#captain duckling au

[snowbellewells]

Finished Work: “The Weight of the Crown (is a Feather on the Waves)”

At long last here is the conclusion to @kmomof4‘s birthday fic begun back in October. I am sorry it took so long Krystal, but I hope you will enjoy! 

Summary: Newly crowned Queen Emma must face her childhood friend, now arrested for piracy, and the responsibility to her crown and people weighs all too heavily on her shoulders. Killian may be a pirate, but there is more to the story than others know, and she can hardly bear to betray him now.

This is now (maybe?) almost M-rated in the second part. I’ll let you readers be the judge of that. The last two section breaks are where that occurs, so if you don’t want to read my attempts at a love scene stop at that next-to-last page break.

Link to Part One Here on Tumblr  

Also available on Ao3, if that is your preference....

Part Two

They were hardly out on the open sea, barely beyond her kingdom’s waters, when Emma - thrilled though she was to be reunited with her dearest friend and practically trembling with awareness at the feel of his calloused hand over hers on the wheel while he guided her through steering his ship - felt the pangs of guilt creeping into her awareness. She had abandoned her post, left her duty undone. The throne she had been raised to take over, the people she had been trained to rule, all her life, were left behind with those cold, unfeeling sycophants in her absence.

Her breath hitched in her chest, a choked sort of cry stifled inside her before it could make much sound, was either heard or felt by Killian all the same. Near as their bodies were pressed together at the helm against the crisp, strident wind coming off the waves, it was no real surprise he had caught the movement, but more than that, he had always possessed an uncanny ability to recognize her moods, knowing when she was angry, amused or troubled - sometimes before she could fully realize it herself.

“Come now, Swan,” he crooned softly at her ear, his free arm not helping to steer wrapped around her waist as his warm breath ruffled the loose curls blown free about her face by the wind. “Talk to me, Princess… you always could before.”

Emma swallowed, not sure where to begin or quite how to explain. It was the truth; once upon a time he had been her trusted ally - and she his as well - but this flight from her own land had been her decision. To free him and abscond herself, she had chosen that willingly, and she did not intend to make him feel as though he were at fault. Shaking her head slightly, Emma gave no response, though she did lean into his side where they stood together at the bow, relishing the comfort of his embrace on her wrought emotions.

It would seem, however  - just as when they were young - that Killian could not leave a problem at rest if it might be within his power to solve it. Merely holding her apparently would not do, even if for several quiet minutes they each soaked up the peaceful stillness in the warmth of each other’s presence after years apart. Yet, after an interval, his low voice husked once again, pleading gently but fervently, “Princess, please… let me in. I have not been away so long as to not know when you are troubled.”

Sighing, Emma turned just slightly, pulling away merely far enough to look into Killian’s eyes and trace a finger across his furrowed brow as he studied her with concern. She felt as if she no longer deserved the title, but the way he called her Princess, the way his beloved voice enveloped the honorific, warmed her to her very soul. Rather than flattery or forced obeisance, from Killian, it felt like the birthright it had always been meant to be.

“You need not call me that,” she finally whispered, looking away with a sense of shame. She could not have stood by and seen him sacrificed, not when she was the only person who could prevent it, but had she instead sacrificed all the other lives meant to be in her care?

“What… Princess?” he questioned, knowing what she meant, but having to be sure, because of course she was the Princess - his Princess - nothing could ever change that. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“I left my people to those vultures!” she spat, pushing from his arms and taking several steps away, to lean over the ship’s rail gulping lungfuls of the brisk, chill air, needing the distance to keep herself from sinking back into his arms and allowing him to soften the blow. “I acted out of my own wishes, fleeing what I could not bear, regardless of their needs. A-and even before that…I was only…pretending. I am not my parents… I could never be the ruler that they were together.”

Killian didn’t hesitate for even a second to follow her, trailing her along the ship’s railing and reeling her into the solid warmth of his chest once more, her nose tickled briefly by the hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt as she clung to his waist, breathing in the scent of him that she had almost forgotten with the years - salt of sea spray, a spicy musk, worn wooden planks, and fresh ocean breeze. She couldn’t help but feel some sort of pressure inside her release. Since her parents’ loss, and their state funeral, the rituals and decisions which had to be made, she had put up a shield, forced herself to remain strong, to cover the fear, the despair, the trembling grief rending her heart in two. She could ill afford to show weakness; she had to embody strength. Yet, there in Killian’s arms on the open water, so far from the court and the whispers and how she had been forced to hide, Emma could finally let go.

Before she knew it was coming, she was sobbing into his skin, melting at the feel of his strong hand gently stroking her back, soothing murmurs whispered into her hair.  The whipping wind and crashing waves hid the sound and swept her tears away as they fell. She could finally grieve, and it refused to be held back any longer.

“Let it out, Darling,” he crooned, swaying slightly with her enclosed safely in his grasp, only letting go enough to lightly stay their course with a slight turn of the wheel. He would be there for her in this moment. There was nothing he wanted more. It was why he had returned, risking his mission, his freedom, his very life, to do so. He had known what the loss of her mother and father would do to her, how alone she would feel, and yet how determined she would be to carry on. Never would he have expected anything less from the young royal he had grown up beside. He had missed much in the intervening years, including the joy of seeing her blossom into the stunning woman who had first met his eyes as he was brought before her throne for judgement.

Had it truly been just yesterday? His mind reeled at how quickly so much had changed, and he could only imagine the havoc playing on Emma’s emotions already wrung and strained to the limit by grief and isolation.

Still, there were some things time and distance did not change. Even as children, she had seen him no differently than herself or any of the other highborn youth she knew. He was accepted and valued as an equal, just as he knew she had been raised seeing her parents treat the youngest or most lowly of servants with the same respect given to the highest officials and visiting dignitaries. She had come by her goodness and fair, kind heart most naturally, and it had been nurtured by loving parents who saw that gentle grace as strength rather than weakness. Of course, she feared to fail those whom she saw as her responsibility with her parents’ loss. Killian would wish her to be no other way. Still, he hated to see her in pain and regretted that his capture while seeking to ascertain if she was well had meant such a wrenching decision on her part.

Letting her have all the time she needed (the heavens above only knew how long she had been damming such raw heartache and fear inside) he only spoke again beyond soothing murmurs when he felt her drawing a large, shaky breath to steady herself and her tears finally slowed.

“Emma, darling, please know that I am in awe of you - the risk you took, the sacrifice you made to save my unworthy hide.” Here he crooked his forefinger, placing it under her chin to tilt her face up to meet his eyes. Relieved when she offered a watery smile in return, he continued. “All the same, I do not expect to keep you from your birthright any longer than necessary. Nor would I force you to choose between myself and your beloved subjects who need you. It was never my intention to stay gone from Misthaven permanently…”

Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly, her mussed golden hair flying about her face in the breeze, even as he attempted to smooth it back for her solicitously. “But Killian,” she protested, “you cannot mean to return now. It would be suicide - or madness! They intended to force your execution!”

“Oh aye,” he affirmed, eyes glittering with a banked strength and cool calculation that sent shivers up and down her spine. “I know that is their goal. However, if we find what I have been seeking all this time, I will gain redemption, and we will end their covetous grasping for power once and for all.”

************** **************************** ***************

Emma’s blunt but eagerly intrigued questions in spite of her initial confusion had bolstered Killian’s confidence when he began to haltingly explain the proof he had sought, keeping him far from her for so long. Her brow scrunched in serious thought was utterly charming, leaving him absolutely unable to resist kissing that furrow lightly before he pressed on, illuminating the plot he believed he had uncovered.

In the years since he had known Emma well, since he had set sail with his brother, newly named Captain of his own ship, full of wide-eyed dreams and the naive belief of winning glory and proving himself worthy upon his return to seek her hand, much had changed. He often felt he could barely remember that young lieutenant with the entire world in front of him. Liam’s loss, and the treachery which had caused it, had changed his life’s trajectory. Killian had vowed in the pit of anger and despair that he would not return to Misthaven until he had physical proof in hand; the supporting evidence he needed to see justice done. And he had been sailing with that goal, wandering far from home and comfort, ever since. All the same, when, in some backwater dockside tavern, word reached his ears of the king and queen’s deaths - of the loss Emma had suffered - nothing else had mattered more than reaching her side. Now that they were reunited, it was time he confided in her; she deserved to know the truth he sought.

Even as his words had barely begun to spill from his lips, Killian felt some fraction of their weight lift from his shoulders. Emma seemed to understand their magnitude almost immediately, and looked up at him with unblinking devotion, not flinching or pulling away, but trusting his word without question. She didn’t interrupt with questions or reasoning at all, even when he spoke of the duplicitous nature of their mission learned too late and whom he suspected was responsible. Only when he choked out, voice faltering tremulously, how Liam had died in his arms, did she move at all, pulling him closer and running her fingers gently through the hair at the nape of his neck in silent comfort. His eyes closed involuntarily with unshed tears at the soothing gesture, sheer relief still flooding him merely at unveiling the hurt he had carried alone for so many years.

Her unswerving support and acceptance, the sense that Emma would stand behind him whatever he revealed bolstered him as he began to explain further - painful as it was, it was needed too, like lancing a festered wound. He was finally able to purge the haunting darkness that lingered over the memories of that special, top secret quest to a distant and long-forgotten island, and how Liam’s blind faith in the honor of their superiors had led to his demise. By the time he reached the realization he had come to - that he and his brother had been used as pawns and considered an acceptable loss - and revealed the blackguards he feared were still lurking in the naval hierarchy and the royal court as well, Emma’s fingers clutched his arms with a white-knuckled grip, her lips pressed firmly in a thin line. Yet, though she appeared pale and shaken, she clearly did not doubt him. He loved her all the more for it, even as his heart broke to shatter her good faith in some of those whom her own parents had trusted and she had been led to as well.

“Killian,” she whispered, eyes wide and the tiniest of tremors coursing through her as she looked to him almost plaintively. “Could these same people have caused my parents’ deaths as well? The sickness struck them both so suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere. Would these villains’ treachery truly aim that high?”

Her words struck new resolve into his vow. Though he had long since sworn that he would not rest until Liam was avenged, seeing Emma’s pain, and knowing all too well that the villainy she suggested was entirely possible, renewed his commitment to justice - for his brother, his hero, and for her parents as well. He might still be without the tangible proof he needed to see those responsible punished, but he would get it. He knew it was out there. He hadn’t been able to find it alone, but together he knew they would. He would never stop fighting, and he had yet to see Emma fail.

Hating that his response would almost surely rip open anew wounds that were only barely beginning to heal, Killian sighed before looking her steadily in the eye. A quick, somber dip of his chin affirmed her query as well as his weighted “Aye” that followed.

