#and ​the princess and the swan’s next chapter which is only halfway done

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

guys i’m working on stuff… i promise

[itsqueenelise]

The Black Swan

Well it’s certainly been a while. It’s been a long and difficult year and these last few months have been filled with many tribulations (including the reading of this book...but I’ll get to that). Despite everything, I have been reading though. In my absence I’ve gotten through all 17 Dresden Files books as well as the supplementary ones and 9 Wheel of Time books among others as well. (I’ll need to talk about WoT some time but that’s not for now) And most recently, I have finished The Black Swan by Mercedes Lackey.

I have never read a Lackey book, but I always here wonderful things about her writing. She also has so many titles that I’ve made it a mission to always pick up one of her books everytime I go to a bookstore, so I’ve started a small collection of her books. To start with her though, I had no idea so I simply went with this book since I am a huge Swan Lake fan...and wow that was a mistake. For a 400 page book that should have taken me a few days or a week at most to read...this took me over a month.

After finishing it, my first immediate thoughts were “thank goodness I’m done” and “well... I guess that was swan lake”. Before I go to roast a lot of this book, I would like to say that I really did enjoy parts of it. Specifically, I enjoyed just about every chapter from Odile and with Odette. This probably seems like a good thing from one who hasn’t read it since it would be expected for most of the book to be from Odile and a decent amount between her and Odette — especially when this book was supposed to be a retelling of Swan Lake from Odile’s perspective...but no. Oh no. If anything this was Siegfried’s story. And that’s where most of my contempt for this retelling lies.

I didn’t expect this book to be entirely from Odile since that would be a chunk of the story unseen which would make the story difficult, but I didn’t expect 70% of the book to be from Siegfried and about him. (Queen Clothilde is our other main pov which I think was welcome and...well didnt overstate her welcome either and was important for the telling of the story as Lackey did so, but anywho) Lackey spends the majority of the early-middle part of the book having the reader get to know Siegfried and preparing for...well pretty much all of the events of Swan Lake. We dilly dally for like 200 pages with a direction that gets dropped the moment we actually commence with the actual plot of the story. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

A large conceit of this story is taking the men (Wolfgang, Benno, and Siegfried) and showing how awful they are and how men are in general in this story. Which at first I thought was clever and funny as Lackey takes it so over the top initially making it seem like a parody of the super chivalrous and perfect prince in fairytales. But this changes when she goes just way too far with it. I think this whole conceit doesn’t really work in this story since she will have to make Siegfried that likeable and perfect prince by the end with him falling for and committing entirely to Odette...well I shouldn’t say it doesn’t work, because I certainly see how it could. And I think that is an interesting angle to take the story and possible having Siegfried realize how awful he is and do what he can to be a good person for Odette and such. But instead of any nuance at all in this storytelling, Lackey has Siegfried rape a Romani woman (this book is also quite racist to Romani people, calling them witches and having them curse him. It’s...) to where she then commits suicide and curses his dreams and forces him to “become a better person”. Now this is just heavily problematic because like...WHAT THE FUCK??? I have no clue why any of this is in *Swan Lake*. And just...what.

So we spend a large portion of this book dealing with this whole situation and Siegfried’s character where he eventually realizes he’s shitty though a trippy dream and starts being nice to the women he was shitty to. But really he just lets the women he sleeps with go and gives them a bunch of money and he goes “well I’m a good person now” and after 200 pages of that, all of this mess is dropped and not mentioned again and he just the “perfect prince”. Not to mention that Lackey is trying to redeem a character that straight up raped a woman to where she killed herself. And it’s very disorienting because during this large part of the book, we get very little Odile and Odette and when we do, large portions of time is skipped where I think we could have used a lot more development between the two.

And that’s where the whole balance of this book goes wacky. We don’t really have Odette and Odile interact until like halfway through the book, but at this point they are the side story to the main plot of Siegfried trying to redeem himself from rape. And once he is “redeemed” he is not even much a better person and we still spend so much time with him in a horribly contrived situation to get the actual plot of Swan Lake to happen where he actually goes to the lake and meets Odette. I don’t think the whole plot contrivance is too much of an issue since it *is* contrived by Rothbart and Clothilde, but it’s still really janky. Once we get passed the whole Siegfried redemption though, the book isn’t too bad. I think the interactions with Siegfried’s and the princesses including Honoria and that whole trip was interesting. And I would have loved the angle of the story to be more into him having to choose a bride and not liking them and then meeting Odette, but this was just shoved into to last 150 pages of the book with the rest of the plot where Lackey has to also rush development of Odile and Odette. And it just ends up so messy.

We spend that last 150 pages running through Odette and Siegfried meeting, the ball, and the aftermath just right after the other. And as a reader, I’m so confused because we lull around for 50% of the book, don’t get really much of Odile since the beginning, and don’t even have Siegfried and Odette meet until about page 300 out of 400. It leaves so much to be desired and feels like that whole deal with Siegfried earlier wasn’t even part of the book. I know Lackey wanted to do something different than “just Swan Lake”, but she did not deliver. And I think if she just took the first 50 pages and the last 150 and threw out all of the Siegfried stuff in the middle, this book certainly would be too bad. Because instead we are getting stuff like Odette and Siegfried only meeting once and having a 10 minute conversation and then boom! They are in love. And nothing more than that. I think a retelling like this should take this story that is very simple and give a lot of development and nuance. And none of that is there. It’s “watch Siegfried rape a woman and give other women a lot of money and then a speed run of Swan Lake”.

For some positivity, I think Lackey’s language is fantastic. She has such an ability to paint a scene and make it come to life and feel magical. There are some scenes, especially from Odile and her magic that feel like a magic fairytale. Also the final dream of Siegfried was really well done isolated from the rest of the story. And her writing really shines through at small individual points especially those last 150 pages. I wish that was what was stretched out. I cannot accurately describe my disappointment of how it was all handled. I would also like to praise the ending Lackey came up with. I’m very much a fan of the tragedy of Swan Lake, but Lackey’s interpretation here was very welcome. I really enjoyed Odile being the one to strike down Rothbart and I think the Odile we got from the lovers’ meetings through the ball and the end was a treat. But that wasn’t most of the book and that’s why I cannot praise this book as a whole.

It saddens me that this was my introduction to Lackey. I had suck high hopes for her writing and have heard only good things and was just met but extreme displeasure in reading this. I honestly wouldn’t recommend this book at all — just go watch the ballet. I will not let this be my last impression of Lackey though and I hope my next experience with one of her books will be better....sigh

[walviemort]

paternal instincts, part 4

Emma’s fear of pregnancy leads Killian to find—and use—a spell that allows him to carry their child instead. A canon-divergent CS pregnancy fic, just with the roles flipped a bit. (mpreg; rated T for implied sexy times) | AO3

A/N: dedicated to @sherlockianwhovian and @cocohook38 for their inspiration, and to @jennjenn615 for her support! Thank you!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Chapter 4—Out in the Open

Summary: Killian starts showing, and they find out the gender of their baby. But along with his growing belly, some of Emma's insecurities make an appearance, too.

Both he and Emma were keenly watching the changes in his body as the pregnancy progressed and the baby grew. It was some time before he gained any weight, but once the nausea passed, he did notice his clothes feeling a bit more snug, but not uncomfortably so, and every now and then he felt a growing pain as his hips widened in preparation of all that was to come. More rare, but more exciting, were the occasional flutters of movement within him.

Given that he was mostly lean muscle to start with, and the fact that a life at sea required extra core strength, they knew not to expect a noticeable bump until later than average. So, in the meantime, he contented himself with focusing on the slight change in Emma’s mammaries—while he obviously was carrying the brunt of this whole operation, Emma wasn’t excluded as her body slowly prepared for nursing, and her fuller breasts combined with his raging hormones meant they were spending an increased amount of time in the bedroom.

Which is exactly where he was when, at around 16 weeks, he was struggling to button his jeans. No matter how hard he tugged, the clasp just wouldn’t reach like it had the day before. Wait—did that mean...?

