#Clean and seal Upper Swan

[aussiespraypave]

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[andrea-lyn]

look at me, I am old, but I’m happy

(for @christchex because I truly believe her to be #1 Sanders supporter)

The damn kids are keeping something from him. None of them are good liars at the best of times, but every time Sanders shows up when Michael’s friends are around, suddenly they go real quiet. At first, he writes it off as stupid youthful hormone shit. It’s probably something to do with that Manes boy that Michael doesn’t want to talk about. Only, then Alex Manes starts coming around, Michael’s a lot happier, and the weird behavior keeps going. Something’s up, and it’s something Michael’s actively not telling him. “You know, I ought to fire you,” Sanders says one Sunday, when he and Michael are working on the sunflower fields. Michael scoffs, glancing up from the seeding mechanism he’s been working to fix, but he avoids meeting Sanders’ eyes. He’s known this boy since he tripped out of a pod and he knows when he’s about to be lied to. “I’d like to see you try,” he mutters, but his curiosity is sparked. “Why are you bothering to do that when most of my time is volunteered?” “Because you and your friends are keeping something from me.” “We’re not,” Michael lies. “You’re a terrible liar, boy,” Sanders warns, but he lets him get away with it. Just this once, he lets him. Michael waves him off and grabs his bundle of sunflowers to take back to the Airstream. He doesn’t say what or who they’re for, but Sanders knows. It’s the Manes boy, who’s been lurking around and grinning like an idiot all the time. With Michael gone, Sanders is left to consider what it is that’s being whispered about behind his back. There’s enough alien secrets in this town to fill a gossip rag, but Michael’s been fairly honest with him recently, even if he’s been trying to hide how gone he is over his thing with Alex Manes. The truth is this -- he’s an old man. The boy he used to be is a memory and a distant one at that. He’s taken Walt and locked him away behind mountains of bottles and liquor. There’s so much trauma related to those days that he actively works as hard as he can to forget it, and that’s why it takes him so long to realize that maybe he actually knows a bit more than he realizes when it comes to one of those alien secrets.

The secret they’re keeping comes to roost soon after. Well, roost ain’t exactly the word. “They still allow relics like you in this place?”

When Sanders had still been a child and had been happy with Miss Nora and Miss Louise, he’d always recalled their tension around the man they called Jones. They tried to keep it a secret from him then, too, and it’s irritating as hell that history’s repeating it-damn-self. “Relics like me belong more than you do around here,” Sanders scoffs, tossing the wrench into the toolbox. “I’m looking for Michael.” Sanders turns to take in the look of him. He blames his age on the fact that Max Evans never made him feel that icy chill down his spine to spark recognition. All those years with that face in front of him and he never remembered Jones, not until the alien himself busted out and started scaring Sanders all over like he’s a kid. He’s not a kid, though. He’s an old man tired of this bullshit and he’s not about to let an asshole push him around. “Michael,” Sanders says sharply, “ain’t none of your business.” “He’s none of yours either,” Jones says calmly. “Besides, you’re right. It’s not business. It’s family.” It comes back in fits and starts. Miss Nora’s discomfort with Jones’ hand on her shoulder, but the possessive way Jones held onto her. The way Jones had always seemed more occupied with one of the pods. The possessive and keen look in his eye when he’d looked at Walt dismissively, like a human child that Nora took a liking to could never pass muster. There’s only one explanation that Sanders sees, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s crap. “You’re not that boy’s father,” Sanders scoffs. “Or, you might be by blood or whatever alien junk flows through those veins of yours. That boy needed a father growing up and I sure as hell didn’t do the job well enough, but at least I’ve been here. At least I’ve been trying. That’s a hell of a lot more than you can say.” He’s an old and very stupid man, seeing as he knows how much Jones can hurt him. That raised alien hand glowing furiously red is a bad sign, but Sanders decides that if this is how he’s going out, defending Michael is the way he wants to go. “I might have been late getting my act cleaned up, but I still gave him everything I could. I’d die for that boy,” Sanders vows. “For my kid.” Jones scoffs, amused by Sanders’ loyalty like it’s a joke, but then, he always has been an ass, hasn’t he? “Funny you should say that, because today’s your lucky day for getting what you want.” He approaches swiftly, but before he can seal that glowing hand on Sanders’ chest, he just … stops. Sanders refuses to blink. He’s going to stare down his death as long as Jones wants to kill him, which is why he doesn’t notice that he’s being held in place by someone else’s alien powers. “Try,” Michael Guerin snaps at Jones, where he’s holding a bundle of sunflowers in one hand, and holding Jones in place with the other. “You’re not gonna like what happens to you.” Sanders is pretty sure Michael’s bluffing and that when it comes to these two, Michael’s not the one with the upper hand. Still, Jones is playing some kind of long game, because he steps back and lifts both hands up, stepping back and away. “Just two old friends catching up,” he insists, a look in his eyes that says he’s coming back to find Sanders when Michael’s not around. Still, he goes. He goes and he doesn’t look back, leaving Sanders to exhale, slumping over the pick-up truck he’s been working on. “What the hell were you thinking?” Michael demands. “Taunting him like that? He’s an evil dictator! He’s…” “Yeah, yeah, I got the gist decades ago,” Sanders cuts him off. “All I know is what he’s not, and that’s any kind of father to you. Because I might not be the world’s best Dad, but when it comes to it these days, he doesn’t get to swan in and make you feel like you owe him anything. He doesn’t get to make you feel like you belong to him.” This is all getting too damn emotional for him, but he wants to make one thing clear. “I know I didn’t manage the way I should’ve, but if anyone’s a father to you these days, it’s me.” With that said, he gives a firm nod, and hopes that he’s not going to do anything embarrassing like start crying about it. Well, he might not, but Michael’s struggling to keep it together, by the looks of it, so maybe that’s exactly what it is he needs to hear. “What the hell are you doing back here anyway?” Sanders grunts, when the awkward silence drags on too long. Michael clears his throat, gesturing to the Airstream with the flowers (and conveniently wiping at his nose). “I forgot some papers that I wanted to go over with Alex,” he says, “Lucky I did, or you would’ve been alien dust.” “I got a few tricks up my old sleeves,” Sanders promises, even if he doesn’t have them yet. “So. You and Alex Manes, huh? You ready to admit to me that it’s a thing yet?” Michael wrinkles his nose, but he’s clearly not thinking about Jones anymore, so Sanders considers it a mission accomplished. “How about you start worrying about how much of a thing it is when Alex needs to come get permission from my Dad to marry me,” Michael quips, and he sounds free and happy and brazen and goddamn high. It’s the most that Sanders could ever hope for. “That likely to happen anytime soon?” Michael shrugs, ducking back out of the Airstream with the papers. “You know I don’t do things slow.” “Don’t I ever,” he mutters. “Just warn me before I got alien grandchildren running around the damn scrapyard, will you? The place needs to be alien-proofed.” The look of sheer glee on Michael’s face settles something in Sanders’ chest. He knows he’s happy. He knows he’s settled. He might have missed too many damn years when he was younger, but at least he’s trying now. “Go on,” Sanders encourages. “Go be with your friend,” he teases. “You gonna be okay?” “I’ve survived worse,” Sanders promises. “Now, get,” he insists, and watches Michael leave the scrapyard, off to woo his paramour. As for him? Well, he’s got a hell of a long drive ahead of him to get to the reservation if he wants to pick up some pollen, but after tonight, Sanders figures he ought to protect himself. He’s got a family to worry about, after all. 

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Waterfall Memories by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 6/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly

Chapters titles are based on the lyrics from “Stubborn Love” by The Lumineers

Chapter 6: And I Don’t Blame You Dear for Running Like You Did

She finished the last of the dishes from breakfast, putting the plates away in the cabinet and turning toward the dog beside her feet on the floor. “What shall we do today?” The dogs barked, standing, and running in circles around her legs.

She looked around the cabin, books littering every surface. She grabbed one nearest to her, flipping through the pages to find them blank, empty, and begging to be filled. Looking around she found a pencil and blanket and gathered her items, opening the door and letting the dog outside. She followed him to the bench on the front porch.

There was water all around the cabin, some of it threatening to flow under the structure. Killian was standing on the side of the cabin, knee deep in the brown liquid, a shovel in his hands, his shirt tied to his side in a knot. She bit her lip as her eyes trailed his upper body, sun kissed from days he must have spent standing in the hot sun before the weather had turned cold.

