#what exactly was Killian supposed to do?
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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x19 A Curious Thing
Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.
Word Count: 712
Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)
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Killian’s heart rate gradually returned to normal as the adrenaline faded, but with it, his hope faded as well.
This whole situation had completely spiraled out of control. He’d tried so hard, so bloody hard, to do what was best–to protect the lad, to save Swan’s magic, to keep the Charmings and everyone else Swan loved safe. The damned witch had left him with no options.
He couldn’t kiss her. That much was clear. There was no possibility in any realm he would willingly take away her magic.
He also couldn’t not kiss her, or he placed her lad in danger.
He also couldn’t tell her what had happened for fear word would get back to Zelena and she’d exact retribution.
The only thing he could think to do was to get the lad away from the witch’s purview, and even that had gone spectacularly pear-shaped.
He was quite fortunate Swan, the queen and the Charmings had shown up to the boathouse when they had when he’d run out of ammunition or…well the alternative didn’t bear contemplation.
But then Zelena herself had shown up spinning her lies and perfidious insinuations about him.
“Don’t blame me. The captain failed me. He knew what the price of failure was–your son’s life.”
Killian’s heart plummeted as he looked into Swan’s eyes once the witch was stopped and the curse was broken. Her eyes were filled with anger and suspicion.
“Are you gonna tell me what Zelena was talking about?” she asked in a voice as hard as steel “She said you failed her.”
“Don’t listen to her!” he said, hearing the pleading sound of his voice.
“Killian, what’s going on?” she asked, arms crossed. “Were you working for her?”
Killian’s heart plummeted even further. Had she no faith in him at all? Had he not proven, at least to some extent, that her welfare and that of her family were his priority? How could she even ask such a thing?
“The witch tried to back me into a corner,” he said, desperate for her to see his sincerity, desperate for her to see the hopelessness of his situation. “I did everything I could to try to resist her plans.”
“So whose idea was it to kidnap Henry and stick him on a boat?” she demanded.
He closed his eyes, deflating. He was mucking this up royally. “It was mine. I was trying to save him.”
“From what?” she continued, “What is she doing?”
There was nothing for it. It was time to spill the whole sordid tale. “She cursed me. My lips actually.”
Her brows furled. “Your lips? Why?”
Did she really not know? Did she really not see it? “Because she wants to steal your magic. She thought I was the best way of doing that. She knows what we all know-that you can defeat her.”
For a split second he saw something that might have been pride or gratitude in her eye, but then the anger took over again. “It should have been my decision to protect Henry. Whether she forced your hand or not doesn’t matter! I can’t trust you now. How can I?”
It struck him to the very heart, her anger, her accusations, her lack of trust. What could he have done? What could he have bloody done? He’d been like a caged animal with no way out.
And as the scene continued to play out–as her parents looked on him with suspicion as well, accusing him of lying about how he’d obtained the potion, it suddenly became blindingly clear to him.
They’d never see him as a hero. He could never escape his past. A part of him–the part that had dealt with his grief over Liam’s death by becoming the most vicious and merciless pirate on the seven seas–was tempted to throw it all away and embrace his fate as a villain yet again.
But he’d tried that in the lost year. He’d tried it and he’d found that she’d changed him irreversibly. No, that wasn’t precisely accurate. She’d inspired him to change himself irreversibly. He was no longer the villain Captain Hook.
He was Killian Jones, and he’d never abandon her, never abandon her family.
Even if they never saw him as anything more than a pirate.
Note: I'm sorry. This scene always absolutely INFURIATED me, and if I have to suffer, so do you. I will however leave you with the following Gif because 1. I think this is what we ALL want to say to Zelena and 2. Killian with that intensity and anger saying "Damn you, Zelena!" is just...*whew! Fans self.*
NEXT CHAPTER->
#season 3 rewatch drabbles#cs fanfiction#zelena is the worst#but let's be real#emma and the charmings are also the worst in this scene#what exactly was Killian supposed to do?#Zelena left him NO options#my fanfiction#damn you zelena indeed!
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No one ever told Lucretia how hard it would be to get employees for your supposed-to-be-secret organization. Even harder with the fact that she couldn't even step around it like the Fantasy FBI could. All her opening lines sounded incredibly suspicious. Was she supposed to just walk up to someone and say "so you ever wanna capture those war-starting magic objects that you have no memory of?" She might actually be reported to the Fantasy FBI and that would put a bit of a dent in her "saving the world and stopping the Hunger" plan.
Instead, she had just been just kind of… going up to anyone who sort of seemed like a good fit and tried to make it sound as less shitty as possible without giving them a headache made entirely of Voidfish static. And it was working! Not as well as she'd want it to, of course, but she would take what she would get.
Maureen, obviously, had been there at the start. Lucretia couldn't exactly have a giant moon base without someone with enough money to build the giant moon base. Technically, technically, she was paying Maureen for it and she felt moderately bad about fucking up the economy with her transmuted gold coins (you pick up a thing or two about counterfeit currency when you're on the run from the apocalypse and also living with Taako and Lup), but not bad enough to stop doing it. Besides, the dang thing wasn't even up in the sky yet. Maybe she'd confess after, but it was too important to let out right now.
Then, she had Lucas, unfortunately. The side effect of working with Maureen. But she had other notable employees as well. Killian was probably her strongest asset right now, purely from her role as a Regulator and not a Reclaimer. Her Seekers were few and far between- she couldn't really hire anyone with too high of an intelligence stat, lest her whole plan be discovered. The few Seekers she did have were… well, they were working on it. The Reclaimers themselves… yeesh. It was hard to fill the role without losing too many to the Light's thrall. She didn't want to have a goddamn death trap as a job.
But right now, Lucretia wasn't looking for a Reclaimer, a Seeker, or even a Regulator. Today, she was looking for a bard.
A pathetic bard, if she could. There was only so much nonsense Lucretia could feed Fisher without going moderately to severely insane. The goal right now was to just find someone. No one that would be missed down planetside when they finally got up into the air, no one whose fans would be eagerly awaiting a new release. Just a plain ol' regular bard.
This was the fifth seedy bar Lucretia had visited in the past week. This time, it was in a little town called Water Way, just off the sword coast. The wind was howling when she arrived and it snapped the door shut behind her when she entered.
It was even more grim and disgusting than usual. A group of dwarfs was gathered at a booth, laughing and hollering jokes at each other. There was a couple in the corner engaging in some hanky-panky (that was the technical word for it, Lucretia was pretty sure). The unoccupied booths were still dirty from the last patrons. The barkeep raised a hand to greet her, still clutching a dirty dish rag.
"Here for a drink?" he called.
"Not at the moment, I'm afraid," Lucretia said. "I'm here for the, uhm. The open mic?"
"Just missed it," the barkeep said, lowering his rag. "Though, we've got another in two weeks' time, if you've got somethin' you're looking to perform-"
"Oh, I'm not- I wasn't planning on performing," Lucretia said. "Just listening. But if no one showed up-"
The door snapped open again. Lucretia thought it was just the wind for a second, until she turned and saw a young-ish half-elf in the doorway. He was much too dressed up for the occasion, with a fancy shirt and a poofy hat with a feather in it. He was dripping as if he had fallen into a lake on the way over. In one hand was a violin case. In the other, damp sheet music.
He seemed to realize that everyone was staring at him and shuffled a few feet further inside.
"Uhh," he said. He cleared his throat. "Did I, uhm, did I miss it?"
"I said to be here at six, didn't I?" the barkeep said, sounding faintly annoyed. "Can you tell time, Johann?"
"Uh, yeah," he said. "I just, uhm, got… sidetracked."
"You look like you fell in the ocean," the barkeep said.
"You're not- you're not super far off-"
"It doesn't matter where you were," the barkeep said. "It's nine now, anyhow. No more open mic."
"It's not like we're missin' much!" one of the dwarfs' hollered. Johann winced, and the barkeeper ignored the comment completely.
"But I wrote a good one this time," Johann said, holding up the soggy sheet music. Lucretia could see him blush in the dim light. "I- I can do it without the sheet music. I have it memorized."
"Two weeks," the barkeep said like they had had this conversation several times before. "Be on time. You want a cuppa?"
Johann looked torn for a second, but ultimately sludged up to the bar. He deposited his violin case on the counter and his soggy sheet music fell on top of it with a splat.
"Actually," Lucretia said, "I would like a drink."
"Atta girl," the barkeep said. Lucretia grimaced but went to sit anyway. She took the stool next to Johann, who was slumped over the bar. "What'd'you want?"
"Cider," Johann said, with the emotion of a depressed seal.
"I'll take a cider, as well," Lucretia said. Johann glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The barkeep nodded and set the rag over his shoulder, disappearing into the back room. The gaggle of dwarves chattered on across the room. Lucretia tapped her fingers against the bar. Eventually, she built up the confidence to say, "so you play the violin?"
"I'm not interested in a hookup, lady," Johann said.
"Oh, fuck no," Lucretia said. "Sorry- no. You're- gods, no."
"Uhm," Johann said. Okay, okay, okay, back on track Lucretia.
"I'm just- I'm trying to find a bard for an… organization I'm forming," Lucretia said, a little bit quieter. Secretive. Cool. Collected. Join my secret shitty moon organization, please? "I figured an open mic would be a good place to start, but I was a little too late, it seems. If you still wanted to perform, I wouldn't mind seeing what you can do."
"…you're choosing all the wrong words for convincing me this isn't a hookup," Johann said, squinting at her.
"It's not," Lucretia said shortly. "That- again, sorry, no thanks. Can I- how would you like to help save the world? Is that a better opener?"
"Cheesy, but a little better," Johann said. He sit up a little and his hat dripped water onto the bar. "Save the world how, though? I'm not gonna be joining some- some Fantasy Avengers shit, lady, I got stuff to do. You see these arms?" He held out his arm, which was dripping wet and skinny as a starved kitten. "I'm not exactly Iron Man over here, you can't expect me to be some kind of musical tank."
"Not at all," Lucretia said. She vaguely wondered if this is how Davenport felt, hiring her. No, that train of thought wasn't productive at all. She needed more gravitas. That would fix all her problems. "All I need you to do is write."
#lucretia#johann#taz lucretia#taz johann#taz#taz balance#minse#ise cube writing#thought about this all day at work today lskdfsdf#if u see any typos no u don't! I'm sleeby#tw alcohol mention#<- just bc they're in a bar i think#to be safe
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Still A Sunbeam
Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Read on AO3
Elain woke to Lucien’s lips dragging gently against her neck. Smiling to herself, Elain thought she could get used to his attention. Elain could certainly get used to waking up in his bed. Lucien pressed a kiss to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her nightdress down her arm. He’d tried to convince her to sleep naked and though Elain wanted to, she’d felt too embarrassed.
And a little guilty, if she was being honest. If her mother learned how she’d spent her night, there would be tears and a lot of shouting. Elain was supposed to save all of it for marriage, for a future husband.
And Elain still didn’t know how to tell her mother she was. What point was there denying she and Lucien wouldn’t end up together somehow, someway? Even if they took their time, Elain struggled to imagine Killian still wanting her and Elain dreaded having to tell her family what had happened.
There would be screaming and multiple accusations of trickery. Her father would be furious, of course, but it would be her mothers wrath that threatened to destroy them all. Her mother had been angling for this marriage since Elain was practically born. No longer would the Archeron’s be minor nobility—they’d be part of the royal family.
Her mother was getting what she wanted, just not the way she’d expected. Elain was certain Helion would let her family move to his court if they liked, where they could enjoy their newfound status and she knew her mother and father would never go for it.
“Good morning,” Lucien whispered, unaware of the frantic slant of her thoughts. “Did you sleep well?”
She could feel his naked cock also rising, nudging the small of her back. Elain knew if she finished what they’d started, she’d never get out of bed and her shot in Autumn would be lost. Vowing that the minute she returned, she would have him first and then tell her family, Elain twisted to her back.
“I slept very well, my lord,” she replied primly, the sheet pulled up to her neck. “Did you?”
“Yes,” Lucien said, his hair tickling her cheek. “So well, in fact, that I think you should continue to sleep here for the foreseeable future.”
Elain poked him in the rib. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Lucien’s mouth ghosted over her own, teasing her just enough to draw heat between her legs. He knew exactly what he was doing, which made him dangerous. “Yes,” he breathed, taking that first kiss with greedy delight. Elain let him, winding her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
The kiss promised other things—and his thigh, rubbing between her own was also making very specific promises she intended to hold him to. They might have been allowed, even, had the door to his bed chamber not opened.
“Lucien, I—”
Lucien’s mother paused at the sight of them, tangled up in his bed. Lucien snapped up his head, eyes huge.
Right behind his mother was his father, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Amera,” he sighed heavily. “I warned you to knock.”
“I…” russet eyes found Elain, brimming not with anger or disappointment—but delight. “Of course. My apologies. When you’re finished, Lucien, I have something I need to discuss with you…it can wait,” she added breathlessly, clapping her hands in front of her body. “There is no hurry.”
Lucien dropped his head, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”
As if they were going to continue touching now that his parents had come in. His parents vanished and Lucien rolled off Elain, rubbing his jaw.
“That was…”
Elain sat up. “Probably for the best. I should be getting ready for Autumn.”
Lucien grunted, his expression darkening. “Do you still want a lesson on their court?”
“Yes,” she said, brightening despite his own sour mood. “I would like that a lot, Lucien.”
That pacified him long enough to let her dart out of his bed. She’d be back later that night, besides, and nothing else could happen between them, though Lucien was sure to dream up some way to skirt around the rules.
It would be a lie to say she hoped he didn’t. She’d enjoyed taking him into her mouth the night before and giving him pleasure. She’d liked every noise that escaped him and how in the aftermath Lucien had clutched her against his chest like she was the most precious thing to him.
Elain took her time bathing, trying desperately to scrub the scent of sex from her skin. It didn’t work—when she stepped into the library, looking for Arina, her friend immediately wrinkled her nose.
“Long night?” she teased, stepping away from a stack of books atop a circular white desk. Elain inhaled, intending to smell herself.
“I could ask you the same thing!” she replied. What was that? It was definitely male, definitely arousal. But it was strange, masked or spelled but not well enough. Or it was so strong whatever spell Arina had used in an attempt to hide it couldn’t entirely contain it.
“I need to adjust,” she grumbled, raising a hand. Shimmering light settled around her, vanishing into nothing. The smell vanished, leaving just Arina’s usual scent and nothing more. “The mating bond is potent.”
“How is that going?” Elain dared to ask. Had that been Eris clinging to her skin, or had Arina decided to move on with someone else?
Arina shrugged. “It’s not going away.”
That was hardly an answer, and Elain knew better than to push. Arina wanted to go to Autumn and though she hadn’t explicitly said it was for Eris, Elain knew it was.
“I want to talk about that,” Elain began, glancing around the library. It was so busy despite the early hour which meant there were too many nosy ears. Arina seemed to realize it, too, because she stepped around the desk to loop her arm through Elain’s.
“What’s on your mind?”
“The laws of Prythian,” Elain murmured, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “I know a lot varies court to court…but mates are universal.”
“That’s true,” Arina agreed easily. “The mating bond supersedes marriages and betrothals…so long as both people accept. That’s how Lady Amera got out of Autumn. She had to accept the bond with Lord Helion.”
“And that’s enough?”
Arina shook her head. “Helion had to get majority permission to take her, even after all that. She was a High Lord’s wife, though, and she had four other children by that point so it was a little different. A mating bond could be contested which is why it’s important to accept it if you want it.”
“I don’t know if I do,” Elain admitted. “I think I do. I like Lucien—he’s…”
“He’s Lucien,” Arina agreed. “If you can keep it a secret while you figure it out, that’s your best choice. Otherwise…”
Otherwise Killian would pounce. He’d contest the validity of the bond, involve his father, and make staying in Day Court political. She’d have to go home where they’d lock her away and convince her accepting the bond would ruin her family—her life. And that was what was so unfair to Elain. She could see it, even without the gift of Sight. She knew exactly how it would play out.