He stood in front of their floor length mirror and slowly turned to the side. Sure enough, a slight bump was there, just behind his belly button, rounding out his normally flat stomach. Cautiously, he placed his hand on it and traced the slight curve. It was real; he wasn’t imagining it. “Incredible,” he whispered to himself.

He was so entranced that he hardly noticed when Emma walked in, fresh out of the shower. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the sight. “Killian, is that...are you…?”

Not taking her eyes off his waist, she slowly walked towards him and too reached out to feel the slight swell. “Oh my God,” she murmured. “It’s real.”

“I could have told you that, love,” he quipped; he hadn’t gone through the pain of the past few months for nought.

“I know, but...now, we get to see it.” Her voice was full of awe as she danced her fingers over his abdomen, exploring where the curve began and ended. Honestly, it was hardly noticeable—it looked like he’d just had a large breakfast, really—but seeing it and knowing what lay within did add a level of tangibility to everything. There really was a growing child in there.

The euphoria of that revelation, paired with the incredible feeling of Emma’s touch on his skin, sent his thoughts—and blood—elsewhere rather quickly; damn his hormones. “Swan,” he rasped, finally drawing her eyes away from his belly. “I—I might need—”

“I’ve got you,” she breathed, quickly finding his mouth with hers. They ended up late to the station that morning, but honestly, who would deny them the celebration?

As soon as other people noticed he was showing, speculation immediately started as to the gender of their child.

“Oh, you’re carrying low—must be a boy!”

“When it’s all out in front like that, it means you’re having a girl!”

He and Emma were agreed that they had no preference, as long as the child was healthy, but they did anxiously await the 20-week appointment where they’d get to find out.

Even just seeing the child on screen was enough to bring Killian to tears (he’d taken to keeping several handkerchiefs in his leather jacket nowadays). There were so many details—arms, legs, feet, hands, a spine! It was surreal to see the image of the child moving around in tandem with the motion he could sense within; Emma hadn’t yet been able to feel it, but he knew she’d be able to soon.

And when the doctor revealed the gender, they both burst into happy tears. They didn’t have to refer to their child as a bean now—they could use proper pronouns and give serious thought to names. They had already decided on a nautical theme for the nursery, but he was sure that Snow wouldn’t be able to resist adding some extra touches to indicate whether it was a prince or princess in residence.

They told Henry right away, unable to keep it to themselves (and knowing that he’d make their lives hell if they didn’t—the lad got his manipulation skills from his grandfather), but waited for another family dinner to break the news to her parents.

Snow greeted them at the farmhouse door, ushering them in from the spring rain coming down outside, and welcomed them all in with hugs, saving Killian for last.

“Gosh, look at you!” she exclaimed. In all honesty, it had only been a couple days since Snow had last seen him, but it did feel like he got bigger and bigger with each that passed, which was somewhat disconcerting when he realized that he was at the halfway point, but their babe was nowhere near halfway done growing. At present, the bump was definitely obvious, the curve taking up his entire stomach, but only just. The fabric of his dress shirt, which used to hang slightly loose on his frame, was now taut but not strained. (His waistcoats, however, had stopped fitting a couple weeks ago.)

Snow practically shoved them all towards the sitting room, Henry making a beeline for where Neal was playing on the floor while Killian and Emma settled on the sofa. Snow proceeded to give Killian nearly a full inquisition: how was he feeling, where was he sore, had they signed up for lamaze classes yet, were they going to do a registry, and so on and so forth. He knew babies needed a lot of things, but he was astonished to learn at just how much was out there for the expectant, as well. And it became increasingly hard to not reveal the gender, but they wanted to wait until David was there, too.

Once Snow started talking about the odd rash she’d acquired in the later stages, he had never been so grateful for Dave to announce that dinner was ready. Emma was up off the couch in a flash and already working on her glass of wine by the time he got into the room—and he hadn’t slowed down at all yet; she was just that quick about it. After that conversation, he didn’t blame her, though, and almost wished he had his own glass of rum, but his lemon water would have to do.

After everything had been passed around and they’d dug into the meal, Snow asked, “So, have you guys thought of any names yet?”

Killian caught Emma’s eye before answering, giving her a small smile to let her know what he was about to do. There was something off in her eyes—some level of hurt that alarmed him—but she gave a tiny nod back, so he put that worry in the back of his mind for now and plugged on.

“Yeah, we’ve thought of a few names for her.”

“Oh, fantastic! I mean, you still have time and everything, and you might want to wait until—wait, her?”

“Her,” Emma answered reverently.

“Oh my goodness,” Snow replied breathlessly. Killian and Emma were well aware of what it would mean to her parents that they were having a daughter: that it would be a chance to give someone the childhood Emma had missed out on, to dote on a little girl with princess dresses and tiaras. Now, he’d been adamant from the get-go that his child would have a fair amount of pirate in them, but the thought of a little one in a frilly pink frock was also incredibly endearing.

Both of Emma’s parents were getting teary-eyed along with their grins, and Killian found himself getting emotional by proxy. David finally said, “We can’t wait to meet her,” in a watery voice.

Killian looked over at Emma, who was still smiling, but also had something of that lost girl look in her eyes; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that. He reached over to squeeze her hand, both in a gesture of comfort and of show. “Neither can we,” he finally said, continuing the conversation.

The rest of the evening was passed in much the same way—Snow being something of a mother hen to Killian, David clearly lost in daydreams and memories (or possibly memories of daydreams), Henry trying to explain it all to a confused Neal, and Emma slowly drawing into herself, to his concern—and their daughter’s, if the fluttering in his stomach was anything to go by.

Finally, they headed home—with a large bag of maternity goods Snow insisted he needed—and to his consternation, Emma headed straight to the bedroom, leaving him to put away the leftovers. He obviously didn’t mind, but he was concerned for whatever was plaguing Emma.

He followed her up shortly, carrying the tote from Snow. Emma was already in the shower when he reached their room, so he set the bag by the closet and changed into pajamas, though he did take a brief moment to look at his bare stomach in the mirror before slipping on a night shirt. It wasn’t like it was ever far from his thoughts, and it was hard to ignore the bump, but actually seeing where his daughter was growing was still a small thrill.

When Emma emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet and in her own pajamas, she seemed to have perked up a bit—until she saw the bag sitting near the closet and he watched as her face fell. He closed the book he’d been reading and set it aside, quietly asking, “Swan? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she muttered unconvincingly as she flopped on the bed next to him, staring at the ceiling.

“Open book, love,” he reminded her. “I know something has been bothering you all night. How can I help?”

She gave a small sigh and rolled over to face him. “Not be pregnant?”

His heart fell into his stomach. Was she having second thoughts about the baby? Did she not want to be with him anymore?

“It’s not what you’re thinking, babe; calm down,” she started, sitting up and likely seeing his reaction. “It’s just…when I saw the way my mom was fawning over you tonight, I couldn’t help but think how that was something she and I should be bonding over, and how if maybe I’d had that the first time around, I wouldn’t be so scared to do it again. And then when we told them she’s a girl, it was exactly what we thought would happen—they’re taking it as a second chance at the childhood I should have had, and it reminded me of all the times as a kid I’d see other girls adopted before me.”

“Oh, Emma,” he breathed, in a watery voice. “You’re not—I’d never—they wouldn’t—” His heart was breaking for his wife and he couldn’t put it into words how much none of that was her fault. He honestly should have predicted it.

“Killian, don’t—I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. “I know how illogical that all is—to think that I’m being replaced by my own daughter? Come on. And I know my mom would be all over me if it weren’t for my damn issues. I guess...it was just a lot tonight, and it kind of all hit at once. I just need to get over it.”

He could see some of her old walls start to rise back up in the way she avoided his eyes and hunched her shoulders in on herself. And he be damned if he let her stay like that.

