, burning bright enough to cast pale gold shadows over the whole room, allowing her to make, even if barely, the neatly done bunk, a chest at the foot of it. Outside, stars and moon were both covered by impenetrable clouds.

It looked as if the curse had moved and settled over the Jolly, the magnificent ship still docked, waiting for the morning tide to set sail.

Swallowing the anxiety she felt fluttering inside her stomach, Emma located the rum, the flask right in front the chair Killian was occupying she interrupted him. With an impulsive rush of determination, Emma stalked to the desk. Up until she reached it, Emma didn’t know what she would do, fingers grazing the smooth wood, tracing a path to the flask. Without giving herself time to think twice, she grabbed it and took a swing. The liquid burned her throat, its taste one she wasn’t used to yet one she would gladly drink every so often.

Allowing herself to be daring, Emma hopped on the desk, crossing her legs and taking another swing of rum, taking all the liquid courage she needed.

Silently, she waited for him to make his move.

Barefoot, Killian made his way back to the desk, slumping down on the chair. Filing her shock away, Emma offered him the flask.

Killian accepted it, gulping down a good amount. Emma tilted her head, curious. «Does it refill magically?»

The words escaped her lips before she could think about biting her tongue.

«No,» he replied curtly. He could’ve just closed the door in her face, the pain would’ve been the same.

Emma sighed, titling her head back slightly, eyes shutting. Now or never, Swan. «How do you feel?»

Killian didn’t flinch or make a sound, surely knowing that question was coming. She felt him gulp down so much rum she was sure the flask was now empty.

She didn’t expect an answer. Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected at all. For Killian to open his heart? For him to shout at her in anger?

«I felt cold,» she heard herself talking, eyes blinking away the memory. «It was like being trapped underneath a thick layer of ice and the water wanted to pierce my flesh, my body completely numb. I felt violated.»

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him handing her the flask. The rum burned still, doing nothing to make the lump in her throat disappear.

They passed each other the flask until Emma felt the last drop of rum fall on her lips. Humming, Emma twisted it in in her hand, enjoying the way the candlelight played with it. Feeling her mouth suddenly dry, she raised her free hand to conjure more rum in the flask when strong fingers curled around her wrist, cold rings biting into the soft skin of her tender flesh.

The gesture startled her more than the increasing discomfort, Killian’s grip so tight it was cutting her blood flow.

«Don’t,» he bit out through gritted teeth, his face impassive. Not even a moment later, Killian dropped his head, fingers unclenching so not to be hurtful anymore but not leaving her wrist. To Emma’s utter surprise, he turned his head, rubbing his scruffy cheek over the tender back of her palm. «My apologies, love,» he muttered in shame, pressing his forehead on her hand. «I assure you, it is not your magic I despise but I must beg of you, enough magic for today.»

Tears pooled in her eyes, but Emma blinked them away. Placing the flask next to her, she then brought her hand to brush Killian’s hair back, fingers threading through his soft, inky locks. He looked so broken it shattered her heart.

«Of course,» she murmured softly, the way her mother and father did when she was scared for some reason and spent the night reassuring her everything was fine. She couldn’t help but wonder how long Killian had been without anyone to reassure him nothing bad would happen to him, that he had someone he could rely on.

As she kept running her fingers through his hair, Emma lost track of time, heart beating painfully for Killian. As for the pirate, he kept his lips pressed to her hand, eyes closed and demons inside his head. Emma wanted him to talk to her, she wanted to tell him she too wanted what he did. Alas, she knew it wasn’t just a matter of what they wanted: his body and soul had been abused, along with his feelings.

Even just by looking at him Emma knew he wore that nonchalance as an armor, his innuendos and manners a mask to keep everyone at arm’s length. But not Emma, never her. Sure, Killian had put up some walls between them, but so had Emma. Said walls had crumbled down in very little time without neither of them realizing it.

The candle was just a few inches tall when Killian spoke again, startling Emma.

«Don’t you still feel cold?»

It was a soft murmur against her skin, nose brushing her wrist.

«A little,» Emma confessed. It was a lingering sensation, one she desperately wanted to make disappear. Fire wouldn’t do, it was something buried deep within her that she hoped would fade with time.

Killian exhaled, his hot breath heating her skin. «Would it be cowardly of me if I wished for a magical solution to this cold?»

The words were muffled against her skin, as if he truly were ashamed of himself, of his pain, of wanting the easiest way out. She smiled down at him, knowing he couldn’t see her. «Not at all. Possessions are really dark magic, so dark I doubt even my grandmother could do anything about it.» She hesitated, watching him carefully. «Perhaps I could find-»

«No,» he cut her off with a growl. «No more magic tonight.»