She sat down on the bench, drawing her knees up to tuck her feet under her, wrapping the blanket around her as the dog curled up below her. She looked at the empty page and the pencil in her hand started to scratch at the white surface. She had no idea if she could draw, couldn’t remember ever trying, but the way the images took shape she thought maybe this was something she was good at in her other life. The one that was just out of reach of her memories.

She drew the forest, the water lying motionless in front of her, a dog splashing through the muddy sludge as a man stood, staring at the horizon. When she looked down at it minutes later, the shape of a swan in the distance was floating away from the cabin on the page before her. She sighed, looking up to watch Killian, now covered with beads of sweat, dripping deliciously down the crevice in his back, and she bit her lip. The man was the picture of sexy and mysterious. She wanted to know more about him, the story of how he got here, why he was alone. Yet she could tell that he was holding back from her, keeping pieces of himself hidden from her sight. What she wouldn’t give to tear back the layers and have him invite her in.

She turned the page of the book to start a new drawing but was surprised to see writing on the page, handwritten in a beautiful script. She should close the book, put it back where she found it and yet she found herself reading it.

Dearest Milah,

My love, I am in darkness without your light, I curse the sun for trying to replace the warmth that you no longer provide. I am in misery, these bars are not my affliction, my prison is of my own making. Even as I am released tomorrow, I will never escape the prison I created for myself. I have failed you. I failed Alice. There is blood on my hands, hate in my heart, revenge destroyed me. Destroyed our life. Our beautiful home. My perfect Alice. I am cursed. I fear that my heart will always be. I will never be at peace knowing the hell I brought upon my family. Your last moments knowing that I destroyed us. My life is forfeit, doomed to walk this earth with the knowledge that I am a monster. Undeserving of love. My fate is sealed. Hope is lost.

Killian

She ran her fingers across the lettering of his name, looking up at the man facing away from her, tearing at the soil beneath his feet. She needed to know more, yearned to understand how anyone could feel so tormented, so worthless. She ached for him.

Closing the book, she stood, watching from the corner of the house, observing his labor. She couldn’t exactly leave him this way. A few extra days to try and solve the mystery that was Killian Jones wouldn’t hurt her. Her life could wait if it meant helping the man who had so selflessly helped her.

She went back into the house, burying the book beneath a larger one, not wanting him to know that she had invaded his thoughts, his privacy. Looking around the cabin she decided she would do something nice for him. She began by picking up the items from the corner, dusting off the surfaces she could. She folded blankets, organized his books, placed the logs evenly beside the hearth and gathered the clothing to be washed in the bucket he kept by the back door.

When she had finished she looked around at the result of her work and smiled. Maybe she was married in her other life, she was pretty good at this house cleaning thing. She frowned, touching her ringless finger. Maybe she was just a maid in her other life. Was she hoping for that instead of having a husband who was lovingly looking for her? A man she had thus betrayed by her night with Killian.

The door opened abruptly, and Killian stepped into the tiny cabin. Tossing his boots into the corner by the door he turned and met her eyes. He seemed surprised to see her standing there, holding a broom, and sweeping the floors. It was so ridiculously domestic that she cursed herself for being found this way.

“I cleaned up.” She announced and his eyes roamed the room and to her surprise the corners of his mouth ticked upward.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. I wanted to.” She finished her task, setting the broom back behind the door and walking closer to him, reaching out to take the dirty shirt from his hands. “I was doing the wash.” She smiled shyly. He didn’t react, probably from the shock she imaged when she ran her fingers across his chest, dirt and grime slipping through her fingers. “You should do the same.” She added with a flirty grin. “Take a hot bath.” She turned away from him, her smile growing on her face, pleased with the reaction she elicited from him a moment before.

“Uh, yeah I’ll do that.” He stammered, walking toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Swan. For um, for tidying up. I’ve never had a guest before.”

She bowed her head. “Go bathe.” She returned her gaze to his eyes. “I’ll make some dinner.” He left the room, and she swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She had half a mind to follow him right into the bathroom and have her way with the man. But instead, she walked the few steps away to the kitchen to start the meal she promised she would make. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she thought. She had no idea why she knew that, but she was determined to find out if it was true.

~*~

Killian retreated from the room, trying to create as much distance as he could between him and the beautiful Swan who was currently domesticating his home. Seeing his place so neatly put together, the blonde woman putting such care and attention into something she had no investment in both confounded him and stirred emotions in him that he had buried, burned, destroyed years ago.

He shut the door to the bathroom, filling the buckets with water to put on the stove to heat but instead tossed the cool water into the tub, perhaps a hot bath was not what he needed right now unless he intended to do something completely stupid and reckless like ask the woman to join him.

He sunk down into the cold water, breathing slowly, erasing all the thoughts he had of how she had felt the night before. The taste of her skin, her intoxicating aroma as he plunged his tongue into her center.

Fuck.

Sinking below the water, he lay there, holding his breath, counting to ten before breaching the surface and gulping in air. He scraped at his skin, letting the soap cleanse the dirt and grime he had accumulated from his earlier work. The trench he had dug would allow the water to escape in a few days. The roads would be clear, and he would be able to drive back to town. This would be over, and he could return to his solitude.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, wandering into the bedroom to dress and pull a comb through his hair. If he was going to play house, he should at least look presentable to the woman who was sharing his fairytale. He rolled his eyes at the mirror, admonishing himself for playing along with this fantasy. Could it really hurt him to have a few nights of pretend? None of it was real. They both knew that. Perhaps it was a reprieve from the devil, or yet another way to torture him. Either way, he would take it.

He stepped from the room quietly as she flitted around the kitchen, humming a song to herself as she worked. She was a marvel to observe, a beautiful treasure in every way. When she caught him staring, she blushed, quieted, and turned back to the stove.

“It was lovely, don’t stop on my account.”

“I don’t know where it came from, it just sort of formed in my head. I guess I must have heard it in my other life” She mused, humming the notes again to You are my Sunshine.

She seemed almost angelic, standing in his kitchen with the sun shining across her golden locks. Before he could stop himself he realized he was singing the words to her melody. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey…”

She turned toward him, their eyes meeting. “That’s lovely.” She smiled. “Is that what I’m humming?”

“Aye.” She continued humming. “You’ll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” He finished softly, standing in front of her with her back against the counter. Neither one of them moved and he was afraid to take a breath for fear she would disappear right in front of him. He wasn’t ready for her to dissolve, to leave his life. He cursed even admitting it. He liked having her here.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“I used to sing that to Alice before she went to bed.” He said with a sad smile. “It was her favorite.”

He expected her to go back to her food preparations, to break the spell he was in, but instead she surprised him, reaching up to brush the wet hair from his forehead. A smile sweeter than any he could remember fell across her face as she stepped into his embrace, her lips grazing his jaw before touching his lips. It was over before it began, short yet sweet and full of emotion. He squeezed his lids tighter together to keep his emotions from spilling out. She stepped from his arms and his lids flittered open. “Food will be ready in a minute.”

No one had taken the kind of care she had. Cleaning his house, preparing a meal, comforting him. These were not things that were afforded to him. Yet here she was, a stranger, a woman who was within her rights to demand to be released and taken home immediately and yet she instead opted to care for him. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. Because it would be gone before he had the ability to embrace it. Taken from him like everything else in his life.

“Smells good.” He announced suddenly, sitting down at the table.

“I wasn’t really sure what to make but you have such great vegetables.”

“Aye, I’m sure my garden is flooded now. But at least it’s watered.” He chuckled.

She sat the food in front of him and then made her own plate, taking the seat beside him. They ate in silence, but it was comfortable in the way she would smile at him between bites, or blush when he caught her eye.

After the food was consumed, they each took to the mundane task of cleaning up, side by side, working together. It required no forethought or communication, like they had been doing this their whole lives. “I don’t wish to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” He teased, an expression that must have come from a moment of weakness pushing through his hardened exterior. “The place hasn’t looked this bright and cheerful in…” He scrunched his nose, “well, ever, I suppose.” Ending with a laugh that started low in his belly, but he felt through to his toes.

“Then I have completed the task I set out for myself this morning.” She smiled.

“What task was that love?”

