#a bit modern au captain duckling

[funnywiccanwritingcorner]

Le joyau le plus precieux

A Lucky Luke Modern!AU fanfiction

Chapter III - Family

Days passed. Although he still let Lucky Luke slip away, the police chief wrote a note of praise to Joe Dalton for recovering the loot. Everyone congratulated him, but the detective cared little: he was still emotionally messed up. For everyone his was a victory, but for him it was an embarrassing memory that he would never recount. Besides, that damned thief had filled him with a lot of questions: why was he stealing? Although this one wasn't actually new, it had just taken on a different meaning. What did he mean by trusting him? Besides, what was he doing with one stolen item at a time? He rested his face on his desk, huffing. The forensic analysis of the bag containing the jewellery had led to nothing; it was spotless and without fingerprints. They had nothing in their hands. The most frustrating thing, though, was being... wooed? There was no other way to describe it. Yes, being wooed by that hottie. Worse, he couldn't get that persuasive voice out of his head that said “I'll show up”.

Joe was going crazy. 

Was the thief going to keep that kind of promise?

-Detective Dalton?- A squeaky female voice announced the entry into the office of a young woman with voluminous red hair in a suit. -Betty, I already told you, you can call me Joe...- -We're at work, I'm trying to be professional!- she joked. -You're Averell's fiancée, practically one of the family.- -But I'm also the department's psychologist. Speaking of which, I'd like to remind you that our weekly session has moved to Thursdays, at least for a while.- -Problems?- -I am under pressure to accommodate external agents in my office, my schedule is full. But I'm always there for my future brother-in-law!- winked the woman. -You are kind. Thank you. But at the moment my only worries are about work, as usual.- Betty gave him one last understanding smile before opening the door again, but froze: -What a fool! I almost forgot: later on I will send you through Pierre some permits to sign; these are therapeutic leaves that I recommended myself. The captain can't take care of it, and I need a valid name.- -Of course, that's fine.- Leaving the office, the redhead crossed a short corridor until she met the other three Dalton brothers at an appointed point. Immediately William asked her: 

-So? Everything OK? -No. He seems a bit tired, and says he's worried about work, but I think he's hiding something.- -Maybe you should prepare a leave of absence for him too; you know, this Lucky Luke thing puts a lot of pressure on him- Averell said. -I could do that, but I'm sure he would answer that he doesn't need it.- -He's been weird ever since he stopped Lucky Luke from stealing from the Palace of Versailles- observed Jack, -maybe he's not happy that he escaped.- They continued to speculate until lunchtime; the four brothers stood in the hall and all went out together.

There was a diner, not far from the departmental headquarters, called “Mère L'Oie”, where they always went to eat. Wedged between the shop of a well-known shoe brand and a perfumery, it was distinguished by its lemon-yellow sunshade awning and sign, where above the name was painted a row of ducklings following their mother; the latter carried a wicker picnic basket in her beak. It was Averell who had suggested it as a “favourite lunch spot”: the portions were generous and every Wednesday there was raspberry tart for dessert. They even had a table practically reserved, near the large window overlooking the street.

It was when it was time to order the second course that William brought up the subject of Lucky Luke to test the waters: -So, Joe, do you have a new plan in the pipeline?- -Please?- His brother was overthinking, fiddling with a corner of his napkin. -Lucky Luke. What are you going to do with him?- -Well... I would say that at the moment deploying extra forces was not effective. I need to go over a few things, it's gonna take a while.- -Whatever. If I have to do some research...- -Let's check the list we've already drawn up- Joe cut in short, -How about chicken cutlets with fries?-

To call a house “cozy” is just another way of saying it is small. Back then, the Dalton brothers house could be described as very cozy, to some as stuffy. Because you know, most males are messy, and even though Joe had established rules and cleaning routines from the start, only the youngest seemed to abide by them to the letter. A flat consisting of three rooms, a bathroom and a kitchen/dining room/living room. To them it was a castle. Averell claimed it was a metaphor for their close bond. After all, they had always done everything together, from primary school to the police academy, as well as mischief when they were kids.

Yes, they were real hooligans: they lit firecrackers under their grandfather's armchair, attached cans to their cat's tail, and once they grew up they went on to smash shop windows and vandalise in every way possible. Their mother, exasperated, literally dragged them out of their small American town by the ears to take them to Europe, to Paris, and to teach them discipline she sent them off to make their bones as police cadets.

And there they were, gathered on the couch after a day's work of patrols, paperwork and reporting, munching popcorn and watching a movie, annoying each other from time to time; Averell was the favourite target because he was ticklish. -But wouldn't it be simpler to freeze that parasite?- commented William, -I mean, if it has acid blood, it seems the logical thing to do.- -Shush, I want to follow!- Jack scoffed. The younger man clutched a pillow in his arms, curled up in his seat: -Joe, there are no such beasts, are there?- -No, Averell, they don't exist- the elder replied boredly, -And look, the guy's fine, he pulled that thing off himself.- But at the next scene, much more horrifying than the first, Averell hid his face in his pillow: -How disgusting!- -Come on, he just got a little monster out of his stomach!- remarked one of the twins with an evil giggle, who exchanged a fist bump with the other. -Iiiiiihh!!! Stop it!!- Joe turned off the television set: -Ok, that's enough! Off to bed!- -But Joe...- -If you don't want to do the dishes for a week, obey.- So shortly afterwards it was his turn to go and reassure Averell that no aliens would bite his face off during the night. A typical evening at the Dalton house.

Seeing his younger siblings sleeping blissfully, the twins in their bunk beds and the younger one hugging his pillow mumbling in his sleep, was something that always made Joe feel good. He scolded them often, and sometimes they fought by punching each other, but the affection that bound them together was evident. The eldest was always the last to go to sleep, partly because he wanted to make sure everything was locked up, and also because he always lingered watching Paris at night from his window, with the streetlights casting a yellowish glow over the streets and pavements. Suddenly his mobile phone rang. He went to look: unknown number. He answered anyway, with a brief hesitation: -Hello?- -Hello, Detective Dalton.-

[wistfulcynic]

On What They Fall 1 /4

SO this began life as a drabble. It was a teeny-tiny idea that I wrote on my phone in the middle of the night that grew and grew and GREW so now it is two chapters. And that is ALL. Because I can’t do any more than that. And also because then @thisonesatellite has to buy me a bottle of whisky 🥃. Heh heh. 

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion. 

Everyone but Emma Swan. 

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too. 

Part 9 of Secret Things. 

(There are hints at attempted suicide here, just light references but be aware if this is a trigger for you)

Rated: T 

On AO3

Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu (Give me a shout if you’d like a tag for Chapter 2 THE FINAL CHAPTER)

On What They Fall: 

It’s past one in the morning when she arrives at the bar where he’s drinking, a dingy little dive near the harbour. Young women rarely frequent it unless they mean business, which is one of the reasons he goes there. She though, she, with her hair and her face and her body in that soft pink dress, she stands out like… like an inflamed digitus primus manus.

She’d laugh if he said that to her, he thinks.

(Like a what now?

A sore thumb, Swan.

Well, why can’t you just say that?)

One a.m., he thinks. Not her birthday anymore.

--

Her eyes find him the minute she walks through the door. He’s slouching against the bar, all lean limbs and nonchalance, his eyes on the game of pool going on in the corner. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him, as it always does. 

She wipes her palms on her skirt and makes her approach. 

“Hey, Killian.”

He turns and a small smile quirks the corners of his mouth, crinkles the edges of his eyes. It looks involuntary.

“Swan,” he replies.

She swallows hard as his voice seems to stroke her, sends a shiver up her spine. “Hi.” She attempts a smile. “I’m, uh, back for the weekend.”  

“So I see,” he says, pushing himself upright in one liquid motion. “Happy birthday.”

She tries not to read anything into the fact that he remembered. If he did remember. If he didn’t just deduce it from her presence here in the bar she was too young to enter until yesterday. She tries, but the hope in her heart doesn’t listen.

“Thanks,” she says.

He takes a small box out of his jacket pocket, square and flat and tied with a red ribbon that’s slightly crushed. He holds it out to her like a challenge.

“What— what’s this?”

There’s tension in his smile now, a brittle stiffness in his posture. “It’s a present, Swan, surely you’ve seen them before,” he snarks. “Quite a few of them I shouldn’t wonder.”

He’s deflecting, she thinks. He’s embarrassed to be offering her something.

She understands him far better than he thinks.

She takes the box from him with a shy smile and he relaxes just a fraction, but when she starts to untie the ribbon he almost lunges forward to stop her, letting his fingers brush hers just lightly before he yanks his hand away again. His fist clenches at his side. “Don’t open it here,” he says quietly.

“Why no—”

“Just, please, Swan. Don’t.”

“Okay.” She tucks the box into her bag and starts to ask him how he’s been when from the corner of her eye she sees a petite brunette waving at him from the pool table. He nods at her and gives her a wink, and the smile he directs at Emma turns dismissive. No, she thinks, feeling desperate. Not yet. He can’t leave now, it’s too soon, she’s barely seen him. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks and he’s just going to ditch her after a two minute conversation?

“If you’ll excuse me, Swan,” he says, but she doesn’t move.

“Another one, then,” she sniffs, letting her eyes flick towards the pool table.

His eyes are shuttered, defensive. “Aye,” he growls, “What of it?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She attempts to walk back from her catty remark. “It’s just... well, I guess it must be fun, all the attention. Women falling all over you wherever you go. But don’t you ever think—” She’s had a few drinks in other bars, liquid courage to help her come here and speak to him, and it loosens her tongue a bit too much. “Don’t you want to fall in love?” 

His mouth twists. “I am in love,” he says harshly. The words seem wrenched from him. “For all the bloody good it does me.”

She starts to laugh, but then she sees his face. “You’re serious!”

He smirks. Her heart clenches, stumbles in a chest that’s gone painfully tight as the room seems to shrink around her. Of course she knows he sleeps around,  he has since they were teenagers and never bothered to hide it. She’s even teased him about it, burying her hurt in humour and clinging to the small consolation that with her, with them, it’s different. He talks to her, sometimes for hours, and she’s always thought that maybe… once he stops being so angry at the world… maybe they might find their way to each other. She’s prepared to wait for him, for as long as it takes. But this… this she didn’t see coming.

“Who is she?” Emma asks, and her voice sounds so small.

His is flat, emotionless. “Someone who will never return my affections,” he says.

“So that’s why you...” She gestures at the brunette.

“Aye.”

“Does it help?”

“Not really.”

“Then why don’t you stop?”

He laughs, bitter and angry. “And do what instead? Sit at home and think about her? Fantasise about all the things I want and can’t ha—” he cuts himself off.

“You could—”

“Swan, please. I really don’t wish to discuss this with you. Just let me do my ‘man-whoring’ as you so charmingly call it, in peace.”

She puts her hand on his arm, holding her breath so he won’t hear how much touching him affects it. His arm is warm even through his jacket, the muscles hard beneath her fingers. Her heart tries to beat clear out of her chest. “I regret I ever said that,” she whispers.

He shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s the truth.”

He sounds breathless, and his jaw is tense. He pulls away from her touch, steps back. Gives her a small, mocking bow. “See you around, Swan,” he smirks. She stands for a minute, groping desperately for calm, and when she goes to look for him again both he and the brunette are gone.

--

She opens his present in bed, curled under the blankets in a private cocoon. It’s a pendant, a delicate rendering of a swan in silver filigree. It’s gorgeous. Her fingers tremble as she removes the necklace she’s worn for years, the one her high school boyfriend gave her. She has no idea why she’s kept it this long, perhaps as a reminder that sometimes when you think someone’s an asshole it’s because he is. She replaces it with Killian’s gift, then closes her fist around it and lets her tears fall. She would have been so happy receiving this just a few hours ago, she thinks. This thoughtful, personal gift. But now that she knows he’s in love, it feels like something he’d give a little sister, not a woman he might someday… but she can’t finish that thought.

--

She seeks him out the next day, down at the docks where he’s working on his boat. An old wreck of a thing he bought on his twenty-first birthday, one he’s been working to fix up for nearly two years.

“Are you ever going to be done with that?” she calls.

He grins, bright as the sunlight. “A ship is always a work in progress, Swan,” he says, patting the mast fondly. “But she’ll be seaworthy soon enough.”

She comes on deck and as she approaches his eyes land on the pendant, framed by the low neck of her shirt. Something flashes across his face, gone in the blink of an eye but she sees it, and she hopes again.

“I came to thank you for this,” she says, brushing her fingertips over the swan. “It’s beautiful.”

He shoves one hand into his jeans pocket, waves the other one dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he says.

“It’s not nothing, Killian, it was very thoughtful—”

His hand closes into a fist. “Don’t make a big deal of it,” he snarls. She doesn’t recoil. It’s always there, this anger, tightly coiled inside him and just waiting for a trigger. She’s used to it. She gives it time to recede, which it does, quickly, leaving him looking contrite. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers.

“I love it.” I love you.

They stand in silence for a moment as he looks at his feet and she tries to will him to stop, to look at her instead. When he doesn’t she sighs. “I’m going back to school this afternoon,” she says. “I’ll be home again at Thanksgiving.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you then,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t look at her as she gets back in her car and drives away.

--

When she’s gone Killian kicks a coil of rope and then a bucket, then slumps against the boat’s rail, pounding it with his fist as he presses the heel of his other hand against his aching chest. He didn’t really think through how it would look, giving her that pendant. What she or anyone else might read into the gesture. He thought only that it was beautiful and she should have it. She deserves every beautiful thing, and it’s so rare he has a chance to offer her one.

He hopes she won’t tell her father who gave it to her. The sheriff is hostile enough as it is.

--

When Killian first came to Storybrooke his anger was sharper, more volatile. Fresh from losing first his brother and then his parents, with no close family left and still eight months shy of his eighteenth birthday, he’d found himself unceremoniously deposited on the doorstep of his distant cousin Belle, a woman hardly older than he was himself, in a small American town where everything from his clothes to his accent to his furious grief seemed to offend people. His first day at school three boys followed him home, taunting him, and before he could think he lashed out with fury and with his fists. He wasn’t big or particularly strong, but he knew how to fight and how to do it dirty and he laid all three out flat in the middle of Main Street with almost the whole town watching. All of them, staring at him with expressions of horror and disgust, all plainly writing him off as a violent troublemaker who would come to no good.

All but one. Emma Swan never looked at him with anything but compassion, with understanding, like he was someone who mattered— even when her father hauled him away to spend the night in a holding cell.

She appeared in the sheriff’s station hours later, bearing a cup of cocoa and an extra blanket. “It gets cold in here at night,” she said, offering them to him through the bars of the cell. 

Killian stared at her, waiting for the punch line, but she just smiled. “Go on,” she said. “Trust me, you’ll need them both.” 

Trust me. He took them, his fingers brushing hers around the warm paper cup. He blamed the shock, the comedown from adrenaline, the soul-deep exhaustion and the terrible fear that he’d fucked everything up completely when he’d only been in this town a day, for the next words that came out of his mouth. 

“Are you an angel?”

She laughed. “No. I’m Emma, the sheriff’s daughter. Emma Swan.” She held out her hand again, this time for him to shake. He did, and felt the shock of the contact to the tips of his toes. Emma’s eyes grew wide and her smile softened, and when she withdrew her hand she held his heart in it. 

--

He doesn't see Emma again until Christmas, when she and her friends return to his bar. Graham spots them instantly, sitting up straighter and waving them over, his face lit up with pleasure. Killian struggles not to envy the other man’s freedom to smile at Emma, to laugh and tease her. Graham is one of his few friends —too new in town to have any preconceptions about ‘that Jones boy’ and from the correct side of the pond, albeit the unfashionable side of the Irish Sea, Killian jokes when he wants to rile Graham a bit—but he’s also the Sheriff’s favourite deputy and a man that David would clearly welcome into his family with open arms, if the smile on his face whenever Emma and Graham are together is any indication. 

Graham greets Emma with a hug and a Merry Christmas, which she returns warmly. Killian’s jealousy is acid in his gut but he swallows it down, gives Emma a stiff nod and stands to go, to find someplace where he won’t be a third wheel. When Emma puts her hand on his arm to stop him he barely suppresses a flinch. Her touch burns him, makes him yearn for things that can never be his, and he is terrified of what he might do if it goes on too long. Carefully, he pulls away to just beyond her reach and hates himself for the hurt that flashes in her eyes. She tries so hard to be his friend, it’s not her fault he wants far more than friendship from her. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” she attempts to tease him. 

He shrugs. “Just thought I’d give you two a chance to catch up.” 

“I saw Graham at Thanksgiving,” says Emma, and the acid threatens to choke him. Of course she did. Of course Graham was invited to her family’s celebration. “I haven’t seen you since my birthday. How have you been?”

“Same as always, Swan, nothing ever changes for me,” he replies, trying not to let the bitterness choke him. “I go to work, help Belle at the library, fix my boat. That’s the extent of my existence.” 

She looks like she wants to hug him and he takes a step back, fights the urge to flee. He’ll never fathom why she finds him worth talking to, why she continually seeks him out. It was different when she lived in Storybrooke, they had things to talk about then, but now she’s in college and her world has opened up while Killian’s remains the same narrow slog through the days and weeks and years of pointless grind that’s all he has to look forward to in life. He can’t think of anything to say to her now. 

“I’m going to play some pool,” he says. “Happy Christmas, Swan.” 

--

Emma fights her tears as she watches him go, pastes a smile on her face and turns back to Graham, whose bright, hopeful expression should be welcome but instead just makes her feel trapped. Her dad’s been dropping some less-than-subtle hints lately and she supposes she really should give Graham a chance. He's a great guy, sweet and funny, and she likes him a lot. He clearly likes her too, but he just doesn’t get her, doesn’t see her the way Killian does. Killian sees everything she is, and he understands all of it in a way that Graham and her friends and even her parents could never hope to. 

He’s caught so deep in her heart she can’t extract him from it, not without ripping herself apart in the bargain. Not even to please her father. 

But Killian is across the room determinedly ignoring her, and Graham is charming and funny and there, making her laugh and delighting her friends, and she likes him. When he asks her to dinner she hesitates, looks over to where Killian is leaning into a tall brunette, smiling his flirtatious smile as he toys with the ends of her hair. She swallows hard and pushes away her foolish hope. She says yes.

Graham is thrilled. He’ll pick her up tomorrow at seven, he says, and she agrees then leaves the bar before she can lose her hold on her tears. This is the right decision, she tells herself. Killian's in love with someone who is clearly not her; he doesn’t want her as she wants him and she has to accept it. She can’t keep keeping her hopes up when all he ever does is crush them. 

Killian claps his friend on the back and listens to him enthuse about Emma, how beautiful and kind she is, how he’s never felt like this about anyone before. He keeps a smile plastered on his face and makes all the right noises, nods in all the right places until he can't take it anymore and he slips away, hunching his shoulders and stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as he walks home. His mind is in chaos and his heart feels raw. He has no idea what to do. 

He buys a bottle of rum from the convenience store then goes home, sits down at the kitchen table and proceeds to drink the whole thing, one shot straight after another until the glass becomes a pointless waste of effort and he just drinks straight from the bottle. When it’s empty he takes out the half bottle he already had and finishes that off. Then he digs out the sambuca Belle got as a gift last Christmas. It’s still unopened. He drinks it all. 

When Belle wakes up that morning she finds him sprawled on the floor, barely breathing. She calls an ambulance, clings to his hand as they race to the hospital. Killian’s eyes flutter open. “Belle,” he croaks. 

“I’m here,” she whispers. 

“Don’t— don’t call Emma,” Killian begs. “Please.”

Belle nods, understanding. “I won’t.”  

--

At the hospital they pump his stomach. It saves his life, the doctor says. Acute alcohol poisoning can kill you.

“Shame it didn’t,” mutters Killian, and Belle looks at him sharply. She doesn’t think he did this on purpose but she’s not convinced it was wholly an accident.

“Killian I know you’re hurting but you have to stop doing this to yourself,” she insists, once the doctor has left. “Emma wouldn’t want—”

Killian pulls his hand from her grip. “Emma doesn’t give a damn,” he snaps.

“Now, you know that’s not true. She cares about you—”

He runs his hand over his face. “She’s a kind person, she cares about everyone. Not me in particular.”

Belle opens her mouth then closes it again. She’s tried to argue with him about this before but ultimately she knows there’s really no point— he’s got Emma on far too high a pedestal, he simply can’t believe she might love him.

And Belle knows from personal experience that he has to learn to love himself or he never will.

--

They keep Killian in the hospital overnight for observation. The next morning he’s released, and Belle comes to drive him home. Though they’re only very distant cousins she loves him like much closer family, calling him her ‘little nephew’ when he cheekily refers to her as his ‘Auntie Belle.’ He was only meant to stay with her until he turned eighteen, but by then they’d formed such a bond Belle offered to let him stay as long as he needed and he gratefully accepted. She doesn’t charge him rent but he insists on earning his keep, cleaning and cooking in addition to his job at the docks and his volunteer work at the library. He saves every penny he can and she knows one day he’ll leave. He was never meant to stay in Storybrooke forever. 

When they drive by Granny’s Diner and see Emma and Graham walking through its front gate together, Belle senses from Killian’s blank face and tense shoulders that the moment of his departure might be soon. 

When they get home she makes him sit down at the table and have breakfast, bacon and eggs and toast and strong coffee. He obediently eats it all, but his mind is clearly not on the food. 

“I’ve finished the boat,” he says. “She’s ready to sail.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah. I was thinking I might go.” 

“Go where?”

He shrugs. “Just go. I’ve got enough money saved to last a while, if I keep things simple. I might just sail. No destination. See where the sea takes me,” he jokes with a faint smile. 

Belle nods. She’ll miss him but she knows he needs this. He needs something to help him see what he’s worth, and Storybrooke will never provide it.

Killian continues, his voice strained. “I just can’t bear to see Emma... to see her... I want her to be happy,” he says fiercely. “She deserves that. She deserves someone like Graham who has so much to offer her, and who her family likes. I just— I can’t watch it. I can accept that she doesn’t feel as I do. But I can’t watch her fall in love with someone else. I have to go.”

“I agree,” says Belle. 

“You do?”

“Yes. Storybrooke is my place, but I’ve always known it’s not yours. You’re always welcome here of course, but you have to go and discover what more the world holds for you. You have to find out who you are, Killian, because this…” she gestures at his wrinkled clothes and hunched shoulders, “…this isn’t it. You’re so much better than this.”

He snorts. “I’m really not.”

“You are. I’ve always believed that. Now go find a way to believe it yourself.”

--

Killian leaves at sunrise the next morning. He doesn’t say goodbye. It’s Belle who tells Emma he’s gone, watches as her face goes deathly pale and tears slowly fill her eyes until they overflow and pour in rivulets down her ashen cheeks. She doesn’t make a sound.

Finally she whispers, “He left?”

Belle nods.

Emma’s voice drops until it’s nearly inaudible. “Is he coming back?”

Belle answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”

Tears cascade down Emma’s face and drip off her chin, leaving splotches on her blouse. She doesn’t notice. “How,” she whispers. “How could he… why…”

Belle is torn. Killian’s feelings aren’t for her to share, but it’s so obvious his leaving has broken Emma’s heart and Belle’s heart breaks for her. She has to give Emma something.

“Killian… he has some things to sort out,” she says. “A lot of anger. Unhealed scars from his childhood.”

“His brother,” says Emma automatically. Belle is surprised, she had no idea Killian told Emma about Liam.

“Yes,” she says. “And his parents.” Emma nods in understanding; so she knows that story too. “He just—” Belle thinks of how to say what Emma needs to hear without saying it. “He doesn’t have anything to offer another person right now.”

“He does,” says Emma fiercely. “He just doesn’t believe it.”

Belle studies the younger woman closely as realisation begins to dawn, wondering how Killian could possibly be so blind. She’s always known Emma cares for her nephew more than he is able to see, but this— this is a love as deep as Killian’s own. She tries to think of something to say, some comforting platitude to give, when Emma speaks again and floors her. “He wants to get away from her, doesn’t he?” She spits the pronoun with so much venom Belle is alarmed by the shift in her mood.

“Who?” she asks.

“The woman he loves.”  

“He told you he’s in love with someone?” Killian, it seems, has revealed rather a lot of very personal things to this woman he claims could never be interested in him.

“Yeah.” Emma’s face crumples and she finally sobs. “He did. Do you know who it is?” 

Belle can’t lie, not about this. “Yes,” she says. “But it’s not—”

“Not your secret to tell. I get it. But is she the reason why he…”

“Yes,” Belle replies. “To a large extent she is.”

Emma nods, sobbing harder, and her nose begins to drip. She sniffs and looks around for something to wipe it, and gratefully accepts the handkerchief Belle hands her. She dries her tears —for all the good it does as they don’t stop falling— and blows her nose then looks helplessly at the sodden mess of cloth in her hand.

“Keep it,” says Belle. “It’s one of Killian’s.” She doesn’t miss the way Emma’s fingers tighten on the small scrap of fabric.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and presses the handkerchief against her heart.

Killian, my lad, you’ve fucked things up something proper, thinks Belle.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 29 - April 4 2021

This week, I started my Epic Stucky Fic Download of 2021 (I'm somewhere in 2015 at the moment, 2014 and before are done), which means I re-read some oldies... I hope you enjoy!

Complete

Heaven and Hell were words to me by this_wayward_life (Post-Endgame, PWP, BDSM | 3K | Explicit): Bucky usually prides himself in being a relatively observant person. He was back in Brooklyn when he and Steve were cramped together in that tiny one-bedroom apartment, he was during his time as the Asset, and he was during that strange period between his defection from Hydra and Steve finding him. So, he's more than a little surprised when Steve manages to keep a secret from him. So it comes as a bit of a shock when Bucky comes home one day after a mission for Steve to take his hands and whisper that he's got a surprise for him. (Part 3 of No grave can hold my body down)

💙 Diving In The Deep End by musette22/ @musette22​ (Evanstan RPF | 19K | Explicit): Scarlett raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You’re telling me that you never once in your entire life, not even during theater school, locked lips with another guy?”

💙 you know I'd quench that thirst by napricot (Canon, Bucky/Steve/Peggy | 38K | Explicit): Steve Rogers is very much not a virgin. Not before the serum, and sure as hell not after it, when the serum ramps up his libido along with everything else. Too bad everyone thinks Captain America is a sexless historical symbol. Or: the tragicomic sexual odyssey of Steve Rogers, and how it begins, and then much later ends, with Bucky Barnes.

i got it bad for you by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3​ (Evanstan RPF, PWP, Daddy kink | 4K | Explicit): “Yeah? Older?” “Yeah yeah, just…I don’t know, the beard? This fucking hair? Just…I don’t know— older,” he manages to chuckle nervously, gasping into Chris’ mouth when their squirming leads their dicks into lining up beautifully. Seb aches, yearns, mouth watering as he mewls, both hands in Chris’ hair as he licks into Sebastian’s mouth. And then Chris pulls back, breathes hot on Sebastian’s cheek, his bottom lip, croons, “Like your Daddy?”