Biting her lip, Emma nodded. How could she make him feel better when all she could do was trying to search for a spell or potion? But what could magic do for him? Banish the cold inside? Fix him, somehow? No, magic could do many things, but not that, not unless it was done to manipulate a soul, and Emma would never do that, especially not to Killian.

Then talk to me, please.

She didn’t realize she’d pronounced those words aloud until she heard his sharp intake on her skin and his head snapped up, dull blue eyes meeting hers. Her hand slipped down his face, cupping his cheek.

«What do you want me to tell you, Princess?»

Emma’s eyes widened at the sharp tone, heart thundering in her chest as his eyes became as thick as an ice wall. Oh, she knew what he was doing, she knew it very well: he was distancing himself, putting up another wall between them.

«Do you want me to confirm the witch’s words are true? That I want to do to you everything she listed? That I want to push against the nearest wall and devour you in any way I see fit? That I want to consume you and ruin you for any other man whom you might lay your eyes upon because I want to be the only man who can bring you pleasure, the only man who can make you feel loved?»

Now towering over her, Killian looked more dangerous than he’d been when Maleficent had taken possession of him: like this, author if his own destiny and responsible of his action, he could break her completely.

«Are they?»

Killian cursed under his breath, his hand leaving hears to run through his hair and down his face in desperation. «Does it even matter?!»

Now it was Emma’s turn to look at him in shock. «Of course it does!» How could he think his feelings didn’t matter to her? «Do you believe-»

«It matters not what I believe, Emma, I can’t-» he cut himself off, looking away.

«You can’t what, Killian?» She was furious, now. It wasn’t fair to him, but Killian making choices for her wasn’t, either. «You can’t think I might want you in the same way you want me?»

The words were now out there, hanging between them. Killian’s eyes were wide in shock, and though she, too, was surprised by her outburst, how could she deny what she felt anymore? She’d marched into the cabin knowing very well that she’d either have her heart broken or get what she wanted.

From shocked, his expression turned hard once more. It confused her for a moment: how could he push her away when she’d clearly told him she did want him? «You don’t want me, Princess,» he said slowly, ice coating his every word. «You might desire the idea of me, but you don’t want me.»

Heart breaking for him, Emma couldn’t still stop the rage inside of her. How dare he decide what she wanted? Especially after he’d gone through earlier that day?

«You can be a very stupid man, sometimes, Killian Jones,» Emma breathed, reaching out her hands to grab the lapels of his black shirt to pull him down towards herself, chin tilted up so his mouth could meet hers.

Everything Emma knew about kisses came from seeing other people immersed in the act or instructions from Ruby. At first, the connection startled her, probably because she’d pulled him to her with so much strength she hadn’t really considered how it would feel – other than good, of course.

The unfamiliar pressure of Killian’s lips over hers set her body ablaze, spurring her on and making her braver than she definitely was. With the tip of her tongue she traced the seam of his lips, one hand sneaking around his neck to pull him closer.

A strangled moan reverberated against her lips, Killian’s eyes fluttering close as he kissed her back, one hand placed firmly next to her to brace himself while the other found its way to her jaw.

Emma felt the moment he took over the kiss, clearly understanding how her inexperience in the matter made her movements awkward. Not that she cared much, if not at all, but the way he kissed her, prompting her to open her mouth and let him devour her.

A keen left her lips when Killian’s teeth nibbled at her lower lip. It was too much and too little at the same time, heat pooling in her belly like molten lava and skin buzzing, a sensation so similar to whenever her magic was awoken. Neither of them noticed every candle in the room light up around them, so lost in each other the world could just collapse over their heads and they would still be kissing, bodies melting into one another, tongues intertwined and bodies pressed together so closely Emma believed there was no way he could move closer until she locked her ankles behind his thighs and drew him flush to her body.

Gasping at the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest, Emma dug her nails into his flesh in reflex and electing a moan from him in return. Her hands wanted to wander up and down his body, to explore every inch of him and imprint each one in her mind. She wanted Killian to explore her, to worship her body as she would do his, to make her-

«Fuck,» she breathed when his hand left the desk to grab her waist, pulling her closer, so close she could feel the hardness in his pants. Against her better judgment – because she knew, oh, she really did, what consequences she could face and that such a step would mark her forever – Emma pushed herself against him, almost anchoring herself to his strong body. Beneath her fingertips she could feel his muscles flex, a sensation that made think of nails scraping down his spine as he thrusted deeply into her.

Moaning at the mere thought of crossing that point of no return, Emma rubbed herself against him, suddenly uncaring of the consequences. It was such an irresponsible thought, yet one that surely had crossed many a lass the moment their body was enveloped in their lover’s arms, some of them foolishly falling for their lies and some others finding the love of their lives. Emma knew no lies were to be found in Killian Jones if not the ones he told himself, like the stupid belief that she would never want him. Emma didn’t care about the pirate, no matter how his attitude and wardrobe set her on fire, so yes, perhaps she cared about it, but what she cared the most was the man underneath.