“Getting you to do that.” She chuckled before continuing her thought. “Trying to ease some of that burden you seem to carry.”

He swallowed. “I suppose I can bury some of it for a few rare moments.” He pursed his lips. “Thank you.” He added sincerely.

“Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged, “I suppose.”

“What are you punishing yourself for?”

He exhaled, “Why do you assume I’m punishing myself?”

She shrugged, “You live alone, cut off from the world, as if you are condemning yourself to loneliness. I can’t imagine the man I know doing anything that would call for such isolation and sadness.”

“I have done many things in this life, Swan, most that I am not proud of. I am not a good man.”

“You saved me.” She whispered, her hands reaching for his. He wants to pull back, to keep the connection broken, but instead he allows her to take his hand.

“One good deed does not forgive a lifetime of bad behavior.” His voice cracked. He wished things were different, that she could stay here, maybe she would even heal his soul. But her life was not his to control. She belonged somewhere else; he was sure that her heart must even belong to another. Someone noble and deserving of her. A good man.

“It’s a start.” She leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column in my book.” Her words warmed his heart, he rewarded her with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, love. That means a great deal more than you know.”

She stood and wandered toward the couch, lighting candles along the way. As she sat down she gestured for him to join her. “It should be a few more days and I should be able to drive into town.” He added as he sat next to her.

“Well, let’s make sure the roads are safe before you try, perhaps we should wait until things are completely dry.”

He turned toward her, a hopeful feeling rising in his heart, a few more precious days with her. “Aye, good idea. Better to be safe.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and for a moment he let himself get lost in the gesture. Imagining a new reality where this woman, his swan, stayed, and they would spend nights on the couch, lying together and talking about nothing.

“So, what do you do out here every day? Surely you must find something of interest to keep you busy.”

“Jolly and I do a lot of exploring, fishing over on the west banks, or hunting for game. I suppose when we aren’t doing that I read.”

“I noticed you had a lot of books.”

“Aye, my brother taught me how to read when I was very small. I suppose it become a passion of mine.”

“You have a brother.”

His chest rose and fell with the exhale he exerted. “I did, yes. Liam. He was a good man.”

“Was?”

“Aye. Gone.”

“Your parents?”

“Died when we were young.”

“So, you truly are alone.” She offered sadly.

“Well, I have Jolly.” The dogs head lifted off his lap as he lay next to him. He patted his head. “He provides good company.”

“Have you ever thought of moving back home?”

“No home to return to.”

“But you could move back to where you are from, start a new life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option for me, love.”

“You could come with me.” His heart stilled.

“Love, whatever is waiting out there for you, I assure you, it is far more worthy of you than me. You don’t know anything else right now, that’s where all of this is coming from. You’re clinging to what you know because you can’t remember what you don’t.”

She sat up, staring at him. “Stop doing that. Stop discounting yourself like you are some demon, unworthy of compassion. I don’t care what you’ve done in your past, I only see who you are now.”

“Swan, you wouldn’t say that if you knew who I really was.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head in frustration.

“Why not.”

“Because…I don’t want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. I can’t bear to have one more person hate me because of what I’ve done. I just want you to see me as you do right now. Before you leave. Even if it’s only for a few days.” His honestly surprised him, almost scared him to admit his feelings out loud. He enjoyed that she stared at him with compassion, almost reverence. He wanted her to want him, to see him as the man he used to be, long ago. He couldn’t keep her, but perhaps he could have this feeling long after she was gone. Someone had seen him, the Killian Jones he remembered, the one that Milah trusted and loved. The man who would sing lullabies to his daughter and earned her devotion. If someone could still find that man in him, maybe it was enough to keep him sane long after she was gone.

“Take me to bed.” Her eyes were full of passion, desire, need. Killian rose from the couch, hoisting her into his arms. “Be my love, if only for a while.” She whispered against his neck and he found her mouth, taking her lips with his. Tonight, he would take her as his own, they would have these moments together, no matter how fleeting they would be.

As he buried himself inside of her, pouring every ounce of passion into his kiss, he thought only of her, his Swan. As she lay, curled into his side afterwards, her eyes staring into his with a warmth of devotion, he imagined a life that wasn’t his. A life where he made her happy, where he loved this woman with all his heart and he drifted off to sleep, knowing that even though it wasn’t real, he could almost believe it, almost feel it burrowing deep into his heart.

Hope.

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch ii - CSSNS 2019

—–

"The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Read on AO3 here.

Ch 2 / ?? : in which they meet.

—–

The stairs were uneven, wet, and somewhat mossy under her slippered feet, the scramble downward unending. Under the muted light of a conjured will-o-the-wisp lantern, she stumbled down, the temperature dropping as the bowels of the cave below swallowed her in its vastness. Sometimes the wall broke free on one side, and she could see into the abyss of a chamber, casting a light as far as she could only to see it fall far out of sight without ever hitting a cave floor.

  She gave up counting stairs in the upper thousands, slippers sodden as her toes bitterly complained of chill. Time passed without measure, but long after her lean legs had just begun to feel sore, Emma found herself in a dimly lit antechamber, crystal pillars giving off a dull glow at its entrance while the far end remained blanketed in shadow. She moved further into the murk, seeking more stairs, prepared like Theseus to encounter the purported monster of this labyrinth.

  In the darkness, she caught a flash of her flame reflecting off leather, a hand wearing several rings twitching in the dim light.

  ”Hello?” she called, opening her palm to expand the blue light of the wisp. “Who’s there?”

  The blue light cast an eerie glow on the iron bars built into the cave, lighting upon the sparkle of quartz embedded in the stone walls. She leaned into the dripping cell, trying to see the creature that lurked just out of her sight. Searing heat lit in her forearm as she accidentally touched the iron, hissing in pain.

  ”Careful, Princess,” a voice said drolly. “Wouldn’t want to burn such lovely skin.”

  She threw the light high toward the chamber's ceiling for clarity, conjuring another in her hand as her eyes widened. There in the corner sat a man, dark haired and pale skinned, with sharp angles of shadow playing across a face that was clearly Fae. He looked up, shaggy hair, grown out in an older style sticking to his forehead. He was unshaven and although grime covered his cheeks, his steely blue eyes showed an alert edge that frightened her.

  “Who…” Emma straightened her back and tried to hide her gulp. “Who are you?”

  He laughed darkly, and flicked his hand to extinguish the wisp. It sighed as it sputtered out, and Emma frantically tried to conjure another. She peered into the darkness again, trying to find his silhouette, her light still dim from its poor summons.

  He was suddenly in front of her, stepping into the light cast from her hand, smirking. He stood taller than her, his broad shoulders and muscles not hidden by an out-of-style laced shirt and leather breeches. At one time, there may have been a cravat, but now his neck was bare and dark hair glinted blue in the light with what looked like a waistcoat laying rumpled in a corner. She caught his eye and his eyebrow cocked up, the smirk on his face widening.

  “I’m Killian. Killian Jones.” With another flick of his wrist he extinguished the wisp in her palm, and Emma cursed, summoning another with shaking hands as he laughed at her. 

  When a new blue flame danced in her hand, Emma saw him walking back to the corner where he’d originally sat. Squinting her eyes, she followed his form as he relaxed back against the wall. Through the dim light of the cell, she could see how bare it was, aside from a few books, a chamber pot, and a straw cot that looked mostly unused. The cell was smoothed, all edges almost melted away. He had nothing to end his own life with.

  They were by no means fully immortal. Emma had heard tell of Fae crushed, or wounded by iron swords. The elements were never feared; being friends with the air, the sea, the earth, and even the flame meant that they had no worry of death by them. Immortality only meant they would stay in their youthful form. Even a hard press against the iron would only leave painful burns that healed before death. What had happened to him? Why was he here, rotting away in the rarely used dungeons, in this cell purposefully hidden with such care? 

  “How do you know who I am?” she asked, tentatively stepping closer to the bars again. “Why are you here?”

  His laugh echoed off the walls, surrounding her, making her shiver as if she was chilled to ice.

  “I know many, many things, Princess.” He held the ‘s’ longer, almost snake like, and she felt her chest constrict slightly. He turned over his shoulder, eyes reflecting the blue of the wisp and making them look more unearthly. “I’m here because I once tried to kill your family… and you.”