“My darling,” he whispered, nudging her chin up with his fingers to make eye contact, which she was reluctant to send his way. “No one will judge you for thinking or feeling those things, least of all me. It’s completely understandable, and I apologize for not seeing it sooner. And I know I can’t do anything to change the past, but the one thing I can assure you of is that you have a family that loves you to no end, just as you are. And this child,” he added, placing his hand on the bump for emphasis, “won’t give a single damn who carried her; she’ll only know that she has two parents who would do anything for her and have since day 1.”

Emma nodded, giving him a half smile, before scooting closer to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his shoulder. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked into his neck.

“Because I’m your True Love, and that’s what we do,” he replied confidently, pulling her close.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be supporting you, though, and getting you through all this crazy shit.”

“Well, for starters, that’s nonsense; we’re in this together, always. And we’ve still a ways to go; I’m sure I’ll be needing you to talk sense into me more than once in the next few months.”

He felt more than heard her chuckle against his skin, and just enjoyed the chance to hold her in his arms, knowing that it would get harder to do down the line.

But then he felt something else. “Oh!” he exclaimed, hand rushing to a spot on his side.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Emma asked, alarmed, as she pulled away and hovered, as if she was afraid she’d hurt him.

The feeling persisted, and an incredible sense of elation took hold of him. He looked back at Emma, grinning, and grabbed her hand. “Here,” he told her, placing her palm where his had just been.

“Killian, what’s—oh!” The concerned furrow of her brow quickly turned to a look of surprise when she felt it: their daughter, happily kicking away at the outside of his stomach. “That’s her!” Emma’s entire face lit up as the baby continued to hit against her hand. “Oh my god,” she murmured, and all the fear and hurt that had been etched in her features a minute ago had disappeared, replaced by pure glee.

With his hook this time, he again brought her chin up level with his, but this time to kiss her. How the gods had seen fit to place him at her side, and bless them with this gift of a child, was something he’d never understand but would be eternally grateful for.

It certainly wouldn’t be the last time either of them had a crisis of conscious or have old feelings resurface, but it was a reminder that they’d always have the other to lean on.

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want a visual reference, this is where Killian's belly is at both parts of the story (I'll have these for every chapter :D)

[downeystarkjr]

The Swan and The Ghost

Emma Swan was never one to believe in ghosts or in any superstitions of the kind. However, her beliefs are soon to be tested when she moves into the beautiful yet mysterious Jewel Cottage. The manor known to be the home haunted by Captain Killian Jones.

The story can also be read on AO3 here

(This is one of the two stories I was working on for the Captain Swan Big Bang - it’s still a WIP but I have quite a few chapters complete that I really wanted to share)

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Chapter 1 

“Emma,” Neal sighed with exasperation and stumbled to hurriedly button up his shirt he had changed into after Emma splashed wine on the one he had been wearing. He headed back downstairs, trying to change Emma’s mind and stop his girlfriend from continuing to throw his property out to the night covered streets. Although he didn’t know how long he could continue to refer to Emma as his girlfriend, right now things didn’t seem so certain. Emma was having none of it and showed no signs of having second thoughts regarding her decision.

“Come on, Emma don’t you think you’re being unreasonable?” Neal stated in his defense, even if it was a weak one. “She was just a colleague from work, we’re on a project together and I invited her over for drinks, so we can discuss it.”

Emma scoffed, not naïve enough to believe Neal’s words as she made sure her home didn’t contain anything belonging to the man who broke her heart. He had been the longest boyfriend Emma ever had, until rumours regarding his infidelity began to surface. “Unreasonable? Oh, you have some nerve Neal! Do you think I’m that thick to buy another one of your lies?”

“Emma, I’m not lying!” Neal countered, sounding angrier than he had intended but Emma could be stubborn at the best of times. And often annoyed him.

Once she had got rid of almost all of Neal’s belongings, Emma whirled on him. His declaration was the last straw. “Is that so? Well, if she’s just some colleague, why didn’t you tell me you were inviting her over? Just face it Neal, if I hadn’t shown up the situation would have escalated further than you having your tongue halfway down her throat!” she exclaimed, not hesitating to show how vexed Neal had made her. She was more angry than upset. Although, she was hurt by how someone she loved, someone she thought loved her in return, who Emma could imagine a future with, could betray her by chasing another woman. Wasn’t she enough for him? Clearly not. If she was, if Neal really had loved her, his relationship with Emma would have stopped him from having an affair.

This was the first time someone had dared to be unfaithful, with the other to two short-term boyfriends she had during high school and college, the break ups had been more of mutual understanding when they realised they just weren’t compatible for one another. Emma just didn’t think that Neal would be the one to hurt her. But there was one question Emma needed answered. “How long has this been going on? And don’t even think about lying to me, Cassidy,” she demanded sharply, with her narrowed green eyes glaring at her now ex-boyfriend. Emma always did have that superpower where she could quite often tell when someone was lying to her. Especially if that someone was a man she was dating, who Emma decided to allow herself to trust and move in with.

Neal sighed with exasperation, shifting where he stood while bringing a hand to the back of his head awkwardly. “Emma I- “his first instinct was to continue to deny he had done anything wrong, but the way Emma was glaring at him with pursed lips, seeing her efforts to blink away the threatening tears, Neal just couldn’t bring himself to be anything but honest with her. If only as an attempt to keep her in his life. Granted, he may have been at fault but Neal couldn’t lose Emma. “It was a mistake that led to one thing and another… for six months,” he finally confessed, quickly lifting his arms to protect himself as he dodged the lamp Emma threw at him in retaliation. It was the nearest thing Emma had to hand and she needed to throw something to express her anger towards Neal’s betrayal. “Emma! What are you doing? That could have hurt me!”

“What about how you hurt me?!” Emma cried out at the revelation, her voice breaking, unintentionally letting Neal become aware of the heartbreak she was experiencing as a result of his actions. She could practically see the vision of her potential future with Neal drifting further away from reality. “Six months you’ve been sneaking behind my back? We’ve been living together for three years. I thought we had something special and I-… You know what? I’ve had enough of this, just follow your stuff and leave!�� “Ems…don’t do this, we love each other, don’t we?” Neal pleaded and stepped closer to Emma, but she took a few steps further from him.

“No Neal, you don’t cheat on someone you love,” Emma was quick to correct, wiping the one stray tear that left her eye to run down her cheek. “I loved you, and I mean love, but after this? What you’ve done? It’s going to make it a hell of a lot easier for me to move on from you,” she admitted with the determination she had to get over the man who broke her heart. Emma just wanted Neal to leave. “At least one thing our relationship has taught me is not to trust a man so easily as I trusted you.” From now on, she was going to make sure she had her walls up and refuse to let another man in the way she did with Neal. It would protect her from getting hurt like this again.

“You don’t mean that… Emma we can work things out, please- “

“Just get out!”

Emma had the night to think about what she was going to do. During the night that was supposed to mark their anniversary that Neal happened to forget. Which just made the situation worse. Neal had the audacity to have an encounter in their home with his bit on the side on their anniversary night. She needed a fresh start, away from Neal and anything that reminded her of him. Which meant she couldn’t really stay living there, even if she had kicked Neal out. To say that Mary Margaret was surprised to see her daughter unexpectedly turn up on the doorstep the next morning was an understatement. Surprised in a good way, until Emma explained the turn of events she experienced the night before. She had decided to move into her parents’ home and have the rest of her things from her house removed and put into storage until she could find somewhere more permanent to call home.

“And I just couldn’t stay at the house in case Neal tries to worm his way back in my life. He has to understand that I can’t be with a man who thinks it’s alright to cheat on me then lie to me about it,” Emma expressed to her mother, tying her hair up in a ponytail as she leant back on the couch cross legged. A habit of Emma’s that she had since she was a child. “He then had the audacity to say I was the one being unreasonable, why? Because I refuse to agree with him making out with another woman while he was supposed to be in a committed relationship?” she added, disgust lining her every word while Emma cringed at how foolish she had been to trust Neal in the first place. “You don’t think I acted too hastily, do you mom?” Emma questioned, her eyes filled with hope for Mary Margaret to agree with her decision.

