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thatartiststudios999 · 6 months

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Here's another fic update:

The group followed Leo as he led them toward Bunker 9, the atmosphere charged with anticipation and a tinge of nervous energy. The children of the gods from different worlds walked side by side, their footsteps echoing in the dappled sunlight.

Callum slipped his hand into Rayla’s again, making her look at him as he offered a tiny smile, but Rayla couldn’t manage to return it.

Upon reaching Bunker 9, Leo’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He pushed open the heavy metal door, revealing a vast space filled with an assortment of gadgets, tools, and mechanical contraptions. Various catwalks laced above them, still properly spaced from the tall ceiling. Callum, Rayla, and the Kane siblings all wide-eyed, looked around in awe, taking in the organized chaos of the bunker.

“Welcome to Bunker 9, the most awesome place in camp!” Leo declared, spreading his arms wide. “This is where I work my magic, quite literally.”

Piper chuckled, her fondness for her friend evident. “Leo, you’ve done wonders with this place in the past year. It’s like a demigod’s dream workshop.”

Leo beamed, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Thanks, Pipes. Now, let me show the rest of you the real gem.” He led them deeper into the bunker, where the neck and head of a massive bronze dragon automaton stood proudly. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, it seemed to almost guard the ship it was attached to, almost daring anyone to get close.

“This is Festus,” Leo announced proudly, patting the dragon’s metallic snout. “Our guardian and the heart of the Argo II. With a bit of Leo magic, this baby can fly faster and smoother than anything you’ve ever seen.”

Carter, fascinated by the ingenuity before him, asked, “How did you create something like this? It’s... incredible.”

Leo scratched his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “Well, it was a bit of a team effort. But mostly, it’s my ADHD and demigod intuition at work. Plus, some Hephaestus blessing, of course.”

As Jason and Leo set off to work on the Argo II, Piper lingered behind, her keen eyes catching a moment between Callum and Rayla. They stood in a quiet corner, their voices low, their expressions a mix of determination and uncertainty.

Rayla’s words reached Piper’s ears, her tone vulnerable.

“I… I just don’t know what to do, Callum,” she confessed, her eyes reflecting past battles and challenges. “It’s hard to trust anyone after… everything.”

In response, Callum, his emerald gaze unwavering, gently took both of Rayla’s hands in his, thumbs tracing comforting circles over her knuckles, a gesture that felt both familiar and reassuring to him.

“You can trust me, Rayla,” he said, his voice soft yet resolute. “I’ll always be there for you. We’re in this together.”

Rayla, her frustration and vulnerability palpable, squeezed his hands, searching for an answer that seemed elusive. “I know that I can trust you, I just… don’t know what to do with… everything else,” she confessed, a hint of self-disappointment tainting her words.

Callum, his smile genuine and understanding, responded with a calm assurance that seemed to permeate the air between them, “Well, it’s okay to not know what to do, we’ve made our way out of tougher situations and with less knowledge.”

Rayla, her grip on his hands tight, couldn’t help but question his composed demeanor. “How can you always be so measured about stuff like this?” she asked, her frustration mixed with admiration for his steadfastness.

Callum simply shrugged, his tone humble. “I guess me and Lain have that in common then.” He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her cheek, a silent reassurance of his love and support. When he drew away, he pulled her hands closer to his chest, enveloping her in a warm embrace.

“Just trust me, alright?” he urged, his eyes searching hers for understanding and acceptance. This time, Rayla found the strength to return his smile, a glimmer of hope breaking through her uncertainty.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I love you, Callum.”

“I love you too, Ray,” he replied, his words carrying the weight of his commitment to her, a promise that echoed through the depths of their shared connection.

Piper, observing their intimate exchange, felt a surge of understanding wash over her. With a sense of quiet determination, she slipped away from the corner, her thoughts swirling with questions about the dynamics of their relationship and how it might shape the challenges they were about to face. As she rejoined the group at the ship, she pondered what she had overheard. The bond between Callum and Rayla was evident, and she couldn’t help but wonder how their connection would influence the challenges ahead.

While Leo and Carter delved into technical discussions about the Argo II’s mechanisms, Piper glanced at Callum and Rayla, who were observing the work being done. Their expressions were a mix of determination and awe, their connection palpable even in the midst of uncertainty.

Curiosity piqued, Piper excused herself and approached them, her smile warm.

“You two seem close. How did you meet?”

Callum and Rayla exchanged glances, their bond evident even in their silent communication. Callum spoke first, his voice soft yet filled with conviction.

“We um… met under difficult circumstances. Rayla used to be a part of a group of assassins sent to the castle back home and ended up saving my life, and we’ve been... inseparable ever since.”

Rayla nodded, her eyes flickering with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Callum helped me find my purpose when I was lost. We’ve faced challenges together, and we’ve always come through stronger.”

Piper sensed the depth of their connection, the unspoken trust between them. She nodded, her respect for their bond evident. “It’s clear you two have been through a lot. Just remember, you’re not alone here. We’re a family, and we watch out for each other.”

The hours passed in a blur of activity, with Leo and the others working tirelessly to ensure the Argo II was ready for their journey to Thebes. Night fell, the stars overhead serving as a silent reminder of the vastness of the challenges that lay ahead.

As they stood before the gleaming bronze figurehead, a mixture of excitement and apprehension filled the air. The Argo II, their vessel and their sanctuary, was their ticket to unraveling the mysteries of The Collector’s game. With a final glance at one another, they boarded the ship, their shared determination and the strength of their newfound friendships propelling them into the unknown.

And so, under the canopy of stars, the Argo II took flight, carrying the demigods and their extraordinary companions toward Thebes, where their first challenge awaited. Little did they know that their journey would be more than a test of skills—it would be a test of their unity, their trust, and the unwavering bonds that would define their shared destiny.

And that's the end of Chapter 1! Stay tuned for the first snippet of Chapter 2, and of course thanks to @booksandfairytales for following the story all this time!

Next Part

#tdp callum #tdp rayla #rayllum #current wip #hoo jason #hoo leo #hoo piper #kane chronicles carter #kane chronicles sadie #current fic project #Loving how this is coming along!

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joylee56 · 4 years

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A ‘Vulgar, Lowborn, Scottish Barbarian’ Comes Calling

For Rumbelle is Hope

Summary: After a delightful conversation with Mr. Gold at a Ball given by her cousins and protectors, Lord and Lady Blanchard, Lady Belle in a moment of impulse invited him to call. Now she must deal with opinions of the household as to the propriety of having a lowborn tradesman calling upon her, and her own growing fascination with the man.

This is a followup to Getting Above Himself

...

Belle had some trepidation about telling Regina she had extended an invitation for Mr. Gold to call on them.

Regina had complained at length when Cousin Leo insisted Mr. Gold be invited to dinner and later to the Ball. Calling the man, “... a vulgar, lowborn, Scottish barbarian”.

Mary Margaret, who by this time should really have learned to interpret her stepmother’s invectives more realistically, had expected the man to come to dinner bare chested in a kilt and eat with his dirk. The young woman was a touch disappointed when he arrived clothed in immaculate and clearly expensive evening wear. So was Mrs. Green. For, Belle suspected, far less innocent reasons.

Not, Belle had to admit, had her own prior assumptions about the man proved to be any more accurate. Regina apologized to Belle for planning to pair her with him for the dinner. “As I know I can expect you to smooth over the social gaffs that person will inevitably make. Do try to hint him in the right direction. We can’t have his want of manners embarrassing the other guests.

So Belle had been expecting a man ill at ease in society and uncomfortable mixing with his betters.

Except Mr. Gold clearly did not regard the company in which he found himself to be his betters in anything but ancestry and was little impressed by that.

With justification. While his accent betrayed his origins, his conversation showed him to be intelligent, well read and to have a biting wit. More than that he was attentive to what Belle had to say, drawing her out with questions and listening to her answers.

That alone would have caused Belle to forgive him if he had eaten with his dirk. Not that there was anything to fault in his manners.

So when he had been kind enough to keep her company while she sat out the dancing at the Ball, bringing her refreshments and inquiring after the book she was reading, Belle had given in to her desire to further the acquaintance and invited him to call.

But Regina was a stickler for the social distinctions. (Papa maintained this was because Regina’s mother was an Adventuress and “No better than she should be”. Normally Belle would discount such statements since Papa was an even greater stickler for social distinctions than Regina, but having met Regina’s older sister, Mrs Green, she could not but wonder if there was some truth to it.) And there was no question that Mr. Gold was not ‘a person of quality’ as Regina defined it.

Belle waited two days before mentioning the invitation. Thinking to give Regina time to recover from the Ball and to bask in her friends’ praise of the event.