💙 The Wedding Planner(’s Assistant) by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades (Shrinkyclinks | 40K | Teen): Bucky Barnes is in a bit of a conundrum. For example, on the one hand, he’s the former extremely polished, brutally efficient, and impressively ruthless brainwashed weapon of mass murder for the secret Nazi arm of the United States government. On the other hand, he has an uncontrollable crush on the cute blond wedding planner who lives next door.

Accidental husbands... by darter_blue/ @darter-blue​ (Shrunkyclunks, Accidental Marriage | 2K | Mature): Or the one where Bucky finds himself accidentally married to a superhero. And he definitely isn't mad about it.

WIP

💙 and the river flows beneath your skin by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Boarding School AU, Soulmates | 9/? | 70K | Mature): In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

Re-Read

💙 (760): I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. by relenafanel/ @relenafanel​ (Modern AU | 6K | Mature): Hey friend of Sam’s can I get an opinion on this outfit? Bucky texted, attaching the selfie taken in Sam’s bathroom mirror. He received an answer almost immediately. Bucky was almost expecting a lecture, or at least a concerned question about who had stolen Sam’s phone. He got neither. Or: Bucky strikes up a flirtation with a stranger over text message in the month leading up to Valentine's Day.

💙 Bucky Barnes and his Big Beefy Blonde by Kellyscams/ @thebestpersonherelovesbucky​ (Shrunkyclunks, PWP | 6K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes loves Big, Beefy, Blondes. What he loves most about Big, Beefy, Blondes is having no string attached sex with them. Until he meets a Big, Beefy, Blonde that just happens to be Steve Rogers -- Captain America who's only been declared alive a few months ago. This is one that could go down as Bucky's fuck of a lifetime. That's if he can avoid these pesky feelings that start showing up out of nowhere.

💙 Bucky Barnes and his Big Beefy Blonde Part 2 by Kellyscams/ @thebestpersonherelovesbucky​ (Shrunkyclunks, Strangers to Lovers | 16K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes once spent eight glorious, sex-filled days with the Big, Beefy, Blonde fuck of a lifetime -- the recently defrosted Steve "Captain America" Rogers. Three months later, things aren't exactly the way Bucky imagined they'd be. This Big, Beefy, Blonde, really may have changed him forever.

💙 Series: You Make Me Feel Like I Am Home Again by Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet​ (Canon, Post-Winter Soldier | 19 works | 127K | Teen): Connected stories about Bucky and Steve: the world's most adorable relics.

if ye be worthy by hitlikehammers (Post-AOU | 2K | Teen): “Do you know what that is?” Bruce asks, voice low, but that’s not really new, for him. “It’s Thor’s hammer-thingy,” Bucky shrugs. “Look, man, I know it was shitty to give it a swing without him knowing, I’m sor—” “You swung it?”

💙 For Words to Say it Right by Squeaky, Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet​ (Modern AU, Soulmates | 25K | Teen): Turns out when you're missing an arm, everyone asks are you okay? all the damn time. And when your soulmark is one of the most common questions in English, it's even worse. Generic soulmarks are a bitch.

💙 Just Hold Me by shanology/ @shanology (Post-Winter Soldier | 10K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes is living in Avengers Tower, and all he wants in the world is to be cuddled. He sets out to get his new friends to give him the snuggling he needs, because it's not something he can ask of Steve yet. Steve doesn't see it in quite the same way. Also, there are Avengers movie nights, possibly with a showing of The Covenant. Just saying.

💙 Imprint by hetrez (Post-Avengers | 7K | General): "The next day, Steve and the other Avengers are just settling into a meeting on the flight deck when there's a muffled yell, and Alvarez falls out of the ceiling." -- Or, Steve builds a training program, a team, and new life for himself. (Part 1 of Make Way For Ducklings)

💙 Awakenings by hetrez (Canon divergent - Winter Soldier | 19K | Explicit): Bucky says, "Do you know, after you leave -- every time you leave, after the doctors have taken my mask off, I walk around this place and try to find everywhere you've been. Was your hand on the toaster? Did you lean against the doorway? Where were you on the couch? I haven't seen your face in seventy-five years, not really." (Part 2 of Make Way For Ducklings)

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: Fics I Loved in 2019/// October - December

So here we are, the last list of 2019 fics! I wasn’t sure I would get them done each week, but I did it! (And I think several of you seemed to enjoy :) Thanks!)  I apologize for not having this posted sooner, but everything rebooted just as I was getting nearly done, and I lost my entire post in progress!

Anyway, here we go with the fics from October to the end of the year...

Seeing as how October brought all things a bit spooky and Halloween-y, it seemed only right to start this list out with a fic from the @csrolereversal event that I simply adore: “A House is Never Still” by: @capnjay21  This fic is completely unique and full of such a great blend of mystery, angst, backstory, and thrills that I was completely sucked in from the very first chapter. I’ve gotten woefully behind, as I know there is at least one chapter update I haven’t gotten to read yet, but it is so well-written and creative, you will absolutely be enthralled!

Another awesomely spooky story is “An American Haunting” by: @welllpthisishappening  I loved this modern AU take on Emma, Killian, and many of the rest of our OuaT favorites as workers at an American historical village, and their encounter with a very real (and vengefull!) ghost. Plus, there’s plenty of secreative flirting and pining as well, since Emma and Killian like each other, but haven’t yet admitted it. ;)

October also brought us the @cspupstravaganza which allowed us to have several stories starring our pirate and princess alongside various adorable versions of man’s best friend. All of these fics deserve a read, but I especially loved: “Captain Morgan” by: @pirateherokillian, “Twelve Legged Matchmaker” by: @shireness-says, “...between a rock and a bark place” by: @thisonesatellite and “Arm’d with Hell Flames and Fury all at Once” by: @darkcolinodonorgasm. 

@profdanglaisstuff also wrote an incredibly funny and irresistible CS with a dog fic (that I thought was part of @cspupstravaganza, but I guess not!) called “Release the Kraken”.  This one had me both giggling and melting at the sweetness - don’t miss it!

“Drift” by: @thisonesatellite is a one shot which just blew me away with the emotion and the healing worked into the modern au verse of it. Emma and Killian’s finding each other and slowly connecting and allowing each other to be less alone in the world is just beautiful. I really can’t say enough about how gorgeous and affecting it is. If you missed this one, please do yourself a favor and read it now. <3

“Until the Stars are all Alight” by: @whimsicallyenchantedrose was another excellent AU MC I began to enjoy in these last months of 2019. It was an entry to @cssns19 and mixes together two of my very favorite things: Lord of the Rings and Once Upon a Time in a thrilling crossover. This has questing, romance, angst and adventure in equal measures, and is so well-done all around. It is a WIP, but I have never known Jennifer to leave an MC unfinished, so I know you won’t be disappointed!!

“Not Your (Soul)Mate” by: @let-it-raines probably doesn’t really need my introduction, but just in case you didn’t see the modern AU take on soulmates for the @cssns, definitely read it now! I love how awkwardly humorous the way Emma and Killian’s soulmate status makes itself known (even the two of them definitely do not!) Not only that, but the comic element mixes in real emotion as they try to fight destiny to really make the piece more meaningful. Plus, Killian as a doting uncle is not to be missed either! ;)

Fandom Birthday Playlist by: @searchingwardrobes  I did tell you there would be entries from this collection on every list, didn’t I? Melanie really excelled with this mission she set herself - so many engaging and fitting fics for fandom friends, and the three on this list are some of the best yet! You’ll totally fall for Killian as a young minister looking for someone to love him for himself in “Raging Fire”, with Killian and Emma as a young Lieutenant Duckling helping each other through a painful trial in “Burn the Ships”, and with single father Killian and lost amnesiac Emma in “Start of Time”.

“the unexpected life” by: @thisonesatellite An author!Killian/librarian!Killian, adorable Captain Cobra, and a hesitant-but-drawn-to-him Emma -- what more could we really ask for as readers?  This story is beautiful and heartwarming and all the good things the best fics are. I love how this Killian and Emma move from acquaintances to friends to loves to eventually a wonderful family with Henry.

“Drink the Wild Air” by: @profdanglaisstuff  I just love EF AUs with dashing sailor Killian and young princess Emma, and this gives us that very thing in gorgeous fashion. Both the adventure and the romance are excellent in this one, and though it is still a WIP, you will love and simply devour every bit of it posted so far -- I can almost guarantee it!!

“Four Eyes” by: @welllpthisishappening  Oh my goodness, this helping of sweet papa Killian, fighting a bit with admitting he’s aging when he finds out that he needs glasses right along with he and Emma’s little girl, is just beyond perfect!  There are references to The Great Gatsby (a sure way into my affections!) an adorably exasperated Emma and lovably realistic fluff galore. 

“The Swan of Misthaven” by: @slow-smiles Oh my! This is an EF Captain Duckling AU that will absolutely steal your heart - and in truth the final part of a larger collection of one shots called “My Princess, My Pirate” by this author.  They’re all worth reading, and again, I am a little late to the party, so maybe most folks know about this fic already. Still what a thrilling adventure plot - and some great moments of pirate Killian slowly winning over Snow and Charming as they all fight for the princess they love!

“Across the Snowy Places”  by: @profdanglaisstuff  There truly aren’t enough Thanksgiving fics in this fandom, and that made me love this five part offering all the more. I love the pretend relationship trope and how efficiently Saira uses it here. The pining and the chemistry between Emma and Killian is off the charts and SO well done!!  I got such a kick out of the cast of characters she surrounded them with too, and just how amazingly they come together for good in the end!

“Tell Me It’s Real (it’s real)” by: @let-it-raines This one plays with the same trope as the story before it. Best friends Emma and Killian pose as a couple to appease her family over the holidays, but their feelings keep threatening to upset the whole ploy and reveal how much more they both want. Plus, there’s Liam visiting his “little” brother as well as a wonderful rendition of David and MM. The angst and the pining and the steamy moments “for show��� just make this one - even before things work into their eventual happy resolution!

“The Perfect Gift” by: @terreisa  This is a modern au featuring CS as office co-workers that just charms you from beginning to end! Emma thinks she doesn’t want anything to do with the handsome Brit at the desk next to hers, but after a holiday gift exchange run by meddling matchmaker Mary Margaret, she begins to realize he isn’t who she believed him to be. This is seriously a gift for the reader, and you’ll love every word!! <3

“Hashtag Holiday Party” by: @shireness-says  No exaggeration here when I say that I start cackling with laughter whenever I think of this story. Devon does such a great job painting the worst kind of first date at a holiday party and how Emma deals with it. Luckily Killian and Belle are at the same party as well (as friends) and Emma finds that while the date was a bust, the party itself might not have been a waste at all... ;)

“To Keep it All the Year” by: @profdanglaisstuff​   This story reminds me exactly why I love a good Christmas story - the heart and good will found within it will truly warm your heart. The Killian we meet at the start of this is angry and alone and has nothing left, but then he meets Emma (and Henry) and he begins to see a way forward. I don’t want to spoil all the heart-tugging and glorious moments as the story progresses, but if you missed this around the holidays, please go back and read it now!!

“We Kill the Flame” by: @thisonesatellite​  Seriously, if you haven’t been reading this WIP futuristic MC, then put down whatever you’re doing, and go start it ASAP!  This one will take your breath away with the pulse-pounding action, the high stakes, and the risks Emma and Killian go through for each other and for the tiniest chance at grasping a better life. The whole roster of characters are perfectly cast, and the plot is amazing! So original, so well-done... you won’t even want to blink until you’ve swallowed each chapter whole  -- it’s that intensely good!

[captainswanbigbang]

CSRT Author Spotlight: searchingwardrobes

Today’s Captain Swan Rewrite-a-Thon spotlight features @searchingwardrobes!

How long have you been writing for the OUAT fandom? Did you write anything else (original or fan fiction) before joining the OUAT fandom? Are you writing anything non-OUAT now that the show is over?

Three years I think, and I have never written for any other fandom. I have self published an original work and am working on another.

What sort of fic do you like to write? What sort of fic do you like to read?

I honestly like a bit of everything. I prefer modern aus and canon divergence over canon, however. (To read and write). My favorite genre to write is probably Lieutenant Duckling in a modern au or canon divergence. I don't write smut and I don't read anything rated E.

What kind of rewrite will you be doing? 

This fic was originally just a two-shot, but I continued it after readers requested it. However, I am very unhappy with chapters 3 forward and just feel stuck. It lost its mood and tone somehow and want to get it back!

Tell us about your Rewrite-a-Thon story! What's it about, and why did you decide to rewrite it?

I wrote the story originally as a two shot that was supposed to be a one shot before it got too long. It was based on a prompt I gave my kids in a creative writing class I taught: "A child is kidnapped and the monster under the bed is pissed." Instead of a monster under the bed, it's little Killy in a magical wardrobe that allows him to travel across realms and time to visit little Emma. Instead of a kidnapping, Emma is almost raped a couple of years after getting out of jail and adult Captain Hook comes to her rescue. She then goes through the wardrobe with him to the EF. My two shot ended just as the story caught up with canon, and readers begged for more to see how it changed things. I had some ideas, so I started writing more, but somehow I lost the original feel and tone of the story and now I am stuck!

What are you most excited about when it comes to rewriting your story?

I LOVED the original first two chapters of this story and am really proud of it, and I am tired of feeling disappointed in the rest. I am excited about achieving the same feel for the rest of the MC. At the moment, I'm only continuing it because I feel I have to, and I hate that feeling! I look forward to feeling excited about this story again!

Check out @searchingwardrobes on Tumblr and AO3!

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

Ho ho hoooeello I'm back again! Don't worry about it

What do you like to do during the holidays season? Have you done anything holiday-related yet? Now that it's officially December, I will start decorating my home soon. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time, since I have a lot of exams right before christmas! I haven't watched a lot of movies lately, though I always mean to. Aside from OUAT, some of my favourite shows are Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Schitt's Creek, the good place, Jane the Virgin & One day at a time! [2/? - I LIED]

We usually watch whatever is on, but I've seen home alone a lot of times! I'm really looking forward to heading home this holiday season and to having a traditional dinner with my grandparents (My grandfather prepares the main course & he is a great cook). I also love listening to Christmas songs! Do you have any favourties?. As for you gift, my creative talents mostly lie in writing, so I'll be preparing a fic for you! Are you more the fluffy or angsty type? Any tropes? [3/3] love, Santa

Hi, Santa!!

My mom and I decorated the house already and finally finished decorating our tree last night:

(This is my kitty cat Killian’s first Christmas with us, so we had to be more careful about which/how many ornaments we put near the bottom.)

I switched my stuffed animals on my headboard in my bedroom to my Christmas/wintry ones too (plus a turkey for Thanksgiving that I haven’t switched yet lol):

Good luck on your exams!! Are you in school or college? What do you study? (Or are you a teacher/professor with exams to give?)

My grandma has been watching the Hallmark movies that have been on tv every night since before Thanksgiving and I’ve kind of been vaguely watching along, though with some recent personal circumstances I won’t expand on right now, I’m finding more frustration than enjoyment from most of them for a few reasons, so I tend to end up putting on headphones instead.

I love The Good Place but I’m so behind right now. I’ve been meaning to check out One Day at a Time, it’s on my long list of things I should probably watch at some point (*John Mulaney voice* and then I Didn’t), and I want to give B99 a try but I don’t have a way to watch it at the moment.

A traditional dinner with family sounds awesome! My parents always cook a ham and sides, and my grandparents on my mom’s side always came to our house for the day, but they live with us now (for a year as of November) so they’re already here, which is nice lol. My brother is married now, so he and my sister-in-law come over too. With the things going on, I’m not sure what this Christmas is going to look like, but that’s what we usually do at least.

I’m excited to bake cookies, but my grandfather has diabetes and his blood-sugar has been a little high lately (partly because of the Thanksgiving food, but I think he’s been sneaking candy or chips too), so I’m putting off baking until that’s under control again. He’s all or nothing with sweets, eats too many and has problems, then gets mad when we ask him to hold back a bit and complains as if he can’t have any at all, instead of just having a small amount every so often rather than a ton all at once like we suggest. I’m gonna keep that temptation away for a while, unless I get a long enough time to make some before he comes in the kitchen so I can hide them, but he just knows. lol

Most years, I’m the kind of person to start Christmas songs in the summer or at least October lol. Not so much these past few years, but I still enjoy them in the season. While we decorate, my parents always play Alabama’s Christmas albums first, and then whatever else until we’re done. (This year I chose Peter Hollens’s Christmas album and Jason Manns’s Christmas album featuring Supernatural cast members, and then my grandpa played the Rudolph soundtrack.) I love Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” (the song and the movie), Straight No Chaser’s “The Christmas Can-Can” and “The 12 Days of Christmas,” and tbh I think my favorite version of “The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)” is the one on the Phineas and Ferb Holiday Favorites album (and everything else on it is great too imo). I also love “Oh Santa” from VeggieTales. I pretty much enjoy most Christmas music though. Do you have any favorites?

I will very gladly receive a fic!! I’m open to pretty much anything, just preferably not smut (or at least not super explicit/detailed smut) unless that’s what you prefer to write, just because I try to keep my blog fairly pg/pg-13 most of the time other than some cursing and I want to be able to reblog whatever you give me. Fluff and angst are both more than welcome though, even also whump to some degree. Canon-divergent, au, anything. Lieutenant Duckling, Captain Duckling, Dark Ones, reversed roles, idk all the variation names, Neverland, Underworld, modern, coffee shop, roommates, neighbors, sci-fi, supernatural, band, parent, super sweet domesticity, total angst-fest, nightmares, torture, whatever. It’s all good. I will happily read whatever you write!

[sunbeamsandmoonrays]

Author Interview

I was tagged by @ladyalice101. Thank you!!

Note: I made pages for my fanfics and my picspam edits! Feel free to check them out. (If you’re using the mobile app, my older fanfics may look wonky; I guess it has to do with the fact I copied and pasted it instead of typing it out on here.)

Name: Sunny

Fandoms: way too many lol, but the fandoms I write for now/will most likely write for are GoT/Jonsa (my main fandom), ouat/Captain Swan, MCU/Sifki, and Riverdale/Bughead

Where You Post: AO3, tumblr, and previously on ff.net.

Most Popular One-Shot: On ao3, it’s Utter My Love. On tumblr, it’s An Embarrassing Promposal.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: I haven’t posted a multi-chapter story...yet.

Favorite Story You Wrote: I really enjoyed writing An Embarrassing Promposal

Story You Were Nervous to Post: There is a fic I’m totally nervous about writing because it’ll be a massive undertaking; the timeline (not even a chapter by chapter outline) I have of it is way over 10 pages long, and it’s not even complete. (It’s a whole canon divergent Robert’s Rebellion never happened because long story short, Aerys arranged a marriage between Lyanna and Rhaegar AU). So far the timeline covers 2 potential fics, but I had a plot bunny for a vague third story, and *Tina Belcher groan*.

How You Choose Your Titles: I’ve been mostly lucky with finding song lyrics or titles that fit, but for other fics it’s a throwing a dart and seeing where it lands type of deal. 

Do You Outline: For one shots, no. For multi-chapters, yes.

Complete: 11

In Progress: Ummm 5, I think? There are 3 drabble prompts left for my follower celebration (but I’ve only started writing for 1 so far...it’s slow going, but I’m getting there). I’ve written a little bit of a modern royals AU, but when I hit a road block of the setup I needed to write I outlined it...then promptly forgot about it *facepalm*. Same thing for my jealous Jon fic. Then there’s snippets of fics in other fandoms I’ve written.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: Ha. Hahaha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Well, first of all, see above. And like...all my fics (except for a rare few) basically exist in my head, because I’m too lazy to write anything down lmao. But here’s a list of stuff that will come...eventually.

Sansa and the Wolf - canon divergent AU, fairy tale AU. Based on the Grimm brothers fairy tale Lily and the Lion. I’ve basically been wanting to do this since I joined the jonsa fandom in 2015. My initial idea for it was just going to be a rehashing of the fairy tale’s plot, but then certain...things happened in seasons 6 and 7 that made me go, “You know, I can use this for my story!” So yeah, there’s one instance where I’m glad I procrastinated lol.

Time Travel AU - basically, shit went down during the Battle for the Dawn, the good guys were losing, and Bran uses his 3ER powers to send him, Sansa, and Jon back..back in time. (Remember when Sansa said, “Don’t you wish we could go back to the day we left?” ?!?! Yeah, me too! Hint hint, nudge nudge!) Featuring: tired Ned, suspicious Catelyn, angry and protective Arya, and confused Robb. 

Something for Halloween that @themiddleliddle will love me for lol

Another Halloween-ish thing that I’ll be collaborating on with @missfaber! (But not this Halloween.)

The Compass, The Curse, The Crown - not Jonsa, but Captain Swan! Basically, this is a trilogy that’s start off as a No Curse Lieutenant Duckling AU, then eventually ties into certain plot elements from the show. I stupidly wrote the outline of these on my old phone and did not write a copy of them on my computer. (But it’s not lost or anything; I just have to charge my old phone up and retype the outline out on my computer like I should’ve done before lol.)

Do You Accept Prompts: Yes! It’s e x t r e m e l y slow going sometimes, but I will fill them out!

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: Sansa and the Wolf, hands down! I’ve already made an edit for it, but I’m waiting to post it when I’m close to posting the fic itself.

Tagging: @blackholeofprocrastination, @peglegsjones, @snowsinthenorth, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[ao3feed-captainswan]

On What They Fall

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2lBqdtL

by profdanglais

Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion.

Everyone but Emma Swan.

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too.

Words: 4013, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of Secret Things

Fandoms: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Huntsman | Sheriff Graham, Belle (Once Upon a Time)

Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Additional Tags: Angst, Drinking, Heavy Drinking, Mentions of Attempted Suicide, a little bit captain duckling modern au, Mutual Pining, Secret love, Idiots in Love, for real you will want to bang their heads together, but Killian has to sort himself out before he can accept her love, or even see that it exists

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2lBqdtL

[alexandralyman]

Fic Update: Between Heaven and Hell 

Summary: A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other?

Read this chapter on AO3 here or on ff.net here

                                        Part Twenty-Three

On any other evening the Jolly Roger would be in full swing by now, the lights turned down low and the music turned up, a sensual beat that made the blood rise and the pulse quicken. The liquor would be flowing in intoxicating rivers enough to drown a man and the dancers would be gyrating, all lithe, bare limbs and come-hither looks. It was a decadent playground of the rich and beautiful all watched over from above by a lone demon who was the sole captain of the ship, steering them on their pleasure cruise straight down to Hell while they partied on in blissful ignorance, unaware and heedless of the danger that lurked just below every polished surface.

They never saw what was truly coming until it was too late.

But tonight the club was virtually unrecognizable. All of the tables and chairs where the vastly overpaid bankers and stockbrokers sat and drank vastly overpriced cocktails with women young enough to be their daughters and granddaughters had been removed, leaving a large, empty space in the middle of the floor and revealing the symbol that was etched into the wood, normally concealed by the furniture. Not that anyone would have noticed it anyway, mortals were, for the most part, utterly blind to what was right in front of their own damn noses. There was no overlooking it now, the carved lines were stark under the overhead lights, turned up to full brightness and revealing everything that normally lay hidden for the first time, as harsh as the midday sun in the middle of the desert.

Killian stood with his arms folded across his chest and surveyed the room for a moment with a critical eye before giving a tiny nod. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. The Jolly Roger was much more than just a high-end strip club, it was the central hub of his operation in the city, the root from which everything else had grown. Illegal backroom casinos and sports betting, corrupt cops who answered to him and not the mayor's favourite pet, the chief of police, industrial espionage and blackmail, even a bit of his old, lucrative sideline, smuggling, this time in the form of knockoff sneakers and fake designer handbags that were sold out of the backs of nail shops and tattoo parlours. Captain Hook was long gone, just another forgotten legend in a dusty book, but Killian Jones was still that ruthless, cutthroat pirate at heart underneath his elegant, bespoke suits and perfectly pressed shirts.

A pirate with a secret treasure that must be kept hidden and protected at all costs.

His club served a dual purpose, it was a business, and a highly profitable one at that, he could have lived like a king on the revenue from it alone and not wanted for anything (except the one thing he wanted more than everything else, the one thing no amount of money would buy or he would have already spent every last cent of it to obtain his heart's desire and done so gladly) but it was also a literal den of sin, where countless men and women had all given in to temptation and damned their immortal souls forever under his corrupting influence. Lust, greed, wrath, gluttony, pride, they had all left their mark behind just as he marked the ones who fell with his demonic brand and the sins permeated everything around him as if the building itself had been soaked in gasoline, ready to alight with just a single spark. His power was strongest at the Jolly Roger, where the deep leather banquettes served as the pews facing the altar of the stage, the raised DJ booth housed the choir, and an unholy Communion of body and blood was served nightly in the nubile flesh of the dancers and the liquor poured from behind the bar to those who came to worship in his name instead of His. Killian could feel it under his skin, moving through his veins quicker than any drug with a burn that was a dark, addictive ecstasy. He cracked his neck, the pop and hiss echoing loud in the silent room while pleasure and pain coiled and twisted along every nerve, making the cords stand out as he drank deep from the unseen chalice and drew on the reserve of wickedness and vice. The one thing he'd always had was time, centuries to carefully plot and plan, but the ticking clock was now his enemy and he needed to be at full strength as fast as possible before facing him.

Rumpelstiltskin

Killian hadn't told Emma the full truth, that he'd tangled with the Dark One more than once in the past and long after their encounter in Paris. The animosity between them ran deep, and no one could hold a grudge longer than a demon, immortal and immoral as they were. Years had passed, decades, but it was no matter. They would face each other again, and this time only one of them would walk away, Killian was certain of that.

He still had his old iron knife, the same one that had spilled the cackling succubus Zelena's infernal blood onto the Parisian cobblestones when she'd learned his secret and dared to threaten his angel. Iron could both repel and harm demons, hence the old custom of nailing an iron horseshoe over a doorway. It wasn't originally done for luck, it was to prevent malevolent creatures from entering the house and gaining a foothold among the souls. Freshly sharpened, the blade was pitch-black without a speck of tarnish and gleamed like a pool of oil. A few other supplies were ready and waiting, both esoteric and humble in nature, but he didn't need much. Killian couldn't summon Rumpelstiltskin directly himself, their master could as he could with all demons, but he wasn't going to bring the Fallen One into this squabble to play mediator. If anyone would recognize the faintest whiff of the divine about him, it would be Lucifer, born of Heaven before he was bound to Hell. He needed a sinner to do the summoning for him and for that he had Jacqueline, the thieving bartender who was about to learn exactly what the "perform other duties as needed" clause in her employment contract really meant. The summoning itself would be done at the Jolly Roger, his own private house of worship to the many vices of man. Emma would remain safely removed from the whole event, and once Rumpelstiltskin was dealt with there would be nothing keeping them apart and Killian could resume his seduction, finish what had begun the night he'd first caught a glimpse of that single light in the midst of the darkness.

The harsh, artificial light that filled his club now was a miracle of science but it was nothing compared to that golden glow, mesmerizing enough to tempt even one who knew better than to fall for something shiny to get closer and try to get a better look.