As usual, Mary Margaret was always eager to help her daughter. Lately, the opportunity seldom presented itself since Emma moved out of the family home. “Of course not, if anything it’s his loss,” Mary Margaret assured with a shake of her head, giving her daughter a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Just the way Emma liked it. “Neal is the one at fault here, he should never have cheated on you. You don’t want, or rather, need a man like that. If you took Neal back, who’s to say he won’t do anything to let you down again?” the mother advised kindly to her only child.

“Thank you for understanding mom,” Emma gave a half-hearted smile hidden behind the mug she lifted to her lips. “And you’re right, I refuse to waste my time with Neal any longer. He’s made one mistake, that’s one too many,” the younger of the two Nolan women nodded, determined to stick to her decision. Emma was good at pushing people away if they let her down, or if she didn’t trust them, which resulted in her not having many friends other than Ruby and Elsa.

“I’m glad to hear that too,” David’s voice could be heard before Emma’s father walked into the living room with his arms folded. Joining the two most important people in his life. He still saw Emma as his little girl and refused to stop being protective over his princess no matter how older she got. Emma would always be his daughter, and he her father. “Who the hell does he think he is? I hope you gave him a piece of your mind. If I had been there, he wouldn’t have left without paying for his actions.” David never truly liked Neal, not only because he thought he was losing Emma to him, but there was something suspicious about Emma’s ex-boyfriend that he just couldn’t shake. Call it fatherly instinct. Mary Margaret’s eyes widened, darting her scolding gaze to her husband. “David!” Violence wasn’t something that Emma needed right now. The important thing was that Emma made the right decision on her own initiative to call an end to a relationship she was not happy to continue.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Emma said to her mother, resting a hand on Mary Margaret’s knee the last thing she wanted was an argument to erupt between the people who raised her. She hadn’t told either of her parents of her intentions to make a fresh start. And that meant leaving town. Even before Neal, the twenty-eight year old already moved out of her family home but never out of the city that she was born. Emma didn’t have the desire to leave, not until the revelation of the previous night. Although, she doubted Mary Margaret and David would agree with her decision or accept it. But Emma had made up her mind. She was thinking it over, her life with Neal, staying in Westchester County, Emma just didn’t really see anything there for her anymore. Don’t get her wrong, Emma loved her parents dearly, but she hoped they didn’t think her staying with them would be a permanent move. “Dad, trust me, Neal knows it’s over between us. Especially after I chucked his property out and threw a lamp at him,” she insisted and couldn’t stop herself from laughing. Much to the confusion of her parents.

“Emma?” David raised an eyebrow at the sudden laugh, moving over to sit on the armchair by the couch.

“Are you alright?” As always, the two never failed to finish each other’s sentences, or in this case, questions. Both the father and mother feared their daughter was trying to put a brave front on, despite doing all her crying the night of her breakup. When she was alone. They knew she loved Neal dearly before her discovery, so she was bound to be hurting. Sure, Emma was still upset, but showing her vulnerability wasn’t exactly one of her characteristics. “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” she confirmed as an attempt to quash her parents’ concerns about her. A small chuckle escaped her again, but she attempted to hide it by taking a few sips of her favourite hot beverage. “I just really loved that lamp.” Days turned into weeks and in that time Emma opted to stay with her parents. She managed to sell the house she and Neal shared until the end of their relationship. Speaking of whom, Neal had tried countless times to win Emma back but with the presence of Emma’s father, his attempts proved fruitless. While living in her childhood room and in the company of her parents, Emma had spent her time searching for a new place to stay. One house in particular caught her attention, and thankfully it was in budget. Which was a surprise given the size of the manor that had the most wonderful view of the ocean. It was far enough for Emma to start things afresh, in a quaint town in England known as Storybrooke.

[huffleporg]

Rook Land - Chapter 2

Rook Land - Chapter 2: Disappearing Acts [M] 2/?

Knight Rook, Captain Swan, Alice/Robin

Killian Jones already thought that his once steady world had been shaken up by his teenage daughter's mischief and rebellion. Little did he expect that a new sheriff and her quest to find a missing boy would truly turn everything upside down.

Told you I’d get it out before the new episode. ;) 9 Minutes before.

He had refused to give her phone back to her until after dinner. Alice had spent the meal either looking over to the counter where her father had placed both their phones, or glowering at him across the spaghetti and meatballs. After he had spent the whole day telling her off and telling her to focus on keeping up with her school work instead of talking to M.R. or wandering around the department, Alice found she had little she wanted to say to her father. At least, the only things that she could think of to say she was fairly sure would make him decide not to give her phone back until tomorrow, and that was something that Alice was too scared of.

As her father started to clear the table and Alice began to put the leftovers away in reused take out containers, a familiar buzzing came from the counter behind her. Alice spun around to see her phone screen lit up.

“It’s after dinner,” said Alice quickly, looking over at her father who similarly had noticed the arrival of the text message. “So, can I have it back now?” She smiled hopefully.

Returning his attention to rinsing the plates off before loading them into the dishwasher, Killian Jones said, “Finish putting the leftovers away then you can have your phone back.”

Even though her bad mood had made her less hungry than usual, Alice set a new record for putting away their leftovers. By the end, she was sure that at least a quarter of the spaghetti had wound up on the table or on the floor, but she was past caring. Before her father could lecture her about wasting food, she hurried over to the counter and grabbed her phone.

As she ran through the hall and then clomped up the stairs, she was vaguely aware of her father calling out to her.

“Don’t stay up too late! I’m taking it back in the morning!”

“Sure, okay,” Alice yelled down, not even caring what her father had just said. All that mattered to her was the fact that she could finally see whether or not <i>she</I> had noticed. On the upstairs landing, she pushed the door to her room open. She didn’t even bother taking her boots off as she belly flopped onto the bed. Finally, she could do what she had been aching for all day long.

She pressed her thumb to the button, allowing the screen to light up again and unlock. Quickly, she began to scroll through her notifications. Though usually Alice would have immediately opened the chess app to make moves on the games she was playing, today she just zipped past the notifications that it was her turn to move in various matches. Instead, she was searching for a sign that she had been paying attention.

She had been sitting there in the cafeteria for study hall, reading The Canterbury Tales, only a few tables away from where she had been sitting with Bill and Will. As soon as Alice had realized that, she hadn’t been able to focus on her algebra homework. Bill and Will hadn’t minded an excuse to start talking and joking, and then one thing had led to another, the way it usually did with the three of them, and she had found herself being led out of the cafeteria by a very disgruntled Officer Flynn and apoplectic study hall proctor. She had looked back over her shoulder, hoping to see her watching, hoping she’d be smiling in amusement. But no, Ivy Belfry had kept reading on.

Hours later as she scrolled past messages from Bill, Will, and Dinah, Alice bit her lip.

Finally, she saw Ivy’s name.

A warmth spread through her stomach as she began to read the messages she had missed.

<i>Where are you? Mr. Bloom already marked you late.</I>

Less than an hour after the first one had been sent, <i>Did you really get in trouble ~again~?</i> followed.

A wide grin crept up on Alice’s face, melting away all the annoyance of the day. As she read through the messages again, Alice imagined Ivy going throughout the day, worrying about her because she hadn’t showed up to sit next to her in math. Ivy had been thinking about her. It was enough to bring a pink flush to Alice’s cheeks.

Before she could lose her nerve, Alice quickly typed, <i>Yep! Didn’t you see? It was in study hall</i>. For a few minutes, Alice laid there like a seal, staring at the screen, willing the grey ellipsis to appear on the screen. As her back and abs began to protest, she began to notice the shuffling noise coming from her rabbit’s cage. “Oh right,” she said, getting to her feet. “Dinner time, Roger.”

By the time she had finished feeding her rabbit and picked up her phone again, she had a message waiting for her.

<i>Sorry. Was it because of Bill and Will?</i>

<i>They were there</i>, replied Alice without any hesitation.

For breathless moments, Alice waited, watching the ellipses dance.