  “You're… You're the Dark One?” Emma looked him over again, confusion written on her face as she chewed her lip. “That can't be right, you're my age and -”

  “Simply held in a sort of stasis, darling. Immortal and cursed to serve a never-ending sentence rotting down here, while the royal family rules with an iron fist,” he hissed, sneering at her. Darkness flared behind him, shadows moving in snake-like sinews. Emma tried to remain brave, but felt herself tremble at his vitriol. His temper cooled as quickly as it had flared, almost as if he was a different person. “To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit anyway? You weren't expecting to find me, I'm guessing?”

  “I…” Thinking on what even to say, Emma watched the eyes of a predator survey her, trying not to focus on the way he captured his bottom lip between his teeth or the crazy gleam in his pupils. He looked feral, and it unsettled her. Taking a deep breath, she tucked into the familiarity of decorum. “I have been tasked with partnering with you to help defeat a threat, a siege currently taking place above us.”

  Killian Jones blinked twice, and then laughed. 

  Emma had never heard anything like it: the dangerous edge of a low growled chuckle, like the rumble of thunder as lightning lit up a darkened hollow. It was jarring, madness right in front of her eyes on display. 

  “Well. Aren't you a daring lass. What's in it for me, if I should help you?” he asked, and stepped forward, laying his palms on the bars and watching with depraved amusement as his flesh peeled away. 

  “Oh, well -”

  “You didn't think I would do anything for you or your family without payment, did you, Princess?” Her cheeks reddened and he laughed maniacally.

  “Honor, you'd -”

  “What use do I have for bloody honor?” he interrupted, darkness flaring around them as he yelled, the sound echoing through the stone chambers. 

  “Gold, and jewels -”

  “You think money can buy me to save the people who -” 

  Emma's heart raced, and she shouted over his voice. “A deal! A deal. My parents’ freedom for your own.”

  Silence fell in the dungeon, the only sound the low drips of water. The Dark One looked at her incredulously, mouth agape. 

  “You're… You're not joking.” 

  Returning his own shocked whisper, Emma took a step forward. “I'm not. We have a mutual alliance in each other, because of this.”

  Pulling the shard out of her dress, he gritted out a sound of longing. 

  “I'll take the deal. Set me free and you will have your parents’ freedom in return.” He looked at her hungrily, his eyes zeroed in on the silver chain around her neck. 

  “No funny business. If you don't free my parents the deal is off, alright?” Emma shot him a look, and he reached his hand through the iron bars for her to seal their accord with. 

  “Yes, yes. Now free me!” he breathed excitedly, and Emma shuddered. 

  Placing her hand in his, she shook. The bars shimmered, falling away like silver feathers that disappeared into nothingness. At first, he stood as stunned as she did, his mouth open slightly and eyes wide. Emma watched as a smile crept slowly over his face, blackness devouring everything around her, choking her like smoke, the world shifting as if she was thrown into a night sky absent of stars. 

  Emma landed in a graceless heap, hearing sounds of shock from around her as she picked herself up to look around. The man named Killian - or rather, the Dark One, for now she could see the Darkness in its full and horrifying glory as it swirled around him - stood slightly in front of her, his long coat, cravat, and suit clean once more. His beard was not gone but trimmed short, rakish, and his hair was left shaggy in a long style that fell over his kohl rimmed eyes. He looked mad, his smile a half snarl under blown pupils that sparked with insanity. 

  The Goblin King and Prince who stood before them did not seem perturbed by his crazed visage, simply happily surprised. 

  “I've brought your bride as a wedding gift, My Lord,” the Dark One called out like he was presenting some trinket, wrenching Emma forward. She shook her head and tried to protest, but he stared at her with amusement. Cocking his head and clicking his tongue, he spoke before she could say a word. “Don't worry, love. In exchange for a few favors, you can marry this royal annoyance today.”

  “We had an accord you odious, foul, toad's ass! You promised -”

  “Ah, darling.” Turning slightly, he raised a finger and touched her nose in a taunt. “That's why you always check the fine print.” The Dark One grinned, and the Goblins surrounding them laughed. 

  “Dark One! Good to see you again at last. What are your demands for my son's bride to be?” Gold smiled, steepling his long fingers. 

  “I would like the King and Queen of the United Realms freed, a pardon from the new regime, and the dagger and its shard in return for the princess. I'd also like the return and freedom of the person you took from me.” 

  “You ask a lot, Dark One. I say again, this is for my son's bride. I'm afraid that your help will be needed for my sovereignty. The dagger is off limits, so ask once more.” Nil shifted uneasily at his father's words while the Goblin King’s reptilian grin grew larger, as if he was laughing at a joke the Dark One had yet to catch. 

  “His bride… she isn't for you?” The Dark One looked apprehensive. “What happened to Mil-”

  “Ah yes. Ever so perceptive, dearie.” Gold approached them, waving the dagger in his hands. “My first wife. You thought she might have escaped, yes? Thought maybe she might be in hiding? I'm afraid that while your subsequent… descent into the Darkness, as it were, did cause her some distress, we were able to come to our own arrangements after she realized that you were never to return for her. Not that she could have escaped anyway, as many times as she tried until she found herself with child. She bore me Nil, then died. I've taken another wife since, so this will be Nil’s chance at being granted a -”

  Killian’s face was contorted in rage, as if Gold had smacked him. Emma could see his indignation and disbelief. She backed away and heard her mother's soft voice, finding Snow holding her father's head as he lay unconscious in her lap. He was still bleeding slightly, though much of it had been smeared from his scalp, ears, and lips; a wound on his side was wrapped tightly with strips of petticoat. 

  Crawling to them, Emma tried to heal them, but her magic sputtered. Snow stilled her trembling hands, her pale face swollen and bruised under her once perfectly coiffed hair. Emma had never seen her parents look so haggard. 

  “They've put up some sort of magic dampener. It won't work, Emma.” Snow brushed her fingers through David's hair, watching his brows furrow. 

  “I'm so sorry Mom, I -”

  “It's alright. It's going to be okay, Emma. We will fight to get you safe, I promise.” Snow set her jaw in determination. “I'll die before -”

  “No, no, Mom, no, don't say that -” 

  A crash sounded from the Dark One, his tone filled with incredulous hatred. “I don't believe you, I don't believe she's gone. She isn't - she isn't gone, she can't be! This is another bloody trick -”

  “Trade me your loyalty and the princess for her then, if you believe your ‘twue wove’ lives. Prove your devotion.”

  “The dagger, Milah, the King and Queen’s freedom, and my freedom for her, or nothing!” the Dark One screamed. 

  “Faaaaaather,” Nil whined. Gold looked annoyed, and sighed. 

  “Fine. Fine! Here's your precious Milah.” With a wave of his hand, a crystal casket appeared with a crash near the Dark One. Killian opened the frosted glass cover to look inside, his tense shoulders trembling, and let out an anguished cry as he stumbled to hold the woman's pale body inside.

  While listening to the Dark One’s torment at finding his lost love dead, Emma realized that there were things she knew without having to know them; facts of how the world worked around her presence. 

  The earth beneath her feet spoke in a steady rhythm with her footsteps. Water would always hold her safely in its currents, softly tugging at her curls. The wind carried her like it carried songs, words, and scents to please her fancy. If she climbed high enough in one of her father's beloved trees, the sun's light was unbearably bright; but in that perfect instance of blinding warmth, she lit like a candle.

  There were things she'd had to learn the hard way, even in her safe, sheltered, preciously controlled world. Once, as a child, she escaped to the old palace orchard to climb up into a peach tree, eating the ripe fruit greedily and dropping the pits below. When she'd gone to get down, sticky, her slippery fingers had lost their bearings, resulting in her falling backwards until the ground met her back harshly. She had felt the air forced from her body on impact, the whoosh of it leaving her without even a voice. It felt like her lungs had exploded, and when she finally could get breath, she wailed all at once.

  Listening to Killian’s cries of agonizing pain as he stroked the woman’s face, she wondered if love was like that, too.        

  “So much for your faith, eh? Now accept that you have nothing, accept the fact that you can't escape. I have you, the princess, and the dagger all together, with nowhere for you to run to.” Gold giggled, giving a shrug. “So much for your demands.”

  Killian pulled away finally, and Emma could see the fury rolling off his frame, his hands shaking as he pulled a necklace from the dead woman's neck. Snow shifted, laying David's head down with care before pulling Emma up slowly into a crouch. 