Funny that. He was the corruptor, the one who offered the poisoned apple, so sweet and juicy and irresistible, and yet she had drawn him in first and before he could stop himself he was turning his back on the delights of a rampaging army let loose like a swarm of locusts to destroy and defile everything in their path and heading away from the delectable feast instead with an angel and a group of frightened nuns all following behind that reminded him later of a regal, unruffled swan leading a clutch of confused, orphaned ducklings. Their innocence grated on him during the whole of the brief journey, pure souls that were too naive, too trusting. So trusting that they had all placed their faith in him to see them to safety, even as they visibly shied away from what they glimpsed behind his eyes.

Except her.

His phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. The one he'd thrown against the wall in a rage had been completely destroyed but he had backups stashed in his office, just in case. It wasn't the first time his literally demonic temper had gotten the better of him and the cost of a few spare phones kept in a drawer along with all the jewelry Emma wouldn't accept from him was nothing. Killian's heart leapt into his throat as he fumbled in his pocket with uncharacteristic clumsiness, hoping against hope that it was Emma calling him again, despite the risk. If he had the chance to explain why he had taken up with Caroline Spencer when he was supposed to be dealing with the Dark One and made it look like he was more interested in sporting with a married woman and satisfying his lust than in doing what he'd promised then maybe she would forgive him for his infidelity and he would offer her anything she wanted, anything. But it was Jefferson's number that popped up on the screen instead and he grit his teeth in frustration. Still, the dealer wouldn't be calling him unless he had something important to share, he knew better than to bother his best customer, the infamous Mr. Jones with anything inconsequential and Killian needed all the information he could get so he answered on the second ring.

"Jefferson. What have you found out?"

"This shit is seriously fucked up."

He'd sent a sample of the Heaven's Gate heroin to Jefferson for testing and analysis since he wasn't just some low-level dealer, he was a brilliant chemist who had funded his entire degree at a prestigious, pricey college by selling his illegal concoctions in the dorms to his well-to-do classmates living it up on mom and dad's dime. Jefferson had been courted by several large

pharmaceutical companies even before graduation and could have had a storied career developing new treatments for modern plagues like HIV, Zika, bird flu, but he had fallen down a rabbit hole of uppers and downers and now made colourful pills with "Eat Me" inscribed on them instead. He hadn't completely fried his Ivy League brain though and he sounded dead serious.

"Explain," Killian demanded.

Jefferson immediately launched into what sounded like a textbook description of heroin, dry and clinical and peppered with very long words that Killian mostly recognized for their Latin origins and not for whatever the hell it was Jefferson was actually trying to say.

"Spare me the chemistry lecture," he interrupted when he could finally get a word in edgewise, "And get to the bloody point, Jefferson."

There was a loud huff on the other end. "Okay, okay...look, you know where heroin actually comes from, right?"

That he did know. "Poppies."

The bright red flowers had been used since antiquity to produce medicines and narcotics, it was the origin of both morphine, a miracle drug for pain relief to untold multitudes, and heroin, a hellaciously addicting destroyer of lives. As the forbidden fruit in the Garden contained the knowledge of both Good and Evil linked together in a single bite, so too did the poppy flower contain two opposing forces locked together for eternity in their innocuous-looking seeds. Killian had sent Emma many different flowers over the years, endless bouquets of roses, tulips, buttercups, forget-me-nots, orchids, gardenias, but he had never sent her poppies. As beautiful as they were, they meant death, the eternal sleep, and while he wanted eternity with a burning desire that had never abated, he didn't mean it like that.

"That's right," Jefferson agreed, and Killian could practically see him nodding over the phone. "Poppies, mostly from Afghanistan, but also China, Mexico, Columbia and Burma."

The mention of Burma reminded Killian of something else, but he pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for that.

"Usually the country of origin doesn't really matter, though, they're all the same flower anyway."

Killian picked up on that immediately and his tone sharpened, "Usually doesn't matter. But this strain is different, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jefferson sighed. "Heroin comes from the Papaver somniferum variety of poppy, the opium poppy. But poppies are like any other plant, there's more than just one kind. Most of the others are inert, they can't be used to produce opium and therefore heroin, but there's a few, rare subspecies of the common opium poppy that yield a stronger, more potent product. They've never been cultivated to the same degree because they're much more temperament, difficult to grow, harder to refine and your average illiterate Afghani poppy farmer isn't going to bother with it, if he could even get enough seeds to try, which he probably couldn't, not to turn a profit, at least. But if someone figured out a way to get a viable crop from one of these subspecies, then, well."

He thought of the list of names given to Emma by the Angel of Death herself, dozens of fatal overdoses fallen victim to a drug that promised Heaven and delivered Hell.

"And that's where the Heaven's Gate heroin comes from? One of these rare subspecies?"

Pieces were starting to click into place, a more potent strain explained why the high from the drug was reported to be much stronger and why it was so much easier to OD on it.

"I believe so, yes. But the real question is how. When I say these subspecies are rare, I don't mean they're unusual, I mean rare. They're nearly impossible to get outside of a few specimens in botanical gardens and university collections, it must have cost a fortune to establish, there's no supply chain in place, the usual importers have been completely bypassed, none of my contacts can even get their hands on a full brick. No one's wholesaling, which makes no goddamn sense, it's like it just appeared out of thin air one day already on the streets."

Killian gripped the phone a little tighter. Nothing Jefferson had said contradicted his theory that Rumpelstiltskin was somehow behind the trendy new drug, but neither was it definitive proof. The imp still chained up in his basement could have gotten it from someone else, they were naturally attracted to chaos, after all.

"Was there anything else? Anything at all, no matter how far fetched it might seem?"

There was a pause on the other end that told Killian there was something, his own instincts sensing that the dealer was holding back information. He felt his eyes flash crimson and when he spoke his voice was a dark, slithering growl.

"Tell me."

Jefferson answered with clear hesitation, "It's probably nothing, I mean, it's just something I found when I was doing a bit of research, trying to trace it back to the origin. Apparently the Nazis did some experiments with opium poppies, hell, the Germans were the ones who basically invented heroin in the first place anyway. Afghanistan and Germany had close ties even before the war, and I found some references to diplomats bringing poppy plants back to Berlin, including the rare varieties that the Nazis later used to try to crossbreed with the common opium poppy to create a hybrid strain that had the heightened potency combined with the ease of cultivation. They called it Himmelstür, which means-"

"Heaven's Door," Killian interrupted. He hadn't spoken German in years, but he was still as fluent in the language as he was in English and he knew what the word meant as soon as Jefferson said it. Heaven's Gate and Heaven's Door, the names were too similar for it to be a coincidence. Not to mention that the last time he had seen the Dark One in person had been right smack dab in the thick of World War II. As in all times of chaos and sin, the damned of Hell were there to enjoy the feast and the war that had engulfed the entire globe had practically been an all you can eat buffet.

"I know, I noticed it too. But that was what, seventy years ago? Anyway, the estate in Bavaria where they were actually growing the hybrids was bombed by the Allies near the end of the war and the plants themselves were all destroyed."

Seventy years was a long time to a mortal who could live out his entire lifespan in less than that, but to a demon, it was a blink of the eye. Heroin usage was rampant in the German army during the war and now it was on the rise again, had the Dark One planted seeds more than seventy years ago that were now bearing new fruit? Killian had been too focused on his own interests back then to pay much attention to what Rumpelstiltskin was up to, especially when he had come so close to…

"Mr. Jones?"

Jefferson's voice pulled him back to the present. "Right," Killian said, trying to put all the pieces together even though some were still missing. "A hybrid strain, possibly the same one the Nazis cultivated, but there's no proof, and no leads on who's behind it. Anything else?"

"No, at least, not about that. Look, if you take over the business I can definitely run the distribution for you and probably triple what it's doing now within six months, there'd be no competition for this and with my network already in place, you'd make a fucking fortune."

Killian had more money now than he could even spend despite his very expensive tastes and his secret contributions to Emma's charity, but that had never stopped him from greedily wanting more and he felt a surge at the prospect of doing exactly what Jefferson proposed. Cut the Dark One down and take everything for himself, make it his. It was a tempting idea, very tempting, he could even revive his old Hook persona and keep the drugs separate from his other business, just as he'd done with smuggling rum and other spirits as a pirate once upon a time.

"And…" Jefferson added, sounding a bit hesitant for a moment before he plowed on. "I just wanted to thank you for whatever strings you pulled with CPS, I get to see Grace twice a week now unsupervised and they said I can start overnight visits next month so long as my next two tests come back clean, I've already rented another house so there's no chance of her getting anywhere near anything again, it's even in a gated community and everything. I'm getting my daughter back, and I owe it all to you Mr. Jones, so if there's anything else you need-"

"I'll call you if there is."

Killian hung up, not bothering with goodbyes. The reminder that he'd done more than he was strictly obligated to under his deal with Jefferson made his shoulders tight and he grimaced as he dropped the phone back down on the bar. He'd only promised the dealer one afternoon with his beloved daughter, but it had been easy enough to get the paperwork approved for ongoing visits with a few well-chosen bribes and a bit of blackmail (everyone had skeletons in the closet, even social workers) and it kept Jefferson both compliant and in his debt. At least that's what Killian told himself.

He ignored the fact that there were other ways he could have made Jefferson much more permanently beholden to him that had nothing to do with the man's only child and focused on the new bits of information instead. Heaven's Gate and Heaven's Door. On the streets it was said that the name came from the euphoric high the drug produced, but Killian wasn't so certain now. He understood the "heaven" part, but the reference to gates and doors gave him pause. Both were barriers, boundaries, where one could go no further unless passage was granted. A damned sinner could reach the Gates of Paradise, but they would never open and grant admittance to what lay beyond, pure heavenly ecstasy unlike anything else.

Killian had a sense of what that was like. It was why he had never bothered trying the heroin himself, why he had told the succubus Zelena all those centuries ago when she tried to tempt him with Emma's face that he wouldn't settle for a false idol. Everything else was nothing but a pale imitation of what he really wanted, and he was far too greedy to stop trying to obtain the one thing he coveted above all else. It had taken years, but he had carefully arranged an almost perfect situation to bide his time until Emma fell at last. Her charity bound her to the city, giving her more incentive to stay and nurture it like a garden, not just answering individual prayers, but overseeing the soup kitchen and food pantry and other programs that his money went to fund every month. Her apartment and his condo were only a short drive apart, perfect for late night trysts and in an increasingly secular world there were very few gates left to bar him entry, no doors shut in his face as Damnate Infernum, Demon of Hell. Heaven was so close that he could touch it.

"Just let go and fall right into my arms, I'll be there to catch you, Emma, you know I will."

He couldn't afford any more indulgences now like Jefferson's daughter or the night he could have had everything but hesitated at the last second, unwilling to press his advantage and take what she was so close to offering at last. All she'd needed was the tiniest push...

Emma might forgive him for his other sins, but he couldn't be sure she would have forgiven him for that.

Killian wasn't sure if he would have forgiven himself for it.

The phone buzzed again an hour or so later, after he'd relived that night in his mind again a dozen times or more, cursing himself for his moment of weakness. It lit up on the bar, flashing like a beacon and he crossed the empty room faster than mortal eyes would have been able to follow to snatch it up. He moved like a shadow, casting himself in a whirl that briefly revealed his true form in his haste before it was hidden back under the handsome face and sea-blue eyes once more. A quick glance at the screen showed it was Scarlet calling now, hopefully with useful information or Killian was probably going to end up destroying another phone. He hadn't bothered to personalize the settings yet and with the way his night was going he didn't expect he was going to be setting the wallpaper or assigning ringtones anytime soon.

"Uh, Mr. Jones?"

Scarlet had found something, Killian could sense it with demonic instinct, keen as the blade on his iron knife. He rested his free hand on one of the tables shoved next to the bar, ruby ring as dark as a drop of blood heavy on his finger.

Dark as a demon's blood at least. Angelic blood was gold.

"William Scarlet," Killian drawled, slow and deliberate. Names were as important as the soul within the mortal vessel. Names, true names, were power, the only thing he had ever asked of Emma in exchange for his assistance was her name, something that, once given, could never be taken back. His invocation of Scarlet's name was followed by a single command, "Tell me what you know."

If Scarlet's soul had been his then it would have been impossible for the man not to answer, he would have been literally hellbound to obey. But while Scarlet was a sinner like everyone else who worked for him, he hadn't completely signed away that most valuable part of himself and there was no immediate reply to Killian's order.

"Okay look," Scarlet breathed, clearly flustered by what to him probably felt like a sudden compulsion to spill his guts. "I went to the hotel like you said and poked around, and I've got something, something pretty major, but before I tell you what it is I have one condition."

Killian's eyebrows raised at Scarlet's daring while the demon within began to salivate, awakened even more by a word that could only mean one thing. "You think you're in any position right now to impose conditions on me, Scarlet? You want to make a deal?"

The offer was like a stone dropped in a still pond, rippling out in waves much further than the initial fall. A single, seemingly small act, appearing no more significant than biting into an apple had, once upon a time, but everything came with a price. Killian wondered what it was that Scarlet wanted, money, probably. He was a thief, although he wasn't as stupid and reckless as Jacqueline and had never stolen anything from Killian directly like she had, or he might have been the one locked up in the basement.

"Yeah, I guess, just...no matter what happens, Anastasia is out. Completely. She walks away from the club, from everything and you guarantee that you won't go after her in any way, she's a hundred percent off limits. Deal?"

So it wasn't money, it was sex. He knew Scarlet's jealousy when it came to Anastasia would get the best of him eventually in the sadistic game Killian had been playing with the both of them, playing off Ana's lust for jewelry and designer clothes against Scarlet's white knight fantasies and there was a swell of dark satisfaction that made the air around him seem to shimmer with a smoky haze. "You want to make a deal for her? Your own private dancer, is that it? She only sucks your dick from now on?"

He was being deliberately crude because he wanted to hear Scarlet say it, to admit that he really wanted to own Anastasia and was giving in to his most selfish desires to acquire her, that deep down he was no different than the other men who came to the Jolly Roger and thought that their money could buy them not just a dance or a fuck, but that it gave them possession over the girls to use and abuse however they wanted.

"There is no greater sin than this."

"No, that's not-" Scarlet's voice rose with anger that only fueled Killian's glee even more, he relished these moments when the sinner finally gave into temptation and fell over the edge. Greed, lust and wrath, it was all oh so predictable but it didn't lessen the delightful anticipation of the damning confession that was about to come. There was a sound of a deep breath over the line as he clearly tried to get himself back under control and then he continued, sounding like he was talking through gritted teeth. "Look, I'm not asking you to give her to me like she's some kind of fucking trophy or prize, she's not, it's not like that, OK? I just...I just need her to be free of all this bullshit, she doesn't have to be with me. I know I fucked that up and it's my own fault."

Demonic glee was replaced by surprise, he hadn't expected that. Still, he recovered quickly, Anastasia must have promised Scarlet something, manipulated him into asking, wrapped him neatly back around her manicured finger. He let out an annoyed huff, he didn't really have time for this but he was still a corrupter of mortal souls and that side of him would not be so easily dissuaded from teasing out the real reason behind Scarlet's request. "That's what you want in exchange for this supposedly valuable information that you owe me anyway? Why?"

He could hear the discomfort in Scarlet's voice when he answered. "Does it matter?"

It did, but not for a reason Killian was about to explain to the man. He tapped his finger against the tabletop, making the ruby flash like a tiny flame. "If you want to make a deal with me, Mr. Scarlet, then you'll answer my question and tell my why Anastasia Tremaine's well-being is suddenly so damn important to you."

There was a long beat before he answered, mere seconds passed, but it was an eternity when standing on that precipice, the space between the decision to jump and the fall itself.

Scarlet decided to jump.

"Fine. Because I love her. That's why it's so damn important."

Killian literally pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it in utter disbelief. Scarlet was in love with Anastasia? And more than that, he was willing to make a deal for her? For a woman who had flaunted and fucked other men right under his nose and by Scarlet's own admission, was unwilling to take him back?

"You love her," Killian repeated his voice practically dripping with his contempt. "Really. Under that thin veneer of elegance and class you know exactly what she really is by now, don't you, Scarlet? She's a cold-hearted bitch, a grasping, gold-digging slut who only cares about one thing you don't have, money, no matter what convincing lies she's spun to tell you otherwise. Do you think she's capable of being just your girlfriend or your wife or is she going to drop you like a hot potato the second she gets what she wants from you and go running after the next CEO who walks through the Jolly Roger's door? You can't rescue her from the life she chose, you can't save her, she's...she's not worth it! That pretty face might be nice to look at but underneath it all is nothing good, nothing but the ugly truth that she'll never be more than an albatross around your neck, dragging you down to her level and mark my words, you'll end up despising her for it. How can you possibly claim to love...someone...like..that?"

He was breathing hard by the time he was finished, nostrils flaring and the temperature rising with each exhale as the hot puffs of air filled the room. Unseen flames licked down his spine and he was hot enough to scorch, to burn, to brand. The words had spilled out of their own accord, cracking like the lash of a whip and ready to leave scars.

"Yeah, well," Scarlet sighed, sounding resigned instead of angry, all of his wrath had leaked away. "Never said it made sense, did I? But I do love her, no matter what your opinion on the matter is, Mr. Jones. Do we have a deal or not?"

"It's going to cost you a lot more than just the information, which better be fucking good, by the way but yes, we have a deal."

There was another ripple in the air, pulsing like the beating of a heart as the word fell from his lips, sealing the agreement between them and fanning the fire even more. Scarlet was too stubborn for his own good, and his honourable streak would be his downfall in the end, just as it had for another man in another time, another place.

"Jones?"

"It was as good a name as any."

Not quite a lie, but not yet the truth. She would hear his confession if he chose to make it, he knew, but what absolution could there be for the damned of Hell? There was no point in unburdening himself and he put the smile back on his face while he reached again for the rum.

"I found the heroin dealers."

Killian's surprise that Scarlet had somehow managed to pull that off melted into something far more sinister as the man continued in a fast clip, talking about someone named "R. Gold" from London and his associates, a woman and the dealers Killian had fruitlessly been combing the city for, two young, clean-cut looking men, one of whom was named Mike. He filed the name and the descriptions away in his mind and listened to the rest of Scarlet's report with growing alarm, that the dealers had some kind of arrangement with this R. Gold to take out both Caroline Spencer and himself and he had unintentionally thwarted them by leaving the hotel early, not wanting to linger after the adultery was done.

He felt a pang of something he couldn't place at the thought of Caroline left alone to get caught in the crossfire of an ancient feud. She was a sinner, guilty of the crime of laying with a man not her husband, but she wasn't past redemption and Killian preferred to fight his own battles head on, not flee like a coward. If he had been there when the two dealers had come knocking...but he stopped that train of thought right in its tracks once he heard Scarlet's next words.

"Phase two? Twice as pure?"

Jefferson's talk of Nazi experiments with crossbreeds and hybrids immediately sprung to mind, along with the image of a pale, redheaded dancer with a needle in her arm and two grinning imps, feeding off the chaos they had caused and delighting in her overdose, one of many according to the Angel of Death herself, Elsa.

Had that merely been phase one?

"They're going to flood the streets with it...and boss, these people are freaks. They want to cause some serious damage with this stuff, deliberately and they think you're in their way."

Rumpelstiltskin must be smarting over the loss of his imp lackey, but leave it to the so called "Dark One" to rely on others to do his dirty work for him. Always the unnamed figure in the shadows, silently slipping between the pages of history and myth to sink back down unseen like a crocodile, hiding just below the surface until his next victim wandered too close to the water.

Scarlet was still talking while Killian listened with half an ear, at least until he said something that made him go still as a statue while the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"And I think they're planning to kidnap some woman too, someone named Angela."

Angela.

Angela.

There was complete and utter silence for a moment, even his heart stopped beating and then started again with a rush of blood that Killian heard as a loud roaring in his ears as if a bonfire had just blazed to life. Only it was no ordinary fire, it was Hellfire, kindled in the very bowels of Infernum itself and fueled solely by his rapidly growing rage. If what he suspected was true...

"Angela," he repeated, pronouncing it the way Scarlet had, the modern name given to many women who probably gave little thought to the actual origin of it. In Latin, the pronunciation was different, the second syllable stressed slightly more than the first, the "G" sound was changed. A minor difference, almost unnoticeable. Almost.

"Was it Angela...or Angela?"

Beata Angela

Blessed Angel

Emma

"Yeah, that was it," Scarlet said carelessly, unaware of the real meaning. "Angela. Said she'd be theirs at last, their very own, blah blah blah. Like I said, freaks."

His eyes were no longer blue like the sea and the sky and his vision had gone completely red, as if everything around him was burning. Everything would burn, he'd turn the entire city right to ash to destroy the Dark One and damn the consequences.

"Boss?"

Scarlet was waiting for his orders. He would learn the full truth soon enough about just who Killian Jones was and what he had agreed to, for now he would remain in the dark. But he could still be of use this way.

"Find out everything else you can, I want names, pictures, license plates, addresses, everything. We have a deal, Anastasia is free to leave immediately. But you're not. Get me what I want, Scarlet or there will be literal Hell to pay."

It echoed in the room even after the call ended and stirred the curtains next to the stage while the empty glasses rattled with a loud clink that Killian scarcely heard. His shadow stretched and lengthened unnaturally across the floor, no longer the form of a man, hand snaking into the curved shape of a serpent. Or a hook. He slashed out violently with his arm and the shadow on the floor followed suit, scoring a line into the wood and completing the graven image that was etched there. Above him the lights flickered, liquor ignited into flame in their bottles behind the bar, the polished surfaces rippled like quicksilver and Killian stood in the middle of it all with his arms outstretched, letting it all soak in, every last sin that had been committed in the Jolly Roger, sins of adultery, greed, vanity, gluttony, theft and dozens more.

Rumpelstiltskin was R. Gold from London, the same city that the imp he had marked had immediately fled back to upon orders to deliver a message to its master. Rumpelstiltskin was behind the heroin, named for the impenetrable Gates of Paradise, through which a demon could never pass. Rumpelstiltskin would be responsible for untold misery if the next, more powerful batch was released on the streets, the cause of the inevitable violence and death that would follow and could turn the city from peaceful to a state of war practically overnight. He'd seen it happen dozens, hundreds of times before throughout history.

Rumpelstiltskin was after Emma.

Killian called her on his phone. It went straight to voicemail. He texted her. It stayed unread. There was one other surefire way he could reach her, but it was a method of last resort now. He couldn't risk her answering him in that way before he faced the Dark One, appearing in a blaze of heavenly light like she had in the Inquisition's prison. Zelena had tricked his secret out of him once and he wouldn't, couldn't, chance it happening again.

Unless….

The thought was as insidious as a spill of ink, sinking and spreading into every nook and cranny inside of him that it could find, a seductive whisper in his ear that was both terrible and wonderful at the same time. Pure sin coursed through his veins, not the ecstatic high promised by the drug he refused to touch but a siren's song he heard in her voice, trying to lure him towards the edge with a promise that he could finally have what he'd always wanted most of all.

Rumpelstiltskin coveted power, always had, he was drawn to talented souls full of potential like Maleficent's in Paris and he bargained and twisted and took that power for his own. Killian was not without his own abilities, but he knew he hadn't done nearly enough to reach the same level as the Dark One. The contract that lay ready and waiting with the silver pen for Scarlet to sign, the adultery with a married woman, the sins that took place in his club, it all served to enhance his true form and made him a more formidable opponent, but there was one thing that he could do and Rumpelstiltskin never could that would utterly guarantee his victory. He had sworn that he wouldn't, he hadn't wanted to win this way...but with everything on the line, what choice did he have now?

Killian closed his eyes against the lights that continued to burn overhead, harsh and unyielding, the light that revealed what had been hidden away in the dark under the shiny gloss of decadence and excess. Her voice echoed from the past, a memory of a night when he'd made a choice that was coming back now to haunt him.

"Don't look into the light!"

She had said that she always heard him. Was she listening, now?

"Forgive me, angel."

"Forgive me."

So long as she forgave him then it didn't matter if he never forgave himself. But there was no answer and he stood alone in the middle of his empty nightclub, turned away from the light and contemplating the greatest of sins.

[darkcolinodonorgasm]

Until the stars are all alight (1/1)

A/N: it’s finally here, my personal Hades and Persephone AU is here! This idea has been in my head since I saw this post on deviantart and it went from there.

I thought I would’ve actually written more but in the end circa 4.2k words is not a bad result - although I’m sorry for any mistakes.

I really hope you’ll enjoy this, because I’ve enjoyed writing it - I love greek myths and I also love Captain Duckling, which in my head perfectly fits the Hades and Persephone trope, maybe with even a touch of Lieutenant thrown in there because, why not?

Title from the amazing J.R.R. Tolkien, because when I don’t know where to turn for inspiration, he’s always there, giving me everything I need.

This might come off as anti-Snow, which isn’t my intention at all, but I needed a scapegoat and poor Snow became Demeter in this ‘verse.

I might also add a part two, set in modern times, but I’m not making any promises.

Enjoy!

→ read on ao3 - ffnet

Long, long ago, in a land of myths and in a time of legends, when gods walked among mortals, meddling with their lives as they pleased, the story of how the Lord of the Underworld had taken his Queen had spread, horrifying some while, well, some men would cheer, following his example.

What mortals didn’t know, though, was that it didn’t happen as it was told.

Year after year, tale after tale, age after age, the names changed, but the story didn’t. Sometimes, it became darker, but ‘twas never the true version.

Many names she’d had: Kore, Nestis, Proserpina, Persephone. This last one was the most famous, yet it wasn’t the name her mother had given her. She actually preferred it that way, the gods found names to be powerful, just like their myths, though full of lies. Besides, she liked the way he said her name, giving a unique ring to it, making her shiver in pleasure every damn time.

«Emma.»

Biting back a groan, the Queen of the Underworld sat up, hands coming to rest on the grass next to her, feeling the earth pulse beneath her fingertips. If she concentrated enough, she would be able to feel the Underworld’s rivers. Oh, how she missed her home.

Ah, yeah, that, something nobody would ever tell. According to the myth, her husband had abducted her against her will, then proceeding to rape her, taking her maidenhead with brute force. Which he never did, of course, but being the Lord of the Underworld meant having to deal with cruel remarks and myths. Neither of them cared, they knew the truth, as did their family – her mother, though, oh, that was another story.

«What?» she asked in a very unladylike way, her golden hair loose around her innocent – oh, well, not quite so – face, long and wavy well past her waist, a flower crown laying upon her head.

«Get up, the stains on your dress won’t be easy to wash,» her mother said, a scowl on her face, her long pitch black hair tightly tied behind her head. Emma remembered her features being softer and her dresses lighter, reflecting the changing of season; now she dressed as if she was still mourning.

With a sigh, Emma followed her mother’s order, she was used to it by now; after many years spent with her, everything Demeter said was followed by a long sigh, possibly a shake of her head, and whatever she had to do.

The lace of the dress scratched her around the neck, whatever her mother used to wash it made it uncomfortable. She’d always been tempted to… cut it a bit lower, just a bit, but her mother would castigate her and send her to change. And summer was just awful in those lacey clothes. Since she’d gone to the Underworld, her mother had forbidden her to wear her old clothes or one she would bring with her from home.