Even when they needed to come up for air they didn’t pull away too much, either having their foreheads pressed together or their fingers tracing the other’s face, their kiss-swollen lips or cheeks, gazing into each other eyes with incredulity as if they couldn’t even begin to realizing it was finally happening: they had crossed a line with no possibility – nay, with no interest of going back.

The smile Emma offered him was a shy one, red gracing the apples of her cheeks which deepened when his knuckles brushed the soft skin there yet Emma didn’t avert her gaze, not wanting to miss the way his blue eyes sparkled in the now brighter room, or the way his lips were slightly parted and his panting breath caressed her face without being unpleasant.

There was wonderment in his eyes, as clear as the sun, and Emma felt her heart ache for him although it still seemed to want to burst with joy. For far too long Killian had been alone, and she knew, she knew he’d believed no one would ever care about him, the man he was and not the pirate persona he wore almost as an armor though irremediably part of him, almost as long. Killian might have promised her freedom because his profession allowed him to, but it had never only been the pirate she saw. Adventures, freedom, yes, those were all wonderful promises, but it was the man she’d decided to protect and then follow as her captain.

It was the man she was slowly but surely falling in love with.

Killian must have sensed where her thoughts were going because he gasped so quietly Emma wasn’t sure she actually heard him and ducked his head to capture her lips with his once more, gentler this time, savouring the way they both taste of rum and the realization they both were-

Were interrupted by a knock at the door. An insistent, loud one Killian just knew belonged to Smee, and if the growl he emitted was any indication, he was totally planning the most satisfying and fastest way to get rid of his first mate.

«Don’t move,» he ordered Emma in a low growl, clearly infuriated. He tapped her knee, rising a suggestive eyebrow at her.

Emma followed the order, heat burning her skin from beneath. Though she could still feel her legs enough to move them, she also knew they wouldn’t sustain her if she tried to stand. Not that she wanted, of course. That was a very stupid thing to think.

Her head was still spinning, or at least it felt so, that she didn’t even try to focus on the hushed tones in which Killian and Smee exchanged words at the door. Could she just wave her hand and lock them in for the night? Or for the whole week, even?

She must’ve been as red as a ruby because when Killian made it back to the desk he cocked an eyebrow at her despite his regretful stare.

«Is there a problem?» The way her voice sounded so hoarse made Emma wince in surprise. Her mind couldn’t help but wonder how it would sound after she’d screamed Killian’s name out in ecstasy. This was definitely not the right moment to think about that, especially given the expression on Killian’s face.

«Aye.» A shiver ran down her spine upon hearing his voice, so rough and hoarse all she wanted to hear it whisper in her ear were praises and dirty words. «The lads got into a fight with Naval officers and they need someone to put a good word in for them.»

He moved to gather the cutlass hanging from a belt looped over the back of his chair and fastened it around his narrow waist. Emma’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

«Does “put a good word in for them” means fighting more officers?» Apprehension was clear in her voice, she knew that, just like she knew she would help the crew in any way possible, whether it was by sword or by magic.

Killian shook is head, lifting her chin with a crooked finger. «Sometimes. Tonight shouldn’t be the case, but I have to bargain with them. This is not the first time and I assure you it won’t be the last.» He chuckled slightly. «As ridiculous as it sounds, sometimes we get along.»

Influenced by his good mood, Emma smiled. «But not as much as it would take for you to be good friends, right?»

«Right you are, love.» He dropped a kiss on her forehead, only to pull back and scratch behind his ear, blushing slightly, such a transformation from the passionate man he’d been mere minutes ago.

Deciding to ease his discomfort, Emma jumped down the desk, needing to reach out to him to keep herself steady. «I’d better go back to my cabin.» There wasn’t resentment in her voice, not at all, she understood quite well not wanting her to stay there in the only place on his ship that Killian considered completely his, no matter how much he might want her. One step at a time. Or something like that.

She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him at the corner of his mouth, savouring the rich flavour of rum she could still taste against her lips. Yet it didn’t stop there, no: after escorting her in front of her cabin, he pressed her against the door, taking advantage of the desert deck to kiss her thoroughly.

When Emma let herself almost literally collapse against the door after he’d left to tend very much less enjoyable business, she had forgotten already that no candle had been lit up when she’d left the cabin earlier that night.

All she had in mind as she marched towards the trunk, aside from the very obvious thought of Killian and the whirlwind of emotions she felt inside at the simple thought of his name, was her grandmother’s grimoire.

She had a potion to brew, after all.

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