And for the rest of her life, Killian would always wonder, would resent her for her tie to another male. Lucien would, too. Maybe not at first. He was so single-minded and stubborn that she believed he’d try. Maybe for years, he’d try to get into Spring, to win her back. And it would fall on her to push him away, to tell him no.
Elain could see it all. His hurt and how it would solidify into real hatred for them both. Knowing they could have had love and it was her inability to make a decision that poisoned it. An unhappy marriage, a rejected mating bond, and an eternity with no one to blame but herself.
“When I come back from Autumn,” Elain whispered. Lucien had promised to let her go, but maybe what they needed was a bargain—she’d accept the bond if he swore he’d let her go if she ever asked him to.
Arina nodded, eyes flashing with some unreadable emotion. Had she wondered the same? Maybe it would be better to take Eris as he was and hope he’d let her go. Eris wasn’t Lucien—and he wouldn’t.
No one was Lucien. Elain felt a strange mix of pride and satisfaction at the realization that he belonged to her. Elain left Arina not long after that, making her way to the old study room her and Lucien still used. He was waiting, setting up another easel for what she hoped would be more stick figure drawings. Lucien had no artistic talent which made it all the more fun.
“Was your mother angry?” Elain asked by way of greeting. Lucien twisted, his hair neatly braided against his head, his toga secured firmly to his frame. He looked lovely—good enough to drag back into bed, certainly.
Lucien blew out a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier.”
“I suppose someone’s mother should be,” Elain replied without consideration. Lucien’s expression immediately fell as he realized her mother would not be so overjoyed at the prospect of gaining Lucien as a son. Elain squared her shoulders—her family would simply have to deal with it.
“You asked for a quick rundown of Autumn politics,” Lucien began, clearing his throat. “Honestly, it’s not much different than Summer or Dawn. Instead, I thought I’d explain Autumn culture to you.”
“Is it a lot different than Day?”
“Very different,” Lucien said with a grimace. “And they’re pretty cruel if you don’t know every little intricacy.”
“Maybe they’re cruel because they hate you?”
“That’s certainly part of it,” Lucien replied with a grin. “I don’t want them to be cruel to you, though.”
“I wish you were coming with me,” she said, the words slipping from her lips before she thought it through. Lucien looked over, eyes wide. She knew he would go if she really wanted him to—that he’d rearrange everything if she pushed.
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, his tone hedging. Elain nodded, pressing her mouth closed before she could ruin her first ever trip on her own. She would be fine. She could do this.
“You’re right,” she said, offering him what she hoped was a self-assured smile. “Tell me everything, Lucien.”
His answering smile was proof enough. Proof that perhaps the Cauldron had gotten things right. That they were a good match.
That they could be happy.
LUCIEN:
Lucien was yielding Elain to the court he hated most in the morning. It was made all the worse knowing while Elain was gone, Killian and his insufferable older brother would be coming specifically to speak with the High Lord, and Lucien was expected to entertain them. Lucien knew what they wanted—Elain.
It was the only thing that kept him in his chair when she’d said she wished he could go with her. He needed those fucks to know he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate toward her. As long as Elain wanted to keep their bond a secret, Lucien would be pretending he was nothing more than the bored, spoiled first born son of the High Lord of Day.
By the time Elain returned, they’d be gone. They’d only been granted twenty four hours in Helion’s home, carefully negotiated specifically to keep them from interfering with Elain. Lucien could have told Elain they were coming. It had crossed his mind more than once, even.
And Lucien knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on Autumn. She’d mess something up which would only fuel Spring’s new push to bring Elain home.
Lucien replayed the conversation he’d had with his father in his head.
“They’re losing all three daughters to other courts. Rumors abound that the youngest has run off with the Prince of the Night Court..and the eldest is shacking up with some bastard born Illyrian, though I can’t imagine that’s true. They’re trying to pull the Archeron’s back, to solidify their family’s influence. You need to tread carefully, Lucien.”Lucien hoped it was true. He hoped all of them got out of a place so hell-bent on shoving them into little boxes. More than that, though, Lucien knew that if one of Elain’s sisters managed to marry a male from another court, Elain could, too.
He intended to learn if the rumors were true. He’d written a letter to Rhysand, who he’d never been close with, requesting a formal meeting heir to heir. That was hardly unusual. It was how Lucien and Tarquin had become such good friends.
As far as Lucien could tell, Rhysand had no friends, despite being nearly as old as his father. He might need one if he was trying to marry an Archeron. The solar courts were allies, and Lucien was willing to poke his father into siding with Rhysand if Spring made demands on Feyre Archeron.
Making his way to her bedroom, Lucien forced himself to relax. Everything was going to be fine. For now, Elain was still with him, smiling when he slipped in her room because she was happy to see him.
“We’re not doing anything tonight,” she warned. Lucien had assumed, though it disappointed him all the same. Elain had a set of autumn colored gowns laid out on her bed. Each uglier than the last, in Lucien’s opinion. Though, if anyone could make the absurd, too modest clothing of Autumn look pretty, it would be her.
“Not even sleep?” Lucien teased, coming behind her so he could press a kiss against her neck.
“In your own bed,” Elain told him, though the breathless little sight that escaped her was telling Lucien an entirely different story. “You’ll keep me up all night—”
“That’s right,” he agreed, tilting her jaw for another kiss. “Let no one say you’re not well pleased—
“Lucien!” Elain snapped, pulling out of his grasp. “Is that all you think about?”
“Do you not?” he replied, unable to hide some of his frustration. “Does the bond not—”
“No,” she replied flatly. “And sometimes I wonder what you even like about me.”
“Don’t do that,” Lucien all but demanded, turning his back in an attempt to calm himself down. “I told you what I liked about you. What do you even like about me?”
“Lucien–”
“No,” he replied, whirling back around. This was the wrong time to pick a fight with her, but Elain had wounded him and when it came to her, this was what Lucien knew best. “You’re so busy comparing me to your betrothed that I don’t think you know one thing about me. And I think you don’t want to know so when you inevitably walk away, you can absolve yourself of your guilt. I’m just a distraction from the fact that you can’t stand to disappoint your family.”
Elain stood here, mouth agape. Lucien didn’t know what else to say, and had the sense that maybe he’d said too much. Revealed too many of his fears, his insecurities.
But everyone was telling him to keep the bond a secret when all he wanted to do was tell everyone. He wanted Elain to feel the way he did—elated, excited…not filled with dread. Not standing there silently in front of him, not able to contradict a fucking word he’d spoken. Lucien could feel his heart squeezed tight in his chest, threatening to explode and make a mess of him. He hesitated for just a second, warring with the urge to apologize and set things right.
But Elain remained frozen, eyes wide. Confirming he was right. Lucien nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat.
“Right. Enjoy Autumn, Elain. Find another tutor when you return. I…I don’t want to see you.”
Lie, lie, lie. All he wanted was to see her. It was hell forcing himself to turn, to pretend he had a shred of dignity or self-respect. Lucien had neither of those things. All he had was his heart, which he’d never once wanted to give to another person.
And he’d wanted her to have it before he’d ever known she was his mate. Foolish, to think she’d want him beyond a few quick nights in bed. She’d have her little rebellion before settling down with the male she’d always intended to marry and Lucien would remain in hell, forced to watch her for the rest of his miserably long life. It was stupid to hope otherwise, or believe this was going to work out for him.
Rather than go back to his bedroom, or go into the thudding party happening somewhere in the palace, Lucien made his way toward the courtyard. He’d intended to keep walking until he reached the beach, where he wanted to scream into the void, but Arina was waiting by the pool.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, hating how toneless he sounded. Arina looked over, arms wrapped around her midsection.
“Same thing you are, if I had to guess.”
Lucien joined her at the edge. “Are you going to marry my brother?”
She looked up at him. “Would you hate me if I did?”
“No,” Lucien admitted with a heavy sigh. “No, I…I get it, Arina.”
She shook her head, wisps of blonde hair blowing over her troubled face half hidden in the dark. “You don’t, Lucien, but when all this is over…maybe you’ll think about letting go of your hatred of Eris.”
“Will you say the same thing to him?” Lucien asked with only curiosity. Eris, after all, had been tormenting Lucien his entire life. It seemed almost unfair that Eris might still get everything he wanted in the end.
“No,” she half-whispered, “because Eris is just jealous of you, Lucien, and anyone with eyes can see it. You could be nicer. Cauldron knows no one else is.”
“Except you,” Lucien said, guessing that Arina had been spending time away from Rhodes with his brother. He didn’t want to think too carefully about it—Eris was still an asshole, and Arina was like a sister to him. Maybe literally, if she was going to marry him someday. Eris would be happy and Lucien…fuck.
“Except me,” she agreed, turning back to look out at the inky water. Silvery moonlight shone against the rippling waves, making the water glitter like the stars overhead. It was all so serene, so beautiful and he hated it.
“Good luck, Arina,” he murmured, turning back the way he’d come. It was tempting to go into the ballroom, pick a willing female, and vent his frustrations with his tongue, his hands, his cock. And even though he knew one day Elain was going to marry another male, he was never going to touch another female again.
Going into that room drenched in the scent of sex would only make him feel worse. Better to just put himself to bed so at least when he woke up, Elain would already be gone. He could pretend he didn’t miss her or think about her at all, and maybe when she came back…
Stupid, he chided, turning the handle of his door. So fucking stupid.
He could have sworn he was hallucinating once the door snapped shut. Candles dripped wax over the marble floor, creating a red and white path through his lounge toward the darkened room of his bedroom.
“I’m not in the mood for this,” Lucien snapped, certain he was about to find Larissa and Ayla kissing in his bed. Once, that thought might have inflamed him but now it only repulsed him. “I mean it!” he barked, letting his magic lace his words as he stormed forward. “Get the fuck…out…”
It wasn’t Larissa or Ayla—it was Elain, sitting primly on the edge of his bed. Candles filled every available inch of space, creating a warm, hazy glow. How long had he been outside with Arina? Five minutes tops—certainly not long enough for her to have done this.
His eyes fell to the little tray sitting just beside her. Elain rose to her feet, smoothing out the pretty, bright pink dress she wore. How she managed not to ignite it on a candle flame, Lucien wasn’t sure. He couldn’t move, could barely look at her.
He was staring at that loaf of bread neatly sliced beside little cubes of cheese and jams.
“I like how smart you are,” Elain whispered, reaching for his hand. “Sometimes I think there is nothing you don’t know.”
“That’s…that’s not true,” he managed, forcing himself to look down at her.
The teasing smile on her face told him she didn’t believe him at all. “I like the color of your eyes and how long your hair is,” she continued, reaching for a strand draped over his shoulder.
“You…you don’t have to—”
“I was going to wait,” she whispered, pressing the palm of his hand to her lips, “until I came back from Autumn to offer you something to eat but I don’t want to leave with you thinking I don’t care about you.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Lucien murmured, eyes darting back to the food. She was going to accept.
She was going to accept.
Elain surged upward on her tiptoes to kiss him, one Lucien accepted gratefully. He could think of nothing but Elain was going to leave spring—leave her family, her betrothal, her home…and stay with him.
Forever.
Lucien couldn’t focus on the kiss, single-minded in his pursuit of his mate. “After Autumn?” he questioned, even as every muscle in his body screamed at him to just eat what she was offering and damn the consequences.
“I want to be the one to tell my family. Not Beron Vanserra,” she told him, her logic perfectly sound. It was the exact sort of thing the High Lord of Autumn would do, too, if only to secure springs alliance and fuck with Helion.
“Then let's wait,” Lucien murmured, ignoring the writhing twist of his stomach. “I meant it—I’m not in any rush I just…need to know you feel the same as I do.”
“I want this,” she whispered, letting him back her up toward his bed. “And I want you.”
“That’s all I need, Elain. I’d wait forever—”
“How about a week? Would you wait that long?” she asked, smiling when Lucien joined her on the bed.
“Yes, Elain. I can wait a week.”
“I was thinking I might ask your mother—”
“Ask her nothing,” Lucien interrupted quickly. “She’ll make a spectacle of it.”
“Maybe I’d like a spectacle,” Elain suggested, propping her head up on her fist. “Something big…something that lets everyone know the Prince of Day Court is taken.”
“How possessive—ow! Did you just hit me?”
“Yes,” Elain replied, flipping to her stomach so she could look at him. “If you ever look at me with those hate filled eyes again, I will drag you into the city square and tell everyone how cruelly you treat me.”
Lucien pressed his mouth against her own. “I hope you do.”
“Oh, I will, Lucien Spell-Cleaver.”
Lucien didn’t doubt her. Not for one minute.
#elucien#short filler today before one last morning in day#and then autumn court#which im sure will be perfectly normal
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I know many of you didn't watch season seven, but for those who did: does anyone else just kind of feel..... bad for wish!Hook? (Don't people call him Nook? Like New Hook? I don't know the lingo)
But like, the poor dude now has to live in a town (granted, it's now enormous after all the realms are merged) with another version of himself who is happily married to his True Love. New Hook won't ever have a True Love, because he's the same Killian Jones, up to a point. It's not like there's another Emma Swan out there waiting for him. So, what does he do with that information? Does he try dating, knowing that anyone he ever finds won't ever be his True Love? That kind of sucks. (Unless Arthur can like, resurrect Milah for him or something, now THAT would be interesting.)
And then he also has to live in this town where everyone knows the other version of him? He's constantly running into people now who think he's the Killian they've known for years. Do the two Killians each decide to get different haircuts so people can tell them apart? How does New Hook make friends in this town, exactly? Also, New Hook has law enforcement experience. Is he also going to want to be a deputy? That might be weird for Emma.
And Alice, his daughter, has to live in a town where there is another version of her dad, who doesn't know her at all? What does she do when she runs into Killian at the grocery store? And our Killian has this woman out there who is genetically his daughter, but that he doesn't know at all? Are those two supposed to get to know each other? Does Alice try to get to know Hope, who is genetically basically her half sister? It's not like Hook and New Hook are twin brothers or something. One is a copy of the other; they literally have the same DNA, presumably.
(Okay, side note, it's actually adorable to think about Alice coming over to babysit Hope now and then. I accept this headcanon.)
I dunno! I just feel bad for the guy! He's basically just got Alice. I like to think that Emma and Killian are gracious and have him over now and then, or maybe Killian makes an effort to hang out with him (does he go sailing with himself? have epic sword fights with himself in the park? so many options) But again, wouldn't it be weird for New Hook to be around Emma for extended periods of time? Wouldn't he just fall in love with her over time, and pine for her from a distance?
Do you guys ever think about this, too, or are you normal?
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Spades & Arrowheads
In a test to break the ice, the Party learns something new about Killian that threatens what they had always known about physical intimacy and romance.
Characters: Killian Clawthorne (Nightbloom), Mal Volari, Nia Ellarious, Imtura Tal Kalen, Tyril Starfury from Blades.
General Audiences | WC: 2.7k
A/N: For the record, you can never have too many aromantic and asexual characters. And also I just caught up with Heartstopper and I legit cried at Isaac's storyline because it hit too close to home as an aroace myself. And now here's.. things!
"I'm in the mood for something fun. Priestess, do you have something in mind?" Mal crossed his arms as he leaned against a tree. The campfire illuminated his newfound friends' faces. Tyril was seeking warmth from the fire. Threep had curled up in a ball. Imtura was pacing around, trying to fix her heavy armour and Killian was sharpening a long piece of wood into an arrow.
Nia gave them a shrug. "Well, I can conjure up a little spell. It's like -- a erm -- trick that I did to entertain in pubs and other places." - she pressed her hands together and pushed outward, exhaling a ball of white flame in the form of thin, long wisps. "This is supposed to show you if you love somebody romantically. It's a neat trick to get to know people and even greater to -- erm -- tease your friends, I guess?"
"So how does it work?" Imtura asked, as she stood up curiously.
"Ooh, is it like spin the bottle we have at home? I've kissed some nasty fiends. Those gremlins don't even bother washing their mouths." Mal gagged.