So she was surprised when at Tea on Tuesday, Regina raised the issue herself. “Leopold tells me that we may expect Mr. Gold to call on us this week.”

“Yes.” Belle hastily revised the speech she had prepared to break the news to Regina. “He sat through several dances with me at the Ball and I thought in light of Cousin Leopold’s desire to enlist him to David’s aid in the upcoming election it would not be amiss to invite him.”

“Several dances?” Regina’s eyebrows went up.

“Yes. Apparently he does not gamble and since he cannot dance, he appreciated the opportunity to converse.”

“I see.” Regina took a sip of her tea. “That was very clever of you, Belle. I would not have given you credit for that degree of sagaciousness. Perhaps we can put David on track to making something of himself after all.”

Regina was not as pleased to find she had invited Mr. Gold for four o’clock when semi-ceremonial calls were made and he could linger past the brief quarter of an hour prescribed for ceremonial calls earlier in the day. “I will leave it to you to keep him entertained in that event. There will no doubt be other visitors that will require my attention.”

Which entirely suited Belle.

Given Retina’s begrudging acceptance of Mr. Gold’s potential visit, there was after all no surety he would actually come, Belle was surprised to find Abbott, Regina’s haughty dresser in Belle’s little room that afternoon inspecting Belle’s wardrobe.

“This will not do.” Abbott proclaimed, eyeing Belle’s best House dress with disdain. “And there is not time to order you a new gown by Thursday.

“A pity you are so petite.” The maid eyed Belle critically. “Otherwise you could simply borrow something from one of the other ladies. Still Lady Blanchard’s wishes you to be ‘attractively’ dressed.”

With that Belle was whisked down to the sewing room where Abbott and Marian, the chief housemaid who acted as lady’s maid for guests who did not bring their own, proceeded to alter an old dress of Regina’s to fit Belle.

As this involved shortening hem and cuffs and dramatically reducing the bust size, Belle guiltily offered to help with the sewing.

Abbott sniffed, but Marian set Belle to work turning the hem of the skirt while the two maids took in the bodice.

“Pity we don’t have time to piece some of the material we’re cutting off the skirt into new sleeves.” Marian commented. “These are woefully out of style.”

“As though a tradesman will know the difference.” Abbott sneered.

“I believe Mr. Gold made his fortune with a cloth mill.” Marian was walking out with the owner of the local pub. Her tone was frosty. “A man who deals in fabric is going to recognize the latest style.”

Since no one, including Mr. Gold, had bothered to tell her just what sort of trade Mr. Gold was in, Belle filed this detail away with interest.

“Be that as it may it is still inappropriate to encourage such a person’s interest in,” Abbott glanced Belle’s way, “A lady well above his status.”

“That would depend on the lady, wouldn’t it?” Marian retorted. “If a lady’s circumstances were such that no gentleman was interested, she could do far worse than a well off tradesman. And any man who can afford those suits can certainly support a wife. Better to be mistress of your own household, even a humble one, than a dependent in someone else’s.”

Belle kept her eyes on the hem she was turning. She really had not had any ulterior motive beyond furthering their conversation when she invited Mr. Gold to call. Although the more she thought about him, and he had been entering her thoughts quite a lot these last two days, the more she wanted to continue the acquaintance.

Servants would gossip at the drop of hat. She had been nothing but correct in her interactions with Mr. Gold.

But she had always regarded Marian to be an intelligent, practical woman. She found herself thinking about the young woman’s words over the next two days as well.

When Thursday arrived Belle took special care that the drawing room was neat with flowers tastefully arranged and the tea table properly set up. Belle always oversaw the tea table when they had callers and she did not want some lack to interfere with conversation with Mr. Gold.

She found Marian laying out her new gown when she went up to change for the visitors.

“If you would like, my lady, I could do your hair.” Marian offered. “Give you a bit more style.”

As Marian worked on Belle’s hair, she remarked. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, my lady, but my cousin, who works for one of those Railroad barons, says that from what she’s seen men that have made their own fortunes, especially when they think they married above themselves, generally treat their wives with great regard. More so than in a lot of the gentlemen’s households she’s worked in.”

“Does she?” Belle felt some reply was necessary.

“Yes, my lady.” Marian seemed to regard this as encouragement to continue. “Says it stands to reason. Men like that, they think in terms of investments like. And a wife who does them credit is a good investment and should be treated as such.”

Belle found herself waiting nervously through the first hour of visiting as Regina’s acquaintances came and went. Mrs. Green had arrived in the first wave and had proceeded to stay. Flirting rather outrageously with all of the single men who presented themselves.

By four, Belle had half convinced herself he was not coming. Why should he after all? She was just a silly woman with no dowry and a ruined family, who at twenty five already qualified for spinsterhood.

The clock read exactly five minutes past four when the butler announced, “Mr. Rumford Gold.”

As he crossed the room to greet Regina, he glanced around and finding Belle gave her a brief smile. He wore a black cutaway coat with a pearl gray silk waistcoat and matching pearl gray and black paisley patterned four-in-hand tie. Far and away the best dressed man who had called today.

Belle liked to think that she was not shallow enough to let a man’s appearance sway her opinion. What mattered after all was his character and intellect. But it was difficult not to admire the elegance of Mr. Gold’s wardrobe and how it flattered his slim build.

Particularly as he turned away from her to greet Regina and she had the opportunity to observe the perfect cut of his coat.

And trousers.

Hurriedly she busied herself with the tea service. Rearranging the table trying to regain her composure. A lady of quality did not ogle a man’s… backside. What would her mother have said?

Fortunately Regina was reminding him who Zelena was and introducing him to the other visitors. Giving her flush time to subside. So when he withdrew politely but quickly from Zelena’s coquetry, she was able to respond to his greeting calmly. Inviting him to sit. “Would you care for tea? Lemon?”

“Yes, please, to both.” The smile he gave her was soft. Perhaps even a little shy? But he took the chair closest to her own and laid his top hat to the side.

She had just finished preparing Mr. Gold’s tea when Marian bustled in with more tea cakes and, “Some scones, my lady, just out of the oven.”

“As they should be served.” Mr. Gold accepted one as it was offered to him.

Over their scones and tea, Mr. Gold inquired of her whether she had finished her book and what she was reading now.

“I’ve just started Isabella Bird’s Among the Tibetans. I’ve read some of her other works and they are always both fascinating and educational.” She told him.

“I have heard of the lady but I’m afraid I have never read any of her works.” Mr. Gold replied. “On your recommendation, I located a copy of The Time Machine and plan to start it soon.

“And,” He removed a small volume from his pocket. “I also ran across a copy of Mr. Hardy’s Wessex Tales. Have you read his short stories?”

“I have not.” Belle’s reading was confined to the Blanchard’s library and what she could convince Mary Margaret or Regina to order through their subscription library. Regina would never have permitted her to go to a public library even if there had been one accessible.

“I think you will enjoy them.” He handed the book to her. “I’m particularly partial to the ‘The Three Strangers’.”

“Then I am certain I will enjoy it.” She opened the book to discover an inscription on the front page. ‘To Lady Belle, in the hope that she will enjoy these as I have enjoyed our conversations. R. Gold’.

He meant the book as a gift!. No one had given her a book since her mother’s passing. Holding it tightly she managed to reply. “Thank you very much. I look forward to discussing it with you. Perhaps next Thursday?”

“Regrettably,” And he sounded truly sorry, “I return to Glasgow tomorrow. I’ve been away nearly a fortnight and I need to be getting back.”

“Oh.” Belle felt sorry as well. “Of course. Your son no doubt misses you.”

“His last two letters have been mainly asking when I will be home.” He always spoke of his son with great affection. “And the business will not run itself.”

He was not a gentleman of leisure like the other men who visited Blanchard House. She should be grateful for the time he had given her. “I wish you a safe and speedy journey. Perhaps we will meet when you are next in London.”

“I would like that very much.” Shifting nervously he went on. “Also, and please do not hesitate to tell me if this suggestion is inappropriate, perhaps I might be permitted to write to you in the meantime?”

“I would be delighted to correspond with you, Mr. Gold.” Belle smiled. “And I am sure Lord Blanchard would approve of such a correspondence.”

“Should I apply to Lord Blanchard for permission?” Gold asked hesitantly. “Forgive me, I realize such matters are… viewed differently in your social sphere.”

“It would be considerate to inform him.” Belle chose her words carefully. “Since he has given me a home, I owe him deference.”

“Of course.” Gold agreed. “I will try to speak with him before I leave for Glasgow.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of more guests to whom Belle served tea. After which the conversation turned back to literature.

The time passed so pleasantly Belle was startled to hear the cloak strike five. Mr. Gold reached for his hat, commenting sheepishly, “Forgive me. I have overstayed.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Belle assured him. “I greatly enjoyed the company.”