<i>I don’t know why you put up with them. You can do better than Tweedledee and Tweedledum.</i>

As if the wind had been knocked out of her sails, Alice sank down onto the bed. She read the message over again, hoping that she would somehow sense the joke behind it or that Ivy would send another message, clarifying the misunderstanding.

<i>They’re my friends</i> Alice started to type before deleting it. Again, she tried to type, but she stopped when she saw that Ivy was replying.

<i>Maybe next study hall we can sit together and you can explain the homework to me. Should keep you out of trouble.</i>

The heat returned to Alice’s cheeks well before the winking emoji appeared.

Before Alice could even begin to think of how to respond, the door to her bedroom opened. Even though she knew that there was only one person it could be, Alice jumped a little, heart racing.

“Sorry to startle you,” apologized Killian, sticking his head in from the hallway.

“Knock next time.” It was a comment she had made often enough to know her father probably never would remember, intentionally or not. Alice put her phone screen down on the bed. “What? Do you need help with something?” Though her father had long ago stopped asking for her help for a lot of tasks, there were still plenty of things that her father hadn’t managed to figure out even though it had been years since the accident. She got up, fully expecting him to start talking about something heavy that needed to be lifted or the like.

“No,” said Killian softly with a smile. “I just wanted to say good night.” He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, the way he had every night when she had been little.

“Okay then,” she said with an amused laugh. “Do I get a story too?”

Her father shook his head. “No, not unless you want to hear the story about the princess who got in so much trouble she gave her father an aneurysm?” he joked.

“Nah, I think I heard it this morning.”

“Goodnight, Alice,” he said. “I believe in you.”

“Goodnight, Papa,” replied Alice, a lump rising in her throat.

As the door closed, Alice looked back at her phone, even more lost.

<center>***</center>

Killian hadn’t been expecting the first full day of Alice’s suspension to go any better than the previous day. He had only been mildly annoyed when Alice had revealed she had “forgot” her math textbook when they were more than halfway between Storybrooke and Rockland. He had anticipated some degree of shenanigans from his daughter, so he had factored in a few extra minutes to his commute. They had only arrived fifteen minutes late, which considering Alice’s habitual lateness, was hardly the worst time he had ever made with his daughter in tow. He had hoped the antics would stop once he got her settled, but his hope had been misplaced.

First it had been that there was a draft at the table where she had sat the day before. Then it was that the makeshift desk that she had made of the windowsill was too small for her sketch pad, preventing her from being able to do her art homework. After Killian had convinced her to try another subject for the time being, she had decided the only way she could read <i>To Kill A Mockingbird</i> was out loud in a remarkably close Southern accent, Killian had found it necessary to leave the office and find Leroy. It hadn’t taken much effort to convince him to unlock a conference room for Alice.

“If you need me, you know I’m just down the hall,” said Killian as he set Alice’s heavy backpack down on the floor.

Alice glanced around the conference room, frowning. “At least the table’s big enough for drawing,” she said. She dropped the drawing pad on the table with a thunk. “Not much else to recommend it.”

“On the contrary, love, it’s perfect,” he said. “You can read out loud without disturbing anyone. There’s no windows, so there’s no draft. You can get your work done here for the morning, and then we’ll go to Granny’s for lunch. Does that sound good?”

At the mention of Granny’s Diner, the girl perked up. “Sounds delicious.”

“Okay then.” He gave her a smile, glad that Alice was no longer fighting him on this relocation. “I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck with your homework.” He closed the door to the conference room behind him as he left to return to the Detective’s offices.

“Alice is settled now,” began Killian as he walked into the room, only to realize that he was speaking to an empty office. He shook his head, figuring that his partner had been called away or else had decided to get another cup of coffee.

Killian sat down at his desk, knowing that finally he would be able to get some work done without Alice grousing in the background. He jiggled the mouse back and forth to wake up his computer, humming a little to himself a song he had forgotten the words to. He clicked the web browser on the desktop and waited for the homepage to pop up. As soon as it had, he found himself frowning. It wasn’t the city’s website that was the default on every computer owned by the government. No, it was the familiarity of the page he had seen thousands of times that had highlighted the addition to the site. “When the bloody hell did we get a Twitter?” muttered Killian, squinting at the icon. It was only then that he realized just what was so disconcerting about the new box. The most recent tweet featured a link with picture of the woman he had met less than twenty-four hours ago.

Curiosity getting the better of him, sidelining any real productivity, Killian clicked on the link, bringing up an article from a local news website. After reading the headline, <i>Sheriff Swan Announces Plans For Graham’s Spring Run</i>, and skimming the article, Killian couldn’t help but mumble, “Is that part of your plan?” For some reason he couldn’t articulate, he doubted the question as soon as he had asked it. It made no sense. Sheriff Graham had died <i>after</i> she had arrived in Rockland. Whatever had brought her here had to have preceded the Sheriff’s sudden heart attack. Starting up a run in his honor had to just be a way for her to mourn a fallen colleague, nothing more.

<i>What is your plan?</i> he wondered silently as he started to type E-M-M-A S-W-A-N into the search bar. 0.58 seconds later, and he found himself with a meager two pages of relevant results. The article he had already visited, white pages for several cities - Boston, Tallahassee, Saint Paul, among others he had never heard of - and a Facebook page. Seeing no other options other than looking up her former residences or looking into women who had names that vaguely resembled Emma Swan, Killian opened the Facebook profile.

“Facebook stalking the new Sheriff?”

Killian almost lept out of his seat at the sound of his partner’s voice. “Damn it, Weaver,” he said, spinning his chair around to face Weaver.

“So is this what passes for courtship these days,” Weaver said walking up to Killian’s desk. He set his steaming mug of coffee down.

“I’m just trying to figure out what she’s doing here,” said Killian, trying to regain his composure. He looked back at the screen, blue eyes flitting back and forth. “Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be that much information.” Other than a profile picture that only showed her red jacket and the back of her head, her gender, and current city and job, there was nothing visible to the public. “Just stuff we already know.”

Weaver pointed at the monitor. “Look again, detective.”

“What?” he glanced to where Weaver was pointing. “She’s got twelve friends.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So she doesn’t have a social media presence. She could be a private person.” While it was more common than not for people in their twenties to possess more than a few social media and spend a fair bit of time cultivating their online personas, it wasn’t too odd for someone to generally choose not to. It was certainly consistent with the general lack of online presence he had seen in the search.  

“Eleven friends,” corrected Weaver. “Eleven friends and one dead friend.” He nodded at the unmistakable profile picture of the late Graham Humbert. “Who might have been more than a friend.”

“What? You don’t think?” started Killian, his brow furrowing.

As Weaver began to speak, the office door burst open. Quickly Killian closed out of the incriminating browser window.

“Killian,” panted Leroy, “I just went to check in on Alice.”

Dread sank into Killian’s stomach.

“She’s gone. Not in the conference room. Ruby can’t find her in the bathroom.”

At least Weaver was able to articulate exactly what Killian was feeling. “Fucking hell,” the old detective said.

Shaken, Killian got to his feet. “I was just there with her not too long ago.” He knew his daughter and teenage rebellion well enough to suspect that she wasn’t in the building anymore. “She can’t have gone far.” He hurried to grab his coat. He tugged it on as he nearly ran through the building.

As soon as he was on the front steps, looking out into the parking lot, Killian realized just what had happened. Apprehensively, he reached down into his pocket, only to find nothing, just as his missing car in the parking lot had lead him to fear. “Christ,” he said, his breath coming out in a thick, anxious cloud.

“What happened?” asked Leroy, opening the door.

Killian turned around to look at Leroy, Weaver, and Ruby who had all chosen to join him on the steps. “She stole my car.” He let out a nervous laugh, worry beginning to twist his stomach up in knots. “She stole my keys and took the car.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She doesn’t even know how to drive.” He looked out frantically, scanning the snowy vista, hoping he would see the long gone car, parked safely rather than wrapped around a tree.

“Always full of surprises,” murmured Weaver. He started awkwardly down the steps, avoiding the patches of ice.

Immediately understanding what was happening, Killian started after his partner.