"Not exactly. It's supposed to show you whom you truly love. It's a spell I learned from Scholar Vash. You'd have to stand in front of the flame and if it turns red or pink, it means you've got a lover. Or you have loved someone before or essentially had erm -- intimate relationships with them."
The flame turned red even before Imtura could stand properly before it.
"Knew this was coming."
"So, who's your secret lover, Imtura?" Mal teased.
"Ask me again and I'll break ye' skull on that tree, yeah? Why don't ye' go next, Mal?"
"I've got a handful of lovers." Mal stood boldly before the flame, only for it to turn a shade of dull red. "It turned dark for her! What's this?"
"It's supposed to show you how many times you've had such relations too." Nia answered. "The colour turns intense if you've got more."
"HA!"
"No -- no, this is not fair! I've got -- I've loved before!" Mal clapped back. "More than she's -- something is wrong with the spell."
"I think I did a fair job of it." Nia folded her arms with grace. "It doesn't show just your capacity to love, but your frequency too. Imtura's was bold because she had both. You had more love to give and less of -- there's a different side to this, too, Mal!"
"Elfboy can help. Come on!" Mal grabbed Tyril's hand and pulled him up.
"I can assure you, I do not want to-- would you please stop pushing me-- this is absolutely unnecessary. We should be preparing for the journey tomorrow! All of this is --" - Mal and the others paid absolutely no heed to Tyril's complaints. They pushed him collectively in front of the flame which had now turned pink.
"Elfboy's pretentious with his love too. Not much to give but very selected in its takers. Who's the lucky person?" Mal nudged him.
"Kaya. We won't speak of her again." Tyril blurred out and immediately regretted it.
"We will absolutely speak of her, everyday, every minute and every second." Mal followed Tyril around, a gentle skip to his step. "Who's Kaya and is she as frightening as you? And how scandalous was it, given that Elves would scream and scowl at you if you ate a piece of bread wrong?"
"What about ye', Killian?"
"Me?"
The whole group's attention suddenly turned to her. Killian was having a perfect time just working on building up her arrows instead. There were loud insists right after that. People urging her to stand forth the wispy white smoke. They won't be happy, she knew that. She knew that the moment they made her stand up and threw her like how they did with Tyril. She didn't have much of a say, anyway. It was always going to be unabashedly loud. The whole business of this romance thing.
The flame did not turn colours. Instead, it remained in white for a long time.
Everyone's reactions were different.
Nia blamed herself. They'd told her it could never stay still in white. It had to change colours, to at least a light shade of red, because that's how it worked. To her, love was ugly, messy, but worth it. It made her miserable, it made every one of those Priestess Tests absolutely loathsome but it was everywhere, wasn't it? The romance? Killian had to feel it. It must've been her magic.
"I think -- I think it's my magic. I'm so sorry Killian!" Nia sobbed. "I think I must have -- done something to it. It is truly my fault. Maybe I can -- erm -- do something --"
Mal could not trust it. People weren't incapable of love as much as they weren't incapable of climbing mountains. He stared at it in a bit of awe, because it could've been just a momentary thing too. There was hope in his heart that she'd find the right person someday. That it was nobody's but the hardships in arranging a date that was to blame. That it was Killian's scepticism that shielded her from pursuing it, and not anything else.
"No -- way. Are you sure you're standing right? Or is it something to do with belief? Quick! Killian! Think of romantic things! Maybe the flame might do something!"
Imtura was convinced there was something lacking there. Not a lack of romance or sexual attraction, rather a lack of pursuing. Nia was one of the best Priestesses she knew and the most honest ones. If the spell didn't work, it wasn't the incanter's fault. It just wasn't receptive enough and it was obvious Killian hadn't yet tried it. With all those years under the shelter of a human society, how was she ever supposed to figure it out?
"Have ye' even -- done that?"
Tyril's was curious. He'd of course, heard about the Elven customs of Kinvali and Dinvali - the separation of romantic and sexual attachment from each other. He'd seen his own next to kin take multiple partners for the feeling of it, but seldom pass a romantic compatibility test. He'd seen his old friends love with all their hearts and devote their entire lives to one person, ever. He'd seen both too - a mixture of both worlds, where people had both Kinvali and Dinvali. Never had he seen something quite like this and impossible things quite didn't exist in his world.
"It must be impossible. Perhaps you can cast a different spell, Nia Ellarious and we can get an answer."
"I think -- there's no point in poking at this." Killian gave them a shrug, before getting back to her arrow-making.
"No, we are absolutely doing this. What -- what even happened? Is it your fault? Did your Elven senses mess with the magic? But Elfboy did the same and --"
"Mal, it is rude to ask that!" Nia snapped. "It is nobody's fault but mine, so stop blaming Killian for something she didn't do! Or have! Or --"
The squabbles erupted immediately. Imtura was going over with Tyril. Nia was testing if her spells worked right and if she'd uttered the correct incantation. Mal was panicky and jittery, bombarding Killian with a half a dozen questions, until the latter got up on the log of wood and whistled. Their jostles had awoken Threep, who was now in desperate need of some fish.
"Okay! Okay! Can I --" Killian sighed. "I don't know, all right? I just know I don't -- feel it."
"Feel romance? That's -- literally --"
"I haven't felt it ever. I haven't had -- fondness for people or likeness or I've never loved anyone. I've never wanted to get intimate with someone either or had that -- feeling. And I'm -- quite happy with it. Honestly. And I'd rather have you not make a big fuss out of this because -- it is said and done. I can't understand all of this--" Killian gestured to the wisp that had faded into the air. "I cannot understand anything about it and I have no interest in pursuing something I've got no idea of."
"It doesn't hurt to try now?"
"I just don't want to."
"Do you want to take the --"
"I'd rather not do it again, Nia."
"But -- it's romance, isn't it? Everyone had to have felt it at some point. You've never felt it? Ever? Pretty men and women? No?"
"Not at all. No -- men. No women."
"Maybe you require something else -- a book or a better understanding of --"
"No, I do not." Killian hopped off the log. "I just know that -- there's something wrong with me and I cannot pinpoint to what it is, but I do know it makes me feel this way. I listen to loud music about people in love and I've got -- no idea. I listen to poetry written by people who have love and intimacy all figured out and they can write in such profound clear language that I can never understand. And I look at people too, who tell me it's all very natural and -- I just know there's just this wrong thing there. Excuse me."
Killian sat with her legs crossed on the bank of a flowing river, tossing rocks at it and hoping to hear something back.
She never really understood it.
Someday, her friends will all part. They'd all have their own sunshine romances, straight out of those fabels and prophetic stories. Star-crossed eternal lovers. Nia would look for someone appreciative of her talent, someone who's kind and thoughtful and someone she can listen to, talk. Mal would like a bold, witty charming individual. Tyril would enjoy the company of someone he could read a book with. Imtura would love someone she can laugh and go on adventures with. All except for her.
It was lonely on the other side. She never understood it entirely and how was she supposed to understand it, when everybody tells her she'd be broken if she didn't do something soon? That something was wrong with her. That this was some burden to be discarded than an identity to be understood. How was she ever supposed to feel the lack of feeling, anyway? Isolated to the side, arrow marks on her hand and heightened sparks of magic in her eyes? How was she ever supposed to know all of this and tell everyone?
Heavy tears fell down her eyes.
What was the point in life without love?
If you aren't intimate, your relationship is doomed to fail.
What's the point in living if you can't even get physical with someone? It's alcohol! Everyone's drunk on it!
You aren't a person if you can't love.
Life isn't complete without a marriage and a person to love. Whatever are you going to do later, when you're old and frail and ugly? You're utterly selfish.
You can't hate people! What are you, some sort of a psychopath?
Killian clutched her sides as she cried. This was burdening, downright impossible. It was lonely because nobody understood it. It lacked description because nobody talked about it. She was invisible in her own skin, unable to understand when people laughed about their wives and their messy lives, how grand gestures and love languages helped and their graphic bedroom stories.
Oh, you're just not interested! This can be cured, of course! This is all scepticism! How would you know if you haven't tried it? It is impossible! Maybe you are looking at it wrong. You're making a mistake.
A grand old mistake.
Romance and sex are like the pillars you need! If you don't have them, how can you ever build a proper life? This is all confusion. You're just in stress. Someday you'll find the one.
Another rock into the river. It went a far good distance, before it sunk. Killian wiped her tears away. She might not understand it enough, yet, but she knew better than to put her faith in the people that thought they understood her better than she ever did. She did have questions, of course. More than Tyril, Mal, Imtura and Nia did. They were all right in some ways. Mal and Imtura had their disbeliefs warranted. Nia did a fine job with the magic and Tyril found the lack of evidence of such a phenomenon in books concerning. They'd all been partially right but had misunderstood it.
You need to have a partner to be complete.
Killian didn't have to. She found a rock that looked like a spade and tossed it into the river. She found a different rock that looked like an arrowhead and threw it again.
She'd made it this far, despite being told she'd never be able to. Whatever she didn't understand, she would soon do. Of course, hope was rare in her heart but she liked to think that one day, they'd start falling into a place and she'd be able to give it a name. The tears were complicated things. Killian never knew if she meant it to be a sign of relief or significant doom to come.
The sky above her shone in a dark purple hue; the moonlight shining the green patch of grass. Tomorrow the sun will rise and she'll still be the same - only a little better about herself than she'd been before.
***
A/N:
Honestly this did come from a personal place. For a long time, I was indirectly told that being aroace wasn't "sustainable" enough. That I was eventually going to have to find a partner to settle down and I might as well make a romantic and sexual thing out of it. In the story, Killian is told the same thing. It's incredibly hard for her, as an adult. She's expected to carry out Elven responsibilities as her heritage suggests and human responsibilities because she's grown up among them and they coincide in romance, marriage and sex that she can never feel, understand or ever have an idea of.
I want to talk about Killian's asexuality and aromantivity in depth through fics like these! PB isn't going to give us the adequate aroace representation and normalisation we need and deserve, so I'm making my own. Jk jk, I hope they do come around to doing that because I guess, Zephyr from TE and Maia from GG are their only two aromantic and asexual characters. I'd love them actually talk about aromantivity and asexuality on the whole too, because it just sucks that half the times they're all just side characters. I'd love to have an LI who's on the aro-spec or the asexual spectrum or both. I'd love to have diversity within the aro- and ace- spectrums without it being just passed off as a small "yay we have more queer people.in this story!" mention.
Sadly there's a long way to go, so I'm just gonna happy-cry, watching Koisenu Futari until the apocalypse comes.
(and also the arrow and spade(ace) references were very much deliberate.)
Tagging:
If you'd like to be removed or added to my list, please let me know! I did try maintaining a tag list but after a while, I just got sick of the tag-list clean-ups. So just let me know if you'd like to receive notifs; however way you'd like to convey it. If you'd like to stop receiving, let me know that too!
Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam
Blades only: @starlight-starfury
- Also tagging @choicesbookclub
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Are you excited for your Birthday?!
Hmmm...I would not say excited, exactly.. My birthday brings many mixed feelings, you know? On one hand, it is Killian and my anniversary, and he puts so much effort into making my birthday the best he can. Even when we were small children, he did everything he could to make it happy.
However, on the other hand, I have...bad memories (in some cases not a memory but knowledge of what happened), very bad memories associated with my birthday. It also was the day I died... And my death, the things leading to it, what I did that made me hope to die, the way I died, and then what happened after... There's many mixed feelings I have, you now?
I suppose if I'm going to be truthful, I would say that I do look forward to celebrating my anniversary with Killian, it is always so romantic and magical! But I really don't know how I feel about my birthday. There are a lot of things I don't know how to feel about. Especially because I get told to feel different ways about the same thing by different people.......hmmm....
I think I may be talking a tad too much. My mind tends to wander, you know? I need a drink. Or 10.
:)<3
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Survivor’s Heart
on AO3
Category: one shot, missing scene, canon compliant
Summary: Emma and Killian have a long conversation after his heart is back where it belongs. Honest explanations lead to some long needed revelations. More walls are brought down to bring them closer than ever before. Set at the end of episode 4x11.
Word count: 3 462
Author’s note: This has been sitting in my drafts for quite some time… Anyway, Regina can do shots on her own, Emma just almost witnessed the love her life get murdered. No one will convince me that she didn’t stay with him longer after that.
Holding a beating heart in her hands is such a strange sensation. Holding his heart. She cradles it, gently with both hands, marveling at the bright red glow, even if stained with some inky splotches swimming inside. It beats gently and steadily. It's warm and smooth and she's afraid she'll drop it. She can't help but ponder the fragility of it as well as the incredible resilience with which it has survived despite everything. She can't get the image of what happened earlier out of her head. Killian powerlessly sinking to his knees, screaming in pain as Gold squeezes his cruel hand. The feeling of being frozen in place and rendered utterly powerless to stop it was the worst part. A few more seconds and had Belle not turned up... She doesn't even want to go there.
She looks up at him, fully aware of how vulnerable and trusting he is being with her in that moment. His smile is genuine, his eyes so soft as he nods a little, letting her know he feels safe with his heart in her hands.
"You know I've never really done this before, right?" she bites her lip nervously.
"Held my heart? You've done it longer than you know," he teases.
"You know what I mean," she rolls her eyes despite the seriousness of the moment.
"Just be gen-"
Too late. Emma plunges the heart into his chest, deciding to do it quickly – like ripping of a band aid. It knocks the wind right out of him. Ooh, it looks like it hurt.
She goes to apologize but he cuts her off midsentence with a passionate kiss. And there's no doubt in her mind, it's all of him again. Her back hits the wall and she continues to kiss him as he leans in closer. They both savor the moment. Precious and intimate. The relief is almost intoxicating.
He pulls away ever so slightly, their foreheads and noses still touching. She reluctantly lets him, biting her lip and smiling.
"I told you, Swan," he whispers into the gap between their lips, holding her gaze with soft, reassuring eyes. "I'm a survivor."
—
They make their way upstairs to have some privacy. They are both relieved to be safe and alive but there's still a lot to talk about and they are aware of that too. Killian invites her into the room where he has been staying ever since he brought her back to Storybrooke, since he doesn't have his ship.
It's pretty bare, except for the old-fashioned furniture and shoddy decor, the room has little personality. He didn't exactly bring luggage with him from the Enchanted Forest. It reminds her of the time when she first arrived here, before she even moved to Mary Margaret's and stayed in a room just like this.
He takes his leather jacket off and hangs it on a chair, then pulls out a second chair and offers her to sit. He sits opposite her on the bed. Suddenly, anxious tension settles on his shoulders. He looks down at his hand fidgeting with his hook and lets out a deep breath.
"I- " he says quietly but fumbles.
She reaches out to hold his hand encouragingly, letting him know he can tell her anything. She supposes this is how she learns why he was in that whole mess in the first place. On the walk to Granny’s, he only briefly explained that Gold was trying to free himself from the dagger and crushing his heart was part of it, but he hasn't said much else. She suspects his heart has been out of his chest for longer than just tonight. She recalls the moment earlier that day when he brought the news of the portal, acting so bizarrely unlike himself. The absent look in his eyes, the fleeting, dispassionate kiss, the way his hand held onto her as if it had a mind of its own, fighting against an invisible force, gripping her so tightly as it shook... like a drowning man grasping his only lifeline.
And she starts thinking back, searching her memory for earlier signs like this. She feels a sharp pang of guilt. She let him down. She should have... she should have been able to save him. She was so preoccupied with everything while Gold was playing this sick game of his and she didn't notice. And she almost lost him. God, she almost lost him.
"I suppose I owe you some explanations," he says.
"Yeah," she says softly, "you wanna tell me how this whole mess started? How long did he... you know, have your heart?"
He cringes, probably as he recalls the events, he is about to relay to her.
"Remember the other day... when you were about to give up your powers? At the seaside mansion?"
"Oh my god," she frowns. She feels another bite of guilt. Gold had been doing this to him for days and she hasn't noticed until today. A knot forms in her stomach at the idea of Rumplestiltskin ripping out Killian's heart, while she was... she stops in her tracks, as it dawns on her.
"Wait. But that was Gold's idea. Was that... some kind of trap?"