As he made his bow of farewell to Regina, she commented, “Did I overhear that you will be leaving the city soon, Mr. Gold?”

“Yes, I return to Glasgow tomorrow.”

“Then you must allow us to have you to dinner tonight to bid you goodbye.” Regina declared. “Just a small family gathering. Lord David and Lady Mary Margaret will wish to see you before you leave.”

“If it would not put you to any trouble.” Gold said cautiously.

“Not in the least.”

Since Belle knew that Mary Margaret and David were invited to a musical evening tonight it was clear Regina was upending everyone’s plans to entertain Mr. Gold. This sudden about face in Regina’s attitude toward Mr. Gold was starling.

The last of the guests departed shortly after Mr. Gold. Once they were gone Regina turned to her and told her. ” Go down and tell Cook we’ll be six, no make that eight for dinner. I’ll send a card to James and Abigail to fill out the numbers. They want to support David’s political career and will forgive the short notice. Tell him Mr. Gold will be attending so he’ll have to restrain himself from serving anything too continental. I’d go over the menu myself, but I need to get a note off to Mary Margaret as well.”

“Of course,” Belle agreed automatically. “But, Regina, may I ask why you are now so eager to cultivate Mr. Gold? I thought you found him vulgar.”

Regina frowned at her. “He is, but his manners are passable for his station. And he gave you a book for heaven’s sake!”

This appeared a complete non sequitur to Belle. She tentatively asked, “Should I not have accepted it? It seemed an innocuous enough gift.” But a young lady was not supposed to accept meaningful presents from gentlemen outside her family.

Regina actually rolled her eyes. “Girl, it’s not an emerald bracelet like the one my idiot sister is brandishing about. The point is not that he gave you a gift. It’s that he clearly put a great deal of thought into finding a gift that would please you. Either he’s completely smitten or he actually regards books the same way you do. Either of which works in your favor. While he would normally be totally unsuitable for a woman of your rank, at your age and with your social impediments Mr. Gold may well be your only prospect. If you’ve any sense you will do everything you can to fix his interest.”

“I find Mr. Gold most congenial company.” Belle said primly.

“And you should be on your knees in thanks, if that is the case.” Regina told her sharply. “To actually like the man you marry for financial security is rare. Don’t let this chance go by, Belle. Not only will this give you a home of your own…”

And get her out of Regina’s. Still by her own lights the other woman was trying to give Belle an opportunity.

“... But it will allow you to assist Mary Margaret by improving David’s position.” Regina went on. “His wife’s cousin will be of more interest to Mr. Gold than some random young man who offers to support his political goals.

“Why you may even be able to help your father.” Regina nodded. “Now go. I’ll send Marian up to help you dress. You'll want to look your best.”

Descending to the kitchen to speak with Cook, Belle considered Regina’s remarks. She had always known that her family’s financial circumstance would limit her choice of husband. Even at the best of times she had not had Mary Margaret’s option of marrying a penniless younger son for love. Now with Papa ruined her prospects were even poorer.

She might find Regina’s monetary view of marriage distasteful, but the woman spoke the truth as she saw it.

Still…

She hugged Mr. Gold’s book to her chest. She might be able to please her family and friends, and follow her own predilection. After all there was nothing saying that she could not marry a comfortably well off, older man for love.

#rumbelle is hope #joyee56 fic #Rumbelle #A ‘Vulgar Lowborn Scottish Barbarian’ Comes Calling #A Truth Universally Acknowledged verse

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hookedonapirate · 5 years

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The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumplestiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.

A/N: Based on the reviews for the last chapter, most of you are wondering about James, and while he is not seen much in this chapter, more about him will be revealed as we move along. Also, a couple of you asked whether this will be noncon or dubcon. I will just say I'm not comfortable with writing either, and while the circumstances make Emma a slave, Killian will prove to be nothing like Baelfire. But I don't want to spoil it so I won't say anything further about it :)

Thank you @ilovemesomekillianjones for your wonderful beta skills and @gingerchangeling for all of your suggestions and feedback! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies.

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1

Chapter 2

The sun rises over Misthaven, casting a range of colors over the sky as Emma stares out over the sea from her balcony, once again longing for a life beyond the castle. Longing for a love that will consume her entirely, as opposed to the arranged marriage with Baelfire. She adores her parents and younger brother, but she is not meant to rule Misthaven. And she certainly does not wish to rule or have anything to do with the Dark Kingdom... or its heir. Emma is revolted by the idea, certain that only a lifetime of misery awaits her. How could she have possibly agreed to the idea of marrying him? Considering everything that marriage means, Emma can’t help but feel physically ill at the idea of having to lose her maidenhead to him, or even worse, being forced to carry his child.

It’s a few months before the wedding, and Emma’s parents are away, leaving her to oversee the housekeeping and provisioning of the castle, and the wellbeing of the kingdom. Snow is off to visit her dear friends, King Philip and Queen Aurora, who have recently announced the news of their first born, a baby girl they had named Isabella. Meanwhile, David is on a voyage, offering aide to Goldmark, which, under the reign of King Midas, was once a great trading kingdom, famous for its gold, until it went into decline after the loss of their king.

Emma’s parents have great faith in her judgment and wisdom and not a shred of doubt in her capability to manage the kingdom while they are away. She has learned everything a young woman must learn—music, spinning and embroidery—but also self-defense, swordsmanship, diplomacy and how to manage large households, because she will one day rule and deal with royal courts consisting of hundreds of people.

Emma removes her nightgown and slips into an ivory gown made of silk, with a low-cut, square neckline and long, flowing sleeves. Around her neck, she secures a necklace with an emerald stone her sweet brother had given her as a betrothal gift, with the clasp. After covering her shoulders with a long, topaz cloak, which flows behind her when she moves, she goes to Leo’s room, where he is sprawled out, sleeping soundly in his bed. She takes a moment to admire him with a soft smile, running a hand through his hair and dropping a kiss to his temple before leaving him be and softly closing the door behind her. She descends the spiral stairwell and moves through the castle, passing several guards along the way, but she ignores them and keeps making her way to her favorite place in the castle.

Crossing the threshold of her mother’s garden, she is greeted by the chill of the early morning air and the smell of fragrant flowers which immediately overpower her senses. Narrow paths weave through the many flower beds, fir trees, shrubs and rows of purple, red, yellow and orange flowers still flourishing at the end of summer. Emma walks along one of the paths which leads to a pond with a small waterfall. She lifts her skirts and sits near the edge, breathing in the fresh air. A sense of calm washes over her, clearing her mind from the muddled deliberations and settling the nerves twisting in her stomach that have plagued her since she had decided she did not want to continue her betrothal to Baelfire. This is her safe haven, her place to find clarity when she is left alone with her thoughts.

“Are you enjoying your time in the garden, princess?”

Graham’s voice interrupts her reverie, making her jump slightly, her heart stuttering a little in her chest as she presses her hand there. “I was until you startled me,” she teases, looking up at him with a warm smile.

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” he says sincerely, regret creasing his facial features.

“Tis alright. I only came to the garden because it helps relax me.”

“Did the night not allow you to?” he asks in concern.

Emma shakes her head. “Afraid not.”

“And why not, my princess? You must get your beauty sleep… not that you need it,” he adds with a wink.

Emma blushes and looks away, a small smile tugging at her lips. “There is much on my mind, I suppose.”

“Anything I can do to help clear your restless mind, Your Highness?”

“You could take me away for a while,” the princess replies before she can stop the words from tumbling off her tongue.

To her surprise, Graham extends his hand to her. “Your wish is my command.”

She looks up, studying his proffered hand suspiciously. Her reply was meant to be a joke, but he seems to have taken her words to heart. “But I was only joking,” she claims defensively.

Raising a brow, he looks doubtful. “Were you really?”

She blushes once more, a bashful smile creeping over her lips. “I suppose you caught me.”

“Come with me, Your Highness. I would like to take you sailing, if I may? The sea always calms me, and perhaps it will do the same for you.”

Emma is stunned by his offer, for he knows how much her father is against her venturing out into the sea. But she is not about to complain. A chance to have an adventure outside the castle walls gives her a thrill she cannot really describe. “You have a sailboat?”

“Aye,” he nods with a boastful smirk. “I am actually quite the sailor, which you will soon see for yourself if you allow me the honor to show you.”

Accepting his offer, she slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her up.

They have a basket prepared with bread, cheese, fruit and a flask of wine for their trip. She tells a servant to inform her brother she has gone for a walk and will return in the afternoon.

“May I ask what troubles you, Your Highness?” Graham inquires as they make their way through the woods by foot, Emma carrying the basket on her arm.