Emma’s breath felt trapped somewhere in her throat at his affirmation. Those same advisors and nobles who had wanted her to hang this man beside her, his strong arms the only thing holding her together, were likely hiding the villain he sought. Grasping, devious jackals, they had clung onto her parents’ robes for years, snapping up any rewards and morsels they could get their hands on. Did they plot to topple the King and Queen for their own gain? What more could they be seeking? They’d been well taken care of - more than Emma had often thought they deserved. Could they really think she would grant them more? They had to know better… Or did they think she would be more easily misled? Fooled and towed along under their influence?

Her thoughts richocheted around inside her head; her breaths growing more rapid and labored before she even realized, until Killian gently murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, wrapped one arm more tightly around her shoulder and lead her over to where she could sit on a large barrel near his place at the wheel.

Suddenly though, she did not wish to be soothed. She wanted to charge back into her kingdom, into the throne room and demand the truth. Challenge them all, look them in the eyes, and discover any who had actually dared to repay her mother and father’s mercy and kindness with murder. She couldn’t bear to let the indignant fire burn low. It was not to be borne!

Once more it seemed he could read her mind. “Emma, love, I know the anger you’re feeling,” he began gently, not coddling her, but lingering within reach the moment she needed him. “Your parents were the best people I know… outside of Liam… and yourself, of course.”

She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered at Killian’s warmth and sincerity in that admission, even as her ire rose again when he continued.

“They did not deserve such repayment for their generosity - nor did Liam in his trust and dedication. But do not give all over to vengeance. It’s a dangerous slope I have nearly fallen down too many times since Liam’s death. We must be strong, Love. We will see justice done, I swear it. But I will not see you lose who you are in the process.”

Tears burned against the back of her lids as she blinked rapidly, determined not to let more fall. She wondered almost dazedly how there could be any water left within her to cry. For months now, ever since her mother had followed her father into unconsciousness and it became frightfully clear they might not recover, that she might never again see their eyes open to gaze on her with the loving, doting expressions she had taken for granted all her life, she had felt so alone. She had held her head high as they planned the funeral service, chosen their final robes and garb, accepted expressions of loyalty and support from foreign leaders, and weathered suggestions and criticism from her own counsel. Through it all, she had held fast like a rock outcropping in a raging sea, buffetted and struck by waves over and again, yet unmoved, though she felt the wearing pressure with each strike. To have him there before her now, blue gaze burning intensely into her own, hands clasping hers tightly as if to even more fervently impress upon her the sincerity of his words. His vow was sealed, he would not be swayed whatever might come, and for Emma that was more than enough, more than she could have looked for. After barely holding the tattered pieces of her life together for so long with just her own two trembling hands, his support, his added strength, was everything to her in that moment.

And so, when he bent his head to lightly kiss her brow in reassurance, Emma tipped her head back, pushed up onto her toes and brought her lips to meet his instead. Her unexpected fervor lent her unerring accuracy, and as their mouths met, Emma felt a sense of rightness unlike any she had ever known. A shudder ran through Killian at the show of passion, but he didn’t pull away, with a low rumble of pleasure in his chest, he gathered her to himself and pressed further, delving into the kiss with a fire that stole her remaining breath.

There emblazoned against the sun burning on the far horizon, Princess Emma’s roiling, storm-tossed world righted itself again. She could see the course before her, with her pirate at the helm, standing at his side. And together, they would not fail.

************** ******************************* *************

It was some months later yet, when they sailed into Misthaven’s port once more. As Killian’s ship jauntily sliced through the lapping waves of the bustling harbor, seagulls crying overhead and his crewmen calling out to those on shore as they tossed out lines and manuevered toward an empty berth, Emma stood at the rail, eyes wide to take in every detail of her beloved homeland, anxious to see if there had been any noticeable changes. The salt breeze lifted her loose blond hair off her neck, and she turned her face into it, savoring the crisp, invigorating air and the freedom it whispered to her.

In truth, if she had not felt so responsible for things here, were she not duty bound to return and see wrongs made right, she would have stayed at sea with Killian forever. The shipboard life had more than agreed with her as days, and then weeks, had rolled by - it had been exhilarating. 

And, with a wry smile and knowing shake of the head, she conceded to herself as she glanced down at the looser, lighter garb she wore, Emma found herself humorously wondering if any of those in the cabinet she had left behind would even recognize her. She had to admit to herself that she did look more like the buccaneers around her on the Jolly’s deck than the sheltered princess she had been when she left. 

She had never imagined herself leaving Misthaven at all, but now it felt strange returning to her home. Perhaps the real truth was that her home had shifted. She let her gaze scan the wooden planks and spars until they found Killian’s form standing tall, directing his men, manning the wheel; capable, in chage, and electrically commanding all her attention the moment her eyes rested on his beloved face. Home was with him now; she had cast her lot as clearly as he had his own.

And then before she knew it, they were disembarking, her hand resting warily on Killian’s arm, alert to be sure none would move to take him from her before they had said their piece. His men remained with the ship, watching over it steadfastly until their captain returned, knowing none would dare board or try to take her from them.

All eyes on the long dock turned toward their wayward ruler as she walked on the arm of a known brigand, a criminal whose visage they must surely have seen gracing wanted posters from here to the castle. As they stepped off the gangplank, Emma forced herself to hold the gaze of any who met hers, to carry herself, not only as the returning monarch of her realm, but as the pirate queen she had just begun to find within.

She could feel Killian’s muscles tense beneath her fingers, coiled and ready for action at the slightest provocation or mere hint of a threat toward her. Even by touching only his wiry forearm, she took comfort in the vigilance and surety he radiated - even moreso as he placed his hook in clear view of any who might approach them. The false casualty of the way he held himself sent as clear a message as anything could that neither of them were to be trifled with - and that he had the ability to back up his unspoken threat.

The crowd along the wharf parted for them on either side as they made their way along the streets to the path which would lead them all the way to her castle. Emma could feel countless stares peppering her skin, but she merely kept her face forward, standing tall, her hand on Killian’s arm as they passed through the throng determined not to let any of her nerves or uncertainty show.

It seemed to take no time to reach their destination, and looking up at the familiar walls of strong, unyielding stone, Emma marveled that though it had been months, and she felt changed to her very core, the castle keep seemed as it ever had - unaltered in its grandeur, and familiar as if it had merely been awaiting her return. They were let in immediately by many of the same guards who had watched over Emma and her family all of her life, and though she stiffened at the mistrustful, cold stares directed her pirate’s way, no worse action followed, and they entered unmolested.

Emma knew the way, and she did not hesitate. She felt emotion rising deep inside her, but it was not fear of what they would face next, or fear of not being welcomed back to her rightful place. Instead, it was righteous anger and the churning in her gut calling for vindication - for Liam Jones, for her parents… and for Killian himself. They had found their proof at last, gained testimony form a witness who confirmed what Killian had always suspected. Vipers in their court, posing as friends while wrecking havoc and setting up a future for themselves, no matter the cost to those sacrificed on the way.

As they reached the Grand Hall, she clutching the vial in her hand and Killian with sworn witness statement in his grasp, Emma stormed into the council meeting she knew would be in progress. She would not wait, nor give the culprits any chance to sneak off and avoid capture. They had surprise on their side, and they would rapidly lose that as word traveled of their arrival.

The mammoth wooden doors swung back with a dull thud against the stone wall as Emma charged through, heedless of the commotion, and headed right into the midst of her arguing, overdressed advisors. Marching forward, she didn’t stop until she came to a halt right at the end of the large table where the others sat. Her green eyes flashed with righteous lightning, her lithe form straight and proud, and her shoulders back as she stared them all down with a magnificence that stole Killian’s breath. He could not take his eyes off her.

Her “Uncle” Grumpy stood awkwardly, spluttering and starting off, “Now, see here…” 

But it was not the angry man or his nervous looking brothers who held Emma’s attention. She was busy watching the reactions of Lady Bleu and Sir Sidney in particular. While Granny Lucas, and even traditional old Marco, at least had the decency to express their joy and relief at seeing her home and well, Emma studied the furtive glances and anxious squirming that sought to go unnoticed in those she already knew were guilty.

And when Lady Bleu stood from her seat at the head of the table, facing Emma, clearly having become council head in the new queen’s absence, opened her mouth to begin a falsely gentle reprimand about how things were done and barging in to disrupt a meeting’s progress, Emma was ready.

Though he had been searching longer, had given so much of himself, and had every bit as strong and just a claim, Killian only stood at her shoulder, a silent, firm support as she faced them all down. He knew she must show strength and leadership here, to take back what was rightfully hers from those who had plotted to wrest it away.

“You lost sight of ‘how we do things’ long ago,” Emma warned in a voice that brooked no condescension or subterfuge, not anymore. Holding up the vial in her hand, containing the poison for all those gathered to see. “This would not exist otherwise. My parents would still be here to guide us, as would Captain Liam Jones of their royal navy,” she intoned gravely.

It was obvious to all how Lady Bleu’s admonishments died on her tongure, and she sank wordlessly to her seat; not to mention how all color drained from Sir Sidney’s visage. Not a word or sound escaped his uselessly opening and closing mouth.

They had a captive audience then, and were not interrupted as Emma placed the deadly vial on the table and explained just what it could do - the damage it had already done. Even as she then ceded the floor to Killian to explain his part of the tale, one which went back much further than she knew, none of their listeners moved or seemed to breathe. Their claims from months ago that still rang in Emma’s ear and haunted her nightmares - that he was only a filthy, marauding pirate, not even deserving to live - seemed forgotten in the wake of the revelations and evidence he laid before them. Finally they knew, as Emma always had, that he had only deserted because his orders, his superiors, had been corrupt. He had gone rogue to find the truth and make things right.

In light of the knowledge they had procured, it did not take the rest of the council long to find the conspirators for the crown guilty, leading them away until they could be tried. Perhaps it made Emma cruel, but she could not deny the satisfaction she felt at Lady Bleu, Sir Sidney, and a few keys others she knew less well, being led away to the cells as Killian had been not so very long ago.

Looking over to him, Emma found her sailor already watching her with an awed and peaceful look in his eye - one she had not seen since he and his brother set sail on that fateful mission years ago. It was finally done. He had seen his vow fulfilled.

Tears started in the corner of Emma’s eyes, though they didn’t yet fall. She had not known to make such a vow, but the image of her mother’s kind hearted, hopeful face swam before her eyes just then, remembering all the times Queen Snow had told her daughter about their duty to their people, the privilege and honor they enjoyed, and the care and respect their subjects were due in return. To think that some of those Snow had most trusted in her mission to rule an honest and fair kingdom had betrayed her; had plotted the demise of one so pure of heart and devoted to their well-being, sliced Emma’s heart open anew. Yet, to think that she had aided in some small measure in seeing that poisonous root dug out and exposed once and for all… it was the best thing she could have done to honor her mother’s memory.