Killian scoffs bitterly, looking down at their joint hands.
"Luckily, you were clever enough to not walk into it," he says with a hint of a smile. "Unlike me, that's for sure. I was a bloody fool, Swan. I made so many mistakes."
He looks up at her and the look in his eyes is raw and scared and tinged with anger. Not at her, but at himself.
"Killian?" she prompts him to continue but waits patiently.
"I suppose I should start from the beginning," he says, caressing his hook like he's remembering something.
"The beginning?" she gives him a confused look.
"Our date. My... hand. That's how I got myself entangled in all kinds of shady dealings with the crocodile. That's how I came to know his plans. How I walked into his trap."
"I remember. You had your hook back the next day, you said the Dark One's magic
wasn't what you expected."
"Aye," he smiles bitterly and takes a deep breath. Emma senses a story coming and braces herself.
He spills his guts. He tells her about blackmailing Gold into giving him his hand back so that he could hold her with both hands. He tells her how Gold told him the hand would bring out the worst in him, make him the violent, ruthless pirate he once was. He didn't listen. She aches for him when she realizes how he still misses being able to use two hands, despite being used and well-adjusted to his hook for centuries. Why was it the date that prompted him to make such a request to the Dark One? Did he feel like holding her with one hand wasn't enough? Was it not enough for him or did he think it wasn't enough for her? She recalls all the throwaway remarks people – unfortunately including herself at a few occasions – have made about him only having one hand.
She struggles to find the right words, instead she just takes both his hook and hand in her hands. She wants him to know she accepts him as he is, that she never thought less of him for the lack of a hand, that she's actually fond of the hook, that he's enough.
He recounts the run-in with the thief in the restaurant and his fear of losing control. She takes it all in. This is where the story gets darker.
He explains how he didn't want to revert back to the man he used to be, how he wanted to be better, how he wanted to be someone he could one day be proud of, how he wanted to be someone she could be proud of too. The thought of that being ruined by a foolish deal with the Dark One was something he couldn't bear. He admits he tried blackmailing his way out of it but Gold outsmarted him and he ended up making a blind deal.
Emma leans back a little when he tells her he helped Gold capture some old man into a magical hat that sucked power out of people and pulled them in too. Gold finally rid him of his hand after that, but kept the security tape for blackmail.
"I should have just told you, I'm sorry," he says.
Emma doesn't react right away. She's taking it all in. Mixed emotions swirl in her head at those revelations. The way he went about it was wrong, she knows. She's a little mad. But there's one more thing she realizes. Killian was so desperate to be a better man, that he begged his enemy to take his hand away, again. He had wanted it back so badly, but the moment he felt like his progress was threatened, he was willing to do anything to set things right. Ironically, resulting to some morally questionable behavior. It was all so crazy and ironic. But the fact that this man was willing to give up his hand to make sure he would be a better person makes Emma stare at him in astonishment. He made so many mistakes, of course, but his heart was in the right place. At his core he is a good person and she finds it hard to believe anything could undo that. The Dark One is full of nasty lies and tricks.
"You're right. You should have told me. I would have forgiven you, you know. But I don't understand how this led to Gold taking your heart."
"I think he would have stolen it either way, since he needed it for his wretched schemes, but... when you called to tell your mother about getting rid of your powers... I remembered the magic hat and what it did to the poor old man. I realized the crocodile was planning to do the same to you. I called you and said all of this in that, you know, uh...voicemail. But the bloody crocodile erased it. I found out where he sent you but when I got there, he was ready for me."
Emma gulps. This is when it happens.
"He... was going to make me watch as you used the hat on yourself. But you didn't. Because you're bloody brilliant and so is your magic, Swan."
She blushes despite everything.
"So then he...?" she trails off.
"Aye."
He puts his hand over his heart as if to check it's still there, wincing slightly as he remembers the pain and how it felt to have his body invaded by the man he hated most.
"But why did he let you go? I mean... why did he wait until tonight to..."
He gets what she's asking.
"Well, he needed to fill the bloody hat with magic first and he kept going on about the stars in the sky aligning with the constellations on the hat and whatnot. My heart was only one ingredient... because I'm the only living person who knew him before he was tied to that dagger. First, he needed me to do his dirty work. Like capturing the fairies in the hat. Aye, that was me. Or him. When he... had my heart... he was fully in control of me."
A shiver goes through his entire body. Emma stands up from the chair and comes to sit next to his side. Her hand rests on his hook.
"I couldn't fight it. I couldn't do anything he forbid me to do. I had to listen to every command. I wasn't in control of myself. He made me a bloody slave." His voice is thick with emotion, especially the last word lingers in the air.
"Killian, I..." she cups his cheek in her hand and gently turns him to face her. "I'm so sorry."
"You're sorry?" he asks incredulously. "For what?"
"I don't know, I should have done something. I should have... noticed."
"You did, though, didn't you?"
"But it was almost too late," she shakes her head. "When you... when you talked to me earlier today and it wasn't you, when you grabbed onto my hand and tried to warn me... I knew something was wrong. I knew, I... Every part of me was screaming to do something, to follow you, to find out what the hell is happening. But I didn't. I didn't, because I thought I could check on you later. I thought I could resolve the case at hand and then I could check on you..." it takes every one of her metaphorical walls to not break down as she says that and tries not to think about what almost happened. Her voice is raw and husky but she holds it together.
"I didn't die," he reminds her. "And I'm not going to any time soon."
She smiles and strokes his cheek.
"Can you forgive me?" he asks, looking at her with uncertain eyes.
She leans in and kisses him softly on the lips. She tells him that yes, she forgives him for what he did before Gold had his heart and that whatever he did after is not on him. What she doesn't tell him is that she can feel herself falling deeper in love, the pull of his gravity growing stronger than ever. She finds herself loving him even as he reveals his flaws. Not that she ever thought he was flawless. She knew what she was getting herself into from the start – which is more than she can say for any of her other past relationships, she thinks bitterly.
She has held his heart in her hands today. She saw how bright and red it was, she also saw the dark spots inside it. Still, she found it strangely beautiful just the way it was.
She thinks she might truly love him. Because his darkness doesn't scare her away. His goodness pulls her in. Anyone could clearly tell which color was dominant in his heart. She embraces him despite his mistakes, including his mistakes.
But she can't say it out loud, because it scares her just how intense and real that feeling is, how strongly her heart burns as he lets her read him like a book, uncovering pages he would rather rip out. She doesn't think she's ever felt this way about anyone, not even Neal. After all, Neal never let her in like this. It's confusing and scary and she almost wants to run away. So instead, she kisses him, hoping to leave no room for thought.
"I'm glad you're okay," she whispers when they come apart to take a breath.
"I'm glad you are. And that I'm free again," he admits and there is something in his voice that she can't quite decipher. Something is still bothering him. She pulls away to get a better look at him.
"What is it?" she asks.
He leans against the bed frame and takes a deep breath. She sits opposite him, watching him attentively.
"I was a slave," he says so quietly she's not sure she hears correctly.
She's a little confused. He's said that already but this time it sounds a little different.
"To Gold? You don't have to worry about him anymore," she comforts him.
"No, I mean..." he hesitates.
She leans in, frowning in concern.
"I mean when I was a child... It was so long ago, I know it shouldn't bother me anymore but..."
"Did you say when you were a child?" she interrupts him.
He doesn't look at her, only nods his head slightly.
"It’s been so long, I know. But while Neverland keeps you young even for centuries, it's not exactly a place where you can forget your early years. And now... the last few days have stirred up some unpleasant memories."
"I thought," she fumbles, "I thought you were in the royal navy. David said... in Neverland..."
"I was," he nods. "But not always. Liam was the one who made that possible for us."
He laughs bitterly, reaching almost reflexively to where he keeps his flask, but then his hand jerks back.
"If it had depended on me, we never would have made it. I owe him so much. He never gave up on me," he smiles, his eyes glistening.
There's fondness in that sentiment, there's pain too. After all these years, he still loves his brother and misses him just like he has missed his first love for so long. He's not one to let go easily. Emma understands that all too well.
"I never realized there was slavery in the Enchanted Forest," she whispers. "That's awful."
"Maybe not anymore in your parents' era. But two hundred years ago, yeah."
"Were you... born into it?" she asks, afraid she might be getting too bold, too personal, that he will shut her out.
He shakes his head. "No. No, I have my father to thank for that actually."
The scorn on his face when he speaks about his father could rival his disdain for Rumplestiltskin.
"He was a cowardly bastard. When Liam and I were little, he secured passage on a ship for the three of us, fabricating this fantastical tale about going to travel the world. Turned out he was lying through his teeth. One night I woke up and he was gone. He sold us for a boat to save his arse from soldiers waiting for him in port. I never even learned what crime he was running from. Didn't matter though, because the cost of his freedom was Liam's and mine to pay."
Emma stares at him, horrified, but trying not to look like she's pitying him. Somehow, she isn't surprised that he is no stranger to abandonment. Yet another thing they have in common, another thing that makes them understand each other so well.
They all share the same look in their eyes. The look you get when you've been left alone.
I just wanted to let you know that I, too, know what it feels like... to lose hope.
Perhaps the wounds that are made when we are young tend to linger.
Believe it or not, I was once a child.
The little moments start to come together like pieces of a puzzle and she realizes it was in front of her this entire time. She feels bad for dismissing him before. She didn't expect this.
"I never want to be someone's servant again," he confesses under his breath.
"That's horrible," she says.
"I'm sorry for... spilling all this on you," he apologizes nervously, afraid he might have revealed too much.
"No," she stops him. "It's okay. I mean, thank you for telling me. I know it's not easy to talk about things like that."
"Yeah," he smirks knowingly.
She scoots over to sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"You can talk about it if you want," she assures him softly. "Or not. I'm not going anywhere."
She can almost feel a wall crumbling down between them, bringing them closer. She's not sure if the wall is hers or his. Probably both. But it's down now. They're stepping into a new territory, taking a leap of faith. There is a new kind of understanding that somehow makes it easier to breathe.
They talk for hours that night, well past midnight. They just sit together and talk. About serious things at first. Killian describes staring at the ocean the first few weeks after his father left, trying to convince himself it was a lie, looking for a sign of him on the ocean's surface or a glimpse of his face in the crowded harbors, hoping that he would come back for them, until one day he started hoping his father was dead. Emma recounts her first few foster homes, the way she always let herself hope that she could be loved there... until the concept of it started to seem unbelievable.
After a while, they leave the traumas behind as the conversation organically shifts to more pleasant topics. They even end up laughing at the end until there is no tension left in their bodies. Emma kicks her shoes off and leans her head against his shoulder, her hand rests on his chest over his beating heart. She doesn't know when she falls asleep but she wakes up in his embrace to a quiet, sunlit room, still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. As is he.
It’s a new bright day and they are both free. There is no Dark One in town and the past is put to rest, at least for now. She rests her head on his chest and listens to his steady heartbeat.
#ouat fanfic#ouat 4x11#captain swan fanfic#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#CS one shot#once upon a time season 4#i’ve always loved the scene where she returns his heart with a burning passion#and i’ve always wished there was more✨#guess i have to do it myself#one shot#missing scene fic#nya writes
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It’s Sneak Peek Time!!!
We are almost done with part 2 and here is a sneak peek for Sunday’s chapter! Thank you for reading and sharing! I hope you enjoy!!
Summary: Bastard Emma Swan enjoys one night of pure magic and romance in the midst of a life of drudgery and abuse- attending a masquerade ball and meeting aristocrat Killian Jones.
Two years later, the same man she met on the best night of her life reappears, saving her from a dire fate in the process.Now, she must keep herself from falling in love with a man she can never have. But when that proves impossible, is there any hope for a happy ending between two people from such vastly different worlds?
On ao3 From the beginning/ Current Ch
On Tumblr Current ch with links to the others.
New tag list! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.
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Now, as he stood in the pond, naked as the day he was born, he was struck again with an odd sense of being more alive than he had been just moments before. It was a good feeling, an exciting feeling.
Something was about to happen. Or perhaps, someone was near.
His life was about to change.
He stepped into a little deeper water before turning in a complete circle. He scanned the trees and bushes as best he could, but he could see no one.
“Who’s there?” he called.
Silence.
He hadn’t really expected an answer, but it had been worth a try. He squinted and did another sweep of the shore in the direction of My Cottage but could still see nothing. Moments later, something came over him and he suddenly knew exactly who was watching him.
“Emma!”
He heard a gasp, followed by a flurry of activity behind a bush on the shore.
“Emma Swan,” he yelled, “if you run from me right now, I swear I will follow you, and I will not take the time to don my clothing!”
The rustling of the bush slowed, but didn’t stop completely.
“I am stronger and faster than you, and I will catch up with you,” he continued. “And I wouldn’t put it past me to tackle you to the ground, just to be sure you won’t escape.”
“And you call yourself a gentleman,” she called, still hidden behind the bushes.
“Says the lady spying on a naked man,” he called back. Silence. Killian huffed in satisfaction. “Good. Now show yourself.” There was no response from the shore and Killian grew exasperated. “Emma, I already know you’re there. Just come out, already!”
He could almost see the petulant frown on her face as the bushes rustled again and she finally emerged. She was wearing the same dress, and seeing her there framed among the spring leaves and flowers made his desire to burn the awful thing that much stronger.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I went for a walk. What are you doing here?” she asked in return. “You’re supposed to be ill! I can’t imagine that,” she gestured vaguely at the water, “is going to help your recovery!”
“Were you following me?” he asked, purposefully ignoring her question and comment. It certainly wouldn’t do for him to tell her the truth about why he was here.
“Of course not!” she exclaimed. He knew from her expression she was telling the truth. He knew she didn’t possess the acting skill to feign that level of righteous indignation. She was too much of an open book to him. “I’d never follow you to a swimming hole. It would be indecent.”
Killian raised an eyebrow at her, not bothering to point out the hypocrisy, and her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. He lifted a hand from the water and motioned for her to turn round. “Give me a moment to get dressed, if you please.”
“I’ll just return home so you can continue your bath in privacy.”
“You will stay right there,” he demanded sternly.
“But…”
He raised his eyebrow again and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I look like a man to be argued with at the moment?”
She stared at him mutinously.
“I will catch you if you run,” he warned her again.
Emma eyed the distance between them and then tried to guess the distance from here back to My Cottage. If he stopped to pull on his clothing, she might be able to make it, but if he didn’t…
“Emma, I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears,” he said, thoroughly exasperated. “Please stop whatever mathematical computations you’ve got going on in your head trying to decide if you could beat me back to the cottage and just do what I asked.” She still didn’t move. “Now.”
Sighing loudly and grumbling under her breath, Emma turned away from him.
~*~*~
Full chapter will be up on Sunday!
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But First, Let Me Take a Selfie: A Curious Archer fanfiction
Part two! Robyn and Alice are out of character in this, mainly because they're teenagers for this AU, eighteen and seventeen. Image obviously isn't an edit, but a behind the scenes shot.
Alice frowned at the thing in her hands. What had Papa called it? A talking phone? She figured it must’ve been some sort of magic, if she could use it to speak to others miles away.
Using her index finger, she pressed the picture of an oddly shaped, banana-looking thing (Mum had told her that that was what talking phones used to look like, but don't anymore). It gave her a list of names, and a series of numbers attached to the names. Papa, Mum, Hope, and Robyn were the only names she had.
Unsure of exactly what to do, she pushed the ‘Robyn’ button, and waited for something to happen. A dull tone played four times, then she faintly heard Robyn’s voice. “Hello?”
“Hullo? Robyn? Can you hear me?” Alice raised her voice slightly, worried that something was wrong with the device.
“Alice? Alice, hold the phone up to your ear, with the screen facing your cheek!” Robyn’s voice continued faintly.
Alice did as she was told. “Hullo? Can you hear me now?”
“Yeah, I can hear you!” Alice winced at how loud Robyn’s voice sounded now. “Can you hear me?”
“Yup. Hi, hullo.”
“Good job figuring that out. According to Emma, it took Killian years to figure out how to work a phone.”