She looks down at her feet, wondering whether she should tell him or not. They had become friends over the years, since her parents had hired him, and she trusts him enough to confide in him about most things. Things which do not usually involve Baelfire or the unwished-for wedding, but she’s feeling emboldened at the moment by his offer to take her sailing. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he replies without a doubt.

Emma sighs deeply, gathering the courage to tell him something she has not told another soul. “I do not wish to marry Prince Baelfire.”

Graham’s eyes blow wide, this revelation hitting him full force. “Please forgive me for asking, but for what reason, my princess?”

Emma looks over at him, his eyes full of curiosity. “Need I answer that?”

Her guard thinks about her question for a mere two seconds before chuckling. “No, Your Highness, you need not. The prince simply cannot compare to your stature. You deserve much more, my fair princess,” he bows humbly.

Blush spreads through her cheeks and a smile creeps over her lips uncontrollably. “Thank you kindly.”

“Tis but the truth,” Graham says sincerely.

The sight of the sea against the sky slowly creeps into their line of sight, the cerulean water sparkling and dancing under the golden sunlight. When they reach the harbor, Emma’s face clouds with confusion, for there is not a sailboat in sight, only a large ship at the port.

“Where is this boat you had spoken of?”

When Graham doesn't answer immediately, Emma grows panicked and looks to her side where she thinks he is, but it’s not until she whirls around when she finds him in front of her.

“Where is your craft?” she demands once again, growing angry.

“I am sorry, princess,” he whispers shamefully, his eyes pooling with sorrow as he looks behind her.

Fear strikes her like a thunderbolt, and she turns her head, seeing two men standing there. Emma’s throat goes dry and she swallows thickly, averting her attention to her guard. “Graham, I demand to know what is going on!”

“These men are to take you away from here.” His voice is hoarse and cracked, and the pain in his eyes is genuine. “I may work for your parents, but I was originally hired by Lady Maleficent to act as your bodyguard so I could kill you. But after meeting Your Highness I simply could not bear to act on such an injustice, so I paid a captain to take you away to safety. After lady Maleficent finds out you are still alive she will go after you. These men will protect you.”

Emma can’t believe her ears; she’s seeing red, her blood bubbling with rage. “I trusted you!”

“I know, I am truly sorry,” he murmurs, bowing his head in shame.

Her instincts tell her to run away, but before she can, two pairs of hands are gripping her arms, causing her to drop the basket from her hand, and it falls to the ground. Emma wrenches her body, struggling against them. “Unhand me this instant!” she cries out, her eyes full of rage.

The men have a strong grip on her and she doubts they are there to look after her, especially when they pull her hands together in front of her and tie a rope snuggly around her wrists. Even Graham seems to be confused as he glances between the two men. “What are you doing? The princess is to be a passenger on your ship, not a captive.” Only when she hears the deep roar of laughter from behind, does she realize Graham is not speaking to either man holding her.

“About that…” The man emerges and stands in between Emma and Graham, his back facing her. She can only see his rich crimson clothing and his hair which is tied into braids, but she quickly realizes he is a pirate captain. He's wearing a long doublet adorned with gold jewelry and ornaments, velvet breeches and a tri-cornered hat garnished with an exotic red feather, and a sash is tied around his waist, holding a heavily curved cutlass.

Emma has only heard of pirates and the tales of these scoundrels who plunder ships and steal—but she is very aware they exist and that this man standing before her, and his crew are among them. “You see, your offer was outdone by another, and I simply could not refuse.”

“By who?” Graham demands, now full of rage. He tries to step forward, but two other pirates stand beside the captain daring him to do so.

“By Lady Maleficent. She has learned of your scheme through her little spies and came to me offering me a much better deal. So I took it. I am but a pirate, what did you expect?” The captain turns around, getting a good look at Emma, who is scowling at him fiercely and squirming in the crew’s hands. She can now see the captain’s face, his lips pulled into a devilish smirk. He wears gold hoops in his ears, which are not only an evident sign of wealth, but with the pressure on his earlobes, they possibly help ease seasickness, or so she's read. “Captain Blackbeard at your service, milady.”

“What will you do with me?” she asks angrily through gritted teeth.

“Whatever I please. You are mine now. The countess has sold you to me and now I will make even more gold when I take you to an auction house where you will be sold to the highest bidder. No ransom can possibly match what you will bring on the block.”

“You cannot do this!” Graham argues from behind him. “She is a princess! The king will pay you even more to release her!”

The captain cackles once more. “Have you not laid your eyes upon her?” Blackbeard asks in a menacing tone. He steps towards Emma, running his fingers through his long, braided beard as he scrutinizes her from head to toe. Closing in on her personal space, he gently grabs her chin, studying her facial features. His touch makes her skin crawl. “She is worth far more than a king’s ransom.”

Emma’s nose twists in disgust and she jerks her head, wrenching her chin from his hold and spits in his face.

The man wipes her saliva from his face and glowers at her. “You best be careful, princess, I may need your beauty and virtue to stay intact, but you best not test my patience. I have plenty of ways to make the voyage as insufferable as possible.” Emma glares at him, fighting the urge to vomit from smelling his foul breath. “Fight all you want, but you are mine now, so you might as well accept it.”

“I am no one’s!” she shrieks, thrashing against her captors.

Graham launches at Blackbeard, but the other crew members hold him back.

The captain turns to look at Graham, far from intimidated. “Go ahead and try to stop me. Your fate will be much worse than my princess.”

“You will be sorry when the king finds out about his daughter, Captain Blackbeard!” Graham promises, struggling against the pirates. “The king will make you and your men pay!”

Blackbeard laughs in pure amusement. “Good. I do enjoy a challenge, my boy.” He looks between his crew. “Take the princess to her quarters. She must be fed and pampered during the journey, and if she has one bruise or mark on her, may God help you!” he threatens menacingly and walks away, heading for his ship.

“Graham, you will pay for this!” Emma cries out as she’s hauled away from him, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Princess, I am so sorry,” he says, and she can see the honesty in his eyes. “If I had known this would happen, I would have never made a deal with him. Please believe me, Emma!”

She can no longer reply, too racked with hurt and anger from his betrayal as the pirates force her on the ship.

To her surprise, Graham climbs aboard; she hears the sound of his sword as he draws the metal blade from his belt and holds it up, prepared to fight. “You cannot take her!”

Blackbeard snorts. “Oh, but I can,” he pulls out his cutlass, meeting the guard halfway, “and I will.” The two men stare each other down as the captain slowly circles around the guard. “You are a fool for trying to stop me. I will behead you and toss your body in the sea for the sharks to feast on.”

Graham seethes with anger, and when the captain is in front of him again, Graham throws as much force as he can, swinging his sword at the captain, but Blackbeard deflects his efforts with his cutlass. The duel begins and the swords flash, the sound of metal hitting metal resonating through the deck.

When Graham gets the opportunity, he raises his sword above his head and collects his energy, striking his opponent. Blackbeard is caught off guard and notices too late as Graham brings his sword down in a slashing motion, sending Blackbeard to his back with a loud thump. The captain loses his cutlass, the metal blade clattering against the wood of the ship, producing vibrations that sound through the deck.

Emma’s heart ignites with hope as she watches the scene unfold before her eyes, her hands still tied together.

Blackbeard crawls to his cutlass as Graham once again raises his sword to deliver a killing blow when Blackbeard throws blinding powder into Graham’s face. He cries out, frantically dropping his sword, attempting to wipe the dust from his eyes and stumbles backward, tripping and falling to his back.

Emma cries out and thrashes against the men holding her, her heart tightening. She may be angry with Graham, but she still cares for him. Forbye, he is her only hope of escaping at the moment, but fear is quickly casting a dark cloud over the optimism she had felt seconds ago.

Blackbeard rises with a victorious smirk and walks over to pick up his cutlass, pointing it at Graham’s adam’s apple as he breathes heavily, his eyes daring the Captain to end his life. “I could kill you, but instead I will let you go, for the wrath you will receive from the king when he finds out his precious princess is missing, will be far greater than what I will do to you.”

With that, Graham is escorted off the ship by the crew as he shouts, “I will get you back, princess, I promise!”

“You won’t be allowed the chance, my father will kill you when he finds out what you have done!” Emma yells out her fear to Graham as the crew forces her to move, leading her to the quarters where she will be staying for the journey. She is relieved the captain let Graham go, but she has a sick feeling in her gut at what her fate will be when the captain sells her at auction. Yet she chooses to hang on to the faith that her parents will find her and bring her home.