But, as she’d decided to do, she would bear her mother’s orders and glares, though she couldn’t help but hate her a bit for despising her husband. Emma was happy, why couldn’t she understand that?

«Do you need me to do something, mother?»

Demeter’s frown relaxed a little; even though she didn’t like being separated from her daughter for six months, she still loved her. «No, Emma,» she replied with a small smile, «I just don’t want you to ruin your gown. This is the last night we’re going to spend together, I want everything to be perfect.»

Emma blinked. Was it time already? A thrill of excitement ran down her spine and she had to forcefully bit the inside her cheek to stop herself from smiling. She longed to go home, to her husband and all the creatures she’d come to love. «Y-yes, I understand, mother,» she stammered, picking up her skirts – careful not to show her ankles, something else her mother frowned upon – and went to the apple tree nearby.

Brushing her fingers on its bark, Emma felt it pulse beneath her skin. Her mother didn’t like to tend the apple trees, not to mention pomegranates. She snorted at the thought that Demeter had to, she hated that task as much as Emma hated coming back on earth. Well, she didn’t exactly hate coming back, but earth hadn’t been her home for so long, maybe it’d never been.

It was need for freedom, her longing that had driven her to search for it. Emma could still remember how she always pushed herself farther away from home, exploring, discovering new species and plants, things her mother had never explained to her. Each night, though, at sunset, she came home, staying just outside her house until the last rays of sun bathed the sky, turning her face at the darkness she longed to explore. She wanted to know what animals came out at night, what plants would bloom just under the moonlight; she wanted to know how she would look beneath the moon, wondering if her hair would turn silver.

Emma closed her eyes, tears threatening to spill out and she could almost feel him pacing in the throne room as he waited for souls to be sent to him just not to think about her. Oh, how lonely he must’ve felt during these six moons, as much as she had. Midnight, she thought with a sigh, they only had to wait until midnight. Her mother always wanted Emma to stay until morning, but she never did, she couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him any longer. The deal was six months, and the moment summer turned into autumn, she would go home.

It’d pained her the first times, both leaving him and her mother, but after a while her mother had just become too much. Demeter didn’t understand, it probably was because she still pined after David and felt betrayed by the fact that, in her mind, at least, he’d allowed his brother to kidnap their beloved daughter.

David, or Zeus, or Jupiter, whatever mortals called him, had never had to allow his brother to do anything, permitting his daughter to follow him to the Underworld instead. Ah, yes, that wasn’t what the myths told, was it?

What mortals never mentioned was how Emma met her husband. It was the only time she ever came home late.

He’d stopped by the stream where she was washing her hands and the stains of dirt off her skirt, the setting sun casting golden rays onto the water, making the surface sparkle. He always told her it looked like she was surrounded by a halo, wrapped up in light when he was darkness. His self-loathing had been what had kept him from going near her, that and the myths: who in their right mind would ever go near the King of the Underworld?

But Emma being Emma, had never felt a deeper connection with anyone, not with Hermes nor Apollo, not even with her own mother, and it had scared and excited her so much she wasn’t even able to speak at first.

It wasn’t the darkness that had drawn her to him, no, it was the hesitation in his gentle eyes, the hard and soft lines of his visage that did it, along with the fact that he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even more beautiful than Apollo or Narcissus or Adonis himself.

«Are you hurt?» she’d asked, suddenly concerned about his well-being. He had just taken off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, looking absolutely stunning with sweaty, dishevelled hair and bright blue eyes, the perfect incarnation of sin. A gash marred his pale face, and bruises darkened his skin – she would later come to know that it’d been one of the most rebellious harpy living in the Underworld; with them being the ministers of the Thunderer, they weren’t fond of the King of the Underworld’s commands, after all, though they had to follow them since they were its guardians – and she’d rushed to him, stepping further into the darkness created by the shadows of the trees, leaving all the light behind.

He didn’t exactly feel pain, merely a fastidious burning that reminded him of the wounds’ presence, hence why he didn’t bother healing them; it wouldn’t even be the first time he ended up bruised and battered, especially not by one of his creatures. Yet, Emma’s touch on his skin was something unknown to him; he didn’t have an adjective to describe how he’d felt in that moment, none of the words he knew could define the sensation that had wrapped around his heart.

At first, he’d tried to retreat back into the darkness, to escape from her, but she didn’t yield, tightening her grip on his hand and leading him to the bank where she fell down onto her knees, gently inviting him to do the same. Next thing he knew, Emma was tending his wounds with a care no one had ever used on him. The loving attentions Emma was giving him had made his heart flutter like never before.

«My name is Emma,» she’d introduced herself, not even using one of her many names, as if she already knew in her heart that she could trust him. He didn’t tell her name that time, not knowing how she’d react discovering his true nature. However, that wasn’t the only reason he didn’t speak: he simply was too mesmerized to form even just a word, let alone an entire phrase.

As Emma washed dried blood off his bruised face, she noticed all his beauty marks, the light freckles one could see only when close to him, the way his short beard seemed ginger under the setting sun. It would be dark soon and her mother would worry, but right there, with the darkest being she’d ever met, Emma felt safe.

Neither of them had noticed the sun disappearing below the horizon, leaving Selene to rule over her nightly domain, and neither would’ve left their spot hadn’t it been for Demeter’s worried cries for Emma.

Before she could leave, though, the King of the Underworld had taken her hand in his, kissing her wrist where her nacre skin was thinner, her heartbeat racing under his soft lips. No man, immortal or not, had ever dared so much or acted so boldly. And yet, in his blue, blue eyes, along with gratitude and a tiny bit of mischief, there’d been a glint of shyness no one would ever think the King of the Underworld could feel.

«Thank you, my Goddess,» he’d whispered with a deep yet gentle voice, warming her body and soul as if Prometheus had placed the heavenly fire in her heart.

And so it went on for days, then weeks, then months, until it became too unbearable to just meet at sunset, Helios and Selene watching over them as their love blossomed like Emma’s middlemists, the clearing near the stream covered in them creating a world of their own, a sanctuary for their secret encounters.

«I want to come with you.»

«You cannot, my love. The life in the Underworld… is not life. I am fated to a lonely existence, Emma.»

«No, you are not! Every King needs his Queen! Look at your brothers, they have Hera and Amphitrite, they are not alone. You are not alone. You have me.»

That was the first time his eyes had flared with a light that could only belong to the darkest of gods. «You don’t belong in the Underworld, Emma, I don’t want its darkness, my darkness to snuff out your light. I couldn’t bear it.»

«I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone.»

And Zeus, hearing his daughter speaking those words, knew he had to allow his daughter to follow her heart, because he couldn’t bear to see her suffer, not even if he didn’t agree with her choice to become Ruler of the Underworld, to be touched by darkness when she was light. He knew, though, that if he’d kept her from going with him, Emma would’ve perished from a broken heart, wasting herself away until he’d have to put her in the night sky next to many.

So he’d descended the Olympus, appearing in front of the two lovers, both afraid of what he would do to them, fearing he would separate them forever, never giving them the chance to meet again.

«Is it this that you truly desire, child? To become his wife and live in the Underworld with him?»

«Well, he has not exactly asked me to become his wife, yet» Emma had taunted her lover, the tips of his ears tinging a deep shade of red, «but yes, it is. I want to spend my eternity with him, Father. What I have here with Mother isn’t life.»

One thing the myths got right, though: Emma never came home that night, she never told her mother goodbye, afraid she’d try to keep her away from him just like she’d kept her away from everyone else. Demeter wasn’t cruel, yet the lengths she’d gone to keep Emma separated from the other gods were ridiculous, and now she would pay the price for forcing her daughter to a life of seclusion.

Hand in hand, darkness and light had descended into the Underworld, their chariot trained by four pitch black stallions – that the myths got right.

That night, Demeter had used Hecate’s torches as she searched the woods, not giving up until her former lover had appeared in front of her, telling her their daughter had decided to rule over the dead.

Demeter’s cries had been so heart wrenching the nature around her died, fruits and vegetables started to rot and snow to fall, covering her, cold penetrating her bones. She had not cared.

Since then, many had started to call her Snow White, her broken heart causing nothing to grow and the snow to still fall although the sky wasn’t her domain, Helios’ sun uncapable of warming mortals up and of melting what snow had already fallen. Nothing, not even David’s pleas had been able to mend Snow’s heart.

Unable of ignoring mortals’ pleads for food, Zeus had decided to confront his daughter, absolutely not willing to go back. Yet, deep down, Emma knew she couldn’t let her selfishness mean death for innocent people. At first, Emma had wanted to just talk to her mother on neutral ground, but the moment Demeter saw her, she’d started to become more insistent, wanting her daughter to come home and swearing the snow wouldn’t stop until then.

Desperate, Emma had run back to her home, into her husband’s arms, knowing she didn’t have a choice in the matter, because she just wasn’t evil, she didn’t know how to be. He loved her for it. He loved her because she was light and had given him a chance when no one else ever had. He loved her simply because she loved him.

When time came for Emma to leave her home, gathered in his arms as they lay on their bed, Emma unwillingly swallowed the pomegranate’s seeds he fed her, each one of them making her want to vomit as they slid down her throat. Because those seeds didn’t force her to stay in the Underworld for six moons, but allowed her to go back on earth after having already eaten its fruits.

Six seeds, six months away from her heart each year, six months of solitude she’d spend wishing she could just return home.

At first, snow had kept falling, anchoring onto Emma’s sorrow until, one morning, she’d found an asphodel on her windowsill. A brief visit as she slept, torturing only himself knowing he couldn’t slip under the blankets with her and hold her close, inhaling sunlight from her hair.

The months she spent of earth were exhausting to say the least, her mother pushing her to do more and more with each passing so she would be too fatigued to even think about meeting her husband during the night, but what was really draining were her mother’s insults. Only once Emma had threatened to never come back Snow had stopped. That one had been a long winter.

Just like cursed lovers, in those six months they would never meet; year after year the burden of their separation never felt lighter, always broken-hearted until they touched, knowing they were whole again even if not for long.

And tonight, they would be whole once more, the six months of longing now almost behind as they both counted down the hours.

As she slowly dragged herself to the house, Emma couldn’t help but think of the middlemists she loved so much. The flowers had never bloomed again after her return, breaking her heart even more: she hadn’t been able to preserve their sanctuary on earth, the only place under the sun where she’d ever been happy. She knew it was Snow’s punishment for her, having to see a barren piece of land instead of her favourite flowers blooming all around. How arid Demeter’s heart had become.

Cold breeze had started to blow, signalling a fast approaching winter, making Emma desire once more to be wrapped in her husband’s strong arms, stealing his body heat after they’d made love. A blush crept up her face. One of the reasons why she despised being away from him was that she couldn’t enjoy his body and he hers; even worse, she didn’t dare pleasuring herself, always fearing her mother would hear.

Hurrying inside, Emma ignored her mother, gathering what few things she wanted to bring home – usually just clothes, some other time things she would make for herself or buy in a market. She then went back to the main room, satchel ready next to the door.

Although meals with Snow were always tense, whenever the equinox came, everything seemed to be even more unbearable. The silent treatment didn’t help – nor did the fact that Snow always accompanied her goodbyes with a barely-whispered prayer that Emma wouldn’t conceive a child so she would come back the next spring.

That hurt even more than the insults Demeter aimed at her husband.

This time was no different, her prayer making Emma’s stomach churn as she felt bile rise in her throat.

Snow never waited for Emma to leave, always leaving first herself, going to bed well before midnight. She never knew ever time Emma would silently cry because of her words, the desire of bearing a child more and more consuming with each month that passed in which she bled.

Tonight she didn’t wait for midnight to be upon her, leaving mere moments after her mother had retired for the night. Tonight it was just too much. She needed her husband.

Usually, she would wait for one of their four stallions to come and bring her home, but tonight she would call the Ferryman himself, too eager to wait.

Blood tinged the waters red, summoning the Ferryman of Souls, his boat sliding over the surface causing no ripple to form, a thick cloud of smoke accompanying his arrival.

«Milady,» he bowed his head under the hood.

«Charon,» Emma breathed, relieved to see a familiar and loved face. She almost gave into the urge of hugging him.

«Pardon me, but ain’t it a bit early?»

«I couldn’t stay there any longer,» she explained, climbing into the boat, the white dress she was still wearing almost blinding under the moonbeams.

«Very well, my Queen,» Charon said, rowing home. «He will be happy.»

If she’d said her heart didn’t constrict in her chest she would’ve been a liar. Though she had people to call friends on earth, he was alone, no one to help him let the days go by a little more rapidly.

«Does he know I’ve summoned you?»

Charon shook his head. «Nay, milady, he’s busying himself with the souls of the departed, trying not to think about which day it is: he’s found out losing count helps a little.»

Yes, it does, Emma thought, remembering how she would fall into routine and forget which day it was, but never her pain.

Another thing mortals didn’t know about the Underworld was how it looked exactly like up above, with the exception of an enormous palace where Olympus should be and under which met the Five Rivers.

«Thank you, my friend,» Emma told him, stepping onto the wooden pier. Bowing his head, the Ferryman took his leave, disappearing behind the foggy horizon.

Suddenly giddy, Emma started to run towards the tall castle, rushing past the trees and her subjects, those poor souls who couldn’t move on because of their unfinished business.

She burst past the high doors of the throne room, finding no departed soul in sight, just a tormented one.

He looked up, eyes wide in surprise and disbelief as he took her in.

«Sorry, I’m early.»

He opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out of it. Emma giggled. «Please, let this not be another dream,» he murmured, and her heart clenched.

«Killian,» she breathed, letting the sack hitting the stone floor with a thump and rushing to him, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, «I’m real. I’m here.»

And then his mouth was on hers and she in his arms and she actually didn’t know which happened first because she didn’t care, what mattered was that they were together.

Tears spilled down their cheeks, the dam that kept their feelings at bay bursting. Emma peppered his face in kisses, drying his tears as Killian used his thumbs to dry hers.

«I love you,» Killian breathed against her lips, his fingers tangling in her golden hair, running them through it, losing himself in its softness.

«I love you,» Emma said, clutching strands of dark hair in her own fingers, the other hand still on his cheek, her thumb brushing the scar under his right eyes.

«I thought…»

«I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer.»

They stayed there, not caring about the time ticking by, kissing and whispering “I love yous” in each other’s ear, holding onto one another for dear love, Emma breathing in his scent of home while Killian ran his fingers through her hair, his rings never hurting her even once.

After an unmeasurable amount of time, Killian took her hand in his and kissed her wrist, just like he’d done the first time they met. «Follow me,» he whispered, intertwining their fingers and leading her out of the castle, towards the spot that, on earth, would’ve been their clearing.

Emma stopped, urging him to do the same. She couldn’t bear the view of a patch of land as barren… as barren as she was.

«My love,» Killian sighed, heart aching for her, «I beg you, trust me when I say there’s nothing I would do to make you suffer.»

Then why?, was the question she couldn’t ask, a lump keeping her from talking.

«Do you trust me?»

Only love shone in Killian’s bright blue eyes. Nodding her head yes, Emma kissed him one last time before continuing their trek.

And then, Emma started to cry again.

The clearing wasn’t barren anymore, middlemists had bloomed all around, perfectly recreating their sanctuary.

«H-how can it be possible?» she asked once she was able to find her voice again.

Bashfully, Killian blushed. «I’ve been trying for years to plant them and make them bloom when winter came, I wanted it to be a surprise. Lately, I wanted it to be a sign.»

With tears still in her eyes, Emma circled his neck with her arms. «I love you,» she whispered, lifting herself on her tiptoes to brush her lips against Killian’s. As the kiss deepened, a consuming fire lit up in them both. «Make love to me, Killian.»

Later that night, with the stars blinking above them – because no, the Underworld did have its sky, and it was the same one mortals saw when looking up – wrapped in each other and covered by their cloaks as grass and petals tickled them, Emma placed a kiss upon her King’s heart.

«Killian?»

«Aye, my love?»

«Will… will you always love me? Even if I cannot give you an heir… Even if I’m barren?»

Sensing anguish in his wife’s voice, Killian adjusted himself to better look at her. «You’re not barren, Emma. And even if you were – though I doubt not we will have a child and many more – I would never love you less.»

«So why I’ve not conceived yet? It’s been years and still…» Tears pooled in her eyes, tears he was fast to dry with his lips as his fingers widened over her stomach.

«As I already demonstrated you, my love, it takes time. Before you, this whole land was barren, nothing grew, and whatever did, already belonged to this world, but now things have changed, and I do no doubt things will change for us, too. We just need to be a little bit more patient.»

At his words, Emma grumbled, burying her head into his chest. «You know I’m not a patient woman.»

Killian chuckled, kissing the crown of her head, her hair sprawled over his arm in thick curls of melted gold. «And this is part of the reason why I will always, always love you.»

«You will?»

«Aye, my love: I will love you until the stars are all alight.»

[thefanficfaerie]

Weekly Reading List 22

Weekly Recommendations get posted every Saturday. All stories are character x reader unless otherwise stated. Graphic by the awesome @wonders-of-the-multiverse.

How do my rec lists work? Why did my story not make it on the list?

Tropes AU Across the Years by ImOutOfMyVulcanMind McKirk Kidnapping Gone Weird by @haveyouseenmymind McKirk nightingales and other tragedies by tonyicarusstark Stony Safe Space by MusicalLuna Stony Care and Comfort by MusicalLuna Stony

Soulmate AU Rafael Meeting His Soulmate by @ghostofachancewithyou

Daddy!Character Arc Reactors and Little Starks by @captainrogersz  Tony Stark Mommy? Daddy? by @marvelismylife  Steve Rogers Balancing Work and Home by @thelookingglassalice Steve Rogers

A/B/O Dynamics How It Used to Be by @festiveferret Stony Ready or Not Part 2 by @auduna-druitt McKirk Legacy by amandalee727 Stony

Modern AU Count Your Blessings Part 1-7 by @itsanerdlife Steve Rogers Cat and Mouse by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Steve Rogers Professor Rogers’ Office by @itscaptainyoulittlemaggot Steve Rogers FInger Painting Part 4 by @diinofayce  Steve Rogers Sempiternal by @baezen Steve Rogers  Growth Spurt by FestiveFerret Stony Tony, Please by FestiveFerret Stony She kissed me by S_Horne Stony

Avengers Steve Rogers Storms by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 Male!Reader Hello by @flannelparkers  Discomfort by @broadwayandnetflix Heat Wave by @tilltheendwilliwrite Just A Piece of Ribbon by @tilltheendwilliwrite Tricky Witch by @tilltheendwilliwrite  Our Suits by @tilltheendwilliwrite To Meet a Witch by @tilltheendwilliwrite The Ugly Duckling by @promarvelfangirl Losing You by @captain-rogers-beard Steve’s Dog by @kaunis-sielu Good Golly Miss Molly by @kaunis-sielu   Ready by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord NSFW Let’s Make You a Daddy by @buckysforeverprincess When I Think About You by @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan NSFW You Forgot by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 Peeking by @vancamps Best of Wives and Best of Women by @lt-sammi-matthews

Tony Stark Loving Me by @areadersjoy At Death’s Door Part 13  by @startrekkingaroundasgard Baby Steps Part 8 by @disastrous-master Birthday Treats by @becaamm

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Choose by @tilltheendwilliwrite Sergeant by @barnesrogersvstheworld NSFW When Bucky’s Away by @captain-rogers-beard NSFW Landing by @1-800-jmsbckbrns Mission Impossible by @captain-rogers-beard Not Supposed to Be Doing That by @captain-rogers-beard NSFW

Steve Rogers x Tony Stark It’s Okay to be Vulnerable by @spideyyys Not a Date by @festiveferret Anytime by @festiveferret False Alarm by @festiveferret Oops! by Tacuma Grave Misunderstandings by ParkerStark TW Little Bits: After Dark by FestiveFerret, SirSapling Little Bits by FestiveFerret, SirSapling In Trouble Deep by FestiveFerret, SirSapling Caught On Tape by FestiveFerret Needing Your Touch (The 199999 Remix) by Firelightmystic

Steve Rogers x Tony Stark x Bucky Barnes

Law and Order: SVU Rafael Barba A Police Gala Part 7/Part 8 by @especially-heinous-ada Incompatible by @ghostofachancewithyou

Star Trek Jim Kirk A Thousand Years by @mybullshitsensesaretingling

Leonard McCoy Until the End of Time by @malereader-inserts Male!Reader Meeting McCoy in a Bar by @startrekacademy2161 Alone Time by @bookcaseninja Where the Heart is Part 4 by @outside-the-government

McKirk Don’t Bite the Hand by @pinkamour1588

Jim Kirk x Reader X Leonard McCoy Are You Done Sulking by @haveyouseenmymind

Black Panther M’Baku Your Firm Grip by @wakandanblogger You’re Beautiful by @youreallyshouldtalkmore

RPF Chris Evans Acting by @whostheblondegirlwriting Pain by @theycallmebecca Two Became Three by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 Your Art Matters by @leijona-imagines Mornings by @becky-writes

OFC Munchies by @tilltheendwilliwrite Steve Rogers The Heiress Part 16 by @sebstanfanma Robb Stark Very Special Agent Part 8/Part 9 by @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps Tony DiNozzo

Misc Fandoms Wild Blooms by @yallneedtrek FDR Foster

tags: (strikethroughs I cant tag) @rauliskafan @pinkamour1588 @auduna-druitt @captainsbabysitter-blog @fangirlinglikeamentalpatient @randomlittleimp @thelawschooldiva @outside-the-government @isaxhorror @sistasarah-sallysaidso @grumpykate @trashcan-to-end-all-trashcans  @impalaanddemons @the-space-goddess-16 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @goodnightwife @4theluvofall @eyeofdionysus @bookcaseninja  @supermoonpanda @carameldaemoncakes @castellandiangelo @reading-in-moonlight @storyteller-le

[wistfulcynic]

A Self-promo Sunday game

Just for fun this Sunday, let's talk about our personal favourites of our own fics.

Not the ones we necessarily think are the “best.” The ones we go back and reread again and again (because if you don’t reread your own fics what are you even doing?), or the ones we wrote for something or someone special, or the ones that were most difficult to write and just make us proud when we think about them? Whatever criteria you choose, just talk a bit about the fics of yours that you really like.

Here are mine:

the stars through our souls

I don't know exactly why but this fic just works for me. It's a light little romcom that doesn't take long to read, and I won't lie I have reread it a few times. I had so much fun imagining weddings for all the different couples and idiots-to-lovers (or in this case idiots while being lovers) is just my favourite thing.

Modern Misthaven

This collection set in a modern version of Misthaven is my Lieutenant Duckling happy place. It's so, so soothing to write in this verse and almost as soothing to read. The collection has three fics, Error 404: "Little" Brother Not Found, Love Blooms, and Love Reigns. The first one is funny, the others pure marshmallowy fluff. I have vague ideas for a baby-related fourth instalment but time will tell on that one.

...and held her in my arms

I really enjoy college AUs and kind of wish there were more of them. This one I wrote mostly so there would be at least one more. I like how the side relationships turned out and also m u t u a l p i n i n g. I reread it when I want something quick and satisfying to read.

To Keep It All The Year

This might be my favourite thing I've ever written. I love how it flows and I love these versions of the characters and I love the little hints of magic and I love Belle's bookstore and tiny wee Henry and I love the ending. It's hurt/comfort and magic and love and redemption and possibly the most balanced CS relationship I've managed to produce. I loved writing it and I love reading it and when it gets a new comment I do a little happy dance.

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Tagging everyone whose answers I'd like to hear about, as always reply or ignore as you please. But if you post yours please tag me and anyone else you'd like to include!

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @katie-dub @kmomof4 @stahlop @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @winterbythesea @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina @justanotherwannabeclassic @distant-rose @everything-person @captain-emmajones @eirabach @thejollyroger-writer @snidgetsafan @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @gingerchangeling @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot

[idristardis]

CS Fic Formal: “I Found a Love”

A/N: At long lonnnnnng last, I can reveal that I am your CSFF Anon @branlovesouat !! I’m so very sorry that this gift is (literally) a month late, but between juggling two different jobs and my muse taking your prompts and deciding to write roughly thousands upon thousands of words, it...took a while to come together. I thank you infinitely for your patience - it has been wonderful getting to know you over this process - and I only hope that this fic lives up to your expectations and hopes!!

In addition to CS banter and sass, you asked for Ruby and Emma friendship and Belle and Killian friendship, romance that was paced at a “medium burn,” a story more driven by plot than atmosphere, and some way of incorporating Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect.” I hope I delivered on all of those fronts to your liking dear!! The fic’s title is taken from that song, and there are a couple of other ways I wove it into the fic (including the vibe of the next to the last scene) without making it a song-fic, per se.

I also want to give a huge thank you to the @csficformal mods for hosting such a wonderful event and for putting up with me when I kept asking if I could push my deadline back a bit because there were just more words spilling out of my brain. You guys rock!!

Now, without further ado...here are approximately 22K words of modern royalty Lt. Duckling AU. Hope you all enjoy!!

P.S. Rating is low-to-mid T for some swearin’ and some kissin’. Also, I borrowed one line from 10 Things I Hate About You - see if you can spot it. :D :D

“You’ll never guess the news I just received, little brother.”

Killian sighed, automatically muttering younger under his breath before pushing his half-finished lunch to the side and tossing down the report he’d been skimming through while he ate. Looking up, he met Liam’s gaze expectantly. His brother stood next to Killian’s chosen table in the corner of the officer’s mess with a grin on his face that – given his usually serious demeanor – bordered on disturbingly giddy.

When Liam dropped into the seat across from him, practically vibrating with pent-up energy, and yet didn’t immediately speak, Killian sighed. “You’re literally going to make me guess, aren’t you?”

Liam nodded, his grin growing impossibly wider. “Absolutely.”

“Why?” Killian groaned.

“Because this news is amazing, and it’s more fun to have you guess. It draws out the suspense,” Liam replied, leaning over towards Killian’s abandoned lunch and snagging a French fry off his plate. “Besides, you’ll never get it right, and then I’ll get to tell you anyway. Best of both worlds, really.”

“That makes almost no sense,” Killian said exasperatedly, reaching out and pulling his plate back towards him before Liam could pilfer any more of his food.

“Ah, but there’s a vast difference between something almost not making sense and actually not making sense,” Liam said, leveling his gaze on Killian before continuing. “Besides, you’re just stalling while you try to think of whatever invariably incorrect answer you’re going to come up with. So,” he rapped his knuckles on the tabletop for emphasis, “guess.”

Killian stared at Liam in silence for a long moment. He really was at a loss for what the mysterious news could be, but he stubbornly didn’t want to admit as much to his brother. Finally, just as he was about to give in and hazard a ridiculous – and almost certainly incorrect – guess just to get Liam to move the whole process along, Killian’s eye landed on the discarded report he’d been reading when his brother had arrived. The neatly typed date in the corner of the document triggered a realization and he chuckled as a flash of insight raced through him.

Suddenly, he knew.