  The Goblin King was too busy laughing at his clever trick to notice Killian pressing his lips to the locket in his palm or the women’s movements. Emma braced herself in anticipation while Nil looked at her stupidly, opening his mouth to say something. Suddenly, Snow pushed Emma forward and on her feet, throwing her towards the Dark One. Emma stumbled forward, looking back at her mother's face, memorizing the bright tears in Snow’s eyes as she blew a kiss farewell. 

  Emma never heard Nil’s words, the thunderous noise throwing people aside all around them as Emma's steps propelled her forward with the shard. Killian had made a portal and was stepping through it when she hurtled into him, throwing them both through the swirling vortex to fall, fall, fall... 

  Wind whipped past her, Emma’s dress catching around her sides as the darkness above and below swallowed them. There was no up or down, only midnight and stars surrounding her until her body broke through the mirror surface of what was below, icy shadow swallowing her, pulling her -

  She couldn't control the water, or the current, or the air and light; it all fought her grip like something feral as she flailed. 

  When she tried to breathe in, her lungs filled with burning starlight, a cold fire that left her vision blurring. This wasn’t to fall, but was to be struck down by an unseen hand of the Gods, like the old texts said had once separated Fae from Fae; taken as an old style sacrifice to protect like in the days before realms, left to burn in elemental fury…

  Emma closed her eyes, and let the cold hand take hers to wherever awaited.

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

    It took an explosive amount of magic to rip open a portal, his rage over Milah’s fate all consuming as the Darkness fanned it in glee. He had held out hope for all these years that there must have been a mistake; had dreamed of a reunion instead of clawing at the dark heart on his shoulder, the charcoal ash color mocking him. Her name had never changed in its script, never faded, and he had traced it through the worst of doubts. Holding Milah, seeing her as a corpse with no vibrancy, seeing her son in his monstrous glory - it was a crisis of faith that weighed him down while he plummeted. Her locket was clutched tightly in his hand, gripped like a lifeline. 

  You knew she was dead; you knew there was no hope and that she was dead. You knew and you bargained like the fool you are, the fool you have always been. You killed her, and you know it; you knew it before this, but you do so love getting what you fight for -

  It mocked him as he fell through a clear night sky and hurtled towards the lake below. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flutter of white, an unwelcome guest in his misery: the princess, dress and hair wild in the rushing wind, her skirts like the chapel paintings of angels as they swirled. He saw her hit the water below a moment before his own body crashed through the still surface, kicking hard against the current to take a breath of the chilled air. The water and night resisted his control at first, the elements unused to a master for so long. With finesse he manipulated the cold weight trying to pull him down, his movement fluid with no resistance. The princess didn’t appear or rise, and he dove back below without trouble or need for air, pulling her limp body towards the shore with ease. 

  For a brief moment, Killian thought she was dead. Her skin was pale and her lips were turning from pink to blue. He could take the dagger piece and be done with this, leaving her to follow the inevitable fate of anyone who crossed his path. Then again, the blasted thing was probably warded. If he squinted, he could see the slight bit of sparkling light magic shielding it. If it was shielded, the magic would probably tear him to pieces within moments. 

  Reaching for the chain, the Darkness and him together, the smallest voice inside of him protested adding another name to the long list of those dead. Reaching slowly to where the shard had nestled in the hollow of her collarbone, her magic crackled with electricity like intensity. Definitely some ward. 

  Tick tock, Dearie. 

  There would be time to test it later. He reluctantly pressed a few times on her chest instead, to see if there was still life. When she made no move, he tried again more forcefully, still with no success. 

  The Darkness bit and writhed under his skin in its impatience. Killian tried to comfort it and soothe the Darkness - the princess was worth so much more alive, she needed to be alive - but her heart barely fluttered under his prodding. The Darkness growled with agreement, but in its own way sought to continue its torment of its host.

  It’s not working. You’ll have to make a decision on whether you want to do something other than those chest compressions pretty soon… We can handle pain, we can handle being ripped apart or put back together, but magic like this? If she dies the shard most likely will too. Tick tock. 

  Killian had to agree, even though its hateful cackle and his own derision only made his frustration grow. He pushed her wet hair aside, pinched gently on her nose, and pressed his lips against hers with a breath. 

  Emma sputtered almost immediately, turning her head to the side and coughing up water violently. There was a gentle sigh of relief inside his mind, so quiet he was sure he’d imagined it. The Darkness had not noticed or acknowledged it. Instead it quieted, a fact which surprised him slightly. She fluttered her eyes open, and stared up at him, sucking in deep breaths. 

  “What?” Emma coughed, shivering.

  “We’re in the old homeland.” He pointed to the water where chunks of broken ice floated lazily. “Things have moved since I was last here. That used to be much warmer, and the river's current would immediately obey with magic.” 

  “Where?” she whispered incredulously. He looked at her with seething annoyance. 

  “The old lands. You know, the human world? Where we were before your parents decided on peace and love with a side of segregation?” His irritation seeped into his tone, and she scooted back away from him.

  “You tried to use me to broker a deal, and we aren't even in the United Realms anymore? Why would you bring us here, of all places? You lying pig - Ugh! And you kissed me!” She scrubbed at her lips in disgust with the back of her hand, glaring at him. His anger came roaring back.

  “I most certainly did not kiss you, I saved your royal arse! It isn’t my fault your deal was to save your parents, you vain, spoiled, presumptuous brat -”

  “Take me back!” she screamed at him, throwing a fistfull of mud, rocks, and leaves from the shore as she stood. “Take me back this instant! I want no part in whatever working with you entails you bastard son of a sow -”

  “I saved your bloody life! Twice now even, in the last hour!” he growled, as she continued to pelt him with whatever she could get her hands on. “You should be thanking me you stubborn -”

  Emma hit him hard with what he assumed to be a tree branch, his patience now gone. When she came back to hit him again, he caught the branch, pulling her down in the slick mud of the riverbank as she protested, covering her mouth with his hand and pinning her. Her eyes were wide, silvered green in the moonlight, fear keeping her paralyzed beneath him.

  “Right. Here’s your choices. Choice one: I can help you get your parents free of the Goblin scourge we both are clearly enemies with, help you navigate to allies if you have any, all in exchange for that blasted bloody shard holding my freedom around your neck." Emma squirmed slightly and he pushed harder against her, catching her leg with his own to allow no movement. 

  "This place’s time moves far differently than your home. What will be a week there, well, it could be years here depending on whatever magic your parents have conjured up. You don’t know a damn thing about this world, but I do. The elements here will be resistant to your magic, but I can help you tame them. Do you understand? Be a good lass, nod your head yes or no.” 

  Emma nodded yes under his hold. 

  “Good. Second choice. I leave you here, go along my merry way until the Goblins catch you - which they will - and we see each other next at your wedding day when the Goblin King gets you and that shard wrapped together in a pretty little bow. The blade becomes whole again, and I lose the ability to control the Darkness at all. Now, which would you rather choose, hm?” He let go of her mouth and Emma sneered at him. 

  “Get off me.” It was hissed, and he felt the Darkness stir even in its muted state inside him. Killian pushed it down, willing patience on it. Pulling himself off of her, he stood and dusted himself off.  

  “Your choice, m’lady?” He offered her a hand, which she refused, standing on her own even with her compromised balance. 

  “You’ll help me? The enemy of my enemy and all of that?”

  “There’s that proper breeding and decorum I expected from a Highborn!” Killian spat sarcastically. “I’m glad you can comprehend something so simple. Yes, I’ll help you.”

  "Why keep me alive? Why save me at all?" He watched her search his face for any answer. Her eyes lit when she realized his greatest weakness was the same as his price: The Dark One was controlled by the shard, and as long as Emma had possession of the piece... "You can't hurt me."

  "The Vorpal blade commands me to do no harm to anyone who holds it, even in pieces. I cannot kill what controls me, for it compels me, as I call it Master. I cannot take what controls me from my Master, it must be given." Intoning the words through gritted teeth, he closed his eyes to drown out the Darkness screeching in frustration, trying to rip him apart from the inside. The Darkness salivated at the thought of bloodshed, wishing it could end her life in a single snap, images of Navy ships burning on dark water intertwined with the greasy voice of a viper.  