“I mean, it’s actually not that hard once you figure it out.” Alice beamed at Robyn’s praise.
“Show-off.” Robyn teased.
Alice laughed. “Anywhatzit, I was just testing this thing out. Hope was telling me that it can do more than just the talking, but I haven’t figured that bit out yet.”
“I can help with that! Mom says I’m on my phone way too much anyway. Uh, I mean..if you wanted me too. If not, that’s totally fine.” Robyn babbled.
Alice grinned softly. Robyn was just too cute when she was flustered. “Of course I’d like your help! I’m at that place, Granny’s Diner, waitin’ on Alex, if you wanted to pop over.” She and Alex were supposed to go shopping after their shift, but Alice was sure that they wouldn’t mind if Robyn tagged along.
“Really!? Uh, I mean, okay. I’d love that! Lemme just grab my bike–I–I’ll uh, see you in a few. Love-uh, I mean, bye.” Alice heard a click, and she glanced at the screen, seeing that the used-to-be-a-talking-phone symbol had turned from green to red.
She giggled to herself, kicking her legs happily in her seat. PJ had been teasing her for the past few weeks about whether or not she was going to ask Robyn ‘out,’ which, as far as she could gather, meant start courting her. Alice would never admit it out loud, but she kind of wanted Robyn to ask her ‘out,’ like in the romance books she read as a child.
But Robyn, although Alice was 90% sure she liked her back, hadn’t said anything to her yet. And so, she waited.
Although, she didn’t think she’d have to wait for long.
A ringing bell caused Alice to look up from her phone, and she saw Robyn’s green bike pull up in front of Granny’s. Alice felt a warmth spread from her heart and into her veins. She had come all this way, just for her.
She waved Robyn over, and the other girl plopped herself in the seat next to her. “Hi. Sorry that took so long, I had to convince my mom that I was going to the library.”
“That’s alright, love. Thanks for showing up for me.”
Robyn turned her head to the side, dark blond hair covering her face, and Alice swore that she could see her blush. She waved at Alex through the diner window in greeting, then pulled out her own talking phone. “Okay! So, I was thinking we start with the basics. This little circle icon here is called ‘Google’, and you can use it to search whatever you want…”
Robyn continued talking, but Alice was only half listening. She couldn’t help but stare at the way her green eyes sparkled when she showed her how to work the ‘calculator,’ or her beautiful sounding laugh whenever Alice asked a question.
“And this is the camera! You can use it to…I guess ‘capture’ images, like a moment frozen in time.”
“Really?” Alice leaned over in her seat to look at Robyn’s phone. “Sounds a bit like magic, doesn’t it? How does it work?”
“...You know, I’m actually not sure. But watch!” Robyn tapped the image of the so-called camera, and suddenly, Alice could see the table underneath the phone. Robyn lifted the device up, and the screen showed the street. She pressed a circle in the middle, and the image of the street stayed on the screen when she put the phone down.
“Bloody hell. That’s incredible.” Her eyes widened.
“Yeah, it kinda is actually. And it gets better.”
Robyn tapped another button, and somehow, her and Alice’s faces became reflected in the screen.
Alice gasped. “That’s us!”
Robyn giggled. “Yup. Henry was telling me that this used to be called a ‘selfie’ when he was growing up; there was a song about it and everything.” She scooted closer to Alice. “Wanna take one? You can use it as my contact picture in your phone.”
Alice didn’t remember what a ‘contact picture’ was, but she didn’t really care. “Sounds brilliant.”
Robyn angled her phone so they both fit in the screen. “Let’s make funny faces!”
Alice widened her eyes and pouted, while Robyn stuck out her tongue. They took a few pictures, trying not to giggle.
Once they were done, they looked them over. “I like that first one we took.” Robyn pinched her fingers on the screen, zooming the image in. “Look at my dumb face.”
Alice laughed. “Oi, well, look at my dumb face!”
“We both look kinda dumb.” Grinning, Robyn pressed a few buttons on her phone, then Alice’s made a buzzing noise. “I just sent it to you. I’ll help you make it my contact photo.”
“Thank you, Robyn. Really.” Alice felt herself getting rather emotional.
“Don’t mention it, Tower Girl.” Robyn didn’t bother to hide her blush as they stared at each other.
All too soon, the moment ended, and Robyn started talking about how to change people’s contact photos again.
But as Alice nodded along and smiled, she knew that she wouldn't have to wait too long now.
#ouat next generation#ouat next gen#robyn mills#robin mills#robyn hood#alice jones#tilly ouat#curious archer#mad archer#this is the last of these to be posted on the actual valentine's day lol#the season 7 rewrite
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Don’t mind me, just thinking about how the people who had agency in getting the supersoldier serum (Red Skull, John Walker, the Flagsmashers, Peggy Carter) all became violent, borderline sadistic pseudo-vigilantes meanwhile the people who didn’t (Steve, Bucky, Isaiah Bradley) never identified themselves with their newfound power and were always cautious of it.
(Also all the 'other' Winter Soldiers, and The Abomination. There's also a parallel of this in the Kree trying to steal/harness a power accidentally bestowed on Carol, and in every Spidey villain who either deliberately or accidentally gets a power set but, unlike Spidey, immediately turns bad.)
It's baffling how dumb you have to be as a writer to keep on coming up with super specific examples of what behaviour connotes villainy in your villain characters.
And then just.... have your supposed 'hero' do exactly the same thing??
Protagonist-Centered Morality to me suggests a writer who honestly doesn't get what makes a good person good, and/or has no interest in writing 'good' characters in the first place.
They think what makes a character good is 'well, they're on the opposite side from the bad guys.' Idiots.
I've been thinking lately that the person we really should've had as a villain in the last Cap movie isn't Zemo... it's Aldrich Killian.
He's a perfect negative-image version of Steve, right down to the blonde hair.
He used to be disabled, too, but whereas Steve was chosen for healing because of his inner goodness, Killian took control of someone else's healing (Mia Hansen's), and preyed on wounded veterans, to empower himself!
And then, even after powering up, Steve remained humble, avoided the spotlight out of modesty, and used his powers to rescue soldiers.
Whereas Kilian was so embittered about not being the center of attention before, that he turned anonymity into a weapon and became ...frankly, IMO, one of the most frightening MCU villains?
Plus, imagine what Steve would feel, as a friend of Bucky's, seeing a man who has medicine that could regrow wounded soldier's limbs (as happens for a woman in IM3) but instead chooses to use it to blow up already-disenfranchised vets and encourage a climate of fear in order to make money off the MIC?
And the dude has a red dragon tattood on him!
That should've been our Serpent Society.
#antipeggy#antisteggy#p*ggy meta#mcu meta#mcu critical#steggy is hydra trash party#meta#mcu#hey nonny#toAyourQ#dat's me#steve rogers#steve meta#steve's serum meta#bucky's serum meta#cynthia glass
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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x8 Think Lovely Thoughts
Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.
Word Count: 620
Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They had a plan.
Thanks to Tink, they knew where to find Pan’s camp. Thanks to Regina, Rumple and herself, they had all the magical fire power they could possibly want, and thanks to Hook and her parents (and she supposed Neal, although she’d never thought of him in this way), a hefty dose of non-magical firepower as well.
And, of course, thanks to the shadow, they had a way off the island and back home.
For the first time in six days, the unrelenting vise of anxiety around her heart began to loosen.
But as her biggest fear was, well, though not exactly relieved, at least greatly lessened, other concerns began to rise to the surface.
Her parents were stuck on this island. Forever.
Emma refused, flatly refused, to accept that. She had finally, finally found her family, and she’d be damned before she lost a single one of them again. There had to be a way.
As they’d begun their trek through the jungle toward Pan’s camp early that morning, she’d approached her mother, hoping between the two of them they could come up with a plan to circumvent the dreamshade/Neverland water problem, but to her shock, her mother had serenely informed her that she’d accepted her fate; that there was nothing more to do.
Emma couldn’t prevent the quick stab of pain that response had caused. She knew her parents hadn’t chosen this, that this wasn’t what they wanted, but the little orphaned, abandoned girl inside of her couldn’t help but feel as though she was being cast aside yet again. That being with her wasn’t worth fighting for.
She knew it was irrational. After all, time wasn’t on their side. With any luck, they’d have Henry back within the hour, and then the sooner they left the island, the better for all of their safety.
Still, she wanted her parents to fight for a solution, fight for her.
Emma squared her shoulders. If they weren’t going to fight for the family, she damn well was. She’d find a solution, and she knew exactly where to start.
With the only other person on this island who knew what it was like to lose a loved one to dreamshade poisoning.
Hook had kept his distance since the whole lighter fiasco, and in particular, since she’d told him and Neal off for their behavior, and if she were truly honest with herself, she missed his constant presence, his quick wit and his teasing flirtations. They’d somehow buoyed her spirits throughout the last, interminable week, and the boost his ever-present confidence in her gave had kept her going when despair threatened to overwhelm her.
But even if his pride was stung at her tongue lashing–or he was giving her the space he thought she wanted–she knew with absolute certainty he’d help her with her dreamshade problem if there was anything in his power he could do.
The other night, he’d told her about his brother–his poisoning, Pan’s “help” in restoring his health, and then his ultimate demise aboard Hook’s ship. Despite the fact that it had to be decades–centuries even–since it happened, Hook’s voice still held such a deep weight of pain and grief as he recounted the tale. It made her heart break for him (and it added an extra layer of white-hot fury toward Pan. Trust the little demon to give Hook a part of the truth, but withhold the most crucial bit!), and she hesitated to bring it all back up again, but she was truly desperate.
Taking a deep breath, Emma picked up her pace, spying Hook at the front of their company.
She couldn’t lose her family again, and Hook was her only hope.
NEXT CHAPTER->
#season 3 rewatch drabbles#cs fanfiction#ouat fanfiction#my fanfiction#3x8 think lovely thoughts#emma swan
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Sneak Peek - Lady Cassidy's Lover
Emma’s heart is lodged in her throat as she watches the rain patter against the window and listens to the rumble of the storm in the dark sky, absentmindedly chewing on the end of the capped pen.
She’s not exactly sure how to feel about this situation. She is glad to have a child but also worried. Worried for Killian, worried for the baby. Worried about what will happen now and how things might change.
She keeps thinking back to the conversation she had with Neal. Would he truly be okay with her having a child with another man?
But she doesn’t care about that anymore. She doesn’t want to be with Neal. She doesn’t want to pretend the baby is his when it’s not. Killian is the father, and she wants to raise this baby with him. She wants to live with him in his little cottage and raise their child together.
Hearing movement from behind her, she spins around and gasps, her heart skittering, but it’s only Johanna approaching the lamp to turn it off. Emma clutches her chest, breathing a sigh of relief.
Johanna gapes at her in surprise, apology on her face as she pulls her hand away from the lamp. “Oh, Your Ladyship, I’m sorry to disturb you. I saw the light on and—”
Emma manages a soft laugh and waves off Johanna’s apology as she goes to sit in the chair where she had been writing to her sister at the table. “It’s all right, honestly.” She gestures to the chair across from her. “Sit. I’d be happy to have some company.”
Johanna sits down, folding her hands in her lap.
Emma crosses her arms on the table, still holding onto her pen, as she eyes the woman curiously, for it’s one in the morning. Emma knows why she herself can’t sleep. With a baby growing in her womb, there is much weighing on her mind, but she assumes Johanna must be exhausted from having to look after Neal all the time, so Emma’s surprised the woman is not in bed, sleeping after their card game. “Why are you up so late?”
“Uh, Sir Neal…he’s not been sleeping.” She lets out a heavy sigh, worry etched in her worn features. “I can’t help looking in on him.” She shrugs. “It was the same with my husband. If he so much as got a cold, I’d be up all night worrying over him.”
“You must miss Ted.”
"It's been twenty-five years, but I still wake up in bed and think, ‘He's not in bed with me.’” She chuckles softly.
Emma nods in understanding. She feels the same when she wakes up chilly and realizes Killian is not in bed with her. She misses his warmth and the way he touches her. However, it is a poor comparison. Johanna lost her husband and will never see him again. Emma’s lover, on the other hand, is still breathing, still living just beyond the forest. “It’s the touch of him.”
“Aye, milady, the touch of him. I’ve never gotten over it to this day and never shall. If there’s a heaven above, he’ll be there and warm up against me so I can sleep.”
Emma plants her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on the table. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How someone can get so deeply into your blood.” A small smile pulls at her lips, for she’s not talking about Neal. She’s talking about Killian and how much he has gotten into her blood over such a short period of time.
“Oh, it is. It can make you bitter. If it hadn’t been for that pit, Ted would still be here. He hated it down there. He hated it, but what could he do? He was trapped.”
Emma peers down at the pen in her hand. “I suppose we all are in different ways.” She quickly moves on from that thought and looks up, hoping Johanna doesn’t read into it enough to wonder if Emma feels that way here at Goldby. “You never wanted to remarry?”
“Oh, Lord, no.” They share a laugh.
Emma lowers her hand, joining it with her other one on the table. “So Ted was the only one?”
Johanna nods. “He was. But you and your man grow together. What else is there in life? Children, of course, but...” Her eyes widen, apology washing over her features. “Oh. I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me.”
Emma shakes her head and offers a reassuring smile. “No. Don’t worry. It’s fine.” Her smile widens, cheeks warming as she peers down again, thinking about the tiny human growing inside her. “Um…more than fine, actually.” She looks up at Johanna and nods, licking her lips. “There still might be some hope in that regard. There's a possibility of a child in the future.”
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Like Slow Spinning Redemption Chapter Four
Tagging the Usual Crew: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit
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Catch Up Here: 01 02 03
Liam moved through several rooms, shuffling papers and opening doors. He had walked into a couple of rooms where one of the others was also searching, and so he couldn’t move outside to destroy the pages yet. The only person he hadn’t met was Emma, but he knew that she had stalked off into a completely different area of the manse so as to avoid everyone else. He smiled slightly at Henry, which Henry returned as he moved into a new location. Liam watched Henry leave, and then he listened for the sounds of any of the others.
Hearing nothing, Liam decided that this was the best time to finish what he had started. He moved to the window facing the back yard, and noted how close he was to a door that led to the yard. Looking around him once more to check that he was alone, Liam slunk off towards the exit that led outside. He moved as quickly as he could without making much noise. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself. He opened the door as quietly as he could and closed it without pulling the latch; he didn’t need the door to make any extra noise. He didn’t know how much time he had, so he crossed over to the well quickly, stopping at the edge and pulling the pages out of his pocket.
Hades hadn’t left any specific instructions on how exactly to destroy them, but he did say that all the waterways led back to him. Liam decided that the best way was to follow Hades’ orders was to throw them into the nearest waterways. Remembering the well he had spied as he came into the mansion, he supposed that he could throw them in there and that would be enough. Moving fast, he managed to avoid everyone else searching and got to the well without anyone seeing him. He quickly took the pages out of his jacket and let them fall into the well. He watched them fall into the water and sink to the bottom almost immediately upon touching the water. It was done. He was free, finally free at last, of his secret’s hold on him. This was it, the whole reason he was still in purgatory. He could finally move on from this place. The regret at betraying his brother was outweighed by his singular relief at getting away with keeping his treachery a secret. He sighed as a weight lifted off his shoulders.
—————
After the altercation with Liam earlier in the day and her quasi-argument with Killian about whether Liam was hiding something, the last thing Emma felt like doing was searching for the missing pages. She actually felt more like hitting something (or someone, or possibly even multiple someones), an emotion which was apparent in the way she threw open doors and slammed them shut, roughly yanked open drawers and caused their contents to rattle, only to throw them shut in the same aggravated movement. Without Killian around her to see, she let her emotions reign as she stomped around, on her face a screwed up scowl, and she didn’t linger in any place for long.
She knew that Liam was wrong in his assessment of his brother’s perceived lack of heroism, just as he was wrong in his villainized judgment of her. She just didn’t know how to get Liam to see that there was more to Killian than that supposed “darkness” and view his younger brother for the hero that Emma knew him to be (and she also didn’t know how to get Killian to see that same fact for himself, only she was beginning to suspect that somehow Liam, himself, had to be the key to that’s endeavor). She couldn’t care less whether Liam Jones’ opinion ever changed of her; she just wanted to change his opinion of Killian (and of Killian concerning himself).