In fact, it was so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t put two and two together immediately.

Sitting up straighter, Killian regarded Liam with a wide smile of his own. “Alright, let’s see it then,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly.

“What?” Liam said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The list of new appointments to the Cadre,” Killian replied easily. “That is what you came here to tell me about, isn’t it?”

Astonishment, irritation, and frustrated resignation flickered across Liam’s face in quick succession before he slumped back in his chair. “Y’know, you are bloody infuriating sometimes. How did you do that?!”

“Once I remembered what day it was, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out what had you so fired up,” Killian said with a smirk. “There are only a few things in life that can get you that excited.”

“Oi! Don’t act like you aren’t just as eager,” Liam retorted, digging in the pocket of his uniform coat and pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Killian. “You know as well as I do little brother that getting appointed to the Cadre can be career-making.”

Killian let the nickname slide this time, as he was too busy opening up the paper that could very well change his life. “Did you look yet?” he asked Liam, his eyes flicking upwards to meet his brother’s.

Liam nodded, his smile a bit sheepish. “Sorry, Kil. I just couldn’t wait. But why d’you think I was so damn eager to talk to you?”

Any response Killian was about to make died on his tongue as his eyes fell on the list of nine names marching in a tidy column down the left hand side of the paper. He’d only made it about halfway down when he spotted the names he’d been fervently hoping to see.

“Bloody hell.”

-/-

Misthaven Star-Herald

COMMANDING RESPECT: NINE ELITE OFFICERS SELECTED FOR APPOINTMENT TO CADRE 2018

By Sidney Glass

Star-Herald Royal Reporter

SPERO, MISTHAVEN, APRIL 30, 2018 – Reports from the palace today have confirmed what was long-suspected to be true: Queen Mary-Margaret and King David, in consultation with the Prime Minister and the most trusted members of their Privy Council, have at long last completed the selection process for Initiates to the newest Cadre.

The Cadre, an elite squadron of officers comprised of members from all branches of Misthaven’s military, is personally selected every three years by the King and Queen. The newly chosen members of the Cadre will arrive in the capital city of Spero next week, at which time they will enter into a rigorous training boot camp designed to ready them to serve both as personal guards to the entire royal family and emissaries of the country’s armed forces when they accompany the royal family abroad.

Candidates selected for this rarified group have proven themselves in a variety of ways. They must have graduated in the top third of their cadet class, possess an exemplary service record in their branch of the military, show an aptitude and inclination for officer training, be in peak physical condition, and conduct themselves with honor in their everyday service. Having exhibited extraordinary valor in combat scenarios is also taken into account, but is by no means mandatory.

In addition to boot camp, when each new Cadre is selected, one member of each service branch from the previous Cadre remains in place for the first year of the new Cadre’s term. They are intended to act as mentor and training officer for their service branch within the Cadre and may be called upon to perform Cadre functions from time to time – though their main purpose is to train the newly selected members of the squadron. During the first year of each Cadre’s tenure, the presence of these training officers cause the group to swell to twelve members rather than its typical nine.

The existence of the Cadre dates back almost to the founding of Misthaven. Though its exact origins have been lost to time and the great fire of 1860, which destroyed much of the contents of the Hall of Records for Misthaven’s military, anecdotal evidence traces its beginning back to the kingdom’s fledgling days. Formed to protect the leaders of the small, newly-formed kingdom against the outside forces of its larger and mightier neighbors, over time, the Cadre has also come to serve other purposes – these include fostering community, partnership, and mutual understanding between members of different service branches. Members often maintain close professional ties long after their Cadre years are over. These bonds help to strengthen Misthaven’s military in tangible and intangible ways.

Of course, the Cadre still adheres to its original purpose – providing the highest caliber of protective services to Misthaven’s royal family. This year, the twelve servicemen and women appointed to the Cadre are:

Royal Misthaven Army

Captain R. Locksley

Lieutenant B. French

Warrant Officer W. Scarlet

Lieutenant G. Humbert – training officer

 Royal Air Force of Misthaven

Wing Commander A. King

Flight Lieutenant E. Merlin

Flight Lieutenant M. Fa

Flight Lieutenant L. Dulac – training officer

 Misthaven Royal Navy

Commander L. Jones

Lieutenant K. Jones

Sub-lieutenant W. Smee

Lieutenant-Commander K. Nottingham – training officer

-/-

Emma sighed with relief as the back door of Two Wolves Tavern swung shut behind her, effectively muffling the noise from the street outside. Thankfully, this part of Spero was a good distance from the bars and clubs that lined the streets of the capital city’s small, yet bustling, nightclub district. Two Wolves would get busier as the night went on, but it would be nothing like the sort of chaos that could be found downtown.

The tavern was old – having been in the same family’s ownership for multiple generations – and the inside was a blend of cozy restaurant, warm and inviting bar, and a small space where those who were so inclined could dance. The wood paneling was dark and burnished to a shine, the lights low and soothing, and the furnishings were on the rustic, lived-in side. All of those elements combined to give the tavern itself an uncanny ability to project a sense of comfort and safety every time a person stepped through its doors.

It didn’t hurt that its owners – Elizabeth Lucas and her granddaughter Ruby – were friendly and yet fiercely protective of their clientele. Not to mention that they had been friends of Misthaven’s royal family since the current queen was a young girl. Privacy and discretion were as guaranteed at Two Wolves as they could ever be in a city as infamously gossip-riddled as Spero.

In short, it was perfect.

It was the ideal place for a princess to hide away from the world for a few hours, which was exactly what Emma was determined to do.

She straightened, pushing up from where she’d slumped against the now-closed door, and took a deep breath. Slipping inside the nearby ladies’ room, she took a moment to look at herself – truly look – in the mirror above the tiny sink. Beyond the crack running up one edge of the glass she saw a woman who, while appearing slightly tired, had an invigorated sparkle in her eyes. She loved her family and – most of the time – she loved the life she got to lead. But there were some occasions when the expectations and pressures of being a princess just got to be too much and she needed to get away.

Tonight is definitely one of those times, she thought to herself with a grimace. Especially if the Privy Council is going to be so ridiculously archaic–

Emma cut off her own line of thought with a shake of her head. The situation with the council was exactly what she’d been coming here to avoid. She was hardly about to ruin her own evening by thinking about it now. If she got going, she knew she’d only end up stewing about it for hours and that was not what she wanted out of tonight.

She glanced at herself in the mirror again, pushing a strand of auburn hair from her bobbed wig back behind her ear and straightening the square black frames on her glasses (a relic from her life before contacts). Happy with what she saw, she grinned widely at herself. She was under no illusions as to what would happen when her Cadre guards discovered her missing from the palace. No doubt they’d assume she was at Two Wolves and follow her here. It’s not like it was the first time she’d come here after all. Her parents were (relatively) at peace with her choice of “escape” location, and she always was careful enough to wear a different disguise each visit – though usually, she did bring her guards with her.

But, she’d reasoned with herself as she’d slipped out of the palace unseen, even if she hadn’t brought Humbert and Dunbroch with her, it’s not like Two Wolves wasn’t known as an off-duty Cadre hang out. Surely she’d be safe enough there – and she really needed out of the palace for just a night.

After fussing with the set of her wig a bit more, Emma was finally satisfied that she looked innocuous enough and left the ladies’ room. Entering the tavern’s main room, she immediately spotted Ruby behind the bar and moved to take a seat at the far end – the dark, weathered wooden bar-top curved around there to meet the wall, creating a cozy little nook where Emma hoped she wouldn’t be overly bothered.

Ruby finished with her current customer and headed in Emma’s direction. “Heya, so what can I get–“ the question died on Ruby’s lips as she caught sight of Emma. Narrowing her eyes and darting a furtive glance around the room, she hissed “Emma?!” almost under her breath. “That is you, isn’t it?”

Emma nodded, grinning back at the woman she’d come to consider a true friend over the last several years. “Yep,” she replied brightly. “Though I really do hope no one else will be able to figure it out so easily.”

Ruby shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “You look completely different with that hair. It was just…the glasses, I think. You’ve used them before with a different wig and they looked a bit familiar. But I’m probably the only one who would pick up on that.”

“Hopefully you’re right,” Emma sighed. “I really can’t deal with my cover being blown tonight.”

“Uh oh…that doesn’t sound good. Everything okay?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Ruby asked, a concerned frown stealing across her face.

“Not really.”

Her friend laughed at that. “Understood,” she replied. “Let me get you something to ease your troubles then. What’ll it be?”

She ordered a glass of rum – something she’d picked up a fondness for a few years ago, much to her mother’s chagrin – and settled in, spending the next hour or so chatting with Ruby when the other woman didn’t need to take care of her other customers. She also got into a spirited, yet good-natured political debate with some of the local regulars – thankfully none of whom recognized her – pleased to find that she held her own even when the discussion delved into some of the more intricately nuanced topics.

This had been exactly what she’d needed tonight. A chance to get away and just be Emma, not a princess, not someone who had to weigh and consider each and every action against some grand standard of courtly behavior. Honestly, she loved her family, and she knew she was incredibly privileged to live the life she led – but there were times when it just felt like no one truly knew the real person she was underneath her title.

Emma just wanted to be seen.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she became aware of a presence settling onto the barstool a couple of seats to her left. Ruby came over to drop off Emma’s second rum and take the newcomer’s order. Before she moved back towards the other end of the bar, she caught Emma’s eye and gave a slight nod in the direction of the stranger, a wicked grin curling her mouth.

When Ruby got that look, it usually spelled trouble – and as much as Emma might want to cut loose and spend a night free from the constraints of her royal duties, she still knew that there was a line that she simply could not cross.

At least not anymore, she thought. She might have been more reckless when she’d been younger, but she’d learned long ago – the hard way – that there were certain things, normal-people things, that simply weren’t in the cards for her.

Getting pulled into one of Ruby Lucas’ madcap adventures definitely qualified as one of those things.

She’d just made her mind up to take her drink over to a quiet table in the opposite corner of the tavern and leave the end of the bar in possession of the new arrival, but she made the mistake of looking in his direction as she moved to stand up.

Sitting next to her, with nothing but one empty barstool in between them, was – quite simply – the most unfairly attractive man Emma had ever seen in her life.

It’s like the universe must be laughing at me, she thought to herself grumpily. Dropping someone who looks like that in my path when there’s no way I can do anything about it. Or, at least, no way that I should.

He was dark-haired, with a slightly lighter scruff dusted along his sharp jawline. From where she sat, it wasn’t hard to discern his broad shoulders, leanly muscled arms, or narrowly tapering waist. His eyebrows seemed to dance expressively along his forehead when he turned to face her, and they hovered over what had to be the mostly unfairly blue pair of eyes Emma had ever seen.

“Lass?” the stranger asked softly. His voice bore the lilting accent typical of those from Misthaven’s southern coastal region. “Are you quite alright?”

Shit!

She must have been staring when he’d looked in her direction. Moving to pick up her drink and take a sip to distract herself, her hand fumbled slightly and the tumbler toppled over, sending rum rippling across the ancient bar-top.

“Dammit,” she muttered, before looking back up at him. “Oh, yeah…yes. I’m fine – just…”

“Here,” he offered, sliding over to sit on the barstool directly next to her and handing her his napkin to help mop up the spill. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again, his voice filled with more concern than she would’ve thought possible considering they’d literally just met and she didn’t even know his name – and he couldn’t come to know hers.

Not her real one, at least.

She shrugged, looking away from him and concentrating on swiping at the alcohol that had finally stopped spreading and now lay in a thin sheen over the bar top. “Mostly,” she murmured. “I guess I’m just having one of those days, you know?”

He chuckled, and she glanced up to see an understanding grin work its way across his face as he nodded. “Aye, I can sympathize. I feel like I’ve been having one of those days for most of the past month.”

“Oh?” she asked, even as she mentally scolded herself for prolonging the conversation. She knew she should just cut things off – find a quick, polite way to excuse herself, pay up and say good night to Ruby, and make her way back to the palace. If she did that, maybe she’d even make it back before her Cadre guards made it here tonight. But she couldn’t seem to help herself – something about this stranger captivated her.

It wasn’t just his obviously good looks, either – he had a quiet earnestness about him. That, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t immediately tried to hit on her – at least not overtly – made her want to stay in his orbit at least a little bit longer.

“Mm,” he nodded, though Emma had almost forgotten she’d asked him a question. “I moved to the city at the start of the month for…a new position with a heavier workload. I knew it was going to be different, but let’s just say it’s been more of an adjustment than I was expecting.”

She noted the slight pause partway through the stranger’s answer, but when she caught his gaze, he was looking at her with nothing but sincerity. Emma had always had a sixth sense as to when people were being untruthful – her parents and brother always teasingly called it her “superpower,” but it had rarely steered her wrong. Her instincts about people were usually pretty spot on, and this guy, whoever he was, didn’t ring any alarm bells for her.

“That sounds like a lot to take on all at once,” she said sympathetically. “I hope it’s been worth it…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

He caught on quickly and supplied his name at last. “Killian,” he said with another smile. “And yes, so far it has been…” he said, tilting his head in her direction, clearly waiting for her to reciprocate with her name.

“Anna,” she murmured, hoping if she lied softly it somehow wouldn’t feel as bad as she feared it would. It did though. Emma hated being lied to, and she really hated doing it to someone else – but she really didn’t see any other way to stay there and keep talking to Killian. Which, apparently, is something I really want to do, she realized suddenly.

“Anna,” he repeated, the syllables sounding lovely as they rolled off his tongue, yet making her stomach twist all the same with their falseness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled at that, small but genuine. “You too, Killian,” she said, only slightly surprised to discover how much she meant it.

With that, they fell into an easy conversation – or, at least, as easy a conversation as Emma could have with anyone who didn’t know her real identity. But unlike the political discussion she’d been having with the locals earlier in the evening, the longer she spent talking with Killian, the more she wished she could tell him who she was.

Just when she was thinking that she really had to find a way to extricate herself and sneak back home, marveling that she still hadn’t seen any sign of the Cadre, her luck ran out. Killian was in the middle of a rather absurdly charming story of some childhood shenanigans involving him, his older brother, and a stray dog they’d smuggled home and tried to hide from their parents – but just as he was reaching the heart of the story, Emma caught a flash of red hair over his left shoulder.

It could have been someone else – Lieutenant Dunbroch wasn’t the only person in Spero with bright red hair, not by a long shot – but considering the speed with which said hair’s owner was moving, and the taller figure that had slipped inside after her and lingered in the shadows near the front door, the odds were good that she and Lieutenant Humbert had finally caught up to her.

Keeping her attention on Killian, Emma held out her hand where he couldn’t see it and signaled for Lieutenant Dunbroch to stop. She knew the other woman would no doubt be extremely irritated, but she hoped that she would at least give Emma a moment to say goodbye to Killian without giving away her identity.

“-and then he licked Mum’s nose and cuddled right up to her and she just…melted,” Killian said, huffing out a laugh. “In the end, the joke was on Liam and me – that blasted dog loved her more’n either of us.”

Emma chuckled softly. “Adorable, but apparently fickle,” she teased, before signaling to Ruby to put all of her and Killian’s drinks on her ongoing tab and shifting to stand. She paused for a moment, unsure how to extricate herself smoothly – looking over at Lieutenant Dunbroch, she estimated that she had mere moments before her guard broke up the conversation. The other woman would never cause any scene that would attract more attention Emma’s way, but the Lieutenant would undoubtedly take a much blunter approach to ending Emma’s conversation with Killian than she’d prefer.

While she’d been lost in her thoughts, Killian’s gaze flicked over her, landing on her face. He seemed to notice that she was preparing to leave, and reached out to lay his hand over her free one where it still lay on the bar. “You’re leaving, lass?”

She returned his gaze, a feeling of true regret washing through her. It was something she’d not expected when she’d first met him, thinking him then to be just a handsome stranger – someone good to waste an hour in a bar with, but that’s all. But the conversation they’d fallen into over the course of the evening had shown her that there was much more to him than met the eye.

He was kind, smart, funny, and opinionated – and, she realized with a start, he was shockingly good at putting her at ease. Once they’d started talking, she’d barely given a thought to getting back to the palace or worrying about the Cadre catching up to her. She’d even forgotten about the matter that had originally driven her outside the palace walls that evening.

That’s dangerous, she thought. I can’t afford to be unfocused right now.

Not that Killian knew anything about that – not with the tale she’d spun him of being a scholarship student at the University of Spero, in the capital city from her home in the far northern reaches of the country. And not that he’ll get a chance to know, either – it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.

“Yes, uh…sorry, yeah. I have to go,” she murmured, sliding her fingers out from underneath his, a wave of longing washing over her as the heat of his hand leeched from hers. She ducked her head down and avoided his eyes, afraid of what she might find there, glancing instead at Lieutenant Dunbroch out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve got, um, an early morning tomorrow,” she said. It wasn’t a total lie – it was just that she would be spending yet another day in a rotation of royal duties, which she found beyond mind-numbing, rather than in academic arguments with some university professor, which is no doubt closer to the assumptions Killian must have been making about her plans for the following day.

“I understand, Anna,” he said with a refreshing sincerity. “In fact, I have a rather early one myself – didn’t realize it had gotten so late. It was just very easy to talk to you,” he said, biting his lip after the words escaped. Emma smiled to herself – his slightly flustered reaction was actually really adorable.

And that kind of thinking is even more dangerous.

Emma saw Lieutenant Dunbroch take a step in her direction and knew she had to do something now if she had any hope at all of salvaging a smooth exit. She stepped to the side, putting a bit more space in between her and where Killian sat. “I had a great time too,” she said honestly. “I just have to go-”

“Can I see you again?” he interjected, standing and taking a step forward into her space. She stiffened in surprise – wanting to say yes but knowing it would be playing with fire. Killian seemed to mistake her shock for disinterest though, as his face fell slightly and he started to backtrack. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just thought that-”

“Yes,” she breathed. It seemed as though it was her turn to shock him, if the dazed smile spreading across his face were any indication.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed, feeling her own smile get bigger. “When?”

“Uhm,” He blinked for a moment, as if still startled that she’d agreed, which Emma found just as adorable as his earlier flustered state. “I hate to wait this long, but a week from tonight? Work is going to make the rest of this week kind of impossible, I’m afraid.”

Emma internally breathed a sigh of relief. A week would give her time to figure out exactly how she was going to get away with sneaking out of the palace again so soon after this adventure. “That’s okay. A week is perfect. I’ll meet you here? Maybe at seven?”

He nodded. “Sounds perfect, lass.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” she flashed him a bright smile and turned away before she could say or do anything else impulsive, like kiss him goodbye or something. She thought she heard him call after her as she walked away, but by that point she was bypassing the spot where Lieutenant Dunbroch was waiting, the other woman falling into step behind her, and her attention shifted to planning out how to get out of the trouble she’d be in for slipping away from her guards for the evening.

Still, she thought, it was definitely worth it.

-/-

“Lass! Anna! I don’t have your number!” Killian called after the retreating figure of the woman who’d enchanted him since he’d sat down next to her earlier that evening. Unfortunately, she must not have heard him over the music and chatter of other patrons that filled the tavern because she kept on moving, never breaking stride.

The fleeting thought entered his head that maybe she hadn’t actually been serious when she’d agreed to see him again, and that maybe now she was just trying to put as much distance between them as possible. But he didn’t want to believe it – the connection between them that night had felt so easy, so natural, so real. He couldn’t believe that it had been one sided.

He sighed, sinking back down on his barstool and running a hand through his hair. There was nothing for it – he’d just have to show up at Two Wolves next week and hope that she’d be there. He’d hated having to ask her to wait that long, but in Cadre training, he and his fellow Initiates only received one night off each week – there was nothing else he could have done if he’d wanted to see her again. And he definitely did.

Resolving to put the uncertainty over whether he’d really see Anna again out of his mind and focus on his training for the next week, he moved to flag down the bartender so that he could pay and get back to base. She came over but waved him off when he tried to settle his bill. “Already taken care of,” she said with a wicked grin. “By your lady friend there,” she gestured to the seat where Anna had been with a flourish. “Thought you knew.”

Killian shook his head slowly, putting his wallet away as the brunette sauntered back down to the other end of the bar, not waiting for him to respond. He felt a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, it seemed like there was a much better chance that Anna would show up next week.

-/-

Emma fidgeted in her seat, twisting the hem of her sweater absently between her fingers as she tried – with little success – to pay attention to Elsa, her private secretary, as the other woman ran through the calendar of Emma’s upcoming public appearances and social obligations. Though she knew it was expected of her to absorb as much of this information as possible and engage in making decisions about how she would participate in each event, she just couldn’t seem to focus today.

If she were being honest, for the last three days it had been a struggle to concentrate on her royal duties – she found herself staring off into space more often than not, having an unusual amount of trouble banishing a certain pair of blue eyes and a deep, rich laugh from her memory.

It was ridiculous – she should never have gone to Two Wolves in the first place, and she certainly shouldn’t have gotten into such a deeply engaging conversation with someone she’d never met before, and she absolutely should not have agreed to see him again.

But…she had done all of those things.

Moreover, she was actually plotting ways to follow through on her promise to meet Killian again without arousing suspicion from her Cadre guards – or, worse, her family.

Thankfully, the guard detail changed every week, and Lieutenants Dunbroch and Humbert had already handed off to Lieutenant MacIntosh and Flight Lieutenant Dulac. Though the Cadre members of course informed each other routinely of any issues with their royal charges, Emma hoped that the change of guards would at least give her more of a chance to elude them when the time came. Surely, they wouldn’t expect her to sneak out two weeks in a row – whenever she’d had one of her “normal Emma” nights in the past, they had been spaced months and months apart.

She’d never dared to be so brazen before, and she wasn’t quite sure why she was risking it now.

There was just something about Killian she couldn’t shake.

More to the point, she didn’t want to.

Emma was pulled from her thoughts by the noise of a throat clearing, and from the tone of the sound, it wasn’t the first time. She looked up, a sheepish expression on her face, to see Elsa staring at her, one eyebrow arched inquisitively. “I’m sorry, your highness. Would you prefer to resume at another time?” Her words were proper and correct, but her tone was slightly pointed, as though there were something she wanted to say but was holding herself back.

It was a more appropriate tack for a friend to have taken, rather than an employee, but Emma never had been very good about keeping firm boundaries between herself and her staff. She’d always treated them more like friends and colleagues than employees, and encouraged them to do the same. (Out of public view, at least – her parents took a similar stance in private but of course royal propriety had to be observed in front of the masses).

“Oh…no,” she said, shaking her head in an attempt to dismiss the last of her wandering thoughts. “I know I drifted a bit there, but I promise I’m with you. Where were we?”

Elsa smiled sympathetically at her. “The ribbon cutting for the new equestrian center in Norton on Friday, followed by the christening of the Royal Navy’s new ship in Fair Isle Bay Saturday morning.” Emma sighed and, while she didn’t exactly roll her eyes, something of her displeasure must have shown in her expression because Elsa chuckled softly. “I know how you feel about these events, your highness. But you know that-”

“It’s all part of my duties,” Emma cut in. “Yes, I do. I just wish that sometimes those duties could include something more meaningful than standing around in a pretty dress and waving at the crowd as a ribbon is snipped or a bottle of champagne is flung against a ship. I want to do something with my life. What good is the power my position grants me if I can’t do anything useful with it?!”

Elsa looked at her like she didn’t quite know what to say. This was a conversation they’d had often enough since Elsa had become her private secretary, but they’d pretty much exhausted the topic long ago. Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone softening. “None of this is your fault…I just. The Privy Council has been especially tiresome recently.”

“Ah,” Elsa’s expression morphed from slightly shocked into something much more understanding. “Minister Gold still harping on the same old things?”

Emma nodded, slumping down in her chair and leaning her head back against the overstuffed upholstery. “With a few new bits,” she replied. “He’s still very much of the opinion that my parents wasted both Misthaven’s time and resources by allowing me to go to college, let alone grad school, and that my efforts would have been far better spent courting the attentions of one of Europe’s eligible princelings. In the last council meeting, he actually said that if I were so bound and determined to make a contribution to Misthaven’s future, I ought to speed up the husband-hunt so that I could get down to the business of producing the next heir. He didn’t actually add the phrase ‘before you’re no longer of child-bearing years’ but the meaning was clearly implied.”

Elsa looked aghast. “He’s a pig,” she declared (triggering a surprised snort of laughter from Emma), before continuing. “Besides, you’re the next heir. Has he somehow forgotten that?”

“Oh no,” Emma replied, the edge in her tone belying the false brightness of her words. “That’s the fun new twist to his ravings. He’s putting a bill before the council promoting the revocation of the reformed succession laws. He’d have it so that he’d reduce my father’s standing due to his so-called ‘common’ birth status, and bump Leo up the chain – until and unless I had any male children.”

“But, but, but,” Elsa sputtered. “There’s just so much wrong with that, I don’t even know where to begin!”

“Trust me, I know,” Emma sighed as Elsa started to pace back and forth. “But I doubt that pointing out his logical flaws would slow Gold down.”

Elsa’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “But your father isn’t of common birth! He was a Prince of Glowerhaven-”

“A title used only ceremonially for the past century, despite its connection to Glowerhaven’s ancient royal house,” Emma pointed out.

“And Leo’s eight! Even if Gold succeeded, your brother wouldn’t be of age for another thirteen years – what’s the country supposed to do in the meantime? Wait?!” Elsa was working herself up into a state the likes of which Emma had rarely seen from the usually cool and composed blonde. “These laws have been on the books for nearly thirty years! He cannot possibly think that he’ll get this out of the council, much less to the floor of the parliament.”

Emma laughed, but it was a short, dry sound. “No, not even he’s that crazy – but he’s plotting something. I just don’t know what.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is too obvious. You said it – it’s not something that will pass the council’s vote, and the parliament will never even see this bill. But before it’s all over, the news of his ideas will leak out and he’ll be able to create enough of a controversy that public opinion will be whipped up and debating it all for months. He then gets to back off and make his real play while everyone is distracted with the succession issue, even though that’s just white noise.”

Understanding dawned on Elsa’s face. “But you don’t know what it is he really wants,” she replied. It wasn’t a question.

“Not a clue,” Emma said, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. “But whatever it is, it won’t be good.”

-/-

All things considered, she really shouldn’t have gone back to Two Wolves the next week to meet Killian.

The situation with Minister Gold continued to be tense, and Emma’s parents hadn’t exactly been thrilled when her Cadre guards had reported her previous week’s adventure. But despite spending most of the week twisted with indecision over the matter, she found herself slipping out of the castle yet again the following Monday evening, heading for the stables.

Her auburn wig and glasses were tucked into a small satchel that bounced at her hip. She’d slip them on once she was behind the stable and before she scrambled over the wall separating the palace grounds from the quiet road that ran in one direction towards the forest and the other down into Spero.

She really shouldn’t have gone, but when she got to the tavern and caught sight of Killian’s face – he didn’t see her at first and she spied him scratching nervously behind his right ear before checking his watch and glancing around – she knew she’d made the right decision. The brilliant smile that bloomed across his features when he caught sight of her didn’t hurt either.