Killian’s face clearly showed he could read her thoughts and understood them only too well. They lingered just long enough to see that things would be stable until morning - and to be certain all were fully aware of Captain Jones’ full pardon, before they excused themselves for the night. Exhaustion both physical and mental was beginning to take hold, and there would be much more yet to do on the morrow.

It had been a long and arduous journey, but they could at last drop anchor and draw breath in peace. As they slipped below deck into his cabin, Emma drew strength from that, and for the moment let it be enough.

*************** ********************************* **************

Below decks as her captain lit a lamp and some candles to flicker gently against the darkness, and Emma could once more feel the easy rocking of the waves she had grown to love, tension and worry slid from her shoulders like a discarded cloak. She watched Killian move gracefully about the small space while she stood near his bunk, simply drinking him in with wide eyes, finally believing that the worst battle had been won, and they were still together, standing in his sacred space, readily made hers as well.

His gaze found hers across the room, and though there was still an echo of long-held grief within his eyes, there was affection and the sparkle of dawning joy in the stunning blue as well. A smile lifted one corner of his lips as he made his way toward her, one Emma returned with warmth suffusing her at his look and her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

He had long since discarded his leather great coat over the back of a chair, but now one-handed he was deftly unbuttoning the last few buttons he had bothered with at all, and his loose shirt fell open, exposing the dark hair that trailed down his firm stomach, the sight making Emma’s mouth go dry. Though she had been presented when she came of age, courted and wooed by eligible young royals and nobles from far and wide, she was still largely innocent when it came to men, Killian standing before her in his open shirt and simple breeches the most undressed she had ever seen one - anything else she knew came from extremely furtive research in the castle library and her own imagination.

Until this very moment in fact, when she found herself lightheaded and dizzy with what she could only assume was true need and desire, she had never wanted to see more of anyone else; her memories and dreams of the man standing before her now had been enough. Her pulse pounded wildly, hammering at her temple as he continued drawing closer, holding her in his thrall, until he soundlessly came to a halt right in front of her.

“Are you alright, Emma?” he murmured, bending to peer into her face more closely, concern at her speechlessness and rapid breathing clear on his countenance as he delicately brushed a stray hair back from her face.

She tried to find her voice, but still found herself nodding mutely in response; eyes drinking him in ravenously, but her mouth dry with nervous surprise and giddy anticipation; her tongue seemingly fused to the roof of her mouth.

“My Princess,” he added, his voice as much a caress as his fingers over the apple of her cheek, trailing down her neck, and skimming across her collarbone. The rough callouses from years hauling ropes, gripping the wheel, manning his ship through all weather and danger, were a delicious contrast to the soft delicacy of her own skin, and Emma shivered despite herself. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she continued to hold her pirate’s gaze, pleading with him to continue his ministrations, which she had no words to explain. Her face flamed at her own brazen desire even as she stepped backward just once, enough to feel the bunk against the back of her knees, and then rose on tiptoes to press her bosom more fully into his wandering hand, mewling for a kiss until his mouth fully captured hers.

Killian’s eyes widened at Emma’s actions, a groan reverberating in his chest, almost pained to hesitate longer. When he swept his tongue between her willing lips, she gasped, trembling, but far from protesting leaned further into his arms, opening gladly as her eyes slid closed in bliss.

Clutching Killian’s arms to keep herself from collapse, Emma’s senses reeled at the onslaught he brought to life within. She felt at once burning from the inside out and doused in cool relief at finally knowing his passionate touch. It was nothing to fall back upon the thin mattress which had held her sailor all the nights they had been apart, and open her arms for him, welcoming him to her embrace in turn. She felt chills at being parted from his warmth for even a second after the inferno he had stoked in her veins, and she could only feel euphoria when he lunged forward, covering her with his long, lean frame once more.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Emma brought both hands to cradle Killian’s scruffy cheeks between her palms, searching his waiting expression and lovingly stroking her thumb along the trace of the scar beneath his right eye.

“My Love?” Killian whispered, his breath bearing warm concern as he voiced the question.

“Yes, Killian,” she murmured, nodding vigorously and pulling him closer still, both answering his soft address and granting him permission, giving him all, and urging him on, at once. “Please…”

The smile which broke over Killian’s face then was incandescent, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and transforming his entire aspect to pure joy. “Oh, my Swan,” he crooned, leaning down to briefly capture her lips again, then languidly, sensuously beginning to trail down her body, eyes still watching her with a devilish humor twinkling beyond the sheer devotion. 

“Killian,” she managed, trembling at his every touch and fluttering breath along her skin, knowing they have finally neared the point when they will become one.

With purpose, he pulled one of her boots, then the other, from her feet, followed by her stockings, and then he was working the tight borrowed breeches she had worn since boarding his ship down her legs and baring the very heart of her to his hungry eyes.

Lifting her foot to bestow a kiss to its arch, Killian ran the cool steel curve of his hook up her leg with weighted portent, from the ankle he still held aloft all the way to the crease where her leg joined her body, making her squirm at the proximity to where she already sensed such need for his touch, even if the wealth of those pleasures were yet unknown to her.

Emma flushed all over at how the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened and burned as he drank her in, actually licking his lips while that devouring gaze travelled the length of her laid out before him and came to rest where she felt embarrassingly, desperately wet and clenching for his touch. She did not know what to say or how to urge him on, and as he hovered over her, she almost tried to hide or cover herself, before he worked his hips into the cradle of her quivering thighs, running his hand along her bared side and mouthing encouragements into her skin.

“Swan, Love, you are a marvel,” he proclaimed, his scruff abrading her most sensitive skin, tingling and sending shivers of ecstasy out from the very center of her to top of her head and the tips of her fingers and toes. “And I find…” here he pressed several openmouthed kisses to punctuate his words before again trailing his hook along the path his lips had made. “Pirate that I am…” until his hand and the carefully wielded steel held her open for his onslaught as she panted and writhed, torn between pleading for more and begging for mercy, “I find I must stake my claim to such decadent… unsullied… treasure.”

Then his tongue and teeth were there, feeling as if he would turn her inside out in bliss. Emma’s fingers scrabbled wildly for purchase across the sheets and fisted in his hair, her head thrashing desperately on the pillow beneath it. “It’s - Oh!....Ah! Y- y- yours!” she managed to cry before she was wailing, crying to the moon and stars overhead at the sensations he was wringing from her body, feelings she had never known she could experience to miss them before that moment.

**************** ****************************** *****************

After the wave had crested and fallen, and Killian had indeed claimed her yet again, Emma lay boneless and sated, running her fingers through his sweaty hair as his head rested on her chest, ear pressed to her still-racing heart, sprawled half atop her and half to her side. Though she had her kingdom to rule, and the person beside her who could help her, be her partner just as her parents had done and would surely have wished for her, Queen Emma of Misthaven could have happily basked in the glow of that simple quiet moment forever, never moving from that very spot.

“I’m yours,” she reiterated calmly, solemn and true, no longer pitched in the throes of passion. She stroked her fingertips over his brow lightly, as if to soothe him to his rest after such wondrous exertions. “Body and soul, Killian Jones.”

And before they both let sleep claim them, he gathered her closer still, arms wrapped around her tightly and nose nuzzling into her neck, Killian replied, “Aye, my Treasure, body and soul, just as I am yours.”

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi  @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @anmylica @sotangledupinit @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @lfh1226-linda​ @drowned-dreamer​ @zaharadessert​

[theartofdreaming1]

Some more Captain Swan (or would this qualify as Captain Duckling? idk)

This started out as a simple, mindless ouat doodle, but then my brain decided to come up with bits and pieces of a story for this while I was working on it, so... If you're interested, you can read the basic premise under the cut:

Basically, we have bar wench Emma teaming up with infamous pirate Captain Hook to bring down the Dark One: Killian has finally gotten a way to get rid of the damn crocodile and Emma has learned of that while the crew of the Jolly Roger stopped by the tavern she works at; for Emma, it's about getting her son back (Neal/Baelfire is still Henry's father in this AU, but left the realm to escape his father, so Rumple's trying to use Henry to track down Neal, i guess)... Anyway, Emma steals onto the Jolly Roger (to steal whatever magical item required to best the Dark One or to stowaway on board, your pick), gets discovered by our good captain ('feisty lass' that she is, she still manages to hold a dagger to his throat before he gets the best of her - there are on his ship, after all), she reveals why she's doing this in the first place - to reunite with her son - and they strike an accord to work together as they share a common goal... Shenanigans ensue, (and no, there is connection/bond between them that's growing closer over time, Emma is absolutely positive of that, thank you very much ;), plans go awry - they are chased by a monster of some sort, Killian decides to fight it off, to give Emma some more time to flee - she has to make it back to her son, after all - and tells her to go, to leave him behind... (but we know she doesn't listen... she never does ;)

Something like that, I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (and hey, if any Captain Swan writers out there feel like writing that story for me, let me know - I'd love to read it!)

(Also, I'm kind of happy how dynamic the poses in this drawing have turned out! I reworked the lineart a couple of times, not sure if I was wasting my time but while I liked the og sketch, I think the end result is a definite improvement)

Og sketch/doodle:

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Law of Surprise (3/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One | Part Two

Part Three

The castle was brimming with life and gaiety. Orchestral sounds spilled over the balconies and light seeped from every window, illuminating the stone walls and bathing the gardens in an exuberant glow. If he’d had to guess, Hook would estimate the overflow from the ballroom to be in the hundreds as he made his way through the crush of courtiers, adorned in their finery as they eagerly awaited to be announced.

Dukes and earls. Ambassadors and emissaries. Military leaders and loyal sycophants. The creme de la creme of Misthaven and her allied kingdoms were all in attendance - all who had received a royal summons, that is. Hook had witnessed a number of people being turned away at the gate when they had failed to produce the invitation. The exquisitely designed edict with its filigree and gilded letters announcing the event of the century:

The Formal Betrothal Ceremony and Ball between Her Royal Highness Princess Emma of Misthaven and His Royal Highness Prince Neal, Son and Heir of the Dark One.

Not that Hook had received one himself, of course; their Majesties had learned their lesson the last time they’d attempted to share blessed news and an invitation with him. Pan had been serious when he’d meant no interference, though they had underestimated what the evil bastard considered as such until he’d enticed most of the Misthaven male youths away from their beds and nearly to their deaths over one of the kingdom’s cliffs, because the sovereigns had dared to have an envoy deliver him news of the arrival of their second child - a son. When David and Hook had confronted Pan before he could lure the boys to their deaths, the demon brat had made it clear that any communication, any interaction, any attempts to maintain or strengthen relationships between Misthaven and “his pirate” would be seen as a breach of contract and met with severe penalties. After that, Hook had once again kept his distance from Misthaven, and Misthaven had kept its distance from him. So, naturally, Hook did not fault them for failing to send him an invite to tonight’s festivities. They could not possibly have known that circumstances were different now.