The men prepare to set sail and the ship cruises across the waters of the Mediterranean for the next six days. Emma continues to fight against the captain and his crew, but every time she grows violent, they grab her and force her to drink a goblet of water after adding something to it to make her slip into unconsciousness. But her hands are no longer tied by rope, and she is allowed a small measure of freedom on the upper deck as long as she does not make a fuss. So, for the remainder of the trip, she stays calm and decides to make the most of it, taking in the beautiful scenery of the different islands the captain points out to her, and enjoying the fresh air and being out on the open sea rather than the security of her parent's castle as a princess. It is what she has dreamed about for so long, apart from the brutal reality that she is now a slave.

~*~

Graham informs David that Emma had been attacked and captured by pirates and that he had fought against them trying to rescue her. Although Graham is quick to tell of Lady Maleficent’s involvement, he neglects to mention that his employment by the said villain is the reason why the captain had an opportunity to take her in the first place, for he needs David to trust him to get the princess back. Graham feels miserable about what has transpired and is determined to atone for it. He convinces the king to let him buy her back so David can stay and protect his wife and son in case Lady Maleficent decides to go after them as well.

Not knowing exactly where Emma was taken, David disguises himself as a poor peasant and goes to a tavern in Misthaven to gather information from the seamen who port there. Gathering intel on where to find her, he has a ship prepared for Graham that will take him across the Mediterranean to the slave market where Emma will be auctioned off. Determined to rescue his beloved daughter, King David will pay anything to buy her back and bring her home.

Back at a tavern in the Dark Kingdom, Prince Baelfire overhears some pirates speaking of a green-eyed, golden-haired princess being sold by Captain Blackbeard, who had spoken of his sale when he’d returned from the slave market. Baelfire doesn't catch a name, but she is rumored to be quite a rare beauty. He puts the pieces together, for King David had gone wild with rage at the news of his daughter’s disappearance, and goes to his father to spread the word. It matters not, though. God knows what the captain and his crew have done to the prince’s fiance; she has most likely been sullied and would be no good to him now. Rumplestiltskin tears up the contract and sets up a betrothal between his son and Lily once again, which pleases Lady Maleficent. Baelfire and Lily waste no time getting married.

~*~

The thunderous sound of hooves pounding against the leaf-littered dirt travels throughout the forest and comes to an abrupt halt when Killian sees a disturbance in the air and raises his hand to stop his men from moving any further. The screeching call of a falcon soaring across the sky is heard from a distance as Killian waits on high alert. James signals for the men to prepare themselves and they jump off their horses, pulling out their bows and arrows, forming a line of protection in front of the prince.

Killian can hear galloping horses in the distance, and gradually they come into view, along with men in capes riding towards them. The leader descends from his horse when he approaches, but is still a fair distance away, quickly kneeling and introducing himself as the chamberlain of the sultan as he presents a scroll to the prince. Killian senses something is off, for what could be so urgent that a carrier is being sent to him while he is away from the palace?

“I have brought news for my prince from the Grand Vizier, Geppetto.”

Killian jumps off his horse and approaches the man, taking the offered scroll, and stepping aside to read it. Scanning the letter from Geppetto, he learns of his Father's death which had ensued during a campaigning expedition when he had fallen ill. Brennan had died peacefully in his tent after his evening prayers.

Flooded with emotions—shock, sadness, fear, disquietude—Killian turns sharply, glancing at James who gives him a questioning look. With the expression on the prince’s face, he’s able to communicate with the falconer without words.

James’ expression clouds and he bows his head in respect, expressing his condolences for Killian’s loss.

A tear slides down Killian’s check. The prince had known this day would come, he just didn't know it would come so soon.

The capital is struck with grief at the news of Sultan Brennan’s death.

Brennan had been the youngest of his five half brothers and had rebelled against his father’s wishes when the eldest brother had been announced as the heir apparent. Outraged and determined to steal the throne, as Brennan had been made to believe he was his father’s favorite, he’d battled against his father—the sultan and ultimately dethroned him, sending him to a faraway land where he immediately met his death. Brennan then put his brothers and nephews to death to eliminate potential pretenders or threats, and his ruling over Neverland as sultan lasted eight years. Despite his shortened reign, Sultan Brennan was one of Neverland’s most successful and respected rulers to date. During his eight years of ruling, he had accomplished momentous success, including the expansion of Neverland by seventy percent.

Neverland, an empire where only men reign and hold absolute power, not to be controlled or ruled by women. The females of a sultan’s harem all enter as slaves, and if she is fortunate enough to birth a prince, she is traditionally never to return to the sultan’s bedchambers. Her sole purpose then is to care for, nurture and prepare the prince for the throne. But Brennan had been captivated by Kira. She had entered his harem as an Odalisque, a general servant, and had risen through the ranks of the harem hierarchy, enjoying her power and position as a bas-kadin when she became the mother of Brennan’s heir. After she’d given birth to a girl and then a boy, Brennan had sought her company once more, but when she became pregnant with Killian, Brennan had taken a gedikli to bed, a concubine whose status was far lower than Kira’s, subsequently fathering another prince.

The Sultan had a fierce temper and very high expectations of his three sons. And while Killian and Liam had acquired their father’s political skills, wisdom and looks—broad shoulders, high cheekbones, fair skin and sea blue eyes—their younger half brother took after Brennan’s fierce temper and determination to ascend the throne. But unlike his father, Declan had lost the battle, failing to kill off his brothers and was permanently exiled from Neverland. Liam and Killian, however, had a resilient bond, having the same father, which is rare within their culture. Neverland Sultans did not traditionally bed a woman after she’d bore him a son—in fact, it was a stark violation of the imperial harem principle—one concubine mother, one son—to prevent both the mother's influence over the Sultan and the feuds of the blood brothers for the throne. Killian would have gladly served under his brother, however, and the only reason Liam is not the one in Killian’s place is the battle that had mercilessly taken his life.

Killian returns to the Jewel of the Realm, the Sultan’s court where he had been sent as a young lad to study and learn the ways of his people. He had been appointed crown prince at age sixteen, and today ascends to take over the honorable legacy left by his father, Sultan Brennan, hoping he can live up to the expectations of his people—of his father. Killian hopes he can continue to be a man Brennan would be proud of.

Don't just be a man, my boy, be a great man, his father had always told him.

Upon Killian’s arrival, he greets his mother, the sultan valide, in her suite, pressing a kiss to the back of her delicate hand and asking to be in her prayers. He hopes he can live up to his father’s legacy and make his mother proud.

“May God bestow upon you, your throne and your crown longevity.”

Killian draws her into a hug, and when he pulls away he turns to his sister who bows and takes his hand kissing the back of it. “My lovely sister.” Killian smiles and urges her up to kiss her forehead. “Father will be greatly missed.”

“He will be,” Regina agrees with a small smile, unshed tears wetting her eyes as Killian wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Both his mother and sister have long, dark brown hair, the same color as Liam’s, and deep brown eyes that are now full of pride as they await the accession of the new Sultan.

“Now that Brennan is gone, you must be prepared to pass along his legacy, my son,” Kira says to him.

Killian sighs in exasperation, knowing exactly what her intentions are.

“You know not how much time you will have. Your father had eight years and God willing, you will have more, but we cannot know that for certain. You must find wives to bear you many princes, one who will take your place when you are gone.”

“Mother, I am aware…”

“Then why must you wait any longer? When is the last time you’ve lain with a woman who was not sterile?”

Killian’s eyes darken. The last time he had bedded a woman who was capable of birthing him a son and would’ve if not for her death while she was with child, it was Milah.

“Just as I suspected,” Kira sighs deeply. “I am sorry for what happened to Milah, but she is gone now, you must accept that and move on.”

Killian can’t hear this tale once more. He needs to leave before he grows furious and sad, and now is not the time, for he is about to be crowned Sultan. “Please, I cannot discuss this now,” he pleads with her.

Kira relents with a nod. “Very well.” She looks to the two odalisques in the room and calls them over. “I have a caftan prepared for you, my son.”

They kneel and bow their heads, one of them presenting a silk red brocade caftan, woven with gold thread and lined with black fur.

“Thank you, mother.” Killian accepts the caftan and leaves to prepare for the ceremony.

Kira calls upon the Jewel of the Realm’s Chief Eunuch who is charged with the protection and maintenance of the harem women.

“You summoned me, Sultana?”

Kira nods. “I want you to find my son four potential kadins, no matter the cost. They must be pure and untainted, never touched by another man. And only the most beautiful, with flawless skin that glows with good health. My son deserves only the best. They are to be trained and prepared to be presented to my son on his twenty-fifth birthday. At that time, we will celebrate with pomp and ceremony and present the gediklis to him. Can I trust you with this task?”

“Yes, Sultana.” With that, Nemo Nautilus leaves Kira’s chambers and sets out on his search for four promising concubines, which he knows will not be difficult, for he knows the prince’s tastes quite well. Killian has always been fond of women who were not only beautiful but warm and intelligent, fierce, independent and a bit mysterious.