She wandered into another sitting room and paced through the length of it, scanning absentmindedly for any sign of the torn pages of Henry’s storybook, Underworld Edition, when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned her head back to where she had caught it and realized she was seeing through a window into a yard just beside the house. She stepped closer to the window, her brow furrowed in confusion and suspicion as she realized she was looking at Liam. His back was to her; she couldn’t see what it was he was doing, but why would he be out in the yard when he had sworn he wouldn’t stop looking until they were successful in locating the lost pages?”
Making a split-second decision, she hastily left the room and made a beeline for the nearest exit that would get her to that yard and into yet another confrontation with Killian’s older brother. Her inner lie detector had been going off ever since their first conversation, and she was going to find out why it was alerting her to something being off with Liam. She owed it to Killian to investigate his brother’s shady actions, even if he wouldn’t appreciate her for it.
————-
Liam rubbed his hands together, watching as the pages floated down into the well and disappeared into the water, wishing that the ink hadn’t stained his hands so badly, and he heaved another sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been since seeing his brother once more. But all would be well. He would not have to answer Killian about what he had done, and Killian would never find out about his mistakes. He would remain a hero in his little brother’s eyes. They could move on from this place together. He would finally have his brother back.
He was just about to turn to find a place to wash his hands of the ink that had stained them when he heard Emma’s voice.
“I thought you were inside looking for the missing pages,” she called. Liam whirled around to face her, balling his hands into fists so as to hide the stains and stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he did so in order to further conceal his treachery.
“Emma,” Liam replied, a bit breathlessly. “I thought a bit of fresh air and a change of scenery would get the inspiration flowing.”
Emma didn’t respond. She just smiled slightly, preparing to lay her trap though Liam didn’t know it. “Find anything?”
Liam shook his head minutely. “I’m afraid a ship’s captain can only be cooped up for so long. I had to come out and get some air. What brings you out here?”
Emma wondered if Liam realized how hollow his words sounded to her ears, how tinny they were with his lies, but, of course, he didn’t know about her super power. She walked closer to Liam so that he could get a good look about what she was going to show him. She hoped that the way to breach Liam’s lies was to use Killian to do it.
“I wanted to show you this,” Emma responded, pulling the chain out from under her shirt that had the ring Killian had given her in Camelot. She held the ring out as far as it would go to Liam to allow him to see what it was she beheld.
Liam leaned in a bit to look closer. “Oh. It’s the ring I gave Killian. I noticed he wasn’t wearing it.”
Emma smiled softly and played with the ring in her fingers. “Because he gave it to me,” she confirmed. “And you know what he told me when he did?” She paused and waited for Liam to shake his head before continuing. “That it belonged to a much better man than him. You’re his hero. He doesn’t think you can do any wrong…”
Liam squirmed uncomfortably, moving to scratch behind his ear in the same mannerism Killian had when he was uncomfortable. “Yes, well…” Liam tried to respond before falling silent, not knowing how to respond.
“Which is why,” Emma continued with no great concern about Liam’s feelings, “I can’t figure out why you would lie to him.” Emma stopped speaking and stared at Liam, a serious expression on her face.
Liam stared back, struck speechless by how blatantly she had called him out. Emma could tell he didn’t know what to say. He stared at her a moment before looking at the ground out of shame, and in that action Emma knew she had him. She just didn’t know what the lie was.
Before Liam could stammer out a reply, Killian joined them outside. “Liam? Emma? What’s going on?” he called out as he joined the two by the well. Killian looked between his brother and his lover, trying to puzzle out the tense air between the two people he loved most.
Liam looked to Killian and then Emma. Emma seemed as if she was content to let silence ring, so Liam responded to Killian’s question. He swallowed before saying, “She thinks I lied to you.”
“What?” Killian said under his breath, not sure if he had heard Liam right. He instinctively looked to Emma.
Emma nodded once to Liam. “He took the pages. I can prove it. Ask him to show you his hands. He’s been hiding them from me since I got here.”
Liam’s heart stopped, but he knew a way out of this trap. “Look,” he shrugged, “if it would help to clear things up, I’d be happy to.”
Emma shot him a look of challenging disbelief, but before she could accept his proposal, Killian spoke up.
“That won’t be necessary,” Killian said as he shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t need proof to know what’s really going on here. Emma, when are you gonna admit that this isn’t really about my brother?”
Emma looked taken aback, Liam noticed. Hadn’t the thought occurred to her that Killian would automatically assume that? It seemed Emma didn’t know Killian as well as she thought, Liam smugly thought to himself.
“What else would you think it’s about?” She asked slowly, confused about why Killian was questioning her motives.
Killian gestured between him and Emma with his hook. “Us,” Killian said plaintively. “You think if you can prove that Liam is a villain, then I’ll somehow feel like I was less of one. That you can convince me I’m worth saving and that we’ve got a future together.”
Liam glanced between his brother and his brother’s lover, wondering if she caught the same rough edge to Killian’s voice at that last bit that Liam had. Liam felt a surge of guilt go through his stomach at the thought that Killian’s hopes were being dashed, but Liam knew that it was for the best.
Killian walked closer to Emma, almost unconsciously, Liam noted. It seemed to him that Killian couldn’t break himself away from her no matter how much he said he wanted to. It suddenly struck Liam that he wasn’t the only one lying in this yard. In fact, Liam wondered if the only one of them telling the truth at this moment was Emma. He wondered if she were the only one who could possibly tell the truth now, as caught up in his mistakes as he was and as disappointed in himself as Killian was.
Emma’s face turned down and sadness peppered her voice. “You agree with him?” she whispered, and Liam’s heart lifted that their scrutiny seemed to be off of him and onto each other. Selfishly, he had no thought for Killian’s discomfort.
Killian shrugged. “Why bring me back if I should just love on? After we defeat Hades, I won’t be returning with you. My fate isn’t in Storybrooke. It should be determined here.” Killian’s eyes kept shifting back and forth from her eyes to the roofline of the house. He couldn’t look her in the eyes as he said his words.
Liam saw how much it hurt Killian to deny Emma the one thing that she wanted most. He wondered if she knew Killian was lying as well as Liam did.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Emma responded, tears welling in her eyes. “You can come home. You just have to forgive yourself.” Emma sighed and paused, trying to catch Killian’s eye, though he stubbornly looked over her shoulder. When she wasn’t successful, she continued, “Thing is… no matter how many times I tell you, or anybody else does, you have to do it yourself.” At that, she turned and walked past Killian towards the house.
Killian turned and shouted, “Emma!” When she didn’t stop, he made to follow her, but Liam grabbed his arm before Killian could take more than a step.
“Let her go, Killian. It’s for the best.” The sooner Killian could let Emma go, the sooner he could move on with Liam. Liam knew that desperately holding onto the ties to the Living was the reason why so many people down here couldn’t move on. Killian going after her would only delay the inevitable.
Killian sighed in frustration and looked down at the hand restraining him. He loved his brother, but he was really getting annoyed with the man. If he were to move on, he didn’t want things between him and Emma to have ended in strife and pain. He was just about to retort this to Liam when his eyes processed why Killian hadn’t looked back up to his brother’s face. Liam did have ink stains on his hands. Ink stains that Killian knew hadn’t been there when they arrived at the mansion. Ink stains much like the ones he himself had incurred when he rifled through the book’s pages in search of Hades’ story.
“Your hand,” he mumbled, dumbfounded. “You are hiding something.”
Liam tried to jerk his hand back, but it was too late. Killian grabbed Liam’s arm and held it up so he could check to make sure he had seen ink stains.
“It’s nothing,” Liam halfheartedly to excuse.
Killian stared at his brother’s hand uncomprehendingly. “It’s ink from the pages. Emma was right,” he said softly. Killian swallowed and looked up to stare his brother in the eyes. “Why would you lie to me?!”
Liam tried to find the words to explain, but his voice died in his throat. To be honest about this would mean admitting to what he had done, to the deal with Hades, all of it. Liam didn’t have it in him to admit to those failings, but how could he lie to Killian otherwise?
“Because…” called out a voice. Liam and Killian both turned to see their old captain, John Silver, approaching them with the rest of their old crew. “He’s got much bigger secrets than what’s in some book. Like the truth about what he did to us.”
Killian turned to Liam, his eyes blazing with a hard, desperate look. “What’s he talking about? What did you do?”
Liam looked back at his brother, pain and tears in his eyes. He stuttered, trying to find the words that could somehow both explain and excuse what he did, but they wouldn’t come. He knew that nothing he said would mend what was now breaking between them. Killian, in spite of his quick temper and tendency to seek vengeance as retribution for wrongs committed against him, had always had a very healthy streak of justice running through his veins. Perhaps it had been because their mother had died young and their father had abandoned them, perhaps it had been because the navy had given him purpose; Liam didn’t know. What he did know was that Killian had always, always believed in good form, in helping others less fortunate than they, in always making the right choices, in fighting against tyranny and those who would mistreat others for their own gains. And this, Liam was ashamed to admit, was the very opposite of good form his brother had always believed in, and that he, Liam, had tried to foster in his younger brother as they had grown up.
Liam had sowed the seeds long ago, and now he was going to reap the benefits, no matter how hard and difficult.
“Your brother made a deal with the devil,” Silver answered when it looked like Liam would say nothing. “He allowed us to die in that storm that sank our ship in exchange for the Eye of the Storm. Hades struck that deal with him to save you and condemn us to die.”
Killian stared at Silver in shock before turning to Liam. “Is this true?” Killian asked, shock and disgust coloring his voice. As he looked at the anguish on Liam’s face, Killian knew it was true, and the image of his brother, his unfailing, strong, heroic brother, began at last to fracture and crumble.
Liam swallowed and nodded once. “It’s true.”
Liam watched as awareness of just how wrong about h is brother Killian had been made its way into Killian’s eyes. There was no going back from this. He stood staring at his brother helplessly, not knowing how to right the wrongs, only stirring when Silver spoke.
“Tie ‘em up and take them away, boys,” Silver demanded.
Before he could utter a word in protest, Silver then signaled to the rest of his crew to carry on with binding them up with rope. They took Liam’s hands and bound them behind his back, and he watched helplessly as they did the same to Killian. Killian tried to fight them off in typical Killian fashion, but there were too many of them. Killian had always been more of a fighter than he; Liam had always been more of a pacifist, only fighting when absolutely necessary but reluctant to stir up the status quo when it wasn’t.
Liam had always believed that there were certain facts that were incontrovertible, certain situations that one couldn’t change, so fighting them was pointless. It felt to him as if this situation they were in was one of the latter ones. What was the point of fighting now? He deserved whatever fate that his old crew members had in store for him. He just regretted that Killian had been dragged into this and be made to pay for Liam’s own follies.
Killian continued to struggle even as the men threw bags over their heads. Liam wondered whether Killian, as a pirate captain, was plotting out a violent and bloody way out. He thought not, as he rather got the impression that Killian didn’t actually want to hurt the men. When they had successfully bound Liam and Killian, they began frog marching them to Hades only knew what destination. As they tripped and stumbled along, Silver began to talk.
“Imagine my surprise when I came down to the bar for my nightly drink, Liam, and saw that Hades had paid you a visit. Up until that point, I had no idea what had transpired to cause our deaths. I have to hand it to you, you sure did manage to cover up your tracks. I never would have suspected it if I hadn’t heard Hades allude to it.”
“Hades wanted you to hear it,” Liam muttered resentfully.
“It is a rather juicy detail, you have to admit,” Silver retorted. “If it were your death, you’d be interested in it, too.”
“I can’t believe you sentenced them to death all because Hades wanted you to,” Killian gritted out towards his brother, ignoring Silver’s words.
Liam gritted his teeth against his brother’s censure, desperately aware of the audience they had. “Don’t deny you would have done the same thing! You always talked of getting vengeance,” he deflected.
Killian snarled. “Justice! I always talked of justice! But what you did wasn’t justice; it was vengeance.”
“Oh what’s the difference, Killian? They deserved what they got in the end.”
Without quite realizing it, they had arrived at the entrance to the building that housed the entrance to the Boiling Sea where final judgment occurred. Everyone stopped as two of the crew members went to open the outer doors, though Killian and Liam could not see this.
“The difference?” Killian echoed in amazement. “Only innocent lives, Liam! That’s the difference! How many of these men deserved retribution? How many of them directly attacked us? I only remember one who did. I can’t believe you would condemn them to this hell.”
“You have no idea what it was like, always having to look after both of us, not having someone else to bear the burden of making sure that we were clean or had food. Of making sure you didn’t succumb to the darkness inside you! I gave up everything to make sure you had a future! I was more a father than a brother to you, and because of that I did what I had to do.”
“I didn’t ask you to be that! You took that burden up all on your own! And what did it get you? I still succumbed to my darkness, and you blackened your heart for yours!” Killian shouted, enraged at Liam’s pigheaded attempts at justifying his actions. “And what’s worse is you lied about it. You looked me in the eye and lied. You hurt Emma, damn near convinced me that my future wasn’t with her, and you took away our best chance of defeating Hades.”
“I did everything I did to save you!”
“Well, congratulations!” Killian snarled in response. “You did an excellent job of it! And to hell with everyone else in the process!”
“It was worth it to have a chance to save you from the darkness,” Liam protested once more.
“You didn’t save me from my darkness; I saved myself! I took it in and damn near destroyed it for good!”
“All because of her! Emma doesn’t are about you, only herself! She is the absolute worst thing for you.”
“Milah, my ex, was the worst thing for me! She encouraged the darkness inside of me. Emma has been the inspiration for me to be better, to be the man I want to be. But you’ve never had that kind of influence, so you just keep giving into your darkness! You lie and you let others die for you and your selfish desires! When does this end Liam?! You’re the one who’s endangered me this very moment!”
Liam stared towards Killian helplessly though he couldn’t see him, knowing that he was right. Liam was still succumbing to his inner darkness. Killian surely hadn’t fed his own to the extent that Liam had his, even through all his years as a pirate hunting down the Dark One. But Liam didn’t know a way out. Liam didn’t see a way to stop this. As sure as the world, he was about to pay for his sins, and Killian was about to pay the price for a crime he hadn’t committed.
The crew finally wrenched the heavy doors open, and Silver pushed Liam through the threshold. The last thing he saw before the crew members finally wrenched open the doors was Killian’s anguished blue eyes staring back at him as if he didn’t know him. Liam knew with absolute certainty that his story ended here.
#Anmylica writes#Like Slow Spinning Redemption#once upon a time#captain swan#emma swan#killian jones#ouat#captain hook#cs fanfic#cs angst
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Canticum Sanguinis Lux - Igniculus (2/?)
Summary: Once, all Emma Nolan wanted was a normal life, but when she had a run in with a vampire as a teenager she realised that she couldn’t escape the life of a hunter. Now all she wants to do is prove herself, and she’s going to end up going above and beyond to be the hunter the world needs her to be.
Rating: Explicit. Mostly for graphic descriptions of violence, and some smut, but not until later chapters.
Warnings: There are hints at the non con nature of the control vampires can have over humans.
Length: should be eight chapters.?
Notes: Well, oooops. So, the rest of this is waaaaaay later going up than I had hoped, apologies to everyone that has been waiting for it. Unfortunately, this is still not completely finished. The main part of the story is, and I’m just drawing blanks on the epilogue. I’m hoping that the words I have written getting some love might inspire me to get it done, because, yes, I wrote what I want to write, for me, but nothing gives me the warm and fuzzies like comments from you wonderful lot! Thank you for your patience!
Thanks to the @cssns mods for running this event, thank you to @clockadile for the gorgeous banner. Lastly, thank you to @kmomof4, who not only is an amazing beta, but volunteered to deal with my panics and the amount of hitting my head against a wall that this has made me do. Thank you so much, I could not have done this without you.