A fact Tink kept nagging on about these past few months.

Months they had spent attempting to set things right in the wake of Neverland’s liberation. Months they had spent establishing authority and restoring order while dealing with uprisings from those still loyal to Pan. Months Hook had spent ferrying those who had wished to return to their homes, not knowing if one even still existed for them, as he warred with himself over the prospect of returning to his own.

It had been the news of Emma’s betrothal that had started the quarrel with Tink up again. Enjoying a pint in a dark corner of anonymity whilst patroning a tavern in Glowerhaven, they’d heard the toasts and cheers go up wishing the princess and “her prince” well. The Dark One’s son wasn’t truly royalty, of course, but none were fool enough to challenge the title.

While the other patrons had reveled in the news of the betrothal, their spirits high from the glee of gossip and tankards of toasts, Hook had sat with a weighty stone of despondency in his belly even as he’d tried to muster up some semblance of jubilation over the news.

“You must go to Misthaven,” Tink urged. “You have to tell them. Tell her. You can’t let her enter a betrothal or get married without--”

“Do you think I would interfere in her life now?” Hook replied through grit teeth. “Burden her with this… with me, when she has finally found happiness?”

“How do you know it is true happiness she has found? The Law of Surprise entrusted her to you. Gave you the responsibility and privilege of her destiny. You cannot sit by and allow her to--”

“To what?” Hook snapped. “To decide for herself? To pursue a destiny she has chosen? To fall in love and follow her heart while making alliances that will strengthen her kingdom and secure her reign? I am not her lord and master, nor am I her overseer.”

“No. You are not,” Tink said softly. “But you are fated to her. Bonded to her through the Law. Connected in a way she isn’t even aware of, because you haven’t allowed her to know. You owe her the truth before she establishes new bonds with another.”

Hook scoffed, but tapped the ring on his thumb against his tankard as he considered her words.

“At the very least,” Tink continued, “go see her. Before she is whisked off to the Dark Realm to prepare for her new life as Neal’s wife and future Queen of the Dark One’s subjects, go meet her. Make sure it is for love that she has chosen this path, and not out of a sense of duty or obligation. Slake your curiosity of who she has become and give yourself the peace of knowing that in spite of everything, she turned out well.” Hardening her gaze, she added, “And for the sake of all the gods, stop being a coward and go face your brother.”

He hated when the infernal fairy was right.

It was cowardice that had kept him from returning. Fear of having to divulge all he’d done in order to achieve his freedom, the lengths he’d had to go to and the ways in which he’d made Pan believe he’d broken him before finally being able to…

Afraid that there was no longer a place for him among society. Terrified over the prospect that, despite Neverland’s magic and the way it had kept him youthful, his life had already passed him by. Petrified to face the girl he’d been meant to watch over, daunted by the uncertainty of how she might react if he ever managed to work up the nerve to tell her the truth about him, about the Law of Surprise, about the fate’s design that had bonded them to one another before she was even born.

Tink had been right, though. He could not give in to cowardice, so he’d commissioned a new waistcoat and duster, one befitting a gentleman pirate paying court, and made port in Misthaven the evening of his princess’ betrothal ball. His lack of an invitation was no issue with the guards at the gate, he’d merely flashed them his hook and they’d allowed him entry, certifying that the king’s pardon of Hook’s crimes and promises of sanctuary within Misthaven still stood. Though Hook did feel it prudent to tuck his left arm behind his back, beneath his quilted, leather coat whilst in the receiving line, lest one of the guests glimpse it and start a fuss.

He wasn’t sure if it was the maddening wait, the stifling corridor, or the crowd of plumed and perfumed guests that began to grate on his nerves, spiking his anxiety and forcing him to withdraw from the ballroom hall. All he knew was that he’d suddenly found himself in a dark and isolated alcove around the corner from the crush, attempting to steady his breathing while muttering curses at himself for falling apart over something as simple as queuing for a ball.

“Is everything alright, good sir?”

Hook spun around, once more tucking his hook behind his back while his hand swept through his hair in an attempt to straighten his appearance. He stood in stupified silence for several skips of his heartbeat, too stunned by the gorgeous woman before him, until he finally cleared his throat and found his voice.

“Aye, lass,” he replied, unable to keep some of the awe out of his tone. “No need to concern yourself with me.”

The woman, young, blonde, with a slender form that did not fail to fill out the curves of her gown while demonstrating the strength he could detect beneath her proper posture, cocked her head to one side, her seaglass eyes narrowing at him even as a smile slightly tugged at the corners of her exquisite lips, rebutted, “A man hiding away in the shadows is a bit concerning, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” Hook conceded with a slight chuckle. Taking a step forward so she could get a better look at him, his smile broadened when her eyes widened and swept over his form with similar interest. “Truth be told,” he continued in a low timbre, “I am rather out of practice in the rules of court. It has been many years since I’ve attended a royal ball.”

Eyes snapping back up to his, she schooled her features and lifted her chin. “Have you not escorted someone to attend with you? Have you no one whose company you can rely on?”

Hook sighed wistfully. “My brother is here,” he said, attempting to keep all sense of melancholy or apprehension from his tone, “but I have not seen him in many years. My presence may come as something of a shock, and I do not wish to cast a pall on the evening. I would never wish to tarnish the memory of it for the princess.”

“The princess?” she parroted, her brows arching and achieving heights that nearly matched her voice. “You hold her in high regard then?”

“Aye. Very much.” Thoughts of his Emma, and the maelstrom of emotions they brought with them, made his voice constrict in his throat, making his next words a bit strained. “Though, I have not had the pleasure of her acquaintance since she was a child.”

The woman’s expression shifted, becoming pensive, almost far away, but as quickly as they had taken hold of her features, she shook off whatever thoughts she’d been contemplating. “Well, I highly doubt anything you do could tarnish this night for her.”

“I appreciate that vote of confidence, love.” Killian scratched behind his ear, his hips swinging with another swaggering step forward as he pressed a little too closely for decorum’s liking into her personal space. “I don’t suppose, once I’ve mustered up the courage to make my way into the ballroom, you would consider bestowing me the pleasure of a waltz?”

The corners of the woman’s lips tipped up again, and Hook wondered what it would take to encourage a full smile from her. Not that it mattered. He’d already accepted the challenge.

“Would such a consideration give you the necessary encouragement to face your brother and the court?” she asked.

Boldly, he took her hand and ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, murmuring, “Such consideration would give me the encouragement to do a great many things, Miss…”

Her lips parted, the response of her name on the tip of her tongue, when an attendant rounded the corner and jolted them apart with her exclamations. “Your Highness! I have been looking everywhere for you!”

Hook whipped his head from the attendant back to the woman who had snatched her hand from his and taken several steps back.

“Your Highness?” he said incredulously. “As in Her Royal Highness? Princess Emma?”

“I… I,” she stuttered. “I’m sorry, I must…”

“Excuse us, my lord,” the attendant said, encouraging her charge away from the alcove and towards the hallways that led to the royal entrance at the back of the ballroom.

Hook watched her depart, stunned by the realization that the woman with whom he’d been conversing - and was now rather taken with - was none other than the princess. His princess. His Emma. His Child of Surprise who was no longer a child.

He’d known that already of course, that she was no longer a child. More than ten years had passed since he’d last seen her, but as she was escorted down the hallway, briefly taking the opportunity to glance at him over her shoulder with an apologetic smile and a glimmer of attraction in her eyes, the reality of those years hit him full force. His princess was no longer a child, and once the betrothal ceremony was complete, she would no longer be his.

Forgoing the queue, Hook forced his way into the ballroom without being announced and found himself a vantage point where he could observe without taking on much notice. A resurgence of duty and responsibility filled him. He wanted to - no, needed to - weigh the measure of the man his princess was about to bind herself to in betrothal. Needed to know he was worthy of her.

Although, he was quite certain no man ever would be.

As the ballroom began to fill, his vantage point proved to be less than ideal. Unable to clearly see the dais, he started to shuffle his way through the throng as the prince and his father were announced, followed swiftly by Their Majesties and Princess Emma.

He was halfway across the room when the ceremony began, and the heavy weight of regret, knowing he was too late to do anything, pressed down upon him, keeping him rooted to his spot. His heart twisted painfully in his chest. He was about to lose her forever without having the chance to truly know her. He was a fool for wasting these past few months. A damned fool. All he could do now was watch as the prince and princess recited their vows while a fairy wove the betrothal bonds around them with her wand.

His heartache was quickly forgotten, however, when the final binding spell failed, leaving the betrothal void and eliciting a collective gasp from those assembled.

“I… I don’t understand,” the fairy stammered. “The magic should have worked. I… I don’t know what--”

“Clearly, you did something wrong, dearie,” the Dark One accused as he took a threatening step towards the young fairy.

“No,” Emma stated, stepping between her would-be father-in-law and the scared-out-of-her-wits fairy. “She didn’t. The magic failed to bind us, because…” Turning her attention back towards her would-be groom, Emma declared, “as I have told you numerous times, I have no intentions of marrying you. I don’t care about the deal our fathers made in order to end the war. My heart will never be yours, therefore no vows I make to love you will ever be true.”

Chaotic murmurs erupted throughout the ballroom, but Hook kept his focus on the dais.

“That matters not!” the Dark One shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Emma which made Hook’s hand itch for the hilt of his sword, unfortunately left behind on his ship. “Your feelings have no bearing and are not enough to void the betrothal spell.” Casting his ire upon King David and Queen Snow, he demanded, “Explain yourselves! We made a deal! You agreed to this betrothal on your daughter’s behalf. It is your word and your authority over her that binds that agreement, so why did it fail?”

Hook sucked in a startled breath. He knew why.

“I think I can answer that, and settle this matter,” he called out, causing all eyes to fall on him.

“And who might you be?” Prince Neal demanded.

“Captain Killian Jones,” he proclaimed, stepping forward as the crowd parted. “Though some have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker.” Raising his left arm, he displayed his hook and a hysteria of murmurs further erupted amongst the crowd that was now cowering away from him.

David and Snow’s mouths dropped open and Liam, who had been standing by off to the side of the dais, rushed forward and took his place next to his sovereigns, a look of complete elation and shock coloring his aged face. The fairy fled, leaving Emma, Prince Neal, and the Dark One alone at the center of the raised platform, each of them staring at him with a variety of expressions.

“Hook!” Prince Neal exclaimed, before catching the eye of the many guards stationed along the walls. “Seize him!”

When none of the guards acquiesced to the command, an incensed and clearly alarmed Prince Neal sputtered, “W-Why are you all just s-standing there! Arrest him!”