  It would be so easy, and we'd revel in the destruction. We’d sit on a black throne in a dark castle, you could have everything - 

  “Fine. Choice one.” Emma's voice cut through the noise, Killian’s ears ringing as the Darkness settled. 

  He turned from her, and nodded his head in a direction. “This way then- Ow!”

  She hit him a few more times with the tree branch before chucking it aside. 

  “Don’t ever, and I mean ever, touch me like that again, or I will gut you like a codfish,” Emma hissed, eyes slitted. “And never in your life expect to kiss me again - that was most definitely a one time thing, buddy.” She stalked off in the direction he pointed. The Darkness swirled back to life, smoke filling his veins. 

  Stubborn wench deserves what we'll do. Just bide your time and hatred - we'll be free soon, free to wreak havoc and seek revenge. 

  Killian hummed in a half hearted agreement, surprised to feel challenged by the pluck the woman had. 

  The sky was dark and the starlight helped very little as she stumbled through the forest. Killian watched from behind her with a low chuckle, and the Darkness mused at how it had lost its footing so easily in its host. It wasn't of real consequence. The foolish girl had never been in this world, and even if it was completely different, there were truths that were well known.

  “If it gives you that much trouble, Princess, light a guide for yourself or a palm lantern. Even a will-o-the-wisp.” 

  “You're not,” Emma huffed in exertion, snapping back a branch, “making much use of anything but that mouth of yours. Why don't you do it?”

  Annoyance filled his lungs with the gritted breath he took. That wasn't expected. Killian wanted her tired, her magic completely expended, with no hope of fighting to keep the shard around her neck as long as he could withstand the ward's pain. The princess needed to do magic to do that, to exhaust the limited supply that this world had. He tried a different tactic: pushing her to annoyance. 

  “Ah, but we both know that you don't want me to use my mouth in other ways -”

  “Could you not?” Emma made a disgusted noise, and summoned a blue flame in her palm. It didn't drain her as much as he needed, to his overwhelming frustration. The Darkness cursed. 

  “Fine. We need to get somewhere safe regardless, and you're freezing. Help me with my magic, I know a safe place.” If all went well, he could potentially leave the wench outside of town and charm someone to steal the Dagger piece for him. It would have to be outside of town though. Motioning her over to him, he positioned them facing a certain way, whispering what sounded like a transportation spell. 

  Emma looked at him quizzically, but approached, any wariness replaced by the small beginnings of trust. She was a foolish thing. If he could feel pity, he might have been sympathetic towards her leap of faith. 

  Taking her hand and putting it reluctantly in his, Killian whispered words, taking the magic he needed as smoke poured around them. She had more than he ever expected, he realized, an overflowing basin of light that swept in tendrils around their touch. It filled him with heat and warmth, thawing ice away, his body unable to stop its pull as it sent the Darkness skittering into a deep part of him. Light spilled into his veins with a power deliciously strong but somehow fluidly soft.

  The ground was leaf litter and river clay, until it wasn't - At first Killian thought his calculation was off, but the swell of power as the air crackled was enough to know the truth. He had not accounted for her power. In an instant they were not just in the town, or near the house as intended. Instead, they were in a flour coated kitchen as if it hadn't changed through the whole stretch of his captivity as Emma wobbled forward from the jump. 

  “Bloody hell,” he whispered, and Emma held her head, unsteady and confused. Killian let go of her, noticing how delicate her wrist was, the honeyed floral smell of her magic in the air over the scent of bread, vanilla, and sugar making him sway for a moment as well. He felt alive; the view from his cell had never been enough, but now that he was here, reunited with his - 

  Emma's quiet voice broke into his thoughts, her swaying getting worse. “I feel so…”

  “I forgot, magic here wanes. You’ll have to use it sparingly until the full moon.” Killian tried to hide his glee at her weakness, but when she stumbled and fell against him, he was shocked to feel her magic still swirling inside of her. The Darkness gave an involuntary shudder. 

  This is a… This is a trick, a fluke. She has only been in this realm for minutes, her power will weaken and fade soon enough. 

  “When, tomorrow?” Emma asked, exhaustion heavy in her tone.

  Killian shook his head. “A full moon here takes time to come back.” 

  Emma tried to stand, this time falling back hard into his arms. 

  “Whoa, easy there, Princess. Easy, easy, love.” Emma felt his arms around her, a deep tiredness settling in her body. His embrace was strong on the wooden floor where they stood, and Emma felt dizzy when the smell of apple pie hit her hard on top of the room spinning. 

  “Killian, I… Did I…?” Her mouth was beginning to feel full of sand and straw, her tongue too big, her tiredness unrelenting. “Safe?”

  He nodded, and Emma tried to focus on his face, the haze of her fatigue causing him to look younger, an imagined phantom of his brows knit in worry for her. “Yes, we're safe. You're safe,” he soothed. 

  The hallucination made him look like a different person, the worry on his face so clearly caring and empathetic. She reached up to touch his shoulder and felt the sharp zap of her magic meeting an angry force, like a shaken wasp’s nest, the buzz causing her to yelp. 

  A woman burst in, white hair in disarray under a knit sleep cap. She was wielding a baseball bat in one hand, propped on her shoulder, while the other hand crackled with icy magic. Both her magic and the bat fell away when she saw the two intruders. 

  “Killian! You're here, you're free, oh Killian, what has it made you do? Why… why are you here? Did you kill her?” she asked, horrified. 

  “Nothing Ingrid, the lass fainted from using magic,” Emma felt him shift her as she laid her head in the crook of his neck. In her delirium, she noted that he smelled wonderful under the smell of forest. “I know that you must think the worst, but I need help. We need help -”

  Emma tried to listen to their blurred voices, but it was too much and she was too weak. Opening her eyes she gazed up, letting her head flop back as her muscles gave way. Killian’s expression was back with no empathy in sight, dark and impassive, the shadowed scowl the last thing she saw as she fell into unconsciousness. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

    The Darkness squirmed under its vessel's skin, demanding and impatient now that the royal brat lay still in a bed under a thick quilted comforter. It was all it could do to get Ingrid to stop her incessant nagging and simpering over their arrival, to believe the tale of his freedom and the alliance the princess had forged in good faith. 

  Ingrid was too shrewd and calculating in her own right, and the Darkness hated her for it. She was off limits to the Darkness completely, which it hated, and with the addition of the strange magic that the princess radiated, it was difficult to maintain control. 

  “So you're freed, and you come here with Snow Margueryte's - Er, Queen Snow’s daughter? And you truly thought I would not ask questions or have concerns about your intentions? Killian, you have learned nothing from your exile; don't think I cannot see this Darkness controlling you.” 

  “If the Darkness controlled me, you would be dead, Ingrid,” its host replied simply. It was true, the Darkness mused. As long as it had inhabited this man, it was unable to exact punishment on the older woman. She was off limits, no matter how annoying.

  All family, for as long as we coexist. I will never again harm them. 

  “How long will you be here?” Ingrid asked, and its host sighed. “Have you brought danger down upon the last remnants of your family? You were not to come without warning.”

  “Time there is slowed once more. I don't know, and I cannot say for certain that we bring danger, but I suspect we do. The princess is being pursued in marriage. I had nowhere else to go, no time to give warning, and she… I need her cooperation if I'm to maintain my freedom.”

  “I'm glad you're here, then. I'm glad you are safe, that both of you are. I'm not glad that buzzing maniac still inhabits you, and I stand by that. You're being watched, Killian. I won't let you hurt the girls, or this princess.” Ingrid stood, as tall and noble as she had been as a duchess. “I have to sleep to open the bakery in time, but remember your brother's words: ‘In this home, you are not what they think you are.’”

  “Fine,” he whispered solemnly. Here Ingrid wasn't Fae nobility, he wasn't the Dark One, and the princess was just a woman. Liam had been just a man, sitting at the table with them and laughing over toast. The memory made him hurt, and Killian felt the Darkness push at that pain like a finger in a wound. 

  Emma slept soundly as Killian sat on the edge of the mattress. She barely moved except to burrow further into the quilted blankets she had wrapped around herself. Her body was so still, and his temptation was goaded by the pulsing voice that told him to take the shard, make sure it could not be taken. Silky pitch and charcoal whispers that refused to be ignored. 