Tagging: @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @wefoundloveunderthelight @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @jonesfandomfanatic @tiganasummertree @onceratheart18 @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @itsfabianadacarmo @ouatpost @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @thepirateandhisson @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @captainswan21 @spaceconveyor @pirateprincessofpizza @sparlecorn93 @hollyethecurious @ammelia
As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)
Also on AO3
- - - - -
It was late, early by his reckoning, but Killian didn’t exactly prescribe to a normal pattern of living. Not by human standards, anyway. For a vampire his life was… no, even for a vampire his life wasn’t normal.
Vampires lived in covens, governed by a leader, and their rule was absolute.
Killian was not part of a coven, had not been for some decades now, and lived alone, occasionally taking in the odd waif or stray who had found themselves in dire straits. He’d made a lot of friends that way, knew a lot of people of varying species who were willing to give him information and tip offs if he needed them.
Like the news he’d had that the Gold coven had upped the bounty on a specific hunter’s head, yet again, because last week Killian had stepped in before she’d even known she was being tailed and wasted another vampire that had decided to take her down. Emma had made the initial kill, to which Gold heartily objected, some time ago, but really she had only been doing her job. Killian had sent a message to Gold warning him to keep his underlings in line only days before the first incident.
Gold had ignored him, as had the vampire in question, and they’d been left staked for the sunrise.
It was a painful way to go, but this vampire had a particularly cruel streak when it came to their human victims. They were part of a small crowd that insisted pain made human blood taste the sweetest. Emma had grown more and more ruthless in her tactics in recent years, notably since her return from time abroad, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her for that, all things considered.
He leaned heavily against the sink, taking in his reflection as he thought about how this was not going according to plan at all. When he’d seen her take down Walsh Osbourne five years ago, something had struck him about the young huntress with her golden hair and the unmistakable use of magic to waste the vampire who’d been seconds from sinking his fangs into her neck.
He closed his eyes and he could see it, the way the moonlight caught her hair, the way her body had been hugged by that sinful, hot pink dress. How she’d smelled, even over the stink of the alley and how the sight of Walsh’s hands on her skin had made his skin prickle with anger and a desire to rip her away from him.
He hadn’t recognised it for what it was back then, but now he’d spent years watching her work. Years seeing her in action with her family and without. He’d seen or heard about everything. The highs and the lows.
But with the bounty on Emma Swan’s head now even higher, and the information he’d had from his friend on the police force that Emma had, for once, set her sights on a human quarry who had skipped bail, Killian knew he wasn’t going to be able to risk not checking up on her tonight, when she wouldn’t be expecting a supernatural attack. He only hoped this need to watch over and protect her was unnecessary. But his instincts were rarely wrong, and he wasn’t going to take that chance. Not with her life.
So he left the bathroom, and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of blood, twisting off the cap and chugging it down with no real ceremony. It was a function of his life he’d long since stopped enjoying, but if he was to survive, to make sure there was someone out there trying to make sure no one went on a rampage, well… It was the least he could do to avenge those he’d lost.
While he couldn’t make a move on Gold alone, he could at least stop him forming his own militia the way he had once used the Jones brothers.
No, Killian would not be used like that again.
- - - - -
Continues on AO3
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My contribution to the ‘Heatwave Collection’
With the hot temperatures that many people have been experiencing recently, several of us have written Captain Swan ‘heatwave stories’. The idea was suggested by @cs-rylie on the CSMM Discord, so I owe her thanks for that, and also for looking over this story as I wrote it. Of course, @hookedmom was once again my fabulous beta, catching all my errors, and giving helpful suggestions to make this story better.
You can find the ‘Heatwave Collection’ on Ao3 here. Be sure to check out all the great stories!
SUMMARY: A heatwave in Storybrooke has everyone on edge, and Emma is feeling the heat of being the town sheriff. Her pirate takes it upon himself to help his wife find some relief from the weather and the pressures of her job.
Rating: M
Words: 3623
Also found on Ao3 and ffn
*********
“Good afternoon, Love,” Killian greeted as he entered the stuffy confines of the Storybrooke police station.
Emma looked up from the paperwork she was attempting to put in order, but was being hindered by the oscillating fan sitting on the corner of her desk. How could her husband look so damn hot when it was…so damn hot? Even the way the sweaty, rogue strands of hair fell across his forehead into his eyes was sexy.
“What’s good about it?” she grumbled.
He crossed the room in four quick strides, his smile fading a bit as he took in his wife’s scowling face. “Something wrong, Swan?”
“Wrong? Oh, no, nothing’s wrong,” she spat sarcastically. “The heat is just making every citizen in this town lose their damn mind! And of course, it’s the sheriff’s job to solve all the problems around here, so half the morning was spent running from dwarf to dwarf, trying to figure out who stole whose fan. Then there was the case of the fender bender in the grocery store parking lot, where the worst damage was the ice cream that melted all over the back seat, while they waited for me to arrive. I caught hell for that! It’s not my fault it’s almost a hundred degrees and nobody can handle it!”
Recalling how they both used those same words in the sultry jungle of Neverland before their first kiss, Killian smirked, which was probably the worst thing he could have done at that moment. When Emma looked up and caught sight of his expression, she jumped up from her chair, her hands in fists as she leaned on her desk. “What the hell is so funny, Jones?”
He held his hand up placatingly. “Calm down, Swan, I’m not making light of your challenging day. I was simply reminded of those particular words being used several years ago, while experiencing a different sort of simmering heat.”
Her brows scrunched together as she tried to decipher his meaning. He could tell the exact moment she figured it out, because her face melted into a soft smile. “Oh, yeah. Well, that heat was much more fun.”
“Aye, and it still is,” he purred, sauntering up beside her and rubbing his hook against her hip, while his hand slid up her bare arm. Her attire of a tank top and khaki shorts wasn’t exactly professional, but he couldn’t say he minded.
“Don’t start anything, Killian. This office is a furnace and I’m a sweaty mess.”
“You look ravishing, Darling.”
She rolled her eyes disbelievingly, but couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from turning up a bit. “All the same, in this heat, even fooling around with my hot husband doesn’t sound appealing.”
“In that case, what do you say we sail away, Love?”
Emma sighed. “I can’t, Babe. I’m supposed to be in the office until five, so I’ve still got a couple hours of insanity left.”
“I would say you’ve done enough for the fair citizens of Storybrooke today. Let them figure out their own issues for the remainder of your shift. Just think how lovely it would be to feel the sea breeze in your hair and on your face.”
“Don’t tempt me. You know Madam Mayor would be after my head if she hears I left work early.”
He nuzzled behind her ear, murmuring, “Regina doesn’t intimidate me. Besides, this pretty head belongs to me, Mrs. Jones.”
“Killian,” she groaned, though her attempt at rebuffing him didn’t have much effect, since she was tilting her head to allow him access to the column of her throat.
“You know you want to get away from here,” he whispered. “No more dwarves, no more hot office, no more complaints. Just you,” he paused to nibble on her collarbone, “me,” another love bite, “and the Jolly Roger. I’ll even mix up some of your favorite concoction to bring along.”
“Rum punch?” she asked breathlessly.
“Mmhmm. What do you say, Love?”
“I say you had me at ‘no more dwarves’.”
*********
An hour later, Emma left the station and walked toward the harbor. Her purposeful stride gave the impression she was on her way to take care of another complaint, giving none of the people she passed on the street any reason to think otherwise.
She avoided Any Given Sundae, knowing there would be quite a crowd there seeking some temporary relief with a frozen treat. Turning down a back alley, she nearly broke into a run, anxious to get to her husband’s ship…and her husband. After his ‘encouragement‘ at the station, she felt like all the heat had relocated to the apex of her thighs.
When the Jolly Roger came into sight, she was relieved to see that it was prepared to depart. She never doubted Killian when he said he would have everything ready, but she also knew how it worked in this town. He could have been waylaid by any number of people, including her mom, dad or Henry. Luckily, he appeared to have avoided everyone.
Her excitement grew when he emerged onto the deck, dressed in a navy T-shirt and gray cargo shorts. She never thought she would see the day when her pirate would be attired in such modern clothes, but Killian had adapted to his new way of life quite easily, once she convinced him that she found him to be just as sexy in casual clothes as he was in his leather pants and duster. She did sometimes miss his red embroidered vest, but when she voiced that thought, he was always happy to accommodate her in the privacy of their bedroom, often in role-play of ‘the princess and the pirate’.
Glancing over her shoulder one last time, she sprinted up the gangplank and skidded to a stop on the polished deck of the ship. Killian rarely took the Jolly out on the open sea anymore, but he paid careful attention to keeping her in tip-top shape.
“Alright, let’s get out of here,” she panted.
“Are you being pursued, Swan?” he asked, scanning the streets behind her.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
He chuckled, beginning to untie the mooring lines, and she quickly moved to help. As soon as the ship was loose from the dock, Killian took his place at the helm and expertly steered it toward the mouth of the harbor.
Emma moved to the bow, leaning into the breeze as it filled the sails and the ship picked up speed. The air against her face was still quite warm, but at least it was moving, unlike the stagnant air in town.
The further they got away from Storybrooke, the more she relaxed and felt a deep appreciation for her husband, who knew exactly what she needed. His long ago claim of reading her like an open book was just as true now as it was when she was denying it on the beanstalk.
She stayed at the front of the ship, even though she usually liked to join Killian at the wheel whenever they went sailing. She always admired his expertise and command of the vessel, how he and the Jolly worked together in a sort of synchronized dance. But today, as she rested her elbows on the smooth wood of the bow, she knew the view she was giving her husband was driving him crazy. If she added a little extra sway to her ass, well, after the day she had, who could blame her?
When she finally chanced a look back over her shoulder, she was surprised to see that the town was already nothing but a dot on the horizon. As her gaze moved to the captain, she immediately realized what effect her little show was having on him. His eyes blazed into her with a fiery intensity, and the grip he had on the wheel told her he was willing the ship to move even faster to put more space between them and Storybrooke.
Emma sent him a seductive wink and turned back to the water in front of her. As her fingers tightened on the wood, she felt sparks of magic flowing through them, and soon the ship noticeably picked up speed. The wind was cooler out on the open sea, and feeling relief from the oppressive heat for the first time all day, she closed her eyes. The sound of the seagulls above them and the taste of the salty spray on her tongue relaxed her further, and she didn’t even realize when the ship began to slow down.
The next thing she knew, strong arms were wrapping around her waist and a scruffy chin was rubbing against her cheek. She hummed and turned her head to find his lips, sharing a lazy kiss with him.
“Feeling better, Love?” he murmured, scattering kisses behind her ear.
“Mmm, yeah. Much better. Thank you, Killian. You always know what I need.”
“Aye, but I believe I can make you feel even better.”
“Oh, really?” she smirked. “How do you propose to do that?”
“First of all, let’s start with a nice, cool dip…”
She looked around to see where the ship was anchored, and recognized the little cove immediately. It was a secluded spot they discovered on one of their first excursions after they were married, and never shared the location with anyone, not even Henry. They thought of it as their own private oasis.
“And after that?” she asked, running her hands over his chest.
“Well, that’s when the fun begins,” he grinned, echoing more words from their time in Neverland.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement at his intentions. They had been married for over two years, and their sex life was still fantastic, but they were constantly looking for ways to spice it up.
“Come on, Swan,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her along behind him across the deck. “We’re wasting daylight.”
When she moved toward the hatch leading down to his cabin, he tugged her over to the side where the rowboat was hanging instead. “Killian, I have to get my swimsuit,” she protested.
“No swimsuits allowed, Darling.”
She squeezed his hand. “I like that plan, Pirate.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because I do intend to pillage and plunder.” He came to a stop beside the smaller boat and looked at her salaciously, his tongue poking into his cheek and his left brow high on his forehead.
A hot rush, completely unlike what she’d been experiencing all day, ran through her body. She eagerly scrambled to get into the rowboat, feeling him swat her on the ass as she did. Looking at him over her shoulder, she saw his smoldering look and a shiver went up her spine. This man of hers could elicit so many reactions from her with just his facial expressions.
When they were settled in the boat and had worked together to lower it into the smooth glass of the water, he rowed them ashore with strong, swift strokes. One oar had been altered to accommodate his hook, but it still never ceased to amaze her how efficiently he could perform tasks which usually required two hands.
They reached the shallows and Emma hopped out to begin pulling the boat onto the beach. Once it was nestled on the sand, Killian disembarked, quickly taking off his hook and modern brace, while Emma removed her tank top and shorts.
When Killian finished, he looked up to see his wife’s nearly nude form, licking his lips at the sight. She stepped toward him and slid her hands under his T-shirt, slowly bunching it up until he raised his arms so she could strip it off of him.
Her hands next moved to the snap of his shorts, popping it open, dragging the zipper down over his semi-hard length, then pushing the fabric off his hips to pool at his feet. They took time to engage in a long, passionate kiss as their hands roamed over each other’s body, only pulling away to remove their final pieces of clothing.
When he began backing her up the beach, Emma simpered, “I thought we were going for a swim first.”
“I think we’ll begin with a different pleasurable activity, since your little show on the Jolly has gotten me quite worked up, you minx.”
She batted her lashes at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”
Killian growled and bent over to place his arms under her thighs, hoisting her up and over his shoulder. As she playfully slapped his firm buttocks and giggled, he strode across the sand into the shade of the trees. Lowering her to a soft patch of tall grass, he hovered over her, leaning on his forearms. “Here I am, trying to guide my ship, while my wife leans over the bow, wiggling her pretty little ass in front of me, testing all of my sailing skills. Now you shall pay, bloody temptress.”
She couldn’t contain the deep laugh bubbling up from her belly, but it quickly turned to a moan as he nudged her legs apart and rubbed his now rigid cock against her center. His tongue licked at the salty skin between her breasts, then nipped at the sensitive underside of them.
Her hands reached up to grab fistfuls of grass beside her head, trying to anchor herself from floating away because of the extremely pleasurable sensations he was causing. Shifting his weight to his left arm, he used his fingers to test her readiness, finding her slick already. “You certainly are overheated, my love,” he crooned, pumping two fingers into her.
“I need you,” she panted. “Please Killian, don’t make me wait.”
“Well, since you insisted on using that lovely bottom to tease me all the way here, I think it’s only fair that I get to have it in front of me now.”
She opened her eyes and blinked at him, pushing through the waves of bliss to understand his meaning. When she finally comprehended, her lips turned up in a sensuous smile and she urged him to move to the side, enabling her to get up on her hands and knees. Swaying her hips back and forth, she looked over her shoulder and smirked, “You promised to pillage and plunder, Pirate. Time for you to deliver.”
He dipped his head to give her a sly look through his thick, dark lashes, as he scooted to kneel directly behind her. “As you wish, Darling,” he said, his voice deep and raspy with desire. Using his wrist on her left hip to steady her, he grasped his cock with his hand and guided it to her entrance. After rubbing it through her arousal a few times, he plunged home in one swift stroke.
The obscene moan his wife released upon being filled required him to set a fast pace. He thrust into her frantically, and she pushed her hips back at him on each withdrawal, signifying her need for more…harder…faster. Their bodies were so in tune with each other, there was no need for words; yet the filthy ones falling from her lips spurred him on even more.
When his orgasm began tingling at the base of his spine, he moved his hand from her hip to her clit, rubbing and pinching the overly sensitive nub and quickly bringing her to the brink. She cried out her release as her cunt clamped tightly around his cock, giving him no choice but to follow her over the blissful edge.
Her shaking arms wouldn’t hold her up any longer and she dropped down onto her forearms, gasping for breath. Killian continued to rut into her as the aftershocks rolled through them and his cock softened inside her. He ran his hand up her side to fondle her breast and tease her nipple, trying to draw out the pleasure for both of them.
When he finally withdrew, Emma completely collapsed on the ground, then slowly rolled over to look at him, a lazy smile on her lips.
“Is my saucy wench satisfied?” he drawled.
“Mmm…maybe.”
His brow shot up. “Maybe?”
“I mean, I do feel thoroughly pillaged, but I’m not so sure about being plundered.”