“Oh, you must not be aware,” Hook said, swaggering his way towards the dais and stopping short of its steps. “You see, I have pardon in this land.”

Turning his incredulity and ire towards the King, Prince Neal opened his mouth, but was silenced by the quiet yet dangerous tone of the Dark One’s question.

“How, pray tell, do you plan to settle this matter, Captain?”

“By claiming that which was owed me the day I saved King David’s life and he vowed to honor me with a boon, dictated by the Law of Surprise.”

“A boon? What boon?” Emma demanded.

With confident, measured steps Hook made his way up to the top of the platform and stood in front of his princess, his body strategically placed between her and his new adversaries. His eyes captured hers and he knew they were crinkling in the corners as he smiled down at her.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he murmured softly. “It’s you.”

Confusion and outrage flashed within her seaglass eyes and displayed themselves through each feature of her exquisite face. Though her reaction, not being what he’d hoped for, sliced through him, he could do nothing about that now, not when a fresh round of threats was being issued by the Dark One and his spawn.

“We had a deal!” the Dark One bellowed. “Your daughter’s hand in marriage to my son in exchange for me ending your war with George! You made a deal--”

“Which they have kept in good faith!” Hook roared, rounding on the imp and causing his son to stumble backwards. “They have prepared and presented the princess for betrothal, and Emma herself recited the vows, even as it went against everything she wished for herself. It is not their fault the fates did not bind the agreement. If you wish to lay declarations of war at anyone’s feet, then let it be mine, but I warn you…” Stepping closer, Hook loomed over the Dark One and in a timbre of hushed menace, he advised, “do so at your own peril.”

The Dark One’s eyes narrowed, perhaps sensing something about the man who stood before him that he had not registered before. Beside him, Prince Neal scoffed.

“Are we to be threatened by the likes of you? You are nothing but a filthy pirate.”

Hook grinned darkly and rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumb in his belt. “A few months ago I was nothing but a filthy pirate, but today,” hardening his expression, he declared, “I am Neverland’s King, and you do not want Neverland as your enemy.”

The Dark One visibly started, but the Prince merely snorted. “Neverland has no king.”

Keeping a calculating eye on the Dark One, Hook shrugged and addressed Neal with a casual air. “True. I never understood, with all his theatrics, why Pan had never outright declared himself king, but make no mistake…” The hard edge returned to his tone and countenance, “Pan ruled that island as a dictator king with an iron scepter and a crown of cruelty not even George could have dreamed of matching. Now that Pan’s dead,” the Dark One’s head snapped towards him, seemingly pulled from his thoughts with a number of questions swirling behind his dark gaze, “Neverland is under my rule. The island, its inhabitants, and…” Hook flicked his wrist and the entirety of the ballroom gasped when a jar of glittering dust appeared in his hand, “its magic. They all serve me now, so I say again. You do not want me as an enemy.”

Shrewdly, the Dark One scrutinized the jar in Hook’s hand, then inquired, “What, then, do you propose we do? The terms of the deal have not been met. I ended the war with King George. A debt is still owed.”

“Indeed,” Hook replied, holding out the jar towards the Dark One. “And I believe this canister of pixie dust is more than sufficient in settling that debt.” Hook pulled the jar back when the prince made an attempt to take it. “So long as you promise that accepting it means no further repercussions. Misthaven is safe from any further threats or acts of retaliation from you, and Emma is free to find love and happiness with whomever she chooses. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Papa, no!” Prince Neal protested. “You can’t just--”

“I can, and I have,” the Dark One clipped in a tone of censure before snatching the jar from Hook’s hand. Addressing the King and Queen, he confirmed, “Our deal has been satisfied. My son and I will now take our leave, but heed this… do not call upon me for aid ever again.”

“We won’t,” King David assured him. His eyes cut to Hook’s, relief and gratitude swimming within their depths, but before he could make any further statements another round of gasps rippled through the ballroom as the Dark One and Prince Neal were enveloped in a plume of dark smoke and vanished.

A heavy exhale fell over Hook’s lips and he stood, frozen, in the gazes of his friends, his sovereigns, his brother, and… his Emma.

“It’s you,” she said, her expression and voice void of any inflection he could identify as her eyes seemed to look past him to that far off place he’d seen her subconscious go when they were alone before. “You’re… him. We’ve… we’ve met before.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” he hedged. Her demeanor and lack of response to all that had just transpired made him hesitant to push her too far, too fast. “Moments ago in the corridor--”

“No… no, that’s not. I mean…” Her eyes refocused on him with a mixture of awe, disbelief, and something that hadn’t quite made its way to the surface yet swirling through their verdant beauty as she whispered, “It’s you, isn’t it? The man from my… you’re him.”

“Him… who?”

“My pirate,” she exhaled, stunning Hook to his core as she lifted a chain that had been concealed beneath the high neck of her white gown. Dangling from the delicate links was a familiar looking pendant. The seashell he had gifted her - after she’d plucked it from his desk, the little thief - he realized. The far off look returned as she murmured, “Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you.”

His heart swelling, Hook elated, “Good,” and took a step towards her. The action, like all his actions since he’d revealed himself, was not met with the response he’d been hoping for.

Taking several steps back from him, Emma rounded on her parents and shouted, “You lied to me! You made me think it was all in my head! You knew! You knew why I felt so… wrong, so deficient. So… broken. My entire life I’ve… You knew about him all this time and you never--”

“You mustn’t blame them, love,” Hook insisted. “It’s not their fault. I made your mother promise never to tell--”

“Perhaps we should take this discussion elsewhere,” Snow said, making them all acutely aware of their audience. The societal vultures practically circling in anticipation of the feast such morsels of scandal might provide.

“That won’t be necessary,” Emma seethed. “There won’t be any more discussion, because I’m not interested in anything any of you have to say!”

Hook gaped when she raised her hand, calling forth magic to transport her from the ballroom in a plume of white smoke.

“She has magic?”

“She’s the product of True Love. Of course she has magic,” the Blue Fairy replied with a terse and exasperated tone, having made her way onto the dais to address her sovereigns and offer her assistance. “Your Majesties, perhaps it would be best for you to withdraw with the… captain, whilst the other fairies and I tend to your guests?”

“Yes,” Snow agreed. “Thank you, Blue.”

Hook followed his sovereigns and brother to an adjoining room where they could converse and continue their reunion in private, though none of them seemed to know where to begin.

“I think I ought to go and check on Em--”

“No,” Hook said, cutting off Snow. “Leave her be. She’s had a terrible shock and no doubt needs some time to work out all that’s…”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment more until reality set in. They were here, together, reunited at last, and in a synchronized heartbeat they suddenly found themselves in a united embrace, laughing and crying tears of joy and relief at finally having the nightmare of separation behind them.

“Admit it,” Hook demanded of David, wiping the vestiges of his emotional release from his eyes. “You were hedging your bets when you made that deal with the Dark One. You suspected The Law of Surprise would void it when the time came, didn’t you?” Turning towards his brother, Hook surmised, “That’s why you wouldn’t let me relinquish my claim and bestow it upon you.”

Sheepishly, Snow admitted, “Blue was the one who suggested the idea. We could not be sure, though, given your… uncertain future under Pan’s rule.”

“Speaking of,” Liam chimed in. “However did you manage to defeat the little bastard?”

“It’s a bit of a sordid tale,” Hook told them. “And one I do not wish to relive in detail. Suffice it to say, I managed to gain a certain amount of trust with Pan, which allowed me close access to him. Revealing some of his weaknesses. One of them being… squid ink.”

Liam led them over to the settees and they all sat down as he remarked, “Squid ink is no easy substance to obtain.”

“Aye,” Hook affirmed. “Fortunately, whilst on one of my missions for Pan, I ran into a mermaid who wished to leave her life in the sea behind. In exchange for safe passage, and because she felt bad for nearly crashing my ship upon rocky shoals when she enchanted me with her siren song, she gave me the squid ink she’d stolen from her father’s vault. Tink and I used the ink to subdue Pan.” Fiddling with his hook, he cast his eyes towards the floor as he confessed, “My hook did the rest.”

“And Pan’s death gave you… magic?”

“Not exactly.” Hook pulled back the sleeve of his right arm, exposing the cuff secured to his wrist. “This does,” he said, tapping it with the side of his hook. “It was Pan’s. He was never without it. I learned that it tethered the Shadow to him, acting as a conduit to the island’s power which he could then bend to his will. At first, I had no desire for it, but its use became necessary in order for me to begin to set things right.”

Hook told them how he and Tink had spent the past few months: squashing rebellions from those on the island still loyal to Pan, learning about the island’s magic while working with the Shadow to restore balance to her shores, and returning those he’d brought there under Pan’s order against their will.

“There is still much to be done, but when I heard about Emma’s betrothal, I…” Not wishing to tell anymore half-truths, or admit that the news of her betrothal had not been enough without Tink’s prompting, he let his words trail off. He hadn’t shared with them his misgivings in returning, allowing them to believe these other distractions had been the reason for his delay, causing guilt to churn in his gut as he sat amongst them.

“Where is Tinkerbell?” Snow asked, perhaps sensing the shift in his demeanor.

“She remained behind in Neverland,” Hook replied. “Awaiting further orders.”

“Further orders?” David parroted. “What more could you ask of her?”

“Not from me,” Hook assured. “From Blue.” Glancing down at the cuff on his wrist, he imparted, “The island should go to the fairies. They are the only ones who can truly wield and balance its power. I have no wish to be its sovereign forever, but...”

“But?”

Hook sighed. “All magic comes with a price, and the price of using this cuff is that it cannot be removed unless both the wearer and the island agree to its removal.” A wry smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he cheekily added, “or unless the wearer is dead and no longer has a say in the matter.”

“I don’t…” Liam floundered. “I don’t understand what you--”

“The island won’t let me relinquish my connection with its magic,” Hook said. “After Pan, I believe it finds me preferable and won’t risk falling into the wrong sort of hands again. My hope is that the fairies might be able to convince the island to free me of the obligation, which is one of the reasons Tink remained there. To continue working towards that end until reinforcements arrive.”

“Well,” Snow said, standing and causing the men to follow suit. “That is something we can certainly discuss in greater detail tomorrow. For now,” she turned to her husband and with a firm, yet regal, look, declared, “we really must return to our guests and assure them that all is well.”

“Of course,” David agreed. “You’re right. The gossip mill is no doubt having a field day and our allies deserve whatever reassurances we can give them.”

“My apologies for creating a spectacle.” Hook gave his sovereigns a chagrined and contrite look, but they quickly waved off his self-condemnation.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Snow assured him.

“Snow is right,” David asserted. “Without you, we’d likely be preparing for war with the Dark One. You saved us… again.”

Hook grinned and nonchalantly scratched behind his ear. “I imagine another boon might be in order then?”