“Where are you going?” asked Leroy.

“After Alice,” said both detectives in unison.

[accio-ambition]

Hi there. This is a relatively short chapter, but you get some good Jefferson/Emma interaction as well as Charming family feels. Yeah. That's all I have to say about that.

A huge massive thank you to @sotheylived for betaing this mess of words and @shipsxahoy and @queen-icicle-fandom for not only reading through the whole thing but making great art to it. And I keep forgetting to thank all the mods over at @captainswanbigbang for organizing this whole shindig. Thanks guys!

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

FFnet/AO3/Cover art/Snapshot art

Chapter Four

The only reason she wakes up the next morning - and not the next afternoon - is she hears a particularly loud peal of Henry’s laughter from downstairs. Blowing her hair out of her face, Emma has the belated thought that she’d meant to shower last night. Stretching out, the pops and groans of her joints bounce off the decorated walls of the guest room. She spots an open door, a toilet just beyond, and Emma has never been happier to have slept in a room with a connecting bathroom.

Bathed and feeling a little more human, Emma walks down the stairs to find Mary Margaret and Henry watching cartoons on the couch.

“Where’s David?” she asks, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss her son on the top of the head.

“Good morning to you too,” Mary Margaret greets her, placing her cup of coffee down on a coaster on the table. “He’s outside moving boxes into the house.”

Heading out to join him, Emma says over her shoulder, “You guys should’ve gotten me up.”

Mary Margaret says something about Emma needing sleep, but the latter’s already jogging down the front stairs toward David, who’s standing in front of the open hatch of the truck. She crosses her arms as she comes to stand between him and a pile of boxes.

“You’ve got a lot of stuff,” he says. A light sheen of sweat already covers his forehead and, despite thinking that Maine is always cold, Emma’s a bit fearful of how hot the temperature will get today.

“I thought the same thing,” she sighs. Even outside for only a few minutes, Emma can feel the sweat building up on the back of her neck. She quickly ties her hair up in a ponytail, offering some relief, but not much. Maybe once she gets moving, the breeze from the back and forth of her hair will help.

She sighs again. “There’s so much more than when I left the East Coast.”

“I think that comes with having a kid,” David offers.

Emma hums in agreement. And, because curiosity often gets the better of her, she asks, “Is that something that the newlyweds have discussed and I can be nosy about or is that for another day?”

David chuckles. “How about another day?” he replies. “Or maybe even later today, once we’re celebrating you being all moved in with a cold beer and air conditioning.”

That makes Emma laugh. “Deal.”

Sighing again, David claps his hands. “Well, as much as we want it to, this shit ain’t gonna move itself.” He hops into the truck and starts handing more boxes down to her. Henry and Mary Margaret join them shortly afterwards and start taking boxes Emma’s piled on the ground into the house.

“Mary Margaret, can you be sure the A/C’s on full blast?” Emma yells as her friend’s body retreats back into the new home. “I bought this house, I am expecting it to treat me like a princess.”

Emma hears something that sounds suspiciously, like “Yes, your highness,” in response. She smiles wide. It’s been a while since she’s felt this good.

They spend the rest of the morning emptying the U-Haul and getting everything inside before Emma has to return it. Their afternoon is spent organizing and unloading boxes. And by the time it’s starting to get dark, Mary Margaret is pulling the leftover sauce from last night off the stove while the other three sit around the newly reconstructed dining room table, resting their tired muscles and icing strained backs in Emma’s case.

(“David, you’ve got to lift more or walk faster, I don’t care which one, but I felt something crack that shouldn’t have!” she had shouted as she took the majority of the couch’s weight while David tried to open the front door.)

And, as much as she hates to admit it, Emma’s trying to hide tears. It’s been so long since she’s had this feeling – contentment. Her son on one side of her, her closest friends on the other, and a house that is all hers surrounding them. They’re all here on this grand adventure with her and maybe it’s the sleep deprivation talking more than anything, but she’s just so – happy.

(Yeah, she could do without the bumps and bruises and possible strained muscles, but nothing comes without a price, right?)

Leaning over under the guise of picking up a napkin, Henry slyly asks, “Are you okay, Mom?”

Emma nods. “Yeah, kid. I’m doing great.”

0000

The next morning, Emma wakes to a kick to the shin from a messy tumble of hair on the other side of her mattress, and it makes her grin sleepily. Henry tends to do this the first couple of days in any new place – climb into bed with her sometime during the night – before he gets acclimated. Neither of them are quite sure why – the few times she’s asked him, Henry’s just shrugged, flipped over, and gone back to bed.

When he did this back in Phoenix, it was so hot even with the air conditioning and a fan blowing that she had to kick him out. But with the much more temperate and livable weather in Maine and the sheets freshly washed, she doesn’t mind a bit.

In fact, she was afraid that her son might not continue this tradition, now that he’s getting older. Waking up as she does assuages her heart. He might act older, but Henry will always be her baby boy.

After allowing herself a few more minutes to lay in bed, Emma gets up and preps herself for a run. When she’d looked at the weather last night, once the Nolans had headed next door, the forecast had predicted upper 80s during the day. If she wanted to get the lay of the land before threatening her health and livelihood, she’d need to start hitting the pavement.

Emma leaves a kiss on Henry’s forehead and lightly jogs downstairs and out the front door. As she stretches against the gate post – her back’s feeling better, but she doesn’t want to keep adding to her list of ailments – she’s taken aback by how picturesque the street is. Birds are chirping sweetly, the sun’s bright but not too hot, and she thinks that one of her neighbors down the street is even getting his morning paper in a robe.

It’s perfect, in that stereotypical, small town way. There aren’t any sirens or horns blaring, loud music from apartments beneath them. It’s strange not to greet the day in such a fashion, especially after years of it being the only thing she knew.

As she’s running through the streets of Storybrooke – literally, she’s always wanted to run down the middle of the road without being accosted or nearly dying – Emma begins to run through the long list of chores and errands she needs to get done before starting work. She’s got a couple of days, she knows, but Jefferson was never really forthcoming with specifics, and thus she wants to get everything done before so she can focus on really getting this gig right.

“Gotta register Henry for school, gotta get some groceries,” she mutters to herself, her breathing uneven and labored. She stops her listing momentarily to wave at some random woman walking her dog before taking it up again. “Gotta call Jefferson, gotta visit the insurance office.”

By the time she makes it back home, sweat drips off her brow and nearly into her eyes. She walks into the kitchen and cools her face in the cold air of the freezer.

(Like she told Henry before, she’s the parent. She makes the decisions. They’re not always the best examples, but she’s an adult. Emma can do what she wants.)

Her breathing a little more regulated and her skin not feeling as heated, Emma removes her headphones from their socket and dials Jefferson’s number. It’s still early, but she’ll leave a message and cross this chore off her list.

Except he picks up with a perky, “Top o’ the mornin to you.”

“Hey, Jeff,” she says, opening and closing cabinets in search of a glass. “I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”

“I’ve got to get Grace to camp and I never really sleep much as it is,” Jefferson explains. Emma finally finds cups in a cupboard above the sink, and she fills and empties a glass full of water. “What can I do for you, Emma Swan? Cashing in favors? My realtor has some great houses for sale.”

Emma chuckles. “We actually moved in yesterday, so thank you, but I don’t think my credit can stand a vacation house down the street.’’

“Rats.” Jefferson’s voice gets muffled for a second as Emma assumes he talks to Grace, asking her to get herself breakfast or pack a lunch or something. “Well, I’m glad you both made it here safely. How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s,” Emma hesitates for a moment, cup halfway to her lips again, as she searches for a word that correctly identifies how she feels about Storybrooke so far. “Different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“I don’t know yet. Just…” she shrugs, “different.”

For someone as eccentric as he is, Jefferson has always had a knack for knowing people. Emma feels that power of his eke through the phone, and her instinct is right. “If you need someone to talk to, I can set you up with the local therapist,” he offers. “No judgement, everybody needs to talk to someone. He’s helped me out since coming here.”