  Killian reached the hollow of her throat, fingers gently trying to pull the blade’s tip. The shock that exploded when he gripped the steel sent him to the floor, every muscle taut, then released in burning pain. The Darkness ripped at itself, tearing at the searing sensations that clawed at it, fighting to survive the flames that erupted through its vessel. The bloody wench didn't even stir as its host fell back twitching. 

  The damned piece of blade was enchanted with her parent's ruddy love far too strongly. The Darkness vibrated with rage, formulating new plans and strategies. They would have to keep the brat alive, the shard now tied to her heart, the embodiment of the True Love that bound it. Spitting and cursing, it needled under the flesh of its host until he returned to consciousness with a snarl. 

  For now, they would wait. The shard would be theirs eventually. 

[shestillhasherquill]

All’s Fair in Love and War (8/?)

At the time of a brewing battle, there are tough decisions to be made, alliances to be forged. The Princess of Misthaven has no choice but to comply with the demands of the Council and wed the Prince of Camelot. But what happens when she falls for his half-brother, Killian? A war like never before.

A Reign-esque twist to an Enchanted Forest AU that no one asked for.

Read on FF.net/AO3

@welllpthisishappening​ YOU ARE THE BEST EVER! Thank you for helping me finish this and constantly encouraging me.  @accio-ambition​ I hope you like all the father-daughter feels in this one. It’s full of ‘em.

ALSO, for everyone who has been waiting for the captain swan content it’s finally here. I’m uploading two chapters today and the latter is just one big ol’ Captain Swan Adventure. Thank you for waiting so patiently!

-/-

King George paced up and down his throne room as darkness shrouded it. He was growing more agitated by the minute, and he had to know what the verdict was. If King Stefan was as enraged with Brennan as he assumed he was, then George would finally have another big ally on his side. Just when he thought he could not wait any longer, ready to get the next phase of his plan started, a messenger burst through the doors.

King George practically ripped the paper from his hand in his hurry, breaking the seal and reading quickly, a smirk quickly taking over his morose expression. He had finally caught the fly in his trap. Soon, Camelot would be his, followed by all the Northern Kingdoms.

-/-

King Brennan stared at the missive from King Stefan in his hands, still unable to believe the contents of the letter. While he had always suspected that this would be the end result, he was still surprised to be proved right. This was one instance where he did not want that, even if he still does not regret his decision to protect Regina. He could still remember clear it was yesterday, the day she was born.

“Come on, Amelia. Just breathe,” he urged, holding her hand.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she cried out.

“You are giving birth to my child. Of course I should be here.”

“But I’m just-” she was cut off by her own scream, her contractions painful but still far apart. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And I’d like for you to not insult the love of my life in such a way, thank you.”

“Brennan, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Amelia! I may never be able to marry you or claim our children, but you cannot begin to understand how painful it is for me to have to do that. I want to give them the world, and all I can give them is this – myself, my love and my protection.”

Amelia smiled through her tears, pressing her forehead to his, “That’s all they ever need. I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling. I’m going to go fetch the midwife.” He left with a swift kiss to her forehead.

-/-

Once the baby was out and cleaned up, Brennan held her for the first time, his little girl. He was secretly glad that it was a girl. He knew that Amelia wanted another boy, but he had enough sons to teach and guide. He needed a little girl to pamper – after all, fathers and daughter do share a special bond. He smiled down at the sleeping child, pressing his lips to her wispy forehead.

“What do you want to name her?” Amelia’s voice broke through the fog in his head.

“Regina Jones.”

“Are you certain? Just because you acknowledge her, doesn’t mean she can ever be legitimised.”

“It’s fitting.”

He wanted to give her the world, and he did, in a way, by making her his ambassador – allowing her to travel all over the land and take in everything that life had to offer her. She had loved that she could travel and still get to do something useful for her kingdom. To see her now having given up on the thing she loved to do most, was beyond heart breaking. He had been furious, not only did he have to beg for King Stefan to spare his daughter’s life, he had to do so even when she hadn’t committed a crime. When he had seen the state she was brought back in, he was ready to wage war on King Stefan, diplomacy be damned. He had to be restrained by William, and forced to sit at Regina’s bedside as she recovered so he wouldn’t take an impulsive decision that would affect the entire kingdom.

He had been ready to stake his kingdom’s future that day for Regina, and nothing has changed now. He would still do it, and from the letter that he has received it was evident that he would have to. He could only hope that the other rulers would still believe in him, and stay with him.

-/-

David balled up the letter in his hand, fury blazing within him. He’d always known King Stefan to be fickle and underhanded, but to shift completely over to the enemy lines, and abandon the other northern kingdoms was extreme even for him. He wasn’t oblivious, he had heard the rumour mill that had been going around for days about the possibility that Stefan would shift sides, but he also knew that his political tensions with Camelot must have been a big cause for it. While he would never question the integrity of his friend, he needed to get some answers if he was going to have to make a decision regarding Emma and William’s future.

And if he did find something worthwhile, he could still call off the wedding, without completely abandoning Camelot. It would be a win-win for both kingdoms, and Emma and him would finally have the upper hand that they had been struggling for with the council. If only he could find someway to overthrow the Duke’s power, or bring him under doubt for questioning, he could finally find a way to fix what had long since been broken between the kingdom and the council.

He took out a plain parchment, quickly writing out a letter to his wife. She had been gone long enough, and as understanding as he wanted to be, her rightful place was next to him. Especially in a time like now.

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope that Nate is feeling much better with you by his side, for I know how much comfort simply your presence can provide. I am in desperate need for your presence next to me, my love. It is time for you to return home; it is time for us to prepare for Emma’s wedding, and she needs her stepmother with her.

I implore you to return to us at your earliest, even as I hope that you reach home much before this letter reaches you.

Awaiting your arrival,

Yours, always,

David.

He sealed the parchment with his official seal, choosing to send it with a pigeon rather than a messenger. He was aware that his correspondence would be read either way, but that was why he had been so careful in his wording. There could be no proof that a rebellion against the council was imminent until the last possible moment. I would not do them any good if the council is alerted of their plans.

He could only deceive them if they had no clue of his intentions. If they get even a whiff of his ideas, they would definitely see it as enough reason to overthrow the monarchy. He could let that happen, and if it meant he had to comply with the demands of the council for a while longer, he would have to.

Taking out another piece of parchment, he began penning a letter to his dear friend, inviting him to Misthaven and hoping to clear all doubts he had regarding the situation with King Stefan. Brennan would never betray him, after all.

-/-

Elizabeth held Nate’s hand as the physician examined him. “He’s been complaining of discomfort a lot more nowadays, doctor. Is there anything that you could give him to help relieve his pain?”

“I’m not sure, madam. I can give something that would help him sleep, but at the stage of illness, there is not much that we can do.”

“What are you saying? That we simply give up?” she demanded. “We can’t do that unless we have explored all our options!”

“El,” Nate protested weakly. “You need to stop this.” Turning to the doctor, the sickly man smiled gratefully. “Thank you for all that you have done for me, doctor. I know that I have reached the end of my time.”

“You don’t know that!” Elizabeth cried, angry at how callous he was being.

“Yes,” he wheezed, coughing before he continued. “Yes, I do, El. This is why you came here, to be with me during my dying moments. So be with me. Let’s not waste time, when we have so little left with each other.

“Nate,” she whispered, looking down at him with a forlorn expression. “Please. There has to be something else.”

“Nothing short of a miracle can keep me alive, El. We all have to go someday. I’m just glad that the woman I love is with me when I do.”

“Don’t say such things, Nate.”

“I have to, El. I need to. I know that you have moved on from me-”

“I never stopped being in love with you,” she cut him off in protest. “You are, and will always be, the love of my life.”

“It is such an honour to have loved you, Elizabeth. Such a privilege to be loved back by you.”

“Nate, don’t do this, don’t say goodbye.” She was crying now, trying desperately to stop and failing miserably.

“We said our goodbyes years ago, El. You will be fine without me.”

“The only reason I even left you was so your life would be spared by my father. You know that. How could you think that I would survive this?” she cried.

“Because you are the strongest woman I have ever met. If anyone can get through this, it would be you. Just stay true to yourself, El. Get back to your family, they need you.”

“But you need me more, Nate.”

-/-

King Brennan had just finished up a meeting with the army general, his bones aching from tiredness. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing hard to get rid of the haze of sleep gripping him tight. He knew that he needed his rest, but King Stefan’s decision had opened up too many avenues for problems and it was best if he found solutions for all possible problems instead of waiting for them to come up. He closed his eyes, memories of a dark time drifting into his unconscious.