David shot him a less than amused look. “I’m not granting you another Law of Surprise, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Though we do not plan to have any more children, I agree with Charming,” Snow said, a hint of amusement coloring her words. “Once was more than enough.”

Hook sobered at the reminder of his Emma, and the mess he’d made of things between them.

“You owe me nothing,” he said. “It isn’t as though I’ve lived up to the last--”

“Enough of that,” Snow admonished. “I know things may not have gone as you’d hoped with Emma, but tomorrow is a new day. Let me have a room made up for you, and tomorrow we can all--”

“Thank you, Snow, but I think I’d rather return to my ship.” When Liam opened his mouth to protest, Hook assured him. “I’ll remain in port. I won’t leave without discussing the matter with you first, I just… I need…”

“Much has changed for you, too, little brother,” Liam acknowledged.

“Aye,” Hook admitted. “Freedom is not something I’ve had much practice with, and I’m still getting my bearings. Still trying to decide what I want to do with my life.”

“You know you always have a home here, right?” David said, placing a heavy hand upon his shoulder. “A place to belong.”

“I appreciate that, Your Majesty,” Hook said, hoping his eyes reflected just how much that fact meant to him. “But do you honestly think things can go back to how they would have been if you’d never sent us to Neverland? Or if we’d all managed to return from the accursed mission?”

David flinched and his features twisted into an expression of guilt and regret.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Hook said, now placing his own hand on his sovereign's shoulder. “I do not blame you. I have never blamed you, but let’s not pretend I can just take my place within your navy and serve as captain of one of your ships. For one, I am no longer a man who takes orders from others willingly, and two… what crew would wish to serve under the likes of me? A pirate. A blackguard.”

“No one is suggesting we pretend the past twenty years did not happen,” Liam said. “There is much to work out, much to resolve and decide upon. For you… and for Emma.”

David’s expression shifted and he now regarded Hook in a way the pirate had never experienced before. Not as his sovereign, nor as his friend, but as a father. A rather protective father. A protective father who might have just registered the charged interactions the pirate and his daughter had shared in the ballroom.

“Indeed,” the man said with a slightly hardened edge on his words. “Perhaps we should have a talk about your intentions with my daughter.”

“Charming,” Snow scolded, saving Hook from having to respond. “Now is not the time.” Squaring her shoulders and taking up her regal posture, the queen declared, “While these matters are all important and worthy of our time and thoughtful consideration, the more pressing issue awaits us in the ballroom.” Fixing her eyes on Liam, she continued, “David and I will need your diplomacy in dealing with our allies. You and the fairies are our ambassadors for the duration of the event.” Shifting her attention to Hook, she offered, “You are welcome to stay, however, it may be best if--”

“If it is all the same to you, Your Majesty,” Hook interrupted, “I think I’d prefer to take my leave for the evening and return to my ship.”

Giving him an acquiescing nod, Snow replied, “Very well. Let us all get through this evening and get ourselves as restful of a night’s sleep as we can. We will then reconvene tomorrow.”

“And Emma?” Hook inquired.

Snow and David shared a quick look of solidarity, then confirmed with a glance towards Liam before affirming, “We will leave her be, for now. As you requested.”

Their silent recognition and acceptance of his sovereignty in Emma’s life both relieved and disquieted him. He’d meant what he’d said to Tink about not being her lord and master, but he would not hesitate to advocate for her if he felt those around her were not acting in her best interest. She needed time. They both did.

“Then I shall bid you all a good night,” Hook said, not waiting for them to reciprocate before transporting himself back to the Jolly Roger in a swirl of crimson, in dire need of a refuge where he himself could process all that had come to pass this evening.

~/~

Hook’s jaw cracked from the wide yawn he released early the next morning, his body stiff and feeling its true age as he went about his normal routine, shuffling through his cabin in naught but his skin. He’d managed to pull on his leather pants, leaving them loosely tied around his waist, when he heard a voice drifting towards him from the dock.

“Ahoy! Captain, are you there?” a woman’s voice softly called out. From the tentative tone and reserved volume, he could tell she was trying to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It mattered not, though. He’d know that voice anywhere.

Hastily, Hook pulled on his shirt, a few of the buttons he kept fastened in the front slipped free from their closures, leaving his chest completely exposed. Forgoing his boots or even bothering to check the state of his hair, he rushed from his quarters and onto the deck, stopping short at the sight of his Emma standing atop the gangplank, just shy of the deck. The morning sun bathed her in an ethereal glow, silhouetting her form, which was adorned in her riding apparel, hugging her curves and highlighting her shapely legs in a way that had Hook glad he’d left his trousers loose.

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Hook continued to approach her, only now taking in her observations of him. Rather wide-eyed and pinked cheeked observations, he noted with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Princess?” he said, pulling her from her own thoughts, his breath catching at the way she wet her lips before clearing her throat.

“I apologize for arriving so early and unannounced,” she said, straightening her posture before inquiring, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Hook grinned and closed the space between them with swaggering steps, holding out his hand to assist her. “Permission granted, Your Highness.”

When her feet hit the boards of the deck they stood there for a long moment, her hand still tucked in his as she took in the sight of his ship. When her gaze lifted to the mainsail a shudder ran down her spine. Though he was unsure how much she remembered from that night long ago when she last stood there, Hook was certain he knew what had caused her response.

“I sent him back,” he assured her, his voice low and soft.

“Who?”

“The Shadow. He’s the reason the sail is typically black, but I won’t need him until it is time for me to return to…”

Sensing this topic made her uneasy, his words trailed off and she pulled her hand from his. Noises from further up the dock grabbed their attention momentarily and Hook caught sight of her horse hitched at one of the posts, alone.

“Did you come here unaccompanied?”

“Yes,” she replied, uneasiness once again taking hold of her tone and demeanor. “I hadn’t planned it. I was out for my morning ride, clearing my head when…” Looking about she asked, “Is there somewhere we could go? Somewhere more private where we might converse?”

“Of course,” he said, not faulting her for not wanting to be seen fraternizing with him. “Follow me, Your Highness.”

He led her to his quarters and stopped at the threshold, allowing her entrance as he hung back. A soft gasp fell from her lips.

“It’s… it’s just as I remembered,” she whispered under her breath, taking in every detail of his cabin. “I thought you were a dream,” she confessed, though he wasn’t certain she was actually talking to him, her gaze far away and her words almost murmured to herself.

“I thought the whole thing was a nightmare.” Her hands skimmed over the top of his desk, pausing at his hook which he’d failed to secure in his brace before going on deck. “The shadow that kidnapped me, the dark island, the glass cage, the boy…” Her eyes flicked up, meeting his as she continued in a whisper, “The pirate.” Wetting her lips, her gaze never wavered even if his did briefly drop down to her mouth. “You’re real. You were real all this time.”

“Aye.”

Picking up his hook, she turned it over in her hands. “This is the hook you used to attach yourself to the barrel? The one my mother later gifted you?”

“How did you know--”

Setting it down she leaned back against his desk and let out a heavy breath. “I talked with them last night,” she told him. “My parents. After the ball, I demanded they tell me everything.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, then her eyes snapped up to his, determination shining from their depths. His princess was on a mission for the truth. “Did you really not know of my existence until Pan had…”

“No,” he confirmed. “I had no idea the King and Queen had a child, nor that the child was the fulfillment of the Surprise your father had granted me until Pan kidnapped you.”

Nodding her head in acceptance of his word her demeanor shifted slightly, her shoulders relaxing and her gaze softening.

“I want to apologize for the way I behaved last night,” she said. “How I reacted when you…” Her contrite expression gave way to one tinged with anger as she continued. “The morning after Neverland, when I woke up, everyone acted as though it hadn’t happened. My being kidnapped. My parents insisted I had dreamt the whole thing, even Blue made me think I’d…” Her hands gripped the edge of his desk, her knuckles turning white as she continued to lean against it for support, and it took everything within him to not go to her and offer himself as an anchor for her feelings of hurt and betrayal. “My whole life I have been sheltered, not allowed to make decisions for myself, feeling as though something… vital was missing from my life, yet unable to seek it out. Made to feel as though I were mad, because of this dream that would not leave me.”

Swallowing hard, she glanced around his cabin once more before her eyes fell shut. A deep breath filled her chest, followed by a cleansing exhale. When she opened her eyes the anger was gone, but a sadness lingered. Hook would do anything to alleviate it, but he knew she was not finished. There was still so much she needed to work through, to process, to accept, and he would give her the space to do all of it.

“Last night,” she carried on, “when the betrothal bond failed, I truly thought it was because my vows had been a lie. I thought I was standing up to Neal and his father, taking control of my destiny for the first time in my life, only to discover my future was never my own to control, because of another agreement my father made before I was even born.”

Hook winced. “I am sorry, Princess. Truly.” Pushing off from the doorway where he’d been leaning against the jamb, Hook took a few steps into the cabin, stopping at the corner of his bunk. “It was never my intention to leave you feeling powerless or alone. If I could go back, I’d--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, her voice sincere and her eyes full of forgiveness. “You had no way of knowing what the Surprise would be, and with what George did to my mother, who would have ever guessed? I don’t blame you for how my life--”

“You shouldn’t blame your father either, Your Highness,” Hook said in defense of his sovereign. “He had no way of knowing either, otherwise you would never have become my Surprise.”

“True.” She crossed her hands over her chest, a hardened expression once more tightening her features. “The blame belongs to Blue and my mother.”

“What?” Hook balked.

Meeting his gaze, she informed him, “Blue knew about the barrel. She saw it listed on the inventory that was taken when the Jewel made it back with the survivors. They must have put it in the hold when they fished it and you from the sea. Blue could not be sure it had not been corrupted, so she gave the water to my mother without her knowing. It wasn’t until weeks later, when my mother came to Blue worried that something was terribly wrong with her, that Blue confessed what she’d done. She told my mother it was still too early to know for certain and that she should wait to tell my father until she was further along, then later that very same day…”

“He granted me the Law of Surprise.”

“My mother knew he intended to reward you for your bravery and sacrifice, but said she had no idea it would be… Father said it hadn’t even occurred to him to grant it to you until the moment before he declared it. So, no. I do not blame my father.”

Stepping forward, Hook closed the gap between them and took her hand in his. “I will not tell you how you ought to feel, Princess. I just urge you to not let anger and blame linger in your heart for too long. I know what it is like to let such emotions fester, letting darkness creep in and take root in your spirit, giving it a foothold in your soul. Learn from my mistakes, love. Resist it.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

Running his thumb over the back of her knuckles, he softly imparted, “For many years during my first deal with Pan, I didn’t think I had anything to live for. The demon made me a pirate and I became a villain, unworthy of association with people like your parents or my brother. I had resigned myself to a life of exile and wasn’t certain I’d even return to Misthaven, until…”

“Until… what?”