As he scours the slave markets, word of a beautiful golden-haired virgin, eyes the color of emerald jewels, being sold at the next full moon reaches him, and not only do those attributes intrigue him but also the rumor that she is a princess of high stature. He finds out exactly where she will be auctioned off and leaves immediately.

~*~

Emma is still in shock by the entire ordeal—by Graham’s betrayal, by being captured by pirates and sold to an auction house. She has been left unscathed but misses her family so much, it’s painful. Cursing herself for ever wishing she had a life beyond the castle, she still clings to the hope that her family will find her.

She has resided at an auction house since the voyage on Blackbeard's ship had ended, and over the last several weeks, she had been bathed in perfumed waters, bleached in lemon to restore her true, milky skin tone and massaged with sweet smelling creams to make her skin smooth and silky to the touch.

While she has been pampered, protected and kept from the sun, word has swept the Mediterranean of the virgin princess with golden hair who will be sold by a purveyor of the most valuable merchandise in the world. She has faith that the rumors have reached her parents and that her family will come and rescue her. She believes in them; it’s the only thing she can believe at the moment.

The slave merchant explains that there is an opening bid on her of ten thousand pieces of gold, and though there aren’t many, the buyers are only the most powerful and richest men from around the world. Emma's heart flutters with panic and her stomach feels as though it’s filled with snakes slithering around her insides.

Pulling back the curtain, her kohl-framed emerald eyes sparkle under her elongated lashes as she peeks into the private auction room. Upon witnessing the company she has drawn Emma gasps through the thin veil draped around her face. There is another veil covering her hair and she’s wearing a delicate, champagne colored, ankle length gown which is held together by green ribbons, one tied around her waist and one at each shoulder.

On the other side of the curtain, there are fifteen buyers, and among them is Graham. Emma clenches her fists in anger when she spots him. All she sees is a fraud who had everyone in the Royal Castle fooled; he had her parents thinking he was truly looking out for Emma's best interest, but instead, he had been employed by another to do the exact opposite. She is torn between Graham's betrayal and the small spark of hope that he will buy her back. But all she cares about at the moment is getting back to her family, and she has a feeling Graham won’t be able to make that happen.

“Come, my lady. It is time.” Pulling Emma from her thoughts, a eunuch gently touches her arm and draws her out onto the center of a platform in the middle of the room.

All eyes are eagerly drawn to her.

The slave merchant announces her as, “a virgin princess, pure and nubile,” and removes the veil from her face, starting the bid at ten thousand gold pieces.

The bidding is so fast, it dizzies her as several men go back and forth, raising the bid higher and higher. But none of the bids are high enough for the merchant, so he has the eunuch loosen the ribbons at her shoulders, and the top half of the tunic falls to her waist.

Emma loses a breath, and Graham turns his head to avert his eyes, unable to watch, his fists tightening in anger. The room buzzes with excitement, many pairs of eyes drinking in her half-naked form, her high, fully blossomed breasts and rosy pink nipples on display. Some of the men look at her the way Baelfire had, with hungry, lustful eyes and a chilling grin, making her stomach churn.

Per the signal from the merchant, the eunuch removes the veil from her head and pulls out the pearl clasp from Emma’s hair, letting her golden locks cascade over her shoulders and down her back like a fan. Then he loosens the belt, allowing the entire fabric to fall to the floor, pooling around her feet, at which point silence fills the room as the men greedily feast their eyes upon her.

The princess goes numb with mortification as she stands stark naked from head to toe, her heart thumping in her ear. No man has ever seen her unclothed, and now here she stands for all the bidders to see. Some of them are licking their lips as their eyes scan her bare flesh, sending chills down her spine, and her entire body shakes. Her skin is flushed red with shame, her breaths shallow, but she chooses not to show her fear, as her parents have taught her. With the faith that Graham will outbid the other buyers, she stands tall and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and does her best to mute out the shouts of the bidders as they continue to raise the price.

“Thirty thousand!”

“Thirty-five thousand!”

“Forty thousand,” the voice of Graham causes her to look over at him, and as ashamed as she is, standing there baring everything, her eyes plead with him.

“Forty-three thousand!” is the comeback from another, and Graham goes back and forth with him until the other bidder is defeated.

“Forty-five thousand!” Graham calls out.

“Forty-five thousand! Who will bid more?” Silence falls over the room, and Emma breathes a sigh of relief.

The gavel is raised to finalize the sale when a voice calls out, “The Sultan of Neverland bids fifty thousand gold pieces.” A tall man makes his way to the platform. “I am Nemo Nautilus, Chief Eunuch.” He drops the sack of coins at the merchant's feet. “You may count it.”

“No need,” the delighted merchant states, accepting the gold as the chief eunuch covers Emma with a robe.

Graham leaps on stage and protests. “You raised the gavel to finalize the sale. She is mine!”

“But I did not knock with it. You are permitted to make a higher bid.”

Nemo raises his hand, signaling Graham to do so, but judging by the look in Graham’s eyes, he does not have enough to outbid Nemo.

Graham turns to the other buyers with pleading eyes. “Please lend me your gold and I will make sure you are rewarded with double by the king of Misthaven!” he attempts, but no one bothers to speak out against the Sultan of Neverland's Chief Eunuch. “This auction is illegal! She is betrothed to the heir of King Rumplestiltskin and the papers have been signed. She is as good as married!”

Nemo scoffs. “Your laws do not apply to us, just as our laws do not apply to you. You can either raise my bid or allow me to leave with my purchase.”

Graham has nothing more to offer, so Nemo retrieves Emma’s belongings—her clothes and necklace—from the merchant and turns to Emma, who fiercely snatches the items from his hands.

“Come, my lady,” Nemo says kindly. “We must go, now.”

Graham looks at Emma, his eyes full of sorrow and regret. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as Nemo gently takes her elbow, ushering her in the direction he is heading.

“Do not touch me!” she shouts angrily, her body once again overwhelmed with fear as she squirms against the Eunuch's hold.

Graham follows after her, calling out, “I shall go to Neverland with your father, and he will ransom you!”

“Do not lie to the girl. She is my Master’s now. She cannot be ransomed,” Nemo tells him.

She looks back at Graham, her eyes red and swollen as the distance between them gradually increases. “Tell my family I will come back to Misthaven! I will see them again!”

Graham nods, tears falling down his cheeks as he watches the princess being hauled away from him. How is he ever going to face her parents and break the news of his failures to them, let alone his betrayal?

Tagging:

@teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @snowbellewells @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswan @tiganasummertree @superchocovian @emeraldwitches

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #royalty #princess emma #sultan killian #public nudity and humiliation #the princess and her sultan #my fic

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madaraism · 6 years

Text

Parallels - Liam x Riley

A/N: This has been on my mind, brewing for the longest time since I watched Harry and Meghan’s wedding.

Summary: The concept and traditions of monarchies are different in each country. Riley reflects on Cordonia’s.

Inspiration: Photograph by Ed Sheeran

Perma tag: @topsyturvy-dream @hellospunkiebrewster @umccall71

“Harry and Meghan, the perfect kiss.”

“Two people fell in love and we all showed up.”

“There is power in love.”

She can only imagine just how happy they feel.

The white dress, the embroidered details on her veil, the hand-picked flowers from her prince, the cheers and support for their love echoing from all around the world.

To feel all eyes on her as she walks down the aisle, warm rays of sunshine on her face. The flowers, the stain-glassed windows, the orchestra, the ecstatic page boys and flower girls.

The moment her eyes meets his.

The tears in his eyes and the overwhelmingly cheerful grin when he sees her walking towards him.

How he stands tall and proud, yet somehow still so humble at the sight of her.

How happiness beams from her face.

The loving gazes exchanged when he finally lifts her veil to see her face to face.

She feels a lot of things, and each of these emotions hit her like endless waves.

Happy that another woman found the love of their life – a prince, even, much like herself.

Proud that the said woman was also an American, much like herself.

Pleased that they got to prove everyone wrong.

A sense of righteousness with how she carried herself down the aisle, her love for her prince outshining all the gossips and rumours on her marrying for fame and fortune.

But such intense jealousy in her heart when she reads that the other American got to walk down a foreign church aisle, unlike her.

It feels like she’s floating and sinking at the same time.

Despite Prince Harry’s wedding to Meghan Markle being a while ago, Riley couldn’t help herself but allow her mind to bask in such depressing thoughts.

She wonders how the now-Duchess of Sussex dealt with all her drama, how different and just how modernised the British monarchy must be for Meghan to marry Harry.