“What do you mean that she has been imprisoned?” Killian demanded, forgetting his station as he addressed his father. “It has to be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Of course, it has to be. She has been charged with sexual assault against the princess, Aurora.” He crumpled up the letter in his anger. “Who the bloody hell does he think he is, falsely accusing my daughter?”

William piped up, the voice of reason. “Father, from his point of view, he isn’t accusing the daughter of a king. He’s accusing the ambassador of a kingdom. We could use this to our advantage. Because if Princess Aurora relents and accepts that everything that happened between them was consensual, she would be cleared of all charges, and King Stefan would owe you a debt, for insulting the kingdom like this.”

While Killian was more of a punch-first-ask-questions-later type of person, William always had a political agenda and a diplomatic way to deal with things. Brennan nodded at William’s suggestion, looking at Killian to see what he thought of it. After a moment of reluctance, he nodded, “William is right, father. We do need strong allies in the upcoming war. But I also think that this has the potential to go sideways. I think it would be a good idea for us to have open communication with King David about this issue. So even if we lose King Stefan’s support, we could still maintain good relations with the other kingdoms, if we have King David’s. Everyone follows his lead.”

Brennan’s expression grew pensive as he considered both his sons’ reasoning. They both had sound arguments, and the both were right. It was always best to anticipate and prepare for the worse and hope for the best. He nodded, turning to William first. “William, Killian is right. We need to strengthen our other allies, and make sure that the loss of King Stefan’s support wouldn’t be staggering. I will write to David myself. I want you to write to all the other kings, making sure that we still have their support. But do not disclose what is happening with King Stefan. We cannot afford to spook anyone.”

When William left, he turned to Killian, hand clasping his shoulder. “You go and bring your sister back. No matter what Stefan says or does, whatever he asks for – just bring her back.”

Killian looked taken aback by his father’s demands, knowing that it was the opposite of what William would have said. “But William-”

“William doesn’t understand.” His father sighed, running a hand down his face. “He always thinks about what the politically correct decision is. And he is right to. But this is Regina, Killian. Nothing can happen to her. Whatever the consequences are, we will face it together, as a family.” Standing up straighter in all his regal glory, Brennan ordered. “Bring her back.”

Of course, back then he never anticipated things to do go as they had now. He’d expected Stefan to be more understanding. But the moment he’d seen Regina in Killian’s arms, he knew there was no coming back from that. No matter what Stefan had done after, it would have never been enough. In some ways, he was glad that this happened, so he wouldn’t have to be any sort of relationship with such a heartless and cruel man. He was better off with the Southern Kings. Even now, after all these months, after knowing that Regina has physically recovered, the anger seething in him was as much as it had been the day she’s returned home, if not more.

Brennan and William were in a meeting with Lord Cramwell when the healer’s assistant burst through the doors, creating a commotion.

“Sire, your daughter. She’s back,” he panted from the exertion of running all the way. “She’s in the infirmary with Ser Killian.”

Both men rushed to the infirmary, only to find Killian pacing outside, his hair sticking up in all directions, as if he’d repeatedly run his hand through it. “Killian, how is she?” Brennan asked, already fearing his answer. But before Killian could say anything, they heard an agonising scream from behind closed doors, giving them the answer they had dreaded.

“Is that- What happened to her?” William breathed out, horrified by his sister’s screams as they rang through the corridor.

Killian cupped his mouth, unable to answer them for a while, just praying that she would pass out from the pain so that she wouldn’t suffer as much, as he had been doing the past several minutes.

“Why haven’t they given her any sedatives?” his father demanded, her every scream tearing open his heart.

“They cannot give her anymore without risking her health. We had her sedated for most of the journey,” Killian explained, finally finding the words to talk. “King Stefan had her flogged within an inch of her life, like she was a low-life criminal, father. He had her chained up and thrown in the dungeons in her condition. She has an infection and she’s had fever for the past two days, and no sign of it going down,” he rushed out, heart in his throat.

“Gods have mercy,” William prayed, turning towards the doors to the infirmary as Regina’s cries softened.

Brennan could not find words to comfort both his sons, his own heart plummeting to his feet at Killian’s news. An infection could mean the end of her, she could die from her wounds. Anything could happen to her. He couldn’t lose her, he could not lose Regina. She was-

“Something must be done about Stefan,” he growled, startling both his sons. They had never seen their father so angry, his face turning purple and eyes blazing. “He cannot get away with this.”

“There’s nothing we can do, father,” William reasoned. “We do not have the manpower to go against a man like King Stefan and remain victorious. We cannot cause wars between the Northern Kingdoms right now, we cannot afford to with King George’s attack imminent.”

“That is enough, William,” Brennan snapped. “That is your sister in there. And more importantly, Camelot’s foreign ambassador. King Stefan held a trial against her, without the presence of a proper representative from Camelot. That is treason.”

William, always being the level-headed one, knew he had to talk his father down before he did anything drastic. “Father, that rule is overlooked if the King views the defendant as a threat to the crown, or in this case, his heir – Princess Aurora. He was well within his right to do-”

But before he could finish his sentence, Killian had him pushed against a wall, his arm at his throat. “You tell me he was well within in his right to almost kill my little sister, I will rip you apart,” he threatened, his eyes wide with rage. He growled at William before releasing him.

William cleared his throat, knowing that neither his father nor brother were ready to listen to reason. So he simply chose to wait with them, hoping that when a new day dawned, things would be much better.

-/-

David had just finished composing his letter to King Brennan, his eyes going over the text once before sealing it.

My dear friend,

I have received word from Stefan that he has chosen to ally himself with King George, because of some grievance with you. I hope that this is not true. But if it is, I believe that you would have done the noble thing, my friend. We have known each other since we were but children, not knowing much about anything except the ball and grounds. I do not doubt you for a second, but I am afraid the others might.

I only wish to hear your side of the tale, and I welcome you to Misthaven. If you are unable to leave Camelot in this tumultuous time, I hope that you would grant you son, Prince William, the permission to disclose the details of your issue with Stefan. While I am happy to assume that it was that spineless bastard at fault, it would not be just for me to take a decision and appeal to the other rulers without some credibility.

At this outset, I am writing to Stefan as well, hoping to bring him back into our fold. We will need all the allies we can gather, for the war against King George was hard won the last time, and with more than just his kingdom being him, it would be that much more difficult.

I invite you to agree to a truce with King Stefan, in the instance that I am able to negotiate it. We are stronger together than we are apart, my friend. I hope that you will reconsider my offer.

Your friend,

David

While he was usually more formal in his letters, he had known Brennan all his life. He knew his friend enough to trust that he would never have done any of the things that Stefan had claimed. He was an honourable man, and never once has he proved David’s belief in him false. He would only have to have faith in his friend, and wait.

-/-

Elizabeth had just returned from fetching fresh water when she saw Nate start to try and get up. She rushed to his side, place the bowl next the bed as she helped him up.

“You ought to be resting, Nate,” she gently admonished, ever as she allowed him to lean on her for support.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air. I thought we could go outside for a bit? Sit at the beach and look at the stars, like we used to?” he suggested, smiling winningly at her. She hadn’t been able to resist it when she had been twenty, she couldn’t resist it now.

Rolling her eyes at his obvious attempts at charm, she agreed, slowly but surely guiding him out of the stuffy cottage and into the fresh, if slightly chill, atmosphere. When he began to shiver, she draped her shawl around him, allowing him to hold it close. “Let’s go sit by the water, Nate.”

He nodded, taking slow, measured steps with her. When walking became too much, they both sat down, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

“May I lie on your lap?” he asked, and when she nodded, he placed his head on her lap. She used the shawl to cover him fully, her fingers carding through his hair, making him smile in contentment. “This is nice, El.”

She hummed in agreement, knowing that words would only ruin the moment. So, they remained quiet, Elizabeth watching over him as he stared up at the stars, his gaze occasionally shifting to hers, smiling every time it did. Soon enough, his breathing slowed down, and his eyes drifted closed. She stayed with him until he breathed his last, unmindful of the cold. And when he stopped breathing, she finally let out the sob that she had been holding in all these days, her anguished cries drowned by the sound of the ocean.

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