“Thanks, Jeff, but I think I’ll be okay for now.” She takes another drink of water before setting the glass in the sink. Mentally, Emma adds fill and run the dishwasher to her list of things to do today. “I’ve only been here two days. Not even. I just need some time to acclimate.”

“Fair enough.” Grace yells something in the background before Jefferson responds. “Then you called for pleasure? Checking in on an old friend?”

“Official business, actually. You said filming starts beginning of July. Are we having a pre-season pow wow or something? Signing our contracts and such?”

“Right, right, right, you guys do need to sign those,” he mutters to himself. “Don’t want you out here doing all this hard work and not getting paid.” Grace shouts something again and Emma can hear the exasperation in Jeff’s voice. It must be getting close to departure time for camp. “Uh, why don’t you and David come over for dinner tomorrow night? Bring the kids and the missus – well, kid in your case, missus in his – and we’ll talk shop over some grilling delights. Grace and I are getting very good at not getting burnt while we do it anymore.”

Emma laughs, then quickly quiets herself down so as not to wake Henry. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll see you tomorrow around 7?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jefferson confirms. “Have a lovely day, Emma Swan.”

“You, too, Jeff. See you tomorrow.”

Hanging up the call, Emma heads upstairs. She needs a shower and then maybe she’ll have the energy to make pancakes for breakfast. She enters her room to find Henry burrowed even deeper into the covers of the bed. She grins and heads to the bathroom.

Clothed and clean, Emma leans over the mattress, letting her hair drip onto the sheets, and gently shakes Henry. When he rouses, she’s got a smile on her face that looks like it’s Christmas morning instead of a Thursday at the end of June.

“C’mon, kid,” she whispers excitedly. “Let’s go explore this place.”

[captainoftherollyjoger]

The Eye of Storm: Chapter Five

  Warning! This chapter is quite dark, it involves quite graphic violence.

Prologue : Chapter One : Chapter Two : Chapter Three : Chapter Four

Ao3

  Hook paced his cabin, he had heard the stumblings of some of his crew returning from the tavern, his cabin was lit with moonlight and the lights from the port.

 “A princess. Of course she’s a bloody princess. How was I so foolish?” He muttered to himself. He had always liked her, always thought she was cunning, but to hide such a fact from him. He was losing his touch. At least she could help him, she knew what the Eye of the Storm was, and she had a rough idea of where it was. Maybe it was time for him to be slightly more civil towards this Emma.

  “Attention, mates!” Shouted Killian, he was halfway up some rigging so the entire crew could see him, the sun was glaring down on them all. They had all been hard at work, moving barrels and new supplies for the next journey, many already looked exhausted, the heat didn’t help. Smee was at the helm looking confused, the captain never addressed the crew without informing her first. “I have decided to make some slight changes to how things will be run on this ship.” He spotted Emma, like the rest of the crew she looked tired and sweaty, her white shirt clung to her and he noticed a few less buttons fastened. “Things have gotten a bit stale around here, and quite frankly. It’s boring.”

 “What are you suggesting, Capt’n?” Asked Smee. He jumped down from the rigging and walked over. The crew were all listening intently.

 “It’s time for a change of command.” Smee looked at him confused. “Swan! Get up here!” He commanded. Emma also looked at him in confusion, but did as she was told. “Let me introduce you to your new first mate.” He shouted to them all. They all cheered, none of them dared to ask why, other than Smee who looked to be in complete shock.

 “Urm, sir? What about me?” She asked, he could tell she wasn’t happy. “After all this time, you’re just replacing me?”

 “Certainly looks that way.” He smiled, unapologetically. The crew stood awkwardly, no one questioned him, but Smee was.

 “What about everything I’ve done for you?”

 “Tell me, Smee. When did you last organise a good raid? When was the last time this crew had a good old pillage, because it’s been quite stagnant here for a while. Hasn’t is, mates?” They all cheered.

 “But… her. Why her?” She questioned.

 “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now, before I kick you off this ship for disrespect, I suggest you go find something to do.” He went quiet then, and that’s when Smee knew she should back off, but she was too angry. She pulled her sword from her side and pointed it at Emma.

 “I’m not losing my position to this wench.” She spat. “We’ll fight for it.”

 “I suggest you put your sword away before I make you walk the plank for mutiny.” His voice was low, his shouting the crew could deal with. When he whispered was when fear struck them.

 “Captain.” Emma stepped forward and placed a hand on his upper arm. He looked down at her hand, and Smee didn’t miss the exchange either. Hook wasn’t even bothered that she had laid a hand on him, was that a smile? The touch only fuelled Smee’s jealousy, she wanted to attack, but she couldn’t risk hurting Hook. “I can do this.”

 Hook looked from where her hand still was to her eyes, he was confident Swan could beat her, plus it would entertain the crew. He nodded at her and she nodded back.

 “Be my guest.” He smirked, he stepped back and rested on the side of the ship. The crew had all got closer and gathered around.

 Emma pulled out her sword and Smee immediately attacked, Emma was too quick and moved out the way. The crew cheered and even Hook was amused. Emma was graceful where Smee was sloppy, if he didn’t know any better, he would say Swan was enjoying herself, if the sly smile had anything to say. He watched her form, dance across his ship, Smee was breathing hard, but Emma had hardly broke a sweat. He never made advances towards his female crew members, never even gave the innuendos, but Swan was different. He enjoyed seeing her annoyed features when he whispered in her ear, he knew he got under her skin just as much as she got under his. Though she didn’t even try.

Smee was relentless, but she was angry. Her emotions were causing her to make mistakes, which Emma noticed was a weakness in many people. She had beaten many a soldier because they got angry that she was winning. Emma noticed Hook leaning back nonchalantly, his arms folded and a smirk on his face. Then she felt a fist hit her nose. Damn, she had got distracted.

 “Serves you right, bitch.” Laughed Smee. Emma touched her nose, blood dripped onto her fingers, she’d had worse. Emma smiled and kicked her shin, then punched her across the cheek.

 “Woah, oh!” She heard Killian gasp, then he laughed. “Nice one, Swan.” He wouldn’t distract her again.

 Hook’s support made Smee even more jealous. The crew were still cheering. Emma felt the force of Smee’s blows, but she was tiring now, and Emma had plenty left in her.

“I bet you’re bedding him, aren’t you? That’s why he’s giving you this position.” Spat Smee, she was trying to rile Emma by changing tactics. If she wasn’t good enough skills wise, she could always annoy Emma. “You’ve tricked him with your blonde hair and your witty comments, you’re a siren. That’s what you are. Admit it, you sneak into his quarters every night.”

 Hook frowned but didn’t do anything. It wasn’t like Smee to say something like that, she knew his code. He had certainly thought about Emma being in his bed, but he had never shared that information with Smee.

 “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Emma smirked, he hadn’t expected that. “Does that make you jealous, Smee? Knowing he’s with me and not you, do you wish it was you down there with him? Everyone can see you love him. But, he doesn’t feel the same, does he?” What was she doing? This was mean, and she knew it. Using someone’s feelings against them, maybe there was some pirate in her afterall. “Does it make you jealous to know that I get sinful things whispered in my ear?” In all fairness, she did. Even if it was to annoy her. “That he screams my name, and not yours.” The words coming out of Emma’s mouth had completely surprised him, surely this wasn’t how a princess should act? Surely she was taught better, maybe she was learning from him. That made him smirk. Did she want the things she was saying? He certainly wouldn’t mind her screaming his name.

 Smee screamed in frustration and knocked Emma to the floor. They dropped their swords, and Smee punched Emma’s face, she did deserve it, she was struggling to push her off, and the blows were getting harder and harder. She felt her face start to swell and she was sure she had blood all over her face, from her nose and lips. She would certainly feel them tomorrow. If she lived that long. As Smee continued to punch her, she grasped for the dagger she kept at her back. As she found it she brought it to Smee’s stomach and thrust it forward, an audible gasp came from the entire crew. Smee faltered and coughed up blood onto Emma’s face. That’s when she noticed. Hook had impaled his sword into her back, she felt the weight move off her as he pulled his sword out, Smee fell to the side, the stab wounds didn’t kill her instantly. She was panting and crying. Emma was exhausted, she saw Hook kneel down next to Smee and support her head. Her hand grabbed his coat.