In a flash, he jumped to his feet and scooped her up. She squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck, kicking her feet helplessly as he stalked toward the water. Wading in mid-thigh, he swung her back and tossed her unceremoniously into the drink.
She came up sputtering and wiping the hair out of her face. When she could see clearly again, she took in the form of her husband, standing proudly with his arms crossed, naked as the day he was born. Instead of moving toward him, she turned and swam away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist coming after her.
Sure enough, she soon felt his hand wrap around her ankle, tugging her backwards. She didn’t put up much resistance, preferring to be in his arms. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her waist, nibbling at her ear lobe. “Trying to escape, my love?”
“I thought pirates liked hunting for their treasure,” she laughed.
“Mmm, and you are most certainly a treasure,” he assured her. “The greatest treasure I’ve ever had the privilege of finding.”
She turned in his arms, sliding her hands up his muscular chest, mesmerized by the water droplets dripping down his body. When her eyes met his, she was once again rendered breathless by the depth of the love she saw in them. No matter how long they were together, she still found it difficult to believe that someone could love her so completely.
“I love you,” she breathed.
He grinned and bent to kiss her, loving the salty taste of her lips. “And I, you,” he whispered against them.
They sank down into the water until they were submerged to their shoulders, then Killian encouraged her to relax against him, floating on her back with his arms supporting her from underneath. When he determined her to be calm and weightless, he began running his fingers lightly and teasingly across her skin, kissing whatever body parts were accessible to him above the water. His aim was not to arouse, but to bring her the pleasure of being worshiped by her true love, and the small sounds she was making let him know he was achieving his goal.
“This is heaven,” she sighed and heard his low hum of agreement. “I wish we didn’t have to go back tonight.”
“We don’t.”
She opened her eyes. “Killian, we can’t just disappear overnight. People will worry and Henry…”
“I sent a message to Henry telling him we wouldn’t be home tonight. He’s planning to stay at Regina’s. I also messaged your father so they wouldn’t worry. The rest of the town doesn’t need to know where you’ve gone. Perhaps they’ll appreciate you more if they know you’re not always at their beck and call for every trivial thing. We’ll return tomorrow morning after a relaxing night at sea.”
“You really are the best, Babe.”
“I simply know the needs of my lady love.”
They continued to float and frolic in the cool, refreshing water until the sun began to dip below the horizon. After swimming closer to the shore, they stood up and walked hand-in-hand onto the beach, collecting their clothes and pulling them on over their wet bodies. Killian sank down on the sand and directed Emma to sit between his legs, leaning back against his chest to watch the sky change colors. He was pleased to see how serene she was, after witnessing how stressed she had been earlier that day.
When the light was nearly gone, they silently got into the rowboat and made their way back to his ship. After climbing aboard and securing the small boat, he bade her to stay up on deck, while he went below, emerging a few minutes later carrying a large wicker basket.
“I hope that has food in it, because I’m starving,” Emma said.
He eyed her with mock disdain. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t supply my beloved wife with sustenance?”
She giggled as he set the basket down and opened it. First, he pulled out a blanket and she helped him lay it out on the deck. Then he removed sandwiches, fruit, cheese and crackers. Next came a thermos, which she assumed contained the promised rum punch, and two glasses. Finally, he removed a lighter and a pair of candles in jars.
“Wow, Babe. You thought of everything,” Emma praised.
“I wanted to make this as relaxing for you as possible, after the trying day you had, Love.”
She leaned in to give him a kiss, then they seated themselves on the blanket. Opening the thermos, she poured them each a drink, as he lit the candles. They ate their dinner while watching the stars blink across the sky, sharing bits of conversation now and then, but mostly just enjoying the peace and quiet.
When they finished, he caught his wife yawning and suggested turning in for the night. She readily agreed and they packed everything back into the basket. Killian helped her to her feet and she wrapped herself around him, sighing into his chest. “You managed to turn a terribly frustrating day into something very special. Thank you, Killian.”
Combing his fingers through her tangled hair, he quietly replied, “You’re welcome, Love. You can count on me anytime you need to get away.”
“If this heatwave continues, it might become a daily thing.”
His laugh rumbled under her cheek. “I can’t say I would mind that at all.”
*********
Tagging: @xsajx @hookedmom @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @cocohook38 @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere@fallingforthecaptain @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelousmorgan @justanother-unluckysoul @mrs-potato-but-likes-tomato @anothersworld @deckerstarblanche @purplehawkcaptain @superchocovian @k-leemac @citygirlscowboy @laughterandbooks @sotangledupinit @apiratewhopines @huntressandlioness1 @cosette141 @gingerpolyglot @motherkatereloyshipper @cs-rylie
#csff#captain swan fan fiction#a pirate's guide to surviving the heat#jrob64#heatwave story#CS humor and fluff#cs fanfiction#ouat captain swan fanfic#captain swan fanfiction#captain swan fic#smut#canon compliant#CS fic
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Not a day will go by (9/?)
Hello my patient friends! Sorry for the wait! It won't be this long again (for real this time)! This is a Christmas fic for last year's Secret Santa, and I've given myself a deadline to finish it before this year's secret Santa.
Specifically, I'm trying to finish before December 18, which is mine and @cosette141's birthday!
Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading and leaving comments--they keep me going when my brain refuses to write! Thanks especially to @MotherKat for being the best beta EVER!
I'm going all out in November, and I've actually already got Chapter 10 written!! So it won't be too long!
Tagging: @resident-of-storybrooke, @everything-person, @teamhook
AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9
Summary: He may not remember his present, but she doesn't know his past. If she did, she wouldn't have married him… right?
Let’s go home .
She’d said it so simply, leading him back to the yellow machine, as if the concept of home was a given. A home they evidently shared. With a boy who he supposed was his… stepson. Because that had gone so well for him in the past.
Home .
The Jolly was his home. Perhaps he should start staying there, rather than in that house he didn’t remember. Should he suggest it? She’d probably be relieved. Or perhaps she’d worry that he’d simply sail away. Perhaps she’d be right.
“Babe?” Her voice jolted Hook out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d hesitated outside the door of the building.
He looked at her, working out how to phrase his intention to return to his ship without arousing her suspicions. “I don’t –” he began.
She’d started talking at the same time, her face falling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t – Killian. Probably not Babe right now, right?” she laughed awkwardly. Truthfully, he hadn’t been called by his given name for so long that it felt more familiar than any pet name, but he elected not to correct her. Leaning against the wall, she let out a breath when he didn’t finish his thought. “Is something wrong?”
Hook tried to find the words he’d come up with, but she looked so… tired. “Nothing,” he said finally.
Emma looked at him for a long moment, searching. Hook had been prepared for the suspicion in her eyes. He hadn’t been prepared for what else he saw there. It was nothing he could easily name, but it made his lips go dry. Breaking eye contact, Hook started walking in what he hoped was the correct direction, if he’d oriented himself correctly – being instantly transported what seemed to be at least a mile was testing the limits of his sense of direction – but he had a feeling that this was the right way. To his relief, Emma began to walk beside him.
They walked in an uncomfortable silence for a time, until Emma cleared her throat. “So… I guess we’re going to have to tell Henry.”
Hook frowned. He’d thought he was doing alright at deceiving the boy. “Are we?”
She looked at him like he was talking nonsense. Again. “It’s a little big to keep from him, right? And maybe… maybe he can help.” She smiled fondly. “This kind of thing is kind of right up his alley.”
Hook opened his mouth to ask what exactly qualified under this kind of thing . But he couldn’t stop seeing the looks directed his way in that little room just now – the significant glances as certain things went unsaid. He… owns the local pawn shop .
So he asked a different question. “What are you going to tell him?”
She looked a bit pained. “ We are going to tell him the truth.” Shooting him a sidelong look, she added, “An… age appropriate version, if you don’t mind.”
Ahh, after his slip-up, she’d lost any faith in his ability to regulate his mouth. That had been an error, but clearly she had no idea just how much he had managed to keep to himself. And that, of course, was how it would stay. To demonstrate, he only grunted his agreement.
“And hey,” Emma added after a moment. “Maybe you’ll remember much you – how fond you are of the kid.”
Hook grimaced. So it was true, his future self had been playing at fatherhood. And here he thought he’d learned from his mistakes.
Suddenly, the woman beside him took his hand.
“Hey,” she said, pausing in their walk. “What are you thinking?”
He was thinking that trusting him with a child’s well being was ill-advised, but he wasn’t fool enough to say it, so he remained silent. It was only when she squeezed his hand that he realized that, almost of their own accord, his fingers had laced through hers. This betrayal by his own remaining limb shocked him into honesty. “That I’m not exactly stepfather material.”
Her mouth opened in surprise. Fool , he chided himself. He removed his hand from hers and started walking again, faster.
“Killian,” she said, arresting him. Facing away from her, he didn’t have to see her face. Instead, he saw another face. It had been so long since he’d indulged in this particular remembrance that the face in his mind seemed to have changed, attaining a marked resemblance to Emma’s boy. He felt a wave of grief he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge for longer than he could recall.
“Killian!” she said again. He turned to face her. “You’re a wonderful stepfather.” She radiated sincerity, but she didn’t know . She looked so bloody sympathetic . “I can see why you might… doubt this, but you’re actually a great role model.” She smiled mischievously at him. “Most of the time.”
He felt the strange urge to reveal a part of his past that would doubtless make her question this strange opinion she seemed to have formed of his suitability. To unburden himself – no , to make her see why whatever perfect man she thought she’d married was a lie. Then perhaps she’d let him go.
“There are things…” he said, keeping his voice steady with more effort than it usually took. “In my past… things you couldn’t possibly –”
Incredibly, her face cleared. She reached out to touch his face, and he managed not to pull away. “Oh,” she said, as if she understood, although there was no way she could. “You’re thinking about Baelfire.”
Hook froze.
Impossible.
“How…” he breathed. “How do you…”
“Killian,” she said gently. “Do you really think I married you without knowing the significant events in your life?”
He found himself unable to answer. How could he open his mouth and say yes, of course he thought that. Why would a woman like she seemed to be have married him otherwise? “I…” he managed to say, with effort. “I told you?”
“You told me all of it, eventually,” she said. But she couldn’t possibly know what all of it entailed, not if she was looking at him with such… sympathy in her eyes. She bit her lip suddenly, taking his hand. “But some of it… I heard from Baelfire.”
The words knocked him breathless for the second time in as many minutes. He was vaguely aware that he was being led into the relative privacy of a small alley behind a shop, but his thoughts were a jumble.
“Baelfire?” he rasped. “You… you’ve met him? He survived?” Hook had always wondered what became of the boy after his escape. When he’d let himself think about it at all, he’d feared the worst, and laid the blame… where it belonged. The guilt hung heavy around his neck–guilt he allowed himself to feel for precious few of his crimes.
She looked very sad, suddenly. “He survived Neverland, yes. He got out. But…” As Emma trailed off, closing her eyes, Hook could see the truth in her face. He started to ask something – anything – but found himself unable to speak.
Emma took his hand and held it to her face, which he found strangely comforting. Softly, she continued. “He forgave you, you know. Before the end.” Hook shook his head, denying the possibility. “It’s true, you made up,” she continued, quietly but firmly. He tried his damndest to maintain his skepticism, but the sincerity in her eyes left no room for doubt. Still, he kept shaking his head, because it was all he could do. Baelfire . Milah’s boy.
Somehow, without realizing she’d drawn towards him, he was in Emma’s arms, utterly disgracing himself. He had never shed a tear over Bae. He’d used the last of his tears up after Milah, he’d always believed. But perhaps the grief had always been there, just waiting for somewhere safe to be expressed. Safe . With this woman? This stranger ? She was probably repulsed by his show of weakness, in broad daylight behind a shop that sold shoes.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but as his senses filtered back, he could feel one of her hands rubbing his back, feel fingers running through his hair. Could hear soft words, gentle words, whispered in his ear. No one had ever… no one had ever tolerated such a display from him. Nor would he have given anyone the chance. Not since he was almost too small to remember… Not since he’d realized his father wasn’t coming back.
Hook jerked up suddenly, mortified. What had possessed him to take leave of his senses that way? He had never, never let himself break down like that in front of another person–if he ever had at all. He couldn’t bear to look at her, to see the expression . A grimace, surely? No, somehow she didn’t seem the type. Pity, then. Any revulsion, she’d be kind enough to hide. Steeling himself, he straightened. With more reluctance than he’d like to think about, he pulled out of her arms, and finally looked her in the eye.
And found he couldn’t look away.
There were tears in her eyes too. Not pity, no. But sympathy. Even… understanding. Perhaps even… well. Something more.
He cleared his throat. “I… apologize,” he said stiffly, “for–”
“Hey,” Emma said softly. “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I should’ve realized you’d have to grieve him again.” She took his hand yet again. “But you know… in a way, he’s not really gone.”
Hook frowned. “What way is that, precisely?”
“Well, Henry’s his son.”
Hook staggered back. Just when he’d thought the earth-shattering revelations were done for the day. “He’s what?” At Emma’s small smile and nod, he shook his head, unable to process. “But how ?”
“Hoo boy,” Emma said gravely. “I kind of thought at your age you’d have figured out the facts of life. Okay, so sometimes, when a man and a woman–”
“I know bloody how! ” Hook said quickly. Did she really think–no, of course she didn’t. Her eyes were twinkling at him. Catching himself about to smile back, he frowned instead. “But he was… he was a child! ”
“Umm, yeah. He was a child. Like twenty through two hundred years ago. The thing about not being in Neverland is… you grow up. By the time we met, even physically, he was older than me.”
Hook tried to readjust some things in his head. Of course Baelfire was older than Emma–Bae had likely been older than anyone else alive, saving himself. And perhaps the Crocodile, if he somehow still walked the earth. But it still felt strange to think of him with a son . A son with… Hook’s wife? He put a hand to his head, trying to understand. Realizing he’d started to pace the alley, he used his nervous energy to resume their walk.
Perhaps it was a lie? But no… he’d met the lad. The resemblance was there, now that he considered it. Gods, but he’d even mistaken the boy for Bae – for his father – at first glance.
A sudden realization hit him. “Did I… steal you from him?” The thought of it bothered him more than he would’ve expected. It wasn’t as if he’d considered a married woman off limits, but breaking up the same boy’s family twice seemed rather bad form. Especially after everything else he was responsible for, where Baelfire was concerned.
“No,” Emma said firmly, “you did not. We didn’t formally get together until after he was gone, but even before that… Neal and I weren’t together. There was a lot of baggage between us, and… it would never have worked out anyway.”
Hook walked silently for a moment, trying to figure out what he’d missed. He’d heard that name recently… He finally placed the context in which he’d heard it, but that just created more questions... With a sigh, he finally asked. “Who’s Neal?”
“Oh! Sorry! I meant Baelfire. Neal’s the name he went by when I knew him.”
“Ahh,” he said. But no, that didn’t solve the puzzle. “And why was he… teething?”
There was a moment in which Emma looked as confused as he felt, before she burst out laughing.
“Okay, that’s a different Neal. The little munchkin my parents were holding? Baelfire’s namesake.”
It took him a moment to connect those particular dots, the unfamiliar word “munchkin” not particularly helping, but it was clear enough what she was telling him. Evidently his wife’s first husband was beloved enough by her family that they named their son after him. That was a lot to live up to.
Not, of course – he reminded himself – that he was going to try. He was going to get on his ship and sail away. Leave this town that did nothing but confuse him. Leave this woman who kept looking at him in that infuriating way, as if she understood him. As if he mattered to her. She didn’t know him. Regardless of what shameful secrets she apparently knew, had apparently forgiven him for.
She’d be fine if he left. He was beginning to think she might cry for a while, but… He walked faster, as if to escape the idea. Beside him, Emma sped up, staying by his side. She gave him a warm smile as they reached the door to their house. Hook started. He hadn’t even been thinking about where he’d been going, but he hadn’t been following Emma, either. Once again, his feet had led him straight here.
The word home entered his mind, unbidden. Shivering, he walked inside.
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