How thick-skinned she must be to withstand all the gossip, the drama, the ongoing slander of dirt thrown at her name in tabloids, websites and late-night talk shows.

She is jealous in so many ways.

The British Monarchy has had such a strong foot in the world for the longest time. Their crown adapted to the progressive modernisation for the sake of their people; one that gave in to concessions and sacrifices that chips away at their authority.

But they adapted in the most beneficial way.

Their sacrifices allowed their crown to rule in hindsight with such grandeur in the spotlight – one that ultimately benefited their nation in so many ways.

Cordonia however, was different.

Tradition and customs in this small, Mediterranean country was so deeply rooted in everyone. The concept of patriotism and love for culture and tradition was so annoyingly engrained in their people’s daily lives; from festivals dedicated to apples to separated classes of nobility and the concept of social seasons.

She had found herself to be in the middle of political drama and scandals, purely because she fell for a man who was selfless, compassionate, dedicated, loving and every other positive adjective that she could think of.

And a crown prince.

She wonders if Prince Harry was first-born, would his Meghan encounter the same situation that she was in?

Riley thinks back on all the hardships that she has been through to get here; to play by specific rules, to look a certain way, to embrace a country and its traditions by the reins the moment she steps foot in Cordonia just so she could prove herself worthy for their people.

Meghan certainly had to do the same, and she couldn’t help but wonder where she went wrong.

But did it matter?

The cultural differences, the importance of tradition, Leo’s abdication… It was all so interwoven and connected.

An American marrying a European prince.

She would roll her eyes at the irony and coincidence of it all if she wasn’t in such a dire situation.

After all, it didn’t matter that Liam was born second, and Leo’s abdication confirmed that.

Perhaps her love for Liam was doomed right from the start.

It is a beautiful day for a wedding, Riley notes.

The palace is in a frenzy. Palace staff rushing about with different materials or flowers in their arms. Their higher ups giving out orders to different people in different directions.

But Riley is oddly calm. Her outer appearance is, at least.

She is numb. Her insides seem to shrivel up in pain as she tries to maintain the look of peace on her face.

Much like Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s wedding, there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. The breeze is gentle, the weather just perfect – not too hot and not too cold.

Depressingly and agonizingly perfect.

If she loved Liam any less, she would’ve wished for rain to pour. For a storm to come crashing down. For anything to happen to ruin a seemingly perfect day.

Jealousy did not sit well with her.

She hates how it dissolves her from the inside. She hates how it feels like there are nails digging into her heart. She hates the stinging in her eyes.

She wanted it all.

The perfect day, the white dress, the embroidered veil and long train, the orchestra, the stained-glass windows, the positive cheers from the Cordonian people.

She wanted acceptance.

She wanted to prove the world wrong; that she was fit to be Queen, that she loved Cordonia and it’s almost stupid traditions.

But most importantly, she wanted to walk down the aisle in a white dress, with Liam beaming at her with tears in his eyes.

She wanted to proclaim her love for Liam in front of the whole world. In front of the cameras. In front of those who didn’t believe her.

She wanted to be the one who felt the excited butterflies in her stomach while she got ready for her wedding. To worry and fuss over miniscule, pointless details like her eyeliner not being perfect, or her hair being too messy, or if Liam would find her dress pretty or not.

She wanted to be the one that Liam breaks tradition for. For him, like Prince Harry, to wear their wedding band on his finger. For him, like Prince Harry, to present her with hand-picked flowers from the royal gardens that was his mother’s favourite to be added to her bouquet. For him, like Prince Harry, to lift up her veil and to tell her how nervous yet excited he is, how lucky he is and how beautiful she looked.

To share loving and admiring glances with in front of the world.

She wanted to be the one that Liam recites his vows to, to be the one that Liam exchanges ‘I will’s to.

To be the one that Liam kisses.

To be announced as Husband and Wife.

To be his Queen while he is King.

She takes in a shaky breath and straightens herself, brushing away her tears before knocking on the door.

Upon granted entry, she steps in with a weak smile on her face.

The room is cold and muted.

“Lady Riley…”, Liam starts. His voice is breathless and he allows his eyes to linger on her as she makes her way over to him, her modest navy dress swaying with her movements.

She is breathtaking in whatever she wears.

But he had wished the next time he saw her would be when she was walking into the chapel and down the aisle to stand by his side.

“Madeleine will probably scold you if you keep looking so sad like that.” A weak laughter.

“She’ll say it’s not a good look for Cordonia, or something.” She attempts to joke while her hands go to fix up the already perfect line of badges, his already perfect hair and to brush the imaginary bits of fluff off of his suit.

Liam’s expression doesn’t change. Instead, he takes hold of her moving hand to press against his own cheek.

He lays a kiss on her wrist, eyes never leaving her face as he takes in every tiny detail, memorising.

“How can I be happy when the only person I could ever want to marry won’t be the one walking down the aisle?” His voice is sombre and she can feel the tears reappear in her eyes.

She swallows. “…Madeleine is the Queen that Cordonia needs, Liam…”

She tries to reason with him using the very words he had uttered before. She tries to think logically, to think with reason and for the benefit for his country; anything to stop him from persuading her to stay as his other.

She can see the anger and sorrow flash through his eyes, and they both know just how hard she has worked to try and gain the approval of the court and public.

Madeleine was perfect in the public’s eyes, much like this blasted day.

“Can you not stay…?” He pleads, his eyes now wet.

She shakes her head. She hopes he understands that she is already pushing her own limit simply by being in Cordonia on this very day.

Instead, she tells him how handsome he looks. The way he styled his hair and how he decided to shave his stubble. How amazing he smelt and how perfect he is in his suit, how the theme and flowers of the wedding she saw in the arms of the hurried palace staff really suited him.

She tells him how lucky Cordonia is to have him as their king, and Madeleine his queen.

He is quiet, taking in her words while he keeps her hand pressed against his cheek.

He relishes her touches, the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes. The way her other hand would fidget and continuously tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. The way she would nibble on her lip in between sentences.

“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding, Liam…” She repeats her thoughts from earlier.

And he embraces her, memorising the way her body felt against his, her smell, the softness of her hair and the fluttering of her lashes against his neck.

She wants to kiss him one last time but she feels the guilt of being labelled the other woman.

He kisses her anyways, damning it all.

She feels the hair on her skin stand up as she remembers the last night they spent with each other. His touch on her skin, his moans and desperate calls of her name. Her nails on his back and lingering kisses.

She pulls away before she becomes the reason the groom is late for his own wedding.

She caresses his cheek once more before giving him a last kiss, her touch lingering.

He is tempted to pull her into his arms to run away but his feet are planted firmly to the ground, rooted with a sense of duty.

Her hand stays on the door handle as she looks at him standing there, in the middle of a grand room all by himself. Looking so regal, so perfect; the man of the hour.

She gives him the best smile she can muster. “Goodbye, my king. I’ll love you always.”

He mirrors her faltering smile. “You’ll always be in my heart, Lady Riley.”

She closes the door behind her, her heart in excruciating agony, her body heavy.

Meghan Markle is so lucky.

#liam x mc #king liam #the royal romance #king liam of cordonia #liam x riley #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices ff #the royal romance fanfic #trr fanfic #choices: the royal romance #choices: stories you play #joey writes choices #joey writes

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dunkshotdreaming · 6 years

Text

Spica: Alpha Virginis (pt.3)

Genre: action/adventure, fantasy, angst, romance Warnings: post-apocalyptic Characters: Leo (VIXX), Beth (oc), Lucy (oc) Word count: 2,009 Story type: series (completed)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (final)

(A/N): Reposting my series from AFF onto here!

///

Leo wondered if perhaps he’d been too harsh with Beth, but he couldn’t control his reaction, it was reflexive. His eyebrows furrowed as he burrowed his face in his hands, opting to swallow his pride and apologize to her before the guilt ate him alive. Slowly shutting the door behind him, Leo shuffled over to the couch, only to see Lucy under the towel instead. She’d left her dress folded on the coffee table, his eyes widening as he wondered if he drove her off. Had he scared away is only friend? Perhaps it was for the best, he thought, but he couldn’t will the agonizing pain of loss away.

A slight breeze caught his attention, making him realize the sliding door was left open. On his way over, he noticed her perched once more on the shabby railing, only this time she was facing outward. Leo rubbed his neck awkwardly, clearing his throat to quietly announce his presence, She looked back at him, hopping over the railing back onto the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

“Wait, why are you sorry? I was the one who acted like an ass,” Leo muttered in slight shock.

“Because I made you uncomfortable, and that was not my intention, Leo. Not in the slightest. I haven’t had someone to talk to since I got myself kicked out, and I was so scared you’d hate me and—” Leo stepped closer, embracing her waist with one arm and wiping the tears she had yet to notice falling with his other hand.