 “That’s what you get for mutiny.” She heard the woman crying. “I didn’t want to lose you, Smee. You were a loyal friend, it’s a shame it wasn’t until the end.” He sounded, gentle. After all, Smee had been there for him when no one else had. “I can’t watch you suffer, lass.” He picked up Emma’s dagger, Smee gripped him tight and tensed.

 “I’m sorry, Capt’n.”

 “I’m sorry too.” He meant it. “I promise, you will have an honourable burial. Rest in peace, love.” She smiled at him, she’d always wanted to hear him call her that. Killian brought the dagger to her throat and slit it. Smee immediately went limp in his arms. He closed her eyes and laid her down gently. The crew took of their hats as a sign of respect. Hook walked over and offered a hand.

 Emma was annoyed. She picked herself up and ignored his offering.

“Why did you do that? I had her! You made me look like an idiot!” She shoved him hard in the chest, her whole body screaming in pain. He grabbed her harshly by the arm where she had a cut.

“She deserved a quick death. I wanted it over and done with. I knew she was going to die, I didn’t want to prolong it. She deserved more than what she got.” He spat. “I might be ruthless, but she was loyal. I’m not the heartless bastard you think I am, Swan.” He let go and stormed off.

 Smee was placed in a body bag, everyone gathered around the edge of the ship, her body was sent into the water. Emma felt ashamed of herself, Smee was just being protective. Her feelings for Hook had cost her her life. She didn’t cry. She couldn’t show that weakness, but she certainly felt miserable. As soon as her body was gone, Hook stomped up to the helm. Hook had given the crew the rest of the day off to mourn her, she was a big part of the ship, but none of them felt different about Emma. It had been Smee’s feelings that got in the way.

 The ship was very quiet, they were deep in the ocean, it was going dark and only the moon offered light. The whole crew had gone to bed early, all of them in the bunks, the day’s activities had been too much for most of them. No one had stayed on deck, apart from Emma. Emma and Smee’s blood was still stained on the wood, no doubt it was some poor soul’s job to clean it up. That wouldn’t be fair. She would do it herself, tomorrow. Right now, she was in too much pain. Her whole face felt swollen, her knuckles were all cut, she had a few knicks from Smee’s sword on her shoulders, but at least she would be alive. Smee wasn’t so fortunate. The blood had dried on her face, she hadn’t bothered to clean herself up.

 “Swan.” He sounded tired. She was sitting on some boxes and was looking at the moon. She hadn’t forgot that he had done part of the job too, he had ran a sword through her back.

 “Aye, sir?” She sounded deflated.

 “Come with me.” He walked off and down to his cabin. She sighed. She pulled herself up and limped towards his cabin, her ribs had been bruised too.

 Hook’s cabin was well lit, his desk had been cleared of papers and now it held a few bowls of water and some towels. He was rummaging in a chest for something, whilst she stood at his door.

“Sit.” Emma limped into his quarters and sat in his chair. He strolled over to her, he had a flask in his hand and some cloths and bandages. He looked her over and she was certainly a sorry sight. Her hair was matted with blood that had run off Smee, her lips and nose were covered in her own, her shirt was filthy, it had gashes and was crimson stained. He came behind her with a wet cloth. “Put your head back.” She did. He took the hair ties from her hair, and her blonde locks cascaded down her back. He squeezed the cloth onto her scalp, the water was warm with some soap. He gently scrubbed the blood from her hair. He dried it with a towel, then she put it back up into a high ponytail.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s not your fault, lass. It was hers. She challenged you.” They were silent again.

 Hook pushed Emma’s chair back and leant on the table, he put a fresh cloth in the bowl then squeezed it out. He leant forward and softly started to wipe the blood from around her eyes and nose. She winced in pain.

 “Shh. It’s okay, Emma.”

 “Emma?” He didn’t reply to her. He continued wiping away the dried blood. Her lip was busted, her eyebrow was cut and she had a nasty bruise on her cheek, but her nose wasn’t broken and she had been lucky. He put the cloth to one side and moved a strand of her fringe out of her eyes, his hand cupped her cheek. Why was he being so tender?

 “Take off your shirt.” He said, quietly, removing his hand. He poured the liquid from the flask into a bowl and soaked a cloth in it.

 “I beg your pardon?”

  He tutted at her, “Not for that. We can’t have those wounds getting infected. I need you alive.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I will do my very best not to look, you have under garments on, yes?” She nodded. “I’ll be a gentleman. Promise.”

 Emma lifted her blood stained shirt off herself. Her bra was fine, thankfully. She felt exposed in front of him, the women including herself, often walked around like this anyway. Especially on the hot days, but this felt too intimate. He held out his Hook, which she grabbed onto. He extended her arm and with the cloth he wiped her arm.

 “What the hell is that?!” She shouted. Her whole arm went numb with pain.

 “It’s rum, and a bloody waste of it.” He passed her the flask. “Drink, it will make you feel better.” She huffed and snatched the bottle from him. He moved onto her other arm and she winced. “You shouldn’t have shouted at me like that.”

 “I’ll pour rum into your wounds, see how you like it.”

 “I don’t mean then. I meant after I killed Smee. It was disrespectful. Not just to me.” Then she felt guilty.

 “I know, I just felt a lot of emotions.”

 “I know you’re a good fighter, Swan. But, have you ever killed someone before? It can have quite the effect on people.”

 “I have, but never a woman. I just didn’t think it would be something I would ever had to do.” She sighed. They were silent again. He bathed her shoulders and checked her over for any other wounds, then he bandaged up her arms and hands.

 Once he had finished tending to her, he handed her one of his black shirts.

 “Here, it’s yours. We’ll have to find you some more when we get to the next port.” She nodded appreciatively and threw it over herself. “Suits you.” He smiled. She rolled her eyes and looked around, she saw a book on the side and picked it up. She started reading through it, just some fiction he seemed to enjoy. “You should sleep here tonight, it’s the cleanest place you’ll get.”

 “Thanks.” She kicked off her boots and hopped onto his bed. She continued reading the book, and Hook just sat in his chair with amusement. No protests? He smiled at how comfortable she looked, lying on his bed.  

 Hook was humming and looking over some maps when he heard the book fall to the floor. Emma had fallen asleep and her arm was hanging off the bed. He picked up the book, then pushed her over, he blew out the candles and took off his leather vest and his own boots. He lay next to her, grabbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. She curled into and snuggled into his chest. He wasn’t expecting that. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled the covers up.

 Emma woke up, it was just getting light. Her whole body ached, but she was thankful for the comfortable bed. What she didn’t expect was her comfortable pillow. It was Hook. He had an arm around her and was snoring lightly. This was wrong. Being so close to him wasn’t right, but he had shown a different side to himself that night. They had both been through a traumatic experience and the comfort of each other probably helped them. She didn’t want to be there when he woke up, she slipped out of his embrace and carefully left the bed. The cold air hit her straight away, it would have been nice to stay there, but she was getting too close. She carried her boots and went to the top deck. None of the crew were awake, she got a bucket of water and started on the blood stain left from the day before.

 Hook woke to find Emma was no longer there. Of course she wasn’t. He heard a scratching from above deck, someone was working on the blood stains. He had to admit he wasn’t keen on seeing those. He sighed and threw his legs over his bed. The previous night had been too intimate, but he didn’t seem to mind, she did though. She was a princess after all, she couldn’t exactly fall in love with a pirate. Woah. Where had that come from? He certainly didn’t feel that strongly about her. Her old shirt was resting on his table, he picked up and smiled. She looked good without it, but he had to admit she looked better with his. He tossed it to the side and cleaned up his quarters. He had no Smee anymore, and he highly doubted Emma would work as his dogsbody. Though he looked forward to her being his first mate.