By the time the end of the evening rolled around, they’d spent several hours wandering hand in hand through a street carnival in the heart of downtown and sitting and talking over coffee and pastry at an out of the way café Killian had spotted. The conversation had flowed easily between them, as had the teasing and laughter, and every moment made Emma more and more certain she wanted to see him again, damn all the risks.

When he walked her back to the spot where they’d met earlier in the evening and pressed lingering kisses first to the ridge of her knuckles and then to the inside of her left wrist, she was absolutely sure of it.

Pressing up on her tiptoes and gripping his shoulder for balance, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Give me your phone.” He handed it over with a quirk of his eyebrow and she programmed her actual, private number into it and sent herself a text before she could think better of her actions. Brushing a whisper of a kiss along his jawline, she pressed the phone back into his hand and stepped back. “I had a great time, Killian.”

“Me too, lass,” he breathed, looking at her with a kind of intense wonder that made his eyes seem lit from within.

Emma had the sneaking suspicion she was looking at him in much the same way, but she also needed to take a literal and metaphorical breath – this was all rather a lot to process – and she really needed to get back to the palace before she was missed. (She was kind of marveling at the fact that her guard detail hadn’t caught up to her tonight – although she supposed it was because they’d moved around so much at the street fair that they’d been hard to find, especially if the Cadre would have put their focus on Two Wolves. Still, she wasn’t going to take her luck for granted – the last thing she needed was another lecture from this week’s detail about the perils of sneaking out).

“I’d better get going,” she murmured, glancing up to find him still gazing at her with that semi-awestruck expression. “But, uh, text me, yeah?”

He smiled slowly, and leaned closer, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek. “You can bet on it, love,” he whispered as he drew back.

Emma smiled all the way back to the palace.

Neither of them took any notice of the camera snapping photos from the shadowy corner across the street.

-/-

The sun shone brightly and the sky was an endless blue expanse, broken only rarely by the puffiest white clouds. A cool breeze blew inland off of the water, and off in the distance – perhaps on one of the public beaches further down the coast – several kites in an array of vibrant colors bobbed and wove their way through the air.

In short, it was a perfect day – made even more so by the warm weight of Anna’s head where it rested against his shoulder. They were sitting on a blanket on a grassy hill overlooking the bay, sharing the remains of a picnic lunch he’d brought. When he’d texted her earlier in the week to propose their next meeting (Or were these, officially, dates by this point? Killian knew what he wanted them to be, but still wasn’t completely sure of what Anna was thinking), he’d suggested doing something a bit different and had been thrilled when she’d seemed excited about a mini-break to the seaside.

He’d met her at the train station closest to Two Wolves at mid-morning and they’d spent the railway journey once again in companionable conversation – with the notable addition of a bit of hand-holding and, for the latter part of the ride, Killian’s arm slung round her shoulders. They’d played at sight-seeing as the Misthaven countryside had slipped by the windows – though, he noted, they were both fairly well versed with the route. It made sense for him, having spent most of the years of his naval training and service based in Fair Isle Bay, but he made a mental note to ask Anna later if she’d spent much time by the coast, given her northern upbringing.

They’d arrived at the coast just before noon, spending the first hour or so poking into the little shops up and down the boardwalk of one of the small villages not too far from the naval base. He knew he was taking a risk bringing her here – anyone from his old detail who was off-base on liberty could spot him. That wouldn’t please his Cadre training officer one bit, given that Cadre members weren’t meant to broadcast their status as such – it was one of the first things that was drilled into every Initiate during boot camp.

(It was part of the reason why the newspapers only published the Initiates’ rank, first initials, and last name when the new Cadre was announced – and didn’t use any photos. From the point they entered Cadre boot camp, new Initiates were meant to keep as low a profile as possible – bringing a date (if that is what this was) to the Royal Navy’s backyard was just tempting fate. But Killian had to show her the coast – it was so much a part of him, of who he was. He needed to share such an intrinsic part of him with this woman who was – with startling rapidity – coming to mean a great deal to him).

After having some ice cream at a quaint little place on the edge of the town – Anna’d bargained quite convincingly with him that they should get dessert before they had their lunch – Killian beckoned Anna to follow him up one of the public walking trails that snaked over the low hills separating the town from the beaches and the coastline proper.

They’d found a relatively flat spot with a brilliant view of the water that wasn’t too far off the path, but was sheltered enough for a bit of privacy, and had set about enjoying their lunch. Now, bellies full and conversation – for the moment – exhausted, they were simply enjoying the moment. Sitting together, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. Every time the wind shifted in a particular direction, Killian smelled the enticing apple and cinnamon scent of Anna’s shampoo over the salt in the sea air. He curled his arm around her shoulders again and tugged her ever-so-slightly closer. She hummed in contentment and nestled ever further into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He wasn’t quite sure how this had happened – wasn’t even sure exactly what to call what they were doing – but Killian had never expected to find anyone like Anna when he’d gone to Spero for Cadre boot camp. She was passionate, brilliant, funny, and could argue politics with him until they both needed to catch their breath. She challenged him, and seemed to delight in their verbal sparring matches as much as he did – but that was far from all. When she spoke of her studies, and her desire to help those who were less fortunate in life, her compassion shone so brightly it nearly took Killian’s breath away.

Not to mention she was beautiful – her physical attributes were…captivating…and he couldn’t pretend they’d gone unnoticed – but her gently dimpled cheeks, alabaster skin, deep green eyes, and lustrous auburn hair meant less to him than the beauty he could see in her heart.

“I wish I could have this all the time,” she murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

“Hmm?” Killian hummed, pulling himself out of his wandering thoughts and tilting his head so that he could look down at her.

She peered up at him, blinking slowly as if she’d been nearly on the brink of falling asleep on his shoulder. “This…this kind of day. It’s so peaceful, and calm…and just…real.”

He chuckled at her turn of phrase. “D’you have many days that aren’t real, then?”

She huffed out a dry laugh. “You’d be surprised,” she muttered. He waited for her to explain, and after a moment she shrugged. “It’s just…a lot of the time, I feel like I’m not fulfilling my…true purpose, I guess. Or, well…I’m following the path that was laid out for me, and I don’t really have a lot of input into how to make it a better path. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. D’you know what I mean?”

Her words make him think of his own youth, and the choices – or lack thereof – that had been offered to him and Liam. Sitting up a little more fully, he looked away from her, out over the water, and began talking. “My Mum died when I was barely ten, Da left a year later – couldn’t hack tryin’ t’raise two boys on his own. Liam – my brother – worked and scraped and saved and did everything he could to give us a better chance-”

“Killian, you don’t have to-” Anna tried to cut in.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I want to.” He took a deep breath in and then let it out slowly. “He worked, he got into the Royal Naval Academy, and then when I was old enough, I followed him. I’d follow him anywhere – he saved me when our family fell apart – and I really have come to love the Navy. I love the sea, and the structure and purpose of the work is fulfilling…”

“But?” this time Anna prompted him when he trailed off.

“But,” he said, glancing back at her, smiling genuinely at the concern he saw on her face. “Much as I’ve come to adapt to it and find meaning in it, it wasn’t my own dream. It was really Liam’s. But it’s where I’ve found myself, and I’ve tried to make the most of it that I can – I’ve found ways to make that dream mine and I work hard at making it meaningful to me every day. I’ve found parts of it that I can latch on to and really connect with. Then, my finding purpose in it makes it possible to do something meaningful for others.”

“And does that work? Is it enough for you?” she asked him, a genuine curiosity flickering over her features.

He caught her gaze and held it earnestly. “I think so,” he said honestly. “Some days, I feel more connected, more purposeful, than others, if I’m being honest. But even on the days when I feel like I might be slacking off on the whole ‘fulfilling my maximum potential’ thing, I do feel like I’m making a positive difference for my country,” he ducked his head, feeling a flicker of embarrassment. “Sorry, that sounded a bit overly patriotic and rah-rah, I know.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “It makes a lot of sense. Thank you for sharing all that with me,” she said with an earnestness that made him smile softly at her.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just trying to say that even if you don’t have a lot of options in terms of choosing the actual direction your life is headed in right now, you still have the power to shape the path that lies ahead. You still have choices you can make and ways you can focus on the things that are important to you. You just have to be patient – pick your moments and your metaphorical battles and before you know it, you’ll have wrestled this challenge into submission and be on to conquer the next one.”

She chuckled wryly. “You really think so?”

“Aye,” He replied. “I know I’ve not known you long, Anna, but as it stands I think you’re brilliant, and believe you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. To hell with anyone who says you can’t.”

Her eyes flicked up to his and he was caught in the fiery determination he saw in her gaze. Before he could say anything else – in fact, before he’d really processed what was happening – she’d circled one arm further around his waist and her other hand had slid into the hair at the nape of his neck and she’d pulled him into a kiss that rivaled any he’d ever had in its sheer intensity.

Cliched as it might have sounded, time seemed to stop in that moment.

The muted sounds of the seashore – gulls crying in the distance, waves breaking on the beach far below them, the far off strains of another tourist’s radio playing what Killian was fairly sure was an Ed Sheeran song – melted away the instant Anna’s lips met his. His own arms wound around her back, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap – a move that pulled a low moan from her that Killian felt as much as he heard it.

He turned his head, the tip of his nose pressing into the apple of her cheek as he deepened the kiss.  She mirrored him, parting her lips readily and making a happy little noise Killian swore he’d remember the rest of his life when his tongue darted inside and curled around her own. They spent endless minutes getting progressively lost in each other – hands wandering, breath stuttering, hips shifting restlessly – until Anna finally pulled back, a ragged chuckle tumbling from her lips as Killian instinctively followed her movements. “Wow,” she breathed.

“I heartily agree, love,” he mumbled, his eyes dropping shut as he leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. “Not that I’m complaining in any way – but what brought that on?”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “You believed in me, Killian…Killian…Killian?”

“Killian!”

He sat bolt upright in his chair as his attention snapped back to the present moment and he realized Anna was nowhere to be seen and he wasn’t on a mini-holiday to the coast. Rather, he was in one of the Cadre’s briefing rooms and the person who’d been calling him – for quite some time judging by her slightly irritated yet concerned expression – was one of his fellow Initiates. “Lieutenant French…er, Belle,” he said, “I’m sorry. I must have been lost in thought.”

Belle just arched an amused eyebrow at him and moved past him to take the seat next to him. “I’ll say,” she replied dryly. “You were staring off into space when I came in – you’re just lucky the rest of the group is running late. Is everything alright?”

Killian nodded sheepishly. “Yes…more than, actually.” He hesitated for a moment, wondering if – without getting into the more personal details – he could share any of his happiness with Belle. Since the beginning of boot camp, they’d been paired together on several training exercises and instructional projects. Their training officers had indicated that they’d been paired because they had complimentary skill sets and aptitudes and would likely be detailed together within the Cadre once boot camp was complete – beyond that, though, Killian had grown genuinely fond of the diminutive yet fierce woman and as she seemed to feel the same about him, a warm friendship had sprung up between them. If he could tell anyone about Anna, he could tell Belle – Liam would likely warn him against getting “distracted” during his training, and what he needed right now was a listening ear, not his brother’s well-meaning but sometimes rigid stance on the rules. “I met someone a couple of weeks ago…”

“Oh really?” she asked, a note of interest coloring her voice. “Must be a really special someone – you were completely somewhere else when I walked in here.”

“She is,” he nodded, unable to keep the smile off his face even though he felt slightly like a teenager talking about his first crush. “I’ve seen her on every off day we’ve had so far, and I can’t stop thinking about her-”

“Clearly,” Belle interjected with a laugh.

“Ha ha…I’m serious, Belle. I feel like I’ve been knocked off my feet by her. I never expected this, much less that it would happen during boot camp – it’s getting harder and harder not to tell her what I really do. I know I can’t,” he rushed to say when Belle looked like she wanted to remind him of the Cadre’s need for secrecy. “But I don’t know how much longer I can go on seeing her and not tell her – it’s a big thing to keep hidden.”

“And you definitely want to keep seeing her?” Belle asked.

Killian shot her a look. “Clearly. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you might want to-” Belle began, but was cut off when the rest of their Initiate class began to file into the room, followed by Flight Lieutenant Dulac. She looked over at Killian, chagrined. Later, she mouthed and he nodded.

“Good morning Initiates,” Lieutenant Dulac’s booming voice greeted them. “Thank you all for being so punctual this morning,” he paused to stare pointedly in the direction of another Initiate, Warrant Officer Scarlet, who had barely made it through the door before the class had begun. “Welcome to the beginning of your Surveillance and Reconnaissance unit.”

Killian forced himself to stop thinking about anything but the class, pushing both Anna and his conversation with Belle to the back of his mind as he listened closely to Dulac’s lecture. Of all the officers who were guiding the Initiates’ training, Killian had quickly grown to admire Dulac the most and had gotten a great deal out of any session he led.

“…now, as we see here,” Dulac clicked through several slides in the PowerPoint presentation he was using for this class session until he found the one he wanted, “low-light photography can be a challenge even in this digital age. This photograph,” he gestured to the slide up on the screen, “was taken last week and though you can see Princess Emma quite clearly under the streetlight at the left of the image, her companion is unfortunately cast in shadow and it’s not possible to make out enough of his features for facial rec.”

“Not even with enhancement, sir?” one of the other Initiates – Locksley, an army Captain Killian had come to like and respect – asked from the far corner of the room.

Dulac shook his head. “No. The officer doing the recon work here was, by necessity, too far away to get a shot that would give us the right angle.”

“Well he shoulda got closer then, shouldn’t he?” this was from Scarlet, before Locksley elbowed him in an attempt to keep him quiet.

Dulac kept his cool. “Officer Scarlet, while it would have been ideal to get closer, one also must think about whether one has adequate cover to do so – it does no good to get the right photo and reveal yourself in the process. Showing that you are shadowing one of the royal family too closely tips off onlookers to the fact that they are the royal family, which immediately increases the dangers – especially in situations like this where the princess has ventured out incognito.”

Killian’s head snapped around at that, and, for this first time, he took a good look at the photo in Lieutenant Dulac’s slide – and all the breath seemed to rush from his body.

He recognized that street, and the tavern in the background.

Moreover, he recognized the man that Dulac said couldn’t be identified. Killian could identify him easily and immediately – because he was the man.

But what didn’t make sense was Dulac’s statement that this was a photo of Princess Emma, because this photo clearly showed his Anna kissing a mystery man on the cheek – you, his brain helpfully supplied – outside Two Wolves a week ago. For a moment, Killian simply stared at the photo, his brain refusing to fully process the information.

When the truth finally clicked in, he realized that he had far bigger problems than having to keep his place in the Cadre a secret from the woman he’d rapidly been falling for – she’d been keeping a far bigger secret of her own.

-/-

“Emma, a word,” her mother’s voice – soft but commanding – came from the other end of the corridor just as Emma was stepping out of her bedroom. She’d not seen her mother standing there and jumped at the unexpected sound of the older woman’s voice.

“God, Mom, don’t do that,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You nearly scared me to death.”

“I’m sorry,” the queen said, her tone softening a fraction. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I do need you to come with me.” Without further explanation, she turned on her heel and began walking towards her private offices.

Emma fell into step behind her, as she knew was expected, hurrying to catch up before her mother got too far ahead. “Is everything alright, Mom?” she asked after a few moments of walking in a somewhat stilted silence that was far from their usual easy camaraderie.

Her mother didn’t answer immediately, waiting instead until they’d reached her private offices and slipped inside. The queen shut the door behind them and moved over to her desk before responding. When she did, her words were not at all what Emma was expecting, and they caused the bottom to drop out of her stomach.

“Have you been to Two Wolves recently?” her mother asked, shuffling through a few papers on her desk before looking up at her expectantly.

Emma considered – for the briefest of moments – denying it outright, saying that it must have been someone who looked uncannily like her. But she knew that that wouldn’t hold up – particularly if, as it seemed, Queen Mary-Margaret already knew the answer to the question she was asking. Sinking down into one of the plush guest chairs that were placed in front of the desk, Emma nodded. “Yeah…a couple of times,” she muttered. “But you and Dad have never had a problem with it before.”

Her mother sighed. “We don’t have a problem with it now…not exactly. It’s just…it’s a little careless, Emma. The timing is not ideal.”

She sat up straighter in the chair, a wave of indignance flowing over her. She knew that perhaps she hadn’t made the best choice given the political climate of late – and maybe you’re feeling a bit defensive about that, she thought to herself – but she didn’t think it warranted her mother treating her quite so much like a child. “It’s not like I went out clubbing and got blitzed – Two Wolves is just about the safest place I could go, Mom. That’s been true since you were going there when you were my age,” she finished, crossing her arms over her chest and staring up at her mother with determination and a small touch of defiance. She hoped her mother didn’t have any further information about her evenings at the tavern – but just in case, deflecting her attention couldn’t hurt.

“My youthful indiscretions, such as they may be, aren’t the issue right now Emma,” her mother replied calmly, taking a seat behind her desk and sorting through yet another pile of papers until she pulled out a slim manila folder. “You know that this kind of behavior is against protocol – and while your father and I might have been inclined to turn a blind eye in the past-”

“So did Grandma, thankfully, or you might not have met Dad and Leo and I wouldn’t be here right now,” Emma cut in, refusing to feel bad about taking just a small bit of precious time for herself when her mother had done exactly the same thing when she was young.

“Be that as it may,” her mother carried on almost as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “We’ve got to enforce every bit of protocol right now. With Minister Gold picking at us and scrutinizing every choice the monarchy makes we can’t afford to give him any more ammunition for his schemes. So for a while, I am going to need you to put a halt to this kind of adventure,” she said briskly, opening the folder and pushing it across the desk towards Emma. “And, whoever this may be,” she gestured in the direction of the contents of the folder, “it would be best if you ended it for the time being…at least.”

The sinking feeling that had invaded Emma’s stomach at the beginning of the conversation only got worse – it now felt as though her heart were somehow simultaneously in her throat and on the floor somewhere near her shoes. Even before she looked where her mother had pointed, she had a good idea of what she’d see.

Closing her eyes in resignation, she sighed. It was completely stupid of me to think I wasn’t followed that second night. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Even as she reprimanded herself for not suspecting her Cadre guards had caught up and surveilled her on her return trip to the tavern, she bristled at the constraints her royal duties were once again placing on her.

(But all the same, she repeatedly and silently thanked whatever divine influence had kept them hidden – both from photographers and that week’s Cadre detail – when they’d gone to Fair Isle Bay).

All I’d wanted was something normal. Something just for me. Just for once. Looks like I was just fooling myself – God, I’m an idiot. How did I ever think this was going to work?

As she opened her eyes, they landed on a photo in the manila folder – the image was dark, and a bit blurry. If she had to guess, she’d say Lieutenant MacIntosh was the photographer – his handiwork was always a bit unfocused when he took long distance shots at night – but whoever had taken them, the photo was clear enough to show her pressing a kiss to Killian’s cheek before bidding him good night.

The only saving grace was that it was nigh on impossible to tell who Killian was, given the angle and distance of the shot. Even if her chances of seeing him were imploding with every minute that went by, she didn’t want him to get drawn into a messy background investigation by the Cadre for getting so close to her or, worse, pulled into the public eye by Misthaven’s rather voracious paparazzi.

“Emma?” her mother prompted, and she realized that she’d been silently staring at the photo for longer than was probably reasonable. She looked up at her mother, catching the older woman’s eye – her mother’s regal mask slipped for a moment and a flicker of understanding and empathy crossed her face. She smiled softly. “Believe it or not, I do understand the predicament I can sense that you find yourself in right now…but you need to end it. Now. Or at least find a way to pause things until Gold has settled down and backed off. Understood?”

Emma took one more lingering glance at the photo, thoughts of bright sun, warm breezes, and comforting embraces running through her mind. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and nodded. “Understood.”

-/-

“You did what?!” Belle’s incredulous question echoed down the long corridor they’d found themselves in after their class had finished. They were tucked at the end, in an alcove, but her voice had risen enough that if someone were passing by, they’d be overheard. He didn’t immediately respond, simply looked at her for a moment, until she seemed to understand that she hadn’t misheard him. Her eyes widened until they looked impossibly large. “Killian, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Sshhhh,” he hissed, making a keep it down gesture with his hands. “In my defense, I didn’t know.”

Belle laughed – it was a sharp sound that seemed to burst from her almost involuntarily. “How could you not know?!”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to lash out at one of the only people he felt he could confide in about his predicament. Besides, he understood. If he were in Belle’s position, he’d probably be reacting the same way to hearing this kind of news. “I’ve only been out with her a few times, and she was wearing a bloody disguise – if you’re not actively expecting someone to be doing something like that, it’s a little hard to catch,” he retorted, not entirely successful at keeping the self-loathing edge out of his tone.

The truth of it was, he realized as he spoke, he’d been very free with his heart and he’d not known the woman he’d thought was Anna for very long. Or very well, apparently, he thought with a touch of bitterness. He was angry at the princess for the deception – and at himself for not seeing through it. Observation and deduction were part of his training – he was supposed to be good at them. What kind of Cadre guard would he make if he got fooled as easily as this?

It’s not the same thing, and you know it, his inner voice tried to reason with him. You weren’t on duty, you were just spending time with someone you cared about and who you thought cared about you. You weren’t expected to be on your guard. He didn’t know if he believed his own reasoning, telling himself that a better officer would always be on his guard – but before he could fall further down the rabbit hole of his own internal debate, he realized that Belle was asking him a question.

“I can see your point,” she said, her tone gentling a bit, though Killian felt he didn’t truly deserve her kindness. “But what are you going to do now that you do know?”

He shook his head and exhaled harshly. “I don’t bloody well know, do I?”

Just then, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it at first, but it continued to go off, buzzing three more times in quick succession. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and was startled to see four texts from Anna’s number. He let out a noise of surprise and showed Belle the phone. “Interesting timing,” she murmured. When he made no move to open them, she pointed at the phone. “Aren’t you going to read them? They might help you decide what to do.”

He felt like he was moving underwater as he nodded, everything slowing down as he swiped his thumb across the screen and brought up the message string he’d been sharing with Anna. Emma, he mentally corrected. The princess.

Killian, I’m so sorry to be doing this at all, but especially in a text.

I got news very suddenly, a family emergency – I have to go up north for a while.

I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be able to come back. I’ve enjoyed our time together more than you will ever know, but it’s not fair to ask you to wait around for me.

I’ll treasure these few weeks forever…goodbye, Killian.

He stared at his phone, disbelieving this latest turn of events, for so long that Belle finally jerked him back to the present moment with a gentle shove to the shoulder. “Well?” she asked expectantly.

“Here,” he mumbled, thrusting the phone into her hand so she could read the messages for herself. He scrubbed both hands over his face and back into his hair, trying to think of anything but the way that the princess’ fingers had felt as they’d traced the back of his neck, or the warmth of her as her mouth had opened easily under his. He wanted to hold onto the anger he’d felt at her deception, but her texts had reeked of sadness and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same.

Despite all the things they’d kept from each other, what they’d felt for each other was real. They’d each seen the truth of the other’s heart underneath everything else – he was sure of it. But he didn’t have any idea what to do about it now. He just felt hollow and tired.

“Well,” Belle said when she finished reading the messages. “I guess that answers that.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he agreed.

“It still sucks though,” she said, slipping her arm through his and pulling him down the corridor in the direction of the mess hall. He’d been so engrossed in his revelation and subsequent meltdown he’d not realized they’d almost missed their chance at lunch.

“Yeah, it really does.”

-/-

In the week that had passed since Emma had, effectively, put an end to things with Killian via text, she’d been fairly miserable – and that had been putting it mildly.

The depth of her disappointment had taken her by surprise – she’d only gone on a few dates with him, after all. They’d barely begun to be something, but so abruptly losing even the possibility of figuring out what they could have been still hurt.

Even if you have no idea if you could have made it work once you’d revealed who you were, it still would have been nice to have the chance to figure that out on your own, she thought to herself bitterly. She was angry with Minister Gold for his ridiculous political intrigues and irritated with her mother for bowing – even temporarily – to the pressure he was putting on the monarchy. But most of all, she was upset with herself for putting herself in this position in the first place. She knew better than anyone the pitfalls of opening your heart up too soon.

This isn’t like that, she chastised herself. Killian didn’t turn out to be some foreign diplomat’s secretly skeezy son only looking for a good time with ‘rebellious royalty,’ and he isn’t a self-important Duke who just wanted to use my title to advance his own social status.

As she thought of her unfortunate prior romances – if you could have even called them that – she continued to argue with herself about whether trusting Killian, and starting to have real feelings for him, had been a mistake.

Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter, she realized. It’s not like you’re ever likely to see him again.

After a couple of days of wandering around the palace, thinking over the same internal argument again and again, she decided that the best thing she could possibly do would be to get away for a little while. She decided to go to Glowerhaven. It was north of Misthaven – at least then your messages to Killian would be less of a lie, she thought – and spend a few days at her grandmother Ruth’s country estate. It would do her some good to get away from the city, and she always enjoyed the chance to spend some time with her grandmother in the place where her father had grown up. If anyone could put her current predicament into perspective and give her some much needed good advice, her grandmother would be able to.

With one last thought spared for what might have been, she retreated to her rooms to call her grandmother and pack.

-/-

Killian didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous in his life.

Even when he’d been waiting to find out if he’d gotten into the Naval Academy and if he’d be able to join Liam in the service he’d not been this twisted up inside.

But when the morning of the Cadre Installation Ceremony arrived, and there had been no further word from the Princess after her texts ending the whatever it was that had been brewing between them, Killian realized that he’d stalled for as long as he possibly could on deciding how to handle the little matter of having secretly dated the Crown Princess for a few weeks.

(And snogged the hell out of her on a hillside in Fair Isle Bay, but no one else would learn about that anytime soon – or ever – if he could help it).

When he’d had the realization in the middle of surveillance training that his mysterious “Anna” was actually Princess Emma, his first impulse had been to confess absolutely everything to the officer in command of all Initiates and throw himself on the mercy of his superiors. Belle, however, had convinced him that he should keep quiet about it – at least for the time being. He cast his memory back over the rest of the conversation they’d had that day the week before when everything had gone sideways.

“Listen,” she’d said, a determined look crossing her face. “As far as we know, the only three people who know about this are you, me, and the Princess, correct?”

“Yeah,” Killian nodded, his shoulders slumping as the weight of everything that he’d done settled over him – even though he’d been unaware of “Anna’s” real identity, he still felt a responsibility for what had happened. He should have been more aware, been more on his guard – despite Belle’s protestations to the contrary. “Well, and the entire corps of Cadre Initiates who saw Lieutenant Dulac’s presentation just now,” he continued, a weary resignation creeping into his tone.

“Ah ah ah, no,” Belle said, pointing her finger in his direction with each syllable she uttered. “They know the Princess was with someone – not that it was you.”

“I fail to see how that’s going to help me in the long run,” he retorted. “Despite what Dulac thinks, someone will probably be able to clean up that image enough for facial rec, and even if not, Emma knows and she’s going to have me booted out of the Cadre – if not out of the military altogether – the next instant she lays eyes on me. You want to be entertained by the sight of me being hauled away by the palace guards? Just wait for the Cadre Installation and you’ll see.”