“Until I met you.” How he wished he still had his other hand so he could take both of hers in his grasp, instead, he settled for threading their fingers together. “I wanted to be a better man for you, Princess. I knew Pan would still require a villain, but I was determined to defeat him by any means necessary so that I could take back my own power and control my own destiny.”

“So… what now?” she asked, a soft tremble quaking through her words.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she wet her lips, trying her best to hide her trepidations. “Your expectations. You said you returned in order to claim that which--”

“I said all that in an attempt to stop a war from brewing, and so you might be freed from a deal you never wished to be a part of,” he quickly assured her. “I know all too well the perils of making deals with demons, and it is a fate I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you.” Hook lifted their hands and cradled hers against his chest. “I have no expectations of you, love. I only wish to… to try and make up for lost time. To get to know you and have you get to know me. Fate may very well have its own plan, but as far as I’m concerned, whatever we become to one another is as much up to you as it is to me.”

A smile curled at the corners of her lips. “I’d hoped I hadn’t made that up about you,” she said. “I am glad to know you are, indeed, a man of honor and good form… just as I remembered you to be.”

Hook cocked his head to one side, his brows furrowed as he asked, “If you’ve always remembered the kidnapping, then why did you not recognize me in the alcove last night?”

“My memories weren’t… detailed,” she told him. “More like fragments. Impressions.” Looking past him, she began to call forth some of those memories. “I remembered you were a pirate. I remembered the silver fastenings of your waistcoat and the fact that you had dark hair, and I remembered… your eyes. They were probably the most vivid thing about you that I remembered.” Flicking her gaze up to his, she went on to say, “The truth of a person can always be found in their eyes.” Dipping her head, she demurred, “I’ve always been pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. It’s always in the eyes. I knew, from the moment I looked into yours, that I could trust you. That you were telling the truth about taking me home. Your eyes told me I’d be safe with you.” Locking her eyes with his, she wistfully admitted, “I’ve thought about your eyes so many times over the years.”

Her cheeks reddened and she suddenly could not meet his gaze. Hook wondered what other thoughts she might have had about her dream pirate as she grew older, but held back from making a saucy quip, allowing her to move past him towards his bookcase. Truth be told, he could do with a bit of space between them as well.

“My parents tell me that though you are finally free of Pan, there are still loose ends for you to tie up in Neverland.” Distracting herself she focused her attention on the contents of his shelves, picking through the books and lifting the lids on a few of the boxes. “Once that is done, what do you intend to do with your newfound freedom?”

“Honestly?” Hook exhaled heavily. “I’m not sure.” A tinkling melody filled the room when she lifted the top of what turned out to be a music box, hastily letting it fall shut before turning apologetic eyes towards him.

“Sorry,” she muttered, running her hands down the front of her riding jacket before clasping them in front of herself. “You were saying?”

Hook chuckled, then sobered a bit when he remembered what he was about to reveal. “I was saying, I’m not sure what I’ll do once my duty to Neverland is complete. I would like to return to Misthaven, I just… I’m not certain I have a place here any longer.” Fiddling with a few of the items on his desk, he added, “Of course, there are people here whom I wish to build relationships with.”

“Like your brother?”

“Aye,” he replied, lifting his gaze towards her. “Among others.” He paused, hoping she knew she was at the top of those considerations. “I have missed so much, and while I realize he is now old enough to be mistaken as my father, Liam is the only family I have left.” They both shared a quick laugh over that observation before he declared, “I do not want to miss any more of his life, or anyone else’s of importance to me.

Emma hummed, her eyes cast down towards her feet, perhaps unable to meet his gaze because of the intensity of it. “I’d imagine you’d want the chance to get to know his wife and your nephews as well.”

Her words rocked Hook to his core. “What?”

Emma’s head snapped up, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping from the realization. “I’m so sorry! I thought… I thought you knew!”

Hook slumped down on the edge of his bed, a new sense of melancholy and injustice washing over him as he ran his hand through his hair and pulled at the strands in the back. “How long has he… how old are his… why did he not…”

“They’ve been married almost ten years, and have two sons. Her name is Belle and she’s…”

Emma paused when Hook buried his face in his hand. So much time wasted. The toll of the years Pan had stolen from him never seemed to cease in its increase.

The sound of the music box filled his cabin once more, prompting Hook to look up from his sorrows. Tentatively, Emma approached.

“I wish there was something I could do about the time that was taken from you and your brother. I wish I had words of wisdom or answers that might guide you towards what’s next, but I don’t. All I can do in this moment is… make good on a promise I gave you last night.”

Confused, Hook could only stare at her, until she clarified, “I believe I owe you a waltz?”

Hook huffed out an amused breath. Reaching up he pawed at the patch of skin behind his ear and confessed, “I know I instigated that, but truth be told… I haven’t danced a waltz in over twenty years.”

“Well,” she replied, clearly not letting him off the proverbial hook. “Good thing for you there is only one rule.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet before wrapping his braced arm around her waist. Taking his hand in hers she flicked up her gaze and murmured, “Pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.”

She took the lead until muscle memory returned, then Hook glided them around his cabin, holding her close and marveling at how she’d been able to pull him from his sulliness with such a simple act of kindness.

His Emma was a marvel, to be sure.

“Do you, Princess?” he asked, causing her brows to pinch together as her head tilted to one side. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he clarified, his voice low and hushed, wanting to keep the moment tender despite the question burning at the back of his throat. “What you are going to do now that the threat of Pan and your obligation to marry Prince Neal has been lifted?”

Chewing her lip, she gave the inquiry her considerations before drawing closer to him. Moving her hand from his shoulder to toy with the back of his neck, she sent a cascade of shivers down his spine as she addressed his question with one of her own.

“Did you know that other than the night I was taken to Neverland, this is the furthest I have even been from the castle?”

That piece of information shocked him, though he knew it should not have. Her existence had been kept a secret for the first half of her life because of George, and the threat of Pan had kept her parents cautious for the past decade. Fear had made his sovereigns hypervigilant with their greatest treasure, so no, it should not have surprised him that they’d kept her close to home, safe behind the castle walls, never straying from the grounds.

“I have never left these shores. Never seen the beauty or experienced the culture of other realms, or met anyone who wasn’t thoroughly vetted by my parents.” Wetting her lips, her eyes fell to the charms hanging around his neck, but Hook knew her gaze was far away once again. “I know I have a duty and obligation to my kingdom, my people, and my parents, but…”

“But?”

Glancing back up with a slight expression of guilt pulling at her features, she murmured, “I can't help but wonder if my brother, Leo, was the fates way of allowing me to… That is… I know I should not wish to burden him unnecessarily, it’s just that--”

“Where would you go first?” Hook asked, still swirling them around his cabin, maneuvering their bodies with the same ease in which he attempted to change the course of their conversation. “If you had the means to go anywhere, where would you go first?”

“Neverland.”

Her quick and unexpected reply had him stopping them in their tracks. “Neverland? Why?”

Once again, she worried her lip, her breath hitching shallowly in her chest. “As much as I long to see the world, the memory of the one time I left Misthaven still haunts me,” she said, her voice a tad unsure at first, though it gained a sense of certainty and resolve as she continued on. “I want to go back so I can face it. So I can put the fear it has held over my life behind me, once and for all.”

When she flicked her gaze up to his, something new stirred within those seaglass depths and the effect of it seemed to hum between them, electrifying the atmosphere of his cabin.

“I want to see what sort of place it is now. With Pan gone. I want to know how it has fared under your rule. How it’s changed due to your influence and direction.” Swaying closer to one another, she was practically a hair’s breadth away when she murmured, “I want to see it for myself in the hopes that…”

“That what?”

Her eyes fell to his mouth and his pulse quickened.

“That it proves that I am… not wrong about you.”

It took his mind several skips of his heartbeat to register the feel of her lips against his, but once it did, instinct took over. His braced arm pressed into the small of her back, bringing her even closer to him, their chests nearly touching with the only obstacle between them being her hand. Her fingers curled through his chest hair, pulling a groan from the back of his throat that vibrated against her lips as his own slanted across them. Threading his fingers through her hair, he wrapped his hand around the base of her skull so he could position her head to his liking, deepening the kiss and coaxing her lips apart with his tongue.

The taste of her was captivating. He could spend the rest of his life drinking her in yet never be satisfied, always wanting more, always needing more… of her. Just her. His Emma.

However, now was not the time for more, and from the gentle, yet insistent, press of her hand against his chest, it was evident that his princess was not ready for what could come next if they continued down this path of passion.

“That was…” he whispered against her lips, chasing them without thought.

“Destiny?” She giggled, her nerves and inexperience quivering through her laugh.

Brushing his nose against hers, he loosened his hold, creating some space between them while assuring her, “As I said before, I have no expectations of you, no expectations for what might happen between us or what we might come to mean to one another. Only… only hope and a promise.”

“What promise would that be?”

“I promise to do whatever it takes to win your heart, Princess. I promise, that for as long as it pleases you, I’ll be here, at your service.” Taking her hand in his, Hook vowed, “I will take you to Neverland, and any other realm you wish to see. I will remain by your side, even if, one day, it is only to stand in support of my future queen.”

“What about Liam?” she said, clearly overjoyed by the prospects he’d laid out whilst harbouring some guilt that their fulfillment would take him away from his brother.

“My brother will be here whenever we choose to return,” he comforted. “Besides… he has his own life to live, and whether he chooses to acknowledge it or not, he’s been shouldering a duty and responsibility he was never meant to carry.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve been burdensome to your brother?” Her tone was laced with offense, but it was betrayed by the teasing expression she could not keep from her features.

“Oh, yes,” he cheeked back, winding his arms around her waist. “Quite the burden you are. How will I ever bear being bonded by the fates to Your Highness?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, running her palms up his chest then wrapping her arms around his neck. “Perhaps, you could start by calling me by my name, Captain.”

“As you wish… Emma,” he obliged on an exhale.

She graced him with a smile, then asked, “And you? How may I address you? Or do you prefer Captain?”

He wouldn’t deny the pleasure it gave him, hearing her call him Captain, and he was about to make a tawdry statement attesting to that fact when his eye caught a glimpse of his hook, still sitting atop his desk.

“Call me…” he said, his voice choked and barely able to utter the name he’d long abandoned. “Killian. Please, Emma. Call me Killian.”

“Killian.”

The sound of his name on her breath shot a thrill of wonder up his spine. His lips crashed against hers and they both surrendered to the destiny fate had planned for them long ago.

Which, honestly, should not have come as a… surprise.