“Taekwoon,” he exhales softly, making Beth second-guess if she was hearing things. “If it makes you feel any better, you can go ahead and call me Taekwoon,” he whispered, staring at the floor. “Because I’d be damned if I lost my only friend too.” Beth almost couldn’t believe it; she knew that with the past he had to be carrying the weight of on his shoulders, this small gesture meant the world. Out of sheer excitement, she hugged Leo by the neck, almost dragging him to the floor with her. “Whoa there, angel,” Leo chuckled, leading her back inside as he shut the rickety door. “You can take the room, I’ll sleep on the couch with Lucy.”

“Oh no, Leo, I couldn’t… You keep the room, it’s fine. Wait, you named her Lucy?”

“I insist.” He felt odd hearing her still refer to him as Leo. Perhaps a small part of him hoped she could accept him and his part, as he had yet been able to do. Or perhaps he was unable to admit to himself that he wanted to hear her angelic voice whisper his birth name. After all, it has been so long since he’d even heard it aloud, maybe he was tired of being “Leo”. He wanted to feel again, to live again, he didn’t just want to survive day in and day out, poker faced. “And yes,” he couched, “I named her Lucy… like Lucifer,” Leo whispered the last bit as Beth snorted loudly.

“You named her after the devil?! Poor baby~” she cooed.

“No, I named her after a fallen angel. Because before I met you today, she was the only friend I had since the last one who died.” Beth stayed quiet for a moment before walking over to Leo, who was leaning on one of the couch’s arms.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” she held his hands in her much smaller ones, feeling genuine sorrow. And for the first time since he’d picked up the alcohol during mourning, Taekwoon let himself cry, burying his face into his elbow. Beth shushed his sobs softly, pulling him to the floor with her this time, bringing him close so his head rested on her shoulder. “It’s ok, I’ve got you Leo, it’ll be ok,” Beth whispered, to which he shook his head. “Taekwoon then, luv?” To which he nodded.

“I-It’s been far too long since I’ve heard that name… since I allowed myself to feel anything other than emptiness,” Taekwoon admitted after he’d calmed down enough to speak. “I missed it, honestly. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier, I just… I panicked. All these feelings came rushing back and I’d kept them away for so long, it hurt and I didn’t want to feel. But my name, it reminds me of friends, of family,” and his voice cracked. Beth pressed a soft kiss onto his forehead, over his bangs.

“It’s perfectly fine to feel, you know that? And with all you’ve been through, god you’re strong if you’ve survived this long. How many years has it been?” she asked.

“Three, going on four, I believe,” Taekwoon sniffled.

“I’ve been on earth five months and I’d already thought of giving up! How do you do it?" Taekwoon chuckled softly, feeling humbled at her praise, thankful she was trying to cheer him up. Blowing his nose on a dirty towel, unconsciously he huddled closer to Beth as he went on about his family, about Nathaniel and the rebellion, and retelling his life story until he’d fallen asleep in her arms. She smiled, grateful that for the first time in a long time, she was actually able to help someone other than herself out.

Beth regretted neglecting her angel duties, but she was young, dumb and rebellious then. She’d grown a lot in the past five months, but meeting Taekwoon made her realize perhaps they were destined to cross, and perhaps they had a lot to teach one another after all. And with that thought, she fell asleep at his side, exhausted.

Taekwoon awoke with a stiff neck and sore back, but pleasantly warm. He slowly blinked himself awake, realizing the warmth came from the angel beside him. Taekwoon slowly watched her awaken, taking in every detail of her body’s movements with a secretive smile.

“Good morning,” Beth sounded almost as if whining, speaking through her yawn.

“Mornin’ Angel,” Taekwoon replied as he rose and stretched. She said nothing as she took in how all his muscles flexed, quietly enjoying the view. She did, however, raise her brow at his word choice, almost laughing but too tired to actually do so. “I’m going out to catch us breakfast—”

“I’ll go with you! Anyway um, angels don’t really eat. We sleep, to rest and replenish our energy, but that’s about the extent of it. So just worry about yourself and Lucy,” Beth grinned at Lucy’s wagging tail as she crawled over.

“Alright, I guess. But you’re going to need shoes, and some clothes. We can look through the other apartments before we head out.” Taekwoon threw on a jacket, heading out with the girls in search of belongings for Beth. After some trial and error, one apartment’s closet seemed to have clothes that would fit a young woman, to which Beth was more than pleased.

“Ooh what’s this shirt? Guns N’ Roses? Edgy yet cute design, I like whatever this is. You humans are fascinating with your attire and whatnot. Oh, and SHOES! ..are these what you call, ‘boots’?” Beth asked in fascination, taking everything in with childlike wonder. Taekwoon watched with mirth, knowing well they were practically grave robbing while to her this was like a suburban tourist’s first trip to a big-city mall.

Together, she and Taekwoon carried a pile apiece back to his apartment, he’d thrown in some clothes he’d found for himself along the way as well. It deemed much easier to find shoes for Beth than for himself, though most were unusable in their scavenging state, such as heels. He briefly recalled she could fly and felt rather daft, but surely sandals had to be much comfier for her to wear around at home, right?

Home? What was he thinking, that place wasn’t a home, and she didn’t even belong to this world, why should he assume they’re be staying together. With Lucy and Beth, Taekwoon has had begun to feel at home in that dreary apartment, but how long could that last? Shaking his head, he set down their haul, getting ready to hunt, because he was famished.

“Wait a second, um Taekwoon…”

“Yeah, Beth?”

“I’d like to offer you something as a token of my thanks.”

“You really don’t have to do that, you know,” Taekwoon responded, feeling giddy at receiving something from her nonetheless.

“Oh, trust me, you’ll like this.” Beth pulled out a pair of men’s sneakers, perhaps a bit big, but he was immensely grateful, regardless. But before he could even open his mouth, she spread one of her wings, wincing as she plucked one of her feathers.

“Beth, what are you doing?!” Taekwoon took a step towards her, concerned.

“I’m fine, it just feels like a scratch would to you. Besides, it’ll grow back.” She handed him the feather, asking him to close his eyes and trust her. She watched his long lashes flutter shut, licking his lips anxiously. “It is said that a feather from an angel’s wings can grant a wish. However, this is only true if done voluntarily by the angel.”

“Can I use this to see my family?” Taekwoon blurted, almost immediately, his narrow, catlike eyes looking at her with intense passion.

“I can’t teleport you or anything, I don’t have that kind of power,” she said reluctantly.

“But can I use it as a sort of magic mirror? Just to know how they’re doing, please?” The pleading tone of his voice was sincere and loving; Beth felt her heartstrings tug in the truest of ways. Most mortals would have wishes for food, or shelter even, but all he wanted was to see his family one more time.

“Just hold it tight within both of your hands, and close your eyes while you think of your wish. Th feather will turn into something that fulfills your wish.” Beth watched as he closed his eyes once more, the feather transforming into a makeshift mirror of sorts between his hands. She walked over to him to ensure the mirror was working, also wishing to sneak a peek. She’d feared the worst when he begun to shed a few tears, glancing into the projected view. His parents sat at a table, with one of his older sisters in the living room. He’d assumed the other two must have passed away, until one walked in holding a baby boy, the man he presumed to be her husband following suit.

Taekwoon watched until the mirror turned back into a feather, slowly dulling to gray until it was nearly black, no longer any magic running through it. He clutched it to his chest as he let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was even holding while watching his family. “I’m assuming one of my sisters either didn’t make it out, unless she moved out…” he tries to convince himself. “But everyone else is alive and well and… I have a nephew,” Taekwoon exclaims in disbelief, “I’m an uncle! Oh my god I still can’t believe this, I’m so happy right now. Thank you so, so much Beth.” Without realizing it, he’d lifted and spun her around with ease, forgetting about the hells of his own situation, drunk with the knowledge of his family’s well-being.

Beth was marveled at the sight, never having seen him so elated. She knew once she saw him this way that she would do anything to make him feel this way again, though she knew not why? Was it because she liked helping people… or were feelings for this human beginning to blossom? She shook the thoughts away, knowing a human and an angel could only be star-crossed lovers.

Taekwoon, finally setting her down, caught himself just before he was about to lean in and kiss her, awkwardly coughing as he pulled away rapidly. He nearly tripped over himself in his rush to escape, which she watched in confused amusement.

There was a new pep in his step that day as they headed off in search of what could possibly pass for breakfast.

#spica alpha virginis #jung taekwoon #jung leo #vixx au #leo scenarios #taekwoon imagines #kpop #pt.3 #part three #super #fantasy #Action/Adventure #romance #leo #original characters #post apocalyptic #vixx

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