Belle shook her head decisively before he’d even finished speaking. “I don’t think so, Killian. I think you’re reading the situation the wrong way round – she’s not going to want to say anything about it any more than you do.”

Killian wasn’t sure about that – he wasn’t sure about much of anything at the moment – but the stress of the situation was making him blank out on finding a solution, and he trusted Belle. He nodded for her to continue. “Why d’you think that?” he asked, a seed of optimism cautiously taking root in his gut. Belle seemed so certain of everything – he could only hope that that confidence came from some viable insight into how to fix this mess.

She sighed, moving off to his side so that another group of Cadre Initiates could pass by them as they made their way out of the mess hall. She waited until they were out of earshot to turn back to him, diving right back into their conversation as though there had never been a pause. “Because,” she said firmly, “if she did anything to get you kicked out of the Cadre, she’d have to attest to why…and she’s not going to want to admit that she was sneaking out of the palace to run around with a strange man-”

“Oi!”

“-in downtown Spero all the while intentionally trying to evade her guard detail. It would be difficult enough for her to admit to that kind of recklessness under any circumstances, but now? With Minister Gold scrutinizing everything the royal family’s doing – trying to make some case for changing the order of succession or some other nonsense – she’s really going to be following protocol to the letter, and she’s going to want to give off the appearance that she’s always done just exactly that. So…do you see why she wouldn’t say anything about you to anyone?”

After a moment of thought, Killian nodded slowly. It was a slim chance, but it was better than nothing – admitting his entanglement with the Princess would be a sure way to get kicked out of the Cadre, and losing the chance to be part of this elite group was simply not an option. Saying nothing and hoping that Belle’s assessment of the Princess’ mindset was correct was a bit dicey – it didn’t give him the chance to get out ahead of the story if it ever did come out – but he couldn’t see any other way to proceed. At least this way, he’d have a chance of things working out in his favor – a small one, to be sure, but that was better than nothing.

Killian snapped his attention back to the present when a trumpet flourish sounded and the heavy doors at the opposite end of the throne room were pulled open. Queen Mary-Margaret and King David entered, following a few steps behind by Princess Emma. They proceeded to the raised dais at the front of the room and stood facing the row of soldiers and sailors who awaited them – the nine new Cadre Initiates and three training officers – all in their dress uniforms, pressed and polished to a shine.

He knew the precise moment during the installation ceremony when the Princess became aware of him. Her gaze landed on him while her mother was giving a speech of welcome to the group and when their eyes caught, Emma’s widened noticeably and her entire posture went rigid. She looked away almost immediately, and though Killian kept his gaze on her for quite some time – until he was forced to turn his attentions back to the ceremony for their individual inductions into the Cadre – she never looked at him again.

He’d known that this was the likely outcome – in fact, it pointed to Belle’s being right about how the Princess would react to the entire situation – and yet his heart sank. This should have been one of the best days of his career, and, to tell the truth, he was still ecstatic about officially joining the Cadre – but what should have been a purely happy day now had something of a cloud hanging over it. He didn’t know until precisely that moment how much he’d still been hoping that she’d look at him the way she had that day in Fair Isle Bay. The fact that she couldn’t bear to look at him at all made him feel like a knife was twisting in his gut.

If this was how it was going to be, it was going to be a long three years.

-/-

For the next week, they barely saw each other.

After the installation ceremony, Emma’s first guard detail had been a friendly, sandy-haired army captain named Robin Locksley and a quieter, more reserved air force flight lieutenant named Mulan Fa. Emma had breathed an internal sigh of relief when Killian hadn’t been immediately assigned to her detail, though an almost equal pang of disappointment had twisted in her gut.

Make up your mind, Emma – you either want to see him or you don’t. Either you’re angry at him for hiding who he was or you understand since you did the same thing. You miss him or you can’t deal with being around him. Pick a damn feeling and at least try to stick to it, she chastised herself. All this emotional back and forth isn’t getting you anywhere productive, and it’s absolutely exhausting.

But despite giving herself several rather stern pep talks over the course of the past week, she hadn’t been able to figure out what to do about this thing with Killian other than just make herself scarce and avoid him whenever possible. Even though he wasn’t on her personal detail, she still did see other members of the Cadre from time to time in the palace – she simply learned which detail he was on and crossed paths with it as little as possible.

Very mature, Emma. Real leadership material you are if you can’t even take charge of your own love live, barely existent though it is.

Rolling her eyes at her own inner monologue, she stepped out from underneath one of the porticos that ringed a small courtyard on the residence wing of the palace. It was one of her favorite places in the entire royal dwelling because of the fountain and the small row of rosebushes tucked at one end of the neatly trimmed green lawn. They were abloom with a pale pink variety of rose that had some complicated Latin name, but that the people of Misthaven had long ago dubbed “the Middlemist.” They were Emma’s favorite flower, and this spot – part of the palace, but still semi-secluded – was often the place where she’d go to get time alone when she needed to think.

This morning, she was supposed to meet her new detail – since the guard details changed weekly – and then head out for her daily morning run in the royal park. It was something she was really looking forward to – her morning exercise routine was usually the only time she got during the day where she could fully clear her head. Her detail was usually already there when she came to the courtyard, so she was more than a bit surprised not to see anyone when she arrived there that morning.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was only a few minutes past the time when she was meant to meet them, and decided to stretch while she waited. If they weren’t here by the time she finished, she’d have to go and let someone know, but with the new Cadre so recently installed, she didn’t want to have to get anyone in trouble for something so insignificant.

After a few quiet moments of stretching and planning her route for that morning’s run, she heard footsteps and muffled voices at the other end of the portico. She straightened up and glanced in the direction of the noise, and it suddenly became crystal clear why her guard detail had been late that morning.

A petite, dark-haired woman who Emma was fairly sure was an army lieutenant – though she was a bit fuzzy on the woman’s name – stood next to one of the portico’s columns, dressed in running clothes and doing her own stretches. She was – very pointedly – not looking at the other member of Emma’s new detail for the week, but Emma herself couldn’t look away.

It was Killian.

Of course it was Killian.

Because, clearly, the universe hated her and she couldn’t catch a break.

They stood there for a moment, an awkward silence billowing between them, before Emma shook her head as if to clear it. Addressing them both, but looking more directly at the woman, Emma said the first thing that came into her mind. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “but can you remind me of your name, please? The installation ceremony was a bit of a blur.”

The other woman smiled softly and bobbed her head in a brief nod. “Understood, your highness. Lieutenant Belle French, Royal Misthaven Army, and this,” she gestured to Killian, “is Lieutenant Killian Jones, Misthaven Royal Navy.” Emma’s eyes flicked over to Killian and he nodded at her as well, but unlike when Belle had done it, the motion seemed stiff and slow. He continued to gaze at her intently – the blue of his eyes boring into hers as though he wanted to say something to her, but didn’t quite know the right words to use.

I know exactly how you feel, she thought grimly.

“Are you ready, your highness?” Belle asked, pointing towards the end of the courtyard nearest to the exit they would need to take to get outside of the palace walls and into the royal park.

“Um, yeah…yes, I guess,” Emma replied, before a thought occurred to her. “But why are you both dressed like that?” she pointed towards the workout gear that Belle and Killian were both sporting. “Usually, I run and my detail follows a little bit behind in a golf cart.”

Belle and Killian looked at each other for a moment, before Killian turned back to her, his face serious. “We know…your highness,” he said, and hearing his voice directed at her for the first time in weeks caused a traitorous swooping sensation to spring to life in Emma’s stomach. She tried to tamp it down as she listened to what he was saying. “But Lieutenant French and I thought it might be beneficial to try something a bit different.”

He paused expectantly, and she nodded for him to continue.

“Well, we think we should run with you your highness. One of us out in front and one just behind – it keeps us closer to you, should any threat surface, and lets us respond more quickly. We’ll have means of contacting the rest of the Cadre should there be a need, and, of course, we’ll be armed.”

It made perfect sense – though none of Emma’s previous details had ever taken the time or initiative to think of it. They’d always just used the cart and carried on with the task exactly as it had been done before. She thought about it carefully for a moment. On the one hand, it would be very awkward to go running with Killian (and Belle – her mind supplied helpfully – which could make things even more awkward) after everything that had happened – on the other, if she were being honest, she missed him. Besides, the idea made too much sense to disagree with.

Nodding, she turned and headed for the exit Belle had previously indicated. “Sounds fine to me,” she tossed back over her shoulder in an attempt to keep her inner turmoil over the entire exchange concealed – now is not the time to deal with what happened between us, she reminded herself. She moved quickly, itching to just be outside and underway. “Just try to keep up, okay? I like a certain pace.”

-/-

The first part of the run sped by in uneventful silence.

Belle – the traitor, Killian thought mutinously – had taken the advance position. Her discreet, grey and black patterned running outfit was visible about ten yards ahead of where the princess was keeping a steady, but not punishing, speed. He was close behind the princess, only about three feet back, and he’d been making a valiant effort not to let his eyes skim down to where her leggings clung sinfully to her trim form. It was extremely difficult – in no small part because he remembered what it felt like to hold her, and to have her lithe hips pressed into his as she maneuvered herself closer and urged him to wrap his arms around her more tightly – but instead, he watched her sleek ponytail swing back and forth for a few strides before tearing his attention away to scan the countryside. Nothing seemed amiss, but one could never be too careful – that’s literally why he and Belle were present.

After roughly twenty minutes, though, the princess broke the quiet hush that had fallen between them. Though she was just far enough ahead of him, and had spoken softly enough, that he had a bit of trouble making out what she’d said.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, finally tearing his gaze away from scrutinizing the expanse of low, rolling hills that faded off to their right and speeding up slightly to fall into step beside her.

After a brief pause during which the princess continued to stare straight ahead and Killian began to think he’d hallucinated her ever speaking to him, she repeated herself. “I’d imagine you have questions,” she said, her tone surprisingly matter-of-fact given the situation they’d found themselves in, and he couldn’t help but allow a snort of surprise to escape him.

“I might,” he replied swiftly, trying to keep his tone light, though he felt a bit taken aback that she was actually addressing – even obliquely – what had passed between them over the last several weeks.

“Well, go ahead and ask, then,” she said, a touch of tartness creeping into her voice. “I can feel you staring at the back of my head as we’ve been running – it’s incredibly distracting.”

They continued for the space of a couple of heartbeats in near total silence before he found his voice. She’s giving you an opening – you might not get another one, and you have to know, he told himself while looking off to the other side of the path to examine the area for any unexpected threats. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just start with the thing he was most curious about. “Did you know I was in the Cadre? Did you know who I was?”

He was watching her carefully when she responded. The shake of her head was almost immediate. “No,” she replied, her breaths coming a bit faster as they picked up their pace a bit. “My mother and father always pick the new Cadre Initiates, in consultation with the Privy Council only. The full names aren’t shared with anyone in the palace, not even me, until the installation ceremony.”

Killian thought over the newspaper article that had come out at the start of training, and what he knew of the Cadre’s privacy policy in relation to the general public. It made sense, he just was a bit surprised that the same thing went on inside the palace walls. “I see,” he murmured, pondering what that might imply about the princess’ actions towards him.

“Yeah,” she said, more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. “It’s tradition that only the King, Queen, and council may choose – just another case of clinging to the old ways even though it’s the twenty-first century.”

He couldn’t help it – he chuckled a bit at that. Her fire now reminding him of when he’d thought she was Anna and that day at Fair Isle Bay – her desperation to find her own way, and the intense way she’d looked at him when he’d told her he’d believed in her, were being echoed in the here and now. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to realize that maybe there was some of that spark still between them even though their circumstances had changed so radically since they’d last had time together one on one.

But she seemed to take his laughter the wrong way, looking at him sharply and biting out a question of her own. “How about you? Did you know who I was? Were you thinking that you were so smart, seeing past my disguise and having a bit of fun with the princess when no one else knew?”

Killian felt as if the breath had been knocked from him, but was opening his mouth to answer – though, truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he would have said – when she leveled yet another pointed question at him.

“And if you did know, were you going to…” here she seemed to falter for a moment, but she regrouped, steeling her expression as she turned to look at him. “Were you going to do something with that information?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, partly insulted by the insinuation but even more than that, he was shocked that she could think that he was capable of something like that. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, it was true, but he’d believed that in that short time they had truly known one another.

Apparently not.

“Your highness, if you are implying that I was intending to blackmail you in some way,” he replied, his words clipped, “I must assure you most vehemently that I was not.” She’d stopped running a moment after he had, and he quickly closed the small distance that had opened up between them. “We might not each have known who the other really was, but I know that what I was starting to feel was real. I had thought – I’d hoped – that you’d felt the same.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open but she said nothing for a long moment. When she finally found her voice, she’d barely breathed a remorseful-sounding “Killian,” before he cut her off. He needed to step away before he completely imploded and said something he’d regret.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, since we’ve stopped I’m going to take the opportunity to switch out positions with Lieutenant French. She’ll be with you in a moment and I’ll take point up front until we return to the palace.” He inclined his head automatically – the training to show respect to the royal family still deeply ingrained even though his own personal feelings were in complete turmoil – before stepping away and jogging up to where Belle was waiting.

Though his better sense knew that Emma wouldn’t call after him, it still stung a bit that she didn’t.

-/-

She watched him cover the short distance up the road to where Lieutenant French had paused, unable to hear what they were saying and grateful for the few moments alone – before the other Lieutenant reached her, she needed to have pulled herself together.

What had she been thinking, practically accusing Killian of setting her up for blackmail? He was right – she might not have known everything about him during their short time together, but she did know what kind of person he was, and it wasn’t the sort who would sell someone out for their own gain. He wanted to earn everything he was given, and his code of honor was far too strong. With a sharp pang of longing, she remembered teasing him about what he’d called his “good form” during one of their earlier conversations.

You should have known better, Emma, she chided herself. Though, really, that seems to be true of everything you’ve done lately.

She knew she was careful, guarded – the paparazzi had dubbed her Misthaven’s “Prickly Princess” for her notoriously tough attitude – but she’d had to be. One mistake, and the court of public opinion would eat her alive, and by extension, have ammunition to use against her family – which could then be picked up by opposition politicians and used to leverage anti-royal sentiment in the parliament and Privy Council.

She’d learned that the hard way several years ago when the son of a visiting dignitary had seemed to take an interest in her. She was young and – though she hated to admit it – more naïve than she was now. He was a few years older than she was, and he’d seemed charming, experienced, exciting. She’d thought he’d been serious about her, that he’d actually wanted to get to know her, and so she’d let him woo her a bit – gone on a few public dates with him, which had all been fine and respectable and aboveboard. Her parents had been cautious, but as nothing had seemed amiss, they hadn’t objected when she’d wanted to keep seeing him. They’d stolen a bit of time together every time he’d accompanied his father when the older man traveled to Misthaven on political business, and he’d even flown in a few times just to spend time with her.

But then, after dinner one evening in the restaurant of one of Spero’s best hotels, he’d gotten on the wrong side of tipsy and tried to take her up to a room he’d rented. She’d not been ready for that step in their relationship and his rather aggressive attempts to change her mind had been ended quite abruptly. He’d proven himself to be either brazen, an idiot, or both, because her Cadre detail had been surveilling from a discreet distance but were still there, witnesses to everything that happened. But when he’d grabbed her by the arm and attempted to haul her into the hotel elevator, the Cadre guards hadn’t even had time to intervene before Emma had taken matters into her own hands – in a manner of speaking.

It was a very good thing that all the paparazzi photos had been confiscated immediately by the crown. It would have been an extreme scandal, after all, for the Princess of Misthaven to have been photographed kneeing her otherwise well-esteemed date in the crotch. Her parents, backed by the most trusted members of the palace staff, had made absolutely sure that every copy of every photo – along with every digital file and print negative – disappeared.

But despite their best efforts, when her former suitor and his father were suddenly persona non grata at the palace, the story had come out – even if not in full detail. The palace’s official press statement had given just the bare bones, and kept the focus on Emma’s companion’s bad behavior and downplayed their budding relationship as much as possible. There had been whispers of the more salacious details of that final date – rumors, nothing of substance, but just enough to fuel the tabloids. They’d run headlines like “Royal Rebel” and “The Highness’ Hijinks.” The scandal had been fairly limited, and had blown over quickly, but it had given just enough material to the opposition party at the time to create difficulties between her parents and certain members of the Privy Council.

That was difficult enough for the royal family to deal with, but what was far worse for Emma was feeling like she’d let her parents down. They’d assured her that it wasn’t her fault, and had nothing but anger and disdain for the former object of her affections. They placed the blame squarely on his shoulders, but Emma saw herself as responsible for letting him fool her into thinking he’d cared in the first place and had retreated into herself for a long time, becoming the “Prickly Princess” instead of the “Royal Rebel.”

Until Killian, her thoughts traitorously reminded her. He got right through those walls of yours without even trying at all.

She swiped away the frustrated tears that had slipped from her eyes after he’d walked away, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly in an attempt to pull herself together. She was mostly composed by the time Lieutenant French joined her, but the other woman still regarded her quietly for a moment when she stepped into place next to Emma.

“Is everything alright, your highness?” she asked politely, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble while waiting for Emma’s response.

“Fine,” Emma managed, though her voice sounded rough and choked up to her own ears – Lieutenant French must have heard it too, for her attention quickly snapped back to Emma, her eyes sharp and her mouth pulling into a tight line, but she made no comment.

“As you say, miss. Do you wish to continue or turn back?” she asked, her tone slightly flatter than it had been a moment earlier, as if her thoughts were elsewhere – or, perhaps, as though she’d judged Emma and found her lacking somehow. The idea was disconcerting and Emma wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Uh, um…let’s go just around the next loop,” Emma said, gesturing towards the road beyond where Killian now stood. It twisted through Emma’s favorite section of the royal park before turning back to connect with the road they were currently on at a point that was closer to the palace. She hoped running in one of her most loved places would soothe her, but she wasn’t too optimistic.

“Yes, miss.” Lieutenant French replied in that same flat tone before signaling to Killian, who set off at a jog before slowly picking up the pace. They fell in step behind him, Lieutenant French keeping up with Emma easily as they regained their earlier speed.

For a few moments, the two women ran together in an awkward silence. Somehow, Emma thought, it was even moreso than the one she’d just been sharing with Killian before their fight. After several minutes of this, Emma found she couldn’t take it anymore. “Lieutenant, can I ask you something and will you answer me honestly?”

“Of course, miss,” came the immediate and brusque reply, though the lieutenant didn’t look in Emma’s direction.

“How well do you know Lieutenant Jones?” she asked as quietly as she could, given that she was mid run and didn’t want to break stride again.

Lieutenant French’s head turned swiftly in Emma’s direction, the woman’s gaze catching Emma’s own briefly before she turned back and focused on the road. “We were training partners, and now we’re detailed together, miss.” She said before glancing back at Emma again with a hesitant look on her face. She seemed to want to continue, but didn’t move to speak, so Emma gestured for her to go on. “But, what I think you’re really asking me is…what kind of person is he?”

Emma nodded, taking her own turn to stare down the road and avoid her companion’s gaze.

Lieutenant French remained quiet for another moment before speaking softly yet intensely. “He’s honorable and kind. Brilliant and funny. Everything a good officer and a good person should be,” she waited for Emma to look back at her before she continued. “I trust him completely, and you can too,” she said. “Is that what you wanted to know, miss?”

Breathing hard, and not just from the exertion of their run, Emma managed another nod.

They ran the entire rest of the way back to the palace in silence.

-/-

Emma went straight to her rooms immediately after they returned to the palace – she took a shower and pulled on her most comfortable pair of pajamas, curling up among the soft pillows on her still-made bed. She knew she should put in an appearance at dinner – there were no formal state events on the calendar for the evening, but her parents still expected her to dine with them in the private family dining room – but she wasn’t hungry and she couldn’t bring herself to go down and go through the motions of acting like nothing was wrong.

So she called Elsa and asked her to send word to her parents that she was tired and that she’d be having dinner in her rooms that evening, and that she’d call the kitchens herself if and when she was ready to eat anything. After hanging up, she sank further down into her pillows and drifted into a haze of memories. She mentally sifted through everything that had led her to this current moment – all of her interactions with Killian, certainly, but everything else as well. Her romance with that diplomat’s son, her habit of sneaking out and visiting Two Wolves incognito from time to time, the whole “Prickly Princess” reputation, Minister Gold’s latest power-hungry schemes, and the deep desire she had to carve her own path and be more than a royal figurehead. She wanted to be able to lead her people in a way that would truly make a difference to them, but – given Misthaven’s somewhat traditional stance on “appropriate” roles for a Princess to play in matters of state – she wasn’t sure how to begin, or even if she’d be able to.

She wasn’t really aware of time passing, lost in her thoughts as she was, until a soft knock pulled her out of her reverie. She sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears and leaning back against the small mountain of pillows behind her. “Come in,” she called, a bit surprised by how scratchy her voice sounded.

The door swung open slowly and her mother’s head peeked through the gap. Concern flickered across the queen’s features when she took in Emma’s rumpled state, and she quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?” she asked as she came over to sit on the edge of the bed near Emma’s feet.

Emma sighed, a somewhat nasal sound. Must be left over from crying earlier. “That seems to be the question of the day,” she muttered.

The queen quirked a curious eyebrow in Emma’s direction, her gaze so penetrating that it seemed to peer directly into Emma’s heart, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. They were quiet for a moment – Emma making at least an attempt to pull herself together and look a little more composed – before the queen spoke. “This is about that young man, I’d gather. The one in the photographs?” It sounded like a question, but Emma knew that it wasn’t.

She nodded anyway. “Yes,” she murmured, her gaze shifting down to where her hands were playing with the edge of her duvet. “I know you told me to end it…and I did…but…” she trailed off, searching for the right words to explain. “I just…” she petered out again, emotions choking her and rendering her unable to speak until her mother’s fingers laced with her own and squeezed tightly.

She looked up, finding the queen’s gaze and seeing no trace of the formal monarch, but only her mother – the woman who’d hugged her tight whenever she was hurt or upset as a child, who’d always encouraged her to follow her dreams, who was perhaps the only other person Emma knew who had experienced the pull between public duty and private emotions in quite the same way. She wasn’t sure if it was the wisest idea to tell her mother all the details about Killian – she wasn’t sure how the queen would react, especially since she’d not seemed keen on Emma seeing someone when the surveillance photos had surfaced – but she had to tell someone. She couldn’t take bottling everything up anymore.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop talking – the entire tale spilled out easily. The feelings of frustration at Gold’s latest political intrigue, her hopes to do something meaningful with her position and despair that she might never really be allowed to, sneaking out to Two Wolves, meeting Killian, being charmed unexpectedly, getting to know him better over the last several weeks (though she thought it prudent to leave out the mind-boggling kisses from their picnic), then breaking it off only to find out he was part of the Cadre. She told her mother everything, all the way up to their fight earlier in the day, and when she’d finished she felt oddly better and lighter. A calm settled over her – no matter what happened next, at least she’d been honest with herself about all of her feelings.

The queen was quiet for the space of several heartbeats, and Emma cautiously raised her eyes to meet her mother’s gaze, unsure of what she’d see. The look of compassion and understanding that was shining back at her was an incredible relief for Emma – also a bit of a surprise, if she were being honest.

“Oh, Emma,” her mother started, her voice clearly laced with deep emotion. “I’m so sorry that you ever felt as though you didn’t have a place in leading Misthaven – your father and I have been so focused on strategizing how best to hold our own against the more aggressive members of the council and the more discontented factions in parliament, that I fear we’ve fallen back on relying only on each other out of habit.”

“It’s alright, Mom, I understand,” Emma murmured – and, on some level, she did. She’d been raised on the stories of her parents’ epic love match and brilliant political partnership. The most memorable tale had been the one in which they’d defeated a coup attempt shortly after their wedding. It was a sometimes daunting legacy to live up to.

“No, my darling girl, it’s not – and you shouldn’t have to.” Her mother leaned closer and brushed a strand of Emma’s hair back behind her ear before cupping Emma’s cheek with her free hand. “We’ve been so wrapped up in handling current issues the way we would have in the past, that we haven’t been thinking of the future – of you – as much as we should have. We’ll be fixing that immediately.”

“Really?” Emma asked, a note of hope creeping into her voice. “I have so many ideas-”

“And your father and I would love to hear them,” her mother replied. “I’ll clear our calendars tomorrow morning and we’ll start the conversation, alright?”

Emma nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Absolutely.”

“Now, as to the other matter,” the queen said briskly. “We need to discuss what to do about-”

“Killian,” Emma finished for her mother. She chuckled dryly, a sound with no humor in it. “I didn’t think that anything could be worse than what happened the last time I let myself open up to someone – at least there were no paparazzi this time around, or else it would’ve been an even bigger mess.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself for what happened with that diplomat’s son, sweetheart,” her mother said firmly. “He was an entitled, arrogant braggart who brought every bit of that shame on himself, and, frankly, I’d probably have kneed him even harder than you did if I’d been in your position. I really wanted to do it anyhow,” she finished matter-of-factly.

“Thanks, Mom,” Emma said, a small smile finally causing the corners of her mouth to twitch upwards – it was a very brief thing, but it made her feel better nonetheless. “But as I told you that night, I still contend he kneed himself in the balls.”

The two women stared unblinkingly at each other for a moment before both breaking out into soft, but uncontrollable, laughter. “That should have been the official press statement,” chuckled the queen. “Why didn’t we think of that at the time?”

Emma shrugged. “Don’t know,” she replied with a laugh before her current predicament sobered her mood once again. She squeezed the hand that still held her mother’s. “But it doesn’t really help me to figure out what I do now.”

The queen regarded her for a few moments, and though Emma’d tried to guess at exactly what her mother might say, she wasn’t able to predict the words that the queen actually uttered in that moment. “Emma, you’re the only one who can make that choice.”

“But what about the council’s reaction? And Gold? And-”

“Sweetheart,” her mother said firmly, now squeezing Emma’s hand in return. “None of that matters. The only important thing is how you feel. I know now that the burdens of your royal position have been weighing on you rather keenly lately – and I am so very sorry that I hadn’t realized how much – but nothing that’s going on with that changes anything about this. What’s important is what you want.”

“I want to fix things with him, but I don’t know how,” Emma murmured, slightly stunned at the fact that her mother seemed to be advocating for her pursuing some sort of relationship with Killian. Not that there is a relationship to advocate for right now, given the way that we left things the last time we saw each other she thought regretfully, flashes of their fight replaying themselves in her mind.

“Oh, I have no doubt that you can,” her mother said, a note of mischief entering her voice. “If he’s half as taken with you as you are with him – and given what you’ve told me, I think he is – I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Emma shook her head slowly, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her mother wasn’t more concerned. She’d expected more skepticism, or caution, or something – not this rather unabashed positivity and upbeat attitude. She’d thought she’d have to work a lot harder to convince her mother that a relationship with Kilian was a good idea, and the fact that the queen had gotten on board so quickly was kind of throwing Emma off-kilter. “I don’t know…it’s going to be really complicated. Maybe it’s simpler to just let it go.”

Her mother shook her head decisively. “It is simpler to do that, but that doesn’t mean it’s better, sweetheart. Anything worth having – really worth having – must be fought for. And you, my dear, have always been a fighter. Besides, fighting for love is the most worthwhile thing of all.”

She sat up straight, nearly dislodging several of her pillows with the sudden speed of her movements. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa, Mom. Who said anything about love? Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?”

“Not really.” The queen leveled a knowing look at Emma, squeezing her hand once more before letting go and standing up. “Not if those surveillance photos are anything to go by, at any rate.”

Emma sat speechless as her mother brushed off her skirt and headed across the room. The queen had swung open the door and was about to step through when Emma finally found her voice. “You’re not worried I’m making a bad decision?”

Her mother shook her head and turned around, locking eyes with Emma when she did. “Emma, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your instincts and how they lead you to make good decisions – most of the time, at least,” she said with a teasing arch of her eyebrows. “Trust your gut – listen to what it’s telling you. You’ll do the right thing for you, and whatever that is, your father and I will support it,” she promised, turning and stepping out of the room.

“You don’t think Dad will object?” Emma asked incredulously. “He took the last guy I was even remotely interested in down to see the royal armory and made vaguely menacing comments to him the whole time! I never heard from the guy after that! And what about the council?!”

Emma was still staring at the quickly closing door when it suddenly swung back open part of the way and her mother’s head popped back into view. “I’ll handle your father, don’t you worry. And don’t you worry about the council – your father and I have just figured out a few things that should put a halt to Gold’s machinations for the foreseeable future. Now,” she paused and pointed a finger at Emma as if to underline her final point. “You just try to be discreet while the lieutenant is finishing his Cadre cycle – I’m not saying put a halt to…things…” at this, she thought her mother blushed slightly before recovering. “…just try your best to keep the press from getting too interested in you both as a story, alright?”

Emma nodded. “I think I can manage that,” she said, a small seed of optimism taking root, despite her very real worry that Killian wouldn’t forgive her.

“Oh, and one more thing,” her mother said casually as she turned again and began to leave once more. “I meant what I said about the way you make decisions, Emma, but don’t forget, proposed Cadre Initiates each receive a thorough background check as part of their selection process. Your father and I have read enough about your Lieutenant Jones to know he’s as honorable as they come. I think I can speak for us both when I say the only concern we’d have would be if he’d care well for your heart.”

“He would,” Emma said softly, but with conviction, the tears from earlier threatening to make a reappearance. “That is, I haven’t ruined things between us.”

Her mother shook her head, a fond smile on her face. “Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Emma to try to process everything that had just happened. She couldn’t deny that she felt better than she had when she’d initially come back to her rooms, but everything she’d been sure of had just been turned upside down yet again. Her mind was whirling and she was torn between thinking about which of her plans and projects she wanted to cover with her parents during their strategy session the following morning and trying to come up with a way to fix things with Killian.

An idea for the latter began to take hold in her mind – it was a simple plan, so hopefully it would have the best chance of working. A grin spread across her face slowly.

Now she just had to wait for the perfect moment to set it all in motion.

-/-

Three days.

It had been three bloody days since he’d fought with Emma – with the Princess, he mentally corrected himself – and continuing on her detail had been nothing short of torturous. They’d been near each other constantly over the past several days, but without any opportunity to speak to each other beyond basic pleasantries.

Though you’ve got no idea what you’d say to her anyway, so maybe that’s for the best, he thought, a frown stealing across his face in response to that realization.

The princess had been extremely busy in the last three days – starting with a meeting with her parents the morning after their fight. When the door to the queen’s private rooms had opened after the meeting, he’d been sure that he was about to be dismissed – the king was looking at him with thinly veiled suspicion, he’d been sure of it. But the queen seemed to be regarding him with an inexplicably fond look, before she’d threaded her arm through her husband’s and drawn him away down the corridor. Emma had flicked the briefest of looks in his direction before she’d taken off at a brisk pace in the opposite direction and he and Belle had fallen into step behind her.

Since then, Emma’d been embroiled in a succession of meetings and other palace business practically non-stop. In her few free moments, she’d been eating, sleeping, or deeply engrossed in research – though on what, he couldn’t say. It had made the idea of approaching her to apologize for his behavior very difficult to put into practice, and the further they’d gotten from their fight, the harder it was to bring it up again at all. Not to mention that she’d been so busy that she’d been skipping her morning run, eliminating one of the best opportunities for him to speak to her alone.

They’d settled into a sort of uneasy half-truce, or at least that’s what it felt like to him, where they didn’t really avoid each other – though given that he was assigned to her detail, she couldn’t very well avoid him altogether – but they didn’t interact very much unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is why hearing her voice at nearly midnight, coming from the shadowed expanse of the courtyard to his left, was a bit of a surprise.

“Killian?” her voice calling his name floated towards him out of the near-total darkness. “Can you…can you come here…please?”

He hesitated a moment before stepping onto the grass, recognizing it as the same space where he and Belle had met Emma the morning of their fateful running session. She was seated at the far end with one leg tucked underneath her on a low, raised stone wall that encircled a small fountain. In the corner, near a line of Middlemist bushes, an old hanging lantern that had been retrofitted for electricity dimly illuminated that she was playing absently with the cuff of her left sleeve as he approached.

She looked up at him as he drew closer and opened her mouth to speak – but suddenly, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear whatever it was she had to say. “Princess, I do hope you’re having a delightful evening,” he began, falling back on hyper-formality to cover the insecurity that had flared to life in his gut. “But if you’re not in need of anything, I’m going to go consult with Lieutenant French about a few matters.”

He’d taken only a couple of steps towards the covered portico that ran along one side of the courtyard before Emma’s voice brought him up short. “You can’t.”

“Pardon?” he sputtered, his reply far less eloquent than he’d have preferred. “Why not?” he asked – he couldn’t think of a single reason Emma would have for barring him from speaking with the other member of his detail.

Emma stood up and crossed the grass to where he was standing. She looked up at him, her beautifully green eyes seeming even larger when they caught and reflected the moonlight. “She’s not here – I sent her back to Lieutenant Humbert to make the nightly report.”

“She agreed to leave you alone?” He knew that they were on the palace grounds, and there were likely no immediate threats to the princess’ safety, but he was still stunned that the normally rule-abiding Belle would have broken protocol so blatantly.

“I insisted, and I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be,” Emma said, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I knew you’d be along shortly for shift change, and I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“Oh?” Killian’s pulse kicked up a notch and the sense of trepidation he’d been keeping at bay for the last several days increased. Perhaps he was going to be dismissed, and the princess just wanted to do it herself. He kept his face impassive and his words formal as his gaze fell to hers. “How may I be of service, your highness?”

Emma simply looked at him for several long moments, her eyes searching his and her expression far too soft for someone about to make a pronouncement that would ruin his career. She opened her mouth a second time as if to speak, but closed it again before stepping closer to him and starting over. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and tinged with regret, “for everything I said to you the other day. Killian, I…you were right. What was starting to happen between us was real, but you have to understand,” she looked up at him pleadingly, “it’s not easy to know who to trust when you’re in my position, and I’ve…I’ve been burned before by exactly this sort of thing. I got scared when we discovered each other’s real identities, but I shouldn’t have been…in my heart, I always knew what kind of person you are, and you didn’t deserve my suspicion, or my accusations. I’m so sorry.”

She finished and took a step back, her eyes flitting away from his while he stood staring at her, dumbfounded. Of all the things he’d expected when he’d found her alone in the courtyard, this turn of events wasn’t anywhere on the list. It took him a few moments to find his voice, and even as he began speaking he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was going to say. He wasn’t at all surprised, though, when he heard himself saying, “It’s alright. I owe you an apology as well-”

Her head whipped up and she shook it vehemently. “You really don’t-”

“I really do,” he insisted, taking a deep breath and scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “I was being selfish – I knew I couldn’t tell you who I was because of protocol and I kept seeing you anyway. I put you in a difficult position and when the truth came out, I spoke very harshly to you – and I was more than a bit of a hypocrite about it all. I’m sorry, Emma.”

He’d barely realized that he’d used her given name for the first time since he’d found out she was the princess when the air between them seemed to take on an electric charge. “Say that again,” she whispered, stepping back closer to where he stood.

“What? That I’m sorry?” he said, a note of teasing creeping into his voice as he mirrored her, moving close enough that they were almost touching. “Because I am, you know.”

“No,” she shook her head, smiling at him as she pressed up on her tiptoes and her arms crept around his neck. “Say my name again – please.”

A slow grin spread across his face as he leaned down, murmuring Emma against her mouth before his lips covered her own. This kiss was so unlike the previous ones they’d shared on the day of that fateful picnic – those had been filled with the urgency of newness and, he realized now, it was more than likely that Emma had thought it might have been the only one they’d ever share. By contrast, this one was slow, languorous, unfolding as lazily as if they had all the time in the world and intended to spend it solely with each other.

When they finally pulled back, his arms had wound fully around her waist and her hands were firmly entangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He imagined that his expression mirrored hers, dazed but so very happy.

“Well,” she said on a laugh, sounding delighted and far more carefree than he’d ever heard her in the short time he’d known her. “That makes this next part easier.”

“Next part?” he asked absently, more focused on trailing one hand slowly up and down her back, tracing random patterns as he went. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the sensation before she blinked and focused on him again.

“Yes,” she nodded decisively. “The part where I ask you out on a date – where we both know who the other person is, Killian.”

“A date?” he repeated, feeling as dizzy as though he’d been whacked over the head with something rather large and heavy. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. “How would that even work? With you being…well, you and me being in the Cadre. What would it even look like?”

She grinned – brightly enough to light the whole courtyard without electricity – in response. “Well,” she murmured, scratching her fingernails lightly against the back of his neck in an extremely distracting way. “I don’t exactly know yet. I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to help me figure that out.”

He looked down at her, mind still reeling with everything they’d said – not to mention getting to kiss her again – and fully aware of the challenges that would lie ahead for them both if he accepted. But as he stared at her happy, hopeful expression, and felt a similar one on his own face, he knew there was only one answer in his heart. “With pleasure, Emma.”

Her happy laugh rang through the courtyard for a moment until they lost themselves in each other once again.

-/-

Misthaven Star-Herald

ROYAL REBEL WITH A CAUSE: PRINCESS EMMA SET TO OPEN NEW CHARITIES TO PROMOTE ADVANCEMENT OF MISTHAVEN’S WOMEN AND SUPPORT AT-RISK CHILDREN

By Sidney Glass

Star-Herald Royal Reporter

SPERO, MISTHAVEN, MAY 30, 2023 – Today, Princess Emma of Misthaven finally realized a long-held dream. With her husband, Commodore Killian Jones, at her side, the princess – who is expecting the couple’s first child late this summer – presided over the openings of two new organizations of which she will serve as patron.

The first, Move Forward Misthaven, is a group dedicated to supporting the advancement of women in all industries and areas of study, but with a particular focus on the fields of business, political science, and education. “The goal with Move Forward Misthaven is to elevate talented women in all fields and cultivate them for the leadership roles they are eager to inhabit,” the princess related when asked about her reasons for founding the organization. “We are dedicated to broadening Misthaven’s horizons as we look to the country’s future as a player on the world stage.”

The second group, Stand Up Misthaven, will tackle the much-needed task of providing aid and resources for at-risk children – ranging from educating teachers on how to prevent bullying in schools, to coordinating with youth shelters to provide better care for homeless teens, to evaluating the Misthaven foster system to overhaul its quality of care. “We must speak, we must stand up, for those who cannot do so for themselves – and there are few who are more in need of aid than children, those who look to us for care, for love, and proper direction.” The princess stated in an impassioned speech she gave at the organization’s opening. “Stand Up Misthaven will advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves.”

Princess Emma has long been an unusual figure in the Misthaven royal family, far more concerned with active public service than traditional diplomatic endeavors, though it is only in recent years that the royal protocols have been altered to allow her a more hands-on role in public leadership. This personal approach will continue with both of her new organizations – the princess will serve on the board of both, but will also make use of her graduate degree as a political science course leader for Move Forward Misthaven. She is also set to speak in front of parliament next week on behalf of improvements to the Misthaven foster system in support of Stand Up Misthaven.”

Ever marching to the beat of her own drum, the princess likewise bucked tradition with her marriage to the common-born Commodore Jones just over a year ago. Jones, who had been a member of Cadre 2018 – and who declined the offer to stay on as training officer for Cadre 2021 two years ago in favor of returning to Misthaven’s Royal Navy – has gained distinction at every turn and has accumulated a service record littered with honors and promotions, starting well before his romance with the princess began.

It is too early to speculate on the potential success of either of the princess’ new organizations, but with her clear determination and boundless energy, and the obviously mutually supportive bond shared between her highness and the Commodore, it isn’t an exaggeration to say that far from the “Royal Rebel” or “Prickly Princess” she was once deemed to be, Princess Emma is the face of Misthaven’s future.

[searchingwardrobes]

Sorry! I’m a wordy Santa, so you’re getting two messages! I’d like to get a start on your present! I’m a writer, and I’d love to write you a story! 📖 I’m up for almost anything, but I want to know all about your likes and dislikes in fics! This is about you, and I want to write something you’ll love! So load me up with all of the information, Melanie ❤️💚❤️

Don't apologize! I love to chat! I'm getting over bronchitis too, so I'm being a bit lazier than normal and thus more available. I'm excited to have a fellow writer as my Santa! I like a variety of fics: canon, canon divergent, modern AU. I love Lieutenant Duckling, Captain Duckling, pretty much any version of CS. I'm not crazy about Dark Hook, though, which seems to be an unpopular opinion on the fandom. But, he was mean to Emma and unhinged, and . . . I didn't like his hair. *Gasp* I know. I like his hair shorter because I love Colin's ears. I'm a sucker especially for Captain Cobra and childhood sweetheart fics. The only other thing you should know is I am not a big fan of smut. Steamy is fine, but I’m not a fan of the many words for genitalia, if you know what I mean. Have I mentioned I can be a little wordy? Lol ;)

[onceuponaprincessworld]

CaptainSwan One-shots Recs p.12

Hello CS Fandom, this in my 12th list of One-shots, thank to CSJJ, CSLB and to all those amazing writters this list is again long. It also contains some old ones,  but  there are just too wonderful not to read. And of cource because I couldn’t fit all of those in one list, there is at least, one more coming. Ok, definitely there are more lists coming. Hope you enjoy!

If you are intrested you can find my other lists here.

Promise, @xemmaloveskillianx

Killian Jones, EQ’s second-best bail bonds person, has been a thorn in her side since he strutted into their offices with his stupid hair, stupid elf ears and stupid British accent. She’d hate him if she wasn’t so hopelessly crazy about him.

Lost Luggage, @nowforruin

Emma regrets her decision to go along on the Nolan's ski trip when Killian's luggage shows up but hers doesn't. She regrets it even more when they're the only two whose flight gets in on time...or does she?

Smoke and Mirrors, @lifeinahole27

Tweaked from the prompt “I was burning scented candles and fell asleep. You’re my neighbour who bashed the door down when my smoke alarm went off.”

Two-Day Shipping, @high-seas-swan

Come in we’re open! Jones Brothers Bait and Tackle Shop. All Emma Swan wants is a beach chair and a quiet place to use it. Here’s hoping Storybrooke’s Bait and Tackle Shop has what she is looking for.

Ends, Ways, Means, Risk, @blessed-but-distressed

Sheriff David Nolan is stepping down, leaving his two best deputies to decide between themselves who’s going to replace him. Will it be his daughter, Emma? Or Killian Jones, the guy she’s been sleeping with on the DL? Both of them want the job. But with just 4 days until the public announcement, how far will they go to get the other to back down?

Handprints On My Soul, @hookedonapirate

Leaving home and a career as a roller coaster engineer on a whim with his six year old daughter was one of the last things Killian Jones wanted to do. But after falling in love with someone he’d met online to find out he’d been catfished, it seemed like the best idea. It seems even more appealing when Emma Swan, musician and bartender at a charming Irish Pub, enters his life… even if his brother and daughter have to be the ones to help him realize it.

Cup’ing Treatment, @welllpthisishappening

It takes, exactly, one piece of French Toast, a small army of Stanley Cup protectors with impossibly white gloves and a few moments on a slightly rickety swing set for him to realize.

Killian Jones wants to marry Emma Swan.

Liam and Elsa are never going to let him hear the end of it.

Glitch in the System, @pirateherokillian

Emma isn't all too familiar with the world of online content creator conventions, and finds out the rough way how intense the gamer crowd can be when she has an unpleasant encounter with 'The Captain' of popular youtube trio 'The Brothers Jones', Killian Jones. Written for Captain Swan Little Bang.

36 Questions, @wellhellotragic

They say all it takes is 36 questions. 36 questions between you and a complete stranger and suddenly you’ll both fall madly in love with each other. 36 agonizingly personal questions that force you to reveal your deepest darkest secrets. Well, that, and 4 minutes of staring into the most devastatingly blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

Knowing Little Notes, @accio-ambition

Emma Swan doesn’t do kids. Or, more accurately, she hasn’t done kids. But when a friend in need asks her to do kids - more specifically teach them - Emma dips her toes into the education field. Her first foray into substitute teaching is for Mr K. Jones, who proves to be a great asset in this whole “learning to teach” thing. It helps Emma understand what her friends get out of the job: that the best life lessons sometimes come from students and a nice little note.

Decking the Halls and Slippery Falls, @hollyethecurious

CS Holiday AU based on the prompt: I just wanted to put Christmas lights up but I ended up falling off the ladder and crashing into you while you were delivering something to my door but oh god you’re hot. With a dash of snowed in, loss of power, and keeping each other warm to boot!

Letting the Fates Decide (and other fairy tale nonsense), @msgenevieve447

She's tired. Tired of answering stupid questions, tired of looking at beautiful travel books but never actually going anywhere. Her best friend just wants her to be as happy as she is, but Emma knows there has to be something more out there for her. All she has to do is find it. Or, as it turns out, let it find her. Captain Swan AU.

Checked Out (Tales of Storybrooke Vol. 1), @mahstatins

Emma doesn’t get the appeal of romance novels. If only the library assistant was so easy to dismiss.

When In Venice, @word-bug

Killian Jones was one story away from establishing himself as a successful writer - that is what his publisher said and he completely believed it. He knew he should be pouring his heart out but his muse had other ideas, it seemed.

Emma Swan used to love her job but the monotony of the routine had finally caught up with her and she no longer enjoyed the job she once loved.

Can the two lost souls find what they were looking for when they meet each other at a restaurant and end up striking a deal that could change how they were?

how not to meet your neighbor…, @startswithhope

Here’s a bit of modern AU nonsense, starring Killian and Emma…

Long Nights,  hayleybop123

I run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keep calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead.

Untitled, @hook-come-back-to-me

I’m a government worker and I had to seduce you for a case but I’m starting to like you legitimately.

First Snow, @secret-captain-swan-blog

"It’s just starting to snow the day that Killian Jones meets Emma Swan for the first time." // In which Emma and Killian meet and save each other during the first snow of the season. (A Lieutenant Duckling-ish Fic)

The Bookstore Pirate, @mryddinwilt

It's Emma's first Christmas with Henry and she is desperate to find him the perfect gift. Which is how she ends up in a pirate themed bookstore talking to a complete stranger about the stress of gift giving. Captain Swan Modern AU that's kind of like a non-cursed AU. One-shot.

Hat Trick, @bookstoreromantic

When Killian Jones, the Rangers’ star right-winger, breaks his hand after blocking a shot, Emma is tapped to get him healed and back on the ice.

to Learn to Expect, @effulgentcolors

"But it's the way Killian puts an extra foot between them and the way he clenches his now empty hand into a fist at his thigh that makes her eyes sting worse than the allergy she had throughout the whole first month of being Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest."

Still Get Jealous, @resident-of-storybrooke

Killian knows Emma still has some walls up, but what if these walls contains secrets Killian can't handle? tumblr prompt: Could you do a prompt with jealous!Killian or jealous!Emma? Anything else is completely up to you but maybe (please!) can you include Victor Whale (!) and Liam?

the men they want to be, @alexandralyman

Captain Charming ficlet - David notices something has changed for his son (in law), as Killian and Emma prepare to welcome their first child.

you are not on my list, @rouhn

Emma has a list of things she wants to do with her boyfriend 2017. Now she only has 11 days left and after breaking off with Walsh she has no hope of finishing it by herself in time. But her best friend, Killian, has other plans.

Take Me Out, @seriouslyhooked

Reader requested CS college AU oneshot where Emma and Killian are lab partners and she’s been waiting for him to get his shit together and ask her out, but it’s the final class of the semester and Emma has grown tired of waiting. My reader didn’t give a me a song for this one (just specifically asked that there be some very slight angst before a fluffy end) but I think it couples pretty perfectly with a song that I really enjoy, ‘Take Me’ by Aly and AJ. 

Packing Poles, @forestiyari

[cat-sophia]

Happy 35th Captain Swan Day!

the men they want to beHello My Friends!

@alexandralyman​ is talented and brilliant writer and i think most of you, my friends, know her fics. I love her stories so very much! And not only her MC - last week i rediscovered so many wonderful, amazing one shots that i read long ago and read even more for the first time. She wrote so many and every story, every verse she create is perfect!

Alex - thank you for all fics you write, thank you that you share them with us! I love words you create, historical times you show us - everything you write is brilliant and reading your stories makes even the worst day better! Thank you! <3

Beyond the Horizon -  AU: When Princess Emma's ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other. 

Between Heaven and Hell  (Tumblr AO3) -  A Hook/Emma angel/demon AU. They hide in plain sight, the servants of heaven and hell. The angels and the demons, who can save your soul or damn it. They stand on opposite sides, they are the bringers of light and the agents of darkness, they are enemies in an eternal war, but what happens when an angel and a demon are inexplicably drawn to each other? 

I love this two MC - and i think most of you read them too - if not - i strongly recommend you to do so! (warning - highly addictive)

(bonus - read all one shots she wrote for this two stories - perfection!)

I also love her other stories:

Love Potion Number Nine -  After defeating the Wicked Witch and returning to the Enchanted Forest, a prince arrives with the goal of winning Emma's hand in marriage. He attempts to snare her with a love potion, but Hook intervenes and winds up activating the potion himself, causing Emma to fall in love with him. The effect is temporary, but it's going to be a hell of a ride until it wears off.

Two amazing WIP:

Faster, Higher, Stronger (Tumblr) -  Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven is considered the best hope for the tiny European country to win their first ever medal at the Summer Olympics, but due to security concerns her parents have sent her to Rio with two ex-British Special Forces private bodyguards, Liam and Killian Jones.

Liner Notes (Tumblr) -  CS rockstar/actress AU. Killian Jones, lead singer of the band Crimson Flag, has been burned in the past by love and turned his heartbreak into a hit album, Hook. But with his new single, I Still Do, he's ready to proclaim to the world that he still believes in love. All he needs is an actress to appear in the song's music video and he has just the one in mind - TV star Emma Swan.

hips don’t lie -  CS modern AU fic. Emma and Tink are used to their friend Ruby’s crazy ideas, so when she signs them all up for belly dance classes they don’t bother arguing and just go with it. Part 1 Part 2

Her perfect one shots:

Every Page is a Story (The Tales of Us)  ff.net collection of various Captain Swan themed one shots and drabbles.

*Canon and Canon Divergence*

CS drinking rum in New York City Serenade

Slow Dance (Tumblr)  Snow White has planned a large royal ball, but Emma just wants a night alone with her pirate. After all, it's not the dance, it's the partner that counts. (written after s3)

Killian buying Emma flowers

Enjoy The Ride -  What if Killian hadn't been in the cabin when Emma and Past!Hook came back to the Jolly Roger?

Killian and Emma after his heart is back

Forever Home  - Captain Swan fic with a Newfoundland puppy in the snow

Keep the Flame Lit - CS and Neverland

After 4a finale

Can’t Sleep - A little CS, post-Camelot ball drabble

Bed of Roses - CS after kiss in the middlemist field

at my worst, you are my best -  Killian gets split in two by Jekyll’s potion

Cleansed (Tumblr) -  After Killian's return from the Underworld, he and Emma go back to the house together to change and enjoy a little reunion in the shower before heading back out to face the newest threat to Storybrooke.

Anchor -  AU of the tavern scene in The Jolly Roger

My Kiss is Poison But My Love is True -  Hook's lips are cursed but hers aren't. Angsty smut set after "A Curious Thing".

Lives Never Lived (But Not Forgotten) (Tumblr) -  A little bit of canon divergence where Emma and Deckhand Hook had one night together in Isaac's version of the EF. He doesn't remember her, but he's the only one in this world who wants to.

Touch -  Killian with both hands on the date, written before the ep aired

gimme shelter - story set just after the end of season five

Now You See Me - Emma notices that Killian has to hold his cell phone away from him to read it. Emma thinks he might be farsighted. Killian ends up getting glasses.

skinny dip - CS and Neverland UST

"Swan! You're depriving me of a romantic gesture."

want, take, have -  domme!Emma smut (in canon)

mirror, mirror -  CS fic with Emma on one side of the mirror and Killian on the other��so here’s a little bit of angsty separation. Canon divergence where only Emma gets sucked into the mirror realm by the Evil Queen.

let slip your secrets, my darling  - written after 4a

*AUs*

Secret Agent Man -  Kingsmen inspired AU - Part 1 Part 2

Captain Duckling runaway bride AU

Put Another Coin in the Jukebox Baby (and dance with me) - Smutty Bartender!Killian AU.

CS street kids AU

Snowflakes and Starlight (Tumblr) - pure Lieutenant Duckling fluffiness. A princess with diamond stars in her hair, a smitten young Lt Jones, and a royal winter ball.

Lieutenant Duckling smut Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A Dream of Spring on a Winter's Night (Tumblr) -  A wintery, melancholy Enchanted Forest AU, where Captain Hook is stuck in port during a snowstorm and whiles away the evenings at the Lone Swan tavern.

counting down (the weeks, the days, the hours) (Tumblr AO3) -  He counts down the time left until he's eighteen and can finally leave, join the Navy like his brother and get out of this damn town. She waits to age out of the system so she can live near the beach and finally have a real home. Lieutenant Duckling modern AU.

Falling through Time (and into your arms)  -  an Outlander AU -  Emma Swan-Cassidy has somehow managed to time travel from 2015 back to 1785 while in Ireland with her husband Neal. Everyone around her thinks she’s an English spy and she’s been forced to marry Killian Jones for her own protection. She wants to return to her own time, but she can’t deny her attraction to the gallant young Irishman.  

in this corner - CS boxing AU

pickup lines -  The standard “strangers meeting in a bar and hooking up AU”

fallen skies -  A little post apocalyptic CS AU

playing footy - CS AU inspired by Colin playing football

edit: @alexandralyman​ fics i read after i made this post:

christmas tree lot - a fluffy, christmas captain swan AU

compass rose - canon, future CS baby fic “He gets another tattoo the week after they bring their daughter home from the hospital.”

swordfight david versus goliath and the men they want to be -  canon, future CS, Captain Charming 

gifts of the magi - Canon, future CS