Thank you all for going on this journey with me! I hope you enjoyed the ride!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@paradiselady19 @aprilqueen84 @kmomof4 @mie779 @donteattheappleshook @stahlop @anmylica @undercaffinatednightmare @zaharadessert @karl0ta @booksteaandtoomuchtv @courtorderedcake @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @the-darkdragonfly @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @winterbaby89 @justanother-unluckysoul @whimsicallyenchantedrose @badwolfreturns @deckerstarblanche @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @youherotype @kday426 @snowbellewells @alexa-fangirl-forever @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @unworried-corsair @justanotherflailgirl @sals86 @natascha-ronin @livykatelin00-blog @jackieorioncat @annep1 @ilovemesomekillianjones @soniccat @youplaylikeagirl @th3capta1n @cocohook38 @zippoluv @bizquake

[princess-and-the-swan]

MC Fic Rec: Until We Meet Again

By @searchingwardrobes | Rating: M

As a joke, Liam Jones pays a gypsy to show 15 year old Killian his true love in her magic mirror. When Killian looks in the mirror, he falls through realms and time until coming face to face with a 15 year old Emma Swan. Because I'm obsessed with younger versions of Killian meeting younger versions of Emma. Complete This is one of my favorite CS fanfictions and one that is so nostalgic for me since I credit this fic with getting me into the world of CS fanfics and I don't see this fic getting recommended enough. There's just something about these lieutenant duckling fics that I'm an absolute sucker for! This fic is a mix of an enchanted forest au and a modern au, but since it mostly takes place in the land with no magic, I classify it as the latter.

Read it on AO3

[hufflepuffinstorybrooke]

If You’re Lucky, Love Leaves Scars

Summary: In Misthaven, the people know that their rulers are soulmates, bound by the fact that they share their emotions and also physical pain. Follow Crown Princess Emma as she discovers that she has a soulmate of her own and her path to meeting her true love.

Rating: Rated Teen for a small instance of child abuse. You don't technically see it happen, but you do see the results from the soulmate's POV. Feel free to message me with any questions if you need more info before reading.

Notes: The notes might be a bit long, so bear with me: 1) I'd like to thank the runners of the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer for letting me participate in this year's event! 2) I would like to thank @kmomof4​ for my beautiful artwork! 3) Thanks also goes to @kazoosandfannypacks​, my wonderful beta. 4) A last thank you to my friends Caroline, who acted as a second beta (a gamma?) and cheerleader for me during the writing process. 

This is my first attempt at fanfic, so please be nice. More notes at the end. Enjoy!

Here is the link for AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48275764

Everyone in the realm knows the stories of soulmates. Not everyone has them, but when you do, what happens to them happens to you as well. When they bleed, so do you. And once together, soulmates feel what the other feels emotionally, as well. Only the truest of soulmates feel each others’ emotions before ever meeting.

Crown Princess Emma of Misthaven was born of True Love: the truest of soulmates, Queen Snow White and King David. The story of their love is legendary, bringing the kingdom out of the darkness of the Evil Queen and into their benevolent reign. Emma knew her parents’ story before she knew anything else. She would tell all the people she met that she was born of True Love, the daughter of brave King David and fearless Queen Snow. She loved the life that, in her mind, was given to her by that same True Love.

The love only grew when Emma was five, and her little sister Ruth was born. Emma adored being a big sister. Everyone throughout the kingdom rejoiced, though there were those who worried that another girl had been born instead of a son to rule. Snow only ascended to the throne because of the lack of a direct male heir and her defeat of the Evil Queen. Snow and David had no such concerns about who would reign after them. They saw the light of leadership in Emma, especially after she started her lessons.

While, in other kingdoms, Emma’s peers learned to dance and paint, Emma learned how to wield a sword, strategize a battle, and ride astride a horse. She did her own dancing with her father, but she considered it fun, not lessons.

As with anyone, Emma had her troubles; she got caught sneaking sweets before dinner, sometimes she would be in a foul mood for no apparent reason, and she had the occasional nightmare. One night, however, six-year-old Emma woke with a terrible fright and was inconsolable. Ruby, her godmother who looked after her at night, ran to fetch the king and queen. 

David was first into the room, as Emma almost always asked for him. This time, Emma threw herself, not at David, but at Snow.

“I felt as though you were gone! As if I no longer had a mother.” 

Snow held her daughter close. It was the same feeling she had when she lost her own mother. 

Snow and Emma held each other, David watching his girls fondly. Never did it occur to him that this same thing happened to him the day Snow’s mother, Queen Eva, died.

The whole family wrote the night off as a bad dream, but Emma grew closer to her mother. Emma was so much like her father that she tended to spend any free time with him, whether in the stables or the study. They rode, strategized, and dueled. After that night, Emma seemed to split her time more evenly between her parents. She would sit with Snow and listen to Snow’s more elegant form of strategy: diplomacy. David was a fair hand at this as well, but Snow was raised for it. She solved problems with grace and ease, be them large between nations or small between subjects. Emma learned the importance of both negotiations and battle in lessons, but she did not understand it truly until she saw her mother in action. This time bonded the pair, and all because of a dream.

Once her brother Leopold was born, most of the kingdoms expected him to be raised as the heir to the throne. Emma was only eight at the time, but she knew she wanted to rule and serve Misthaven as their Queen. She had seen the good that comes from being queen and wanted to help her people the way her mother did. Snow and David, knowing Emma was wise beyond her years, sat her down and asked what she wanted. She told mother and father, “I want to be the Queen of Misthaven.”

There was no more need for discussion after that. Snow sent out a proclamation that, despite the birth of a male heir, Emma would remain the crown princess. Ruth and Leo would both receive the same education as Emma, but as second and third in line to the throne.

----

At the age of ten, it is very rare to know if you have a soulmate. Children, especially children as tough as Emma, find themselves having any number of bumps and bruises. Emma had no idea that she had a True Love, much like her parents had each other. 

As the next year of her life passed, Emma noticed some oddities. No matter how sedentary her day was, her feet always ached something fierce at the end of the night. She would be sitting in the study reading and feel as though she stubbed her toe. Her body sometimes ached with manual labor that it had never truly known. She also continued to feel the ache of her mother’s absence, even, on some occasions, in her mother’s presence.

But then, another heartache woke her from a peaceful dream. This time, she ran to her parents’ room. Her mother sat at the vanity, but her father was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Papa?” Emma said through her tears. Her mother tried to talk to her, but all Emma wanted at that moment was her father. Her heart was telling her that he left them. Snow held her daughter as she wept, having no other way to console her without David.

When David entered the chamber, Emma ran into his arms. “I thought you left. I awoke and my heart was just convinced you left us forever.”

David picked Emma up and walked her over to his armchair by the fire. His little girl was growing up much too fast, but King David was a strong man who would do anything to help Emma know he was there. “Emma, my darling princess, you know I would never leave this family. I love you all too much to ever leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Always. I will never leave you, my duckling.”

As father and daughter had their moment, Snow went to Ruby, who had followed Emma, and asked for hot chocolate with cinnamon to be brought up to the suite. 

As the family drank their special treat, David told his tale of a shepherd turned prince who fell in love with a princess turned bandit. Snow watched David, engrossed in his story, and Emma, slowly leeching comfort from her favorite parts. She knew how her poor daughter was feeling. The same thing had happened to her one night, only realizing years later that she was feeling David’s abandonment of his father leaving. Snow had an inkling of what was happening to her daughter. Part of her was thrilled that Emma would have a True Love of her own, but another part was sad. That part ached for the poor child who had already lost their mother, and was now abandoned by their father. She just hoped they were not alone.

Emma retreated in on herself for a week or so, staying with one parent or another whenever possible, and watching over her siblings when it wasn’t. Slowly, she came back to herself, but the feeling of abandonment still lingered, no matter how many times her father told her that she would be stuck with him for a good long while.

The Oddities, as Emma called her strange pains, got worse. The feeling of manual labor got worse, to the point where she would simply collapse into bed at night. For a few days, Emma was so nauseous she could only keep broth down. Granny, who ran the kitchens, made sure she had plenty and also kept her hydrated. Her parents worried, but the feeling passed in two days.

The final proof came two weeks after the abandonment started while Emma was dueling with her father. They used dulled blades and never to harm, always to disarm. Emma was moving in, gracefully making her father think he had the upper hand—when, all of the sudden, the princess collapsed, screaming in pain. 

David stood horrified for a split second before racing to his daughter’s aide. She had fallen to her knees, head on the ground. When David went to rub her back, she screamed as though he hit her. People began to surround the training ring, seeing what the commotion was about. Princess Emma kept screaming out in short bursts, jerking forward with every scream. 

David lifted her shoulders, getting Emma to put her arms around his neck as he carried her into the palace. They went into Snow’s study, knowing she was not using it at that time. Emma had felt at least twenty pains, each stinging more than the last.

A servant had gone to get the queen as soon as Emma collapsed. When Snow finally found them in the study, she was absolutely horrified. There sat her husband, silently crying as he held their little girl. Snow could only see Emma’s back, her favorite yellow dress streaked with blood.

“She just fell and started screaming,” David nearly whimpered to his wife, his voice hoarse through his tears.

Emma turned as much as she was able, looking for her mother. “Mama,” she whispered, voice weaker than David’s. Snow rushed to their side taking Emma’s hand in her own. “Why is this happening, Mama? What did I do…”

Snow cut her off, “Listen to me, my duckling. This is not your fault. We will find out what is happening, and we will put an end to it. We will do everything in our power to make sure this never happens again.”

-----

Snow and David rarely fought. They could usually discuss their disagreements until a compromise was reached. This seemed to be the only time in Emma’s memory when her parents were very obviously at odds. But every time Emma walked into a room the arguments went silent, remaining civil but frustrated with each other. They would not let her know what was going on.

Emma was worried. Ever since her mysterious injuries a week ago, everyone in the castle was on edge. People would whisper where they thought she couldn’t hear and stare where they thought she couldn’t see. Her parents’ argument started then as well, and Emma had come to the conclusion that the fight was about her. 

Exactly ten days after her injuries, Emma was walking past her mother’s study and heard her parents’ shouting. Emma was done with secrets, so she decided to listen at the door.

“What do you want me to do, David? Leave some child in this condition. All indications point to the fact that they were whipped. If Emma’s loss and abandonment were right, this child has already lost their mother and been abandoned by their father. They could be all alone. And you want me to do nothing!?”

“I never said I didn’t want anything done, I just don’t think enacting military power is the way to go here.”

“And I’m not saying have our armies storm our subjects’ homes! I just want to make it publically known that we will not condone the abusive treatment of others!”

Emma had heard enough. She opened the doors and her parents’ quieted down at once. “I would like to be brought into this conversation.” Emma kept her voice calm and collected, while radiating as much authority as an eight year old can over their parents.

David spoke first. “That just isn’t a good idea, Duckling–”

“If this argument that has been going on for almost a fortnight has to do with what happened to me, then I have every right to be involved in how this is decided.”

“I know you think that, but you are still so young–”

“If I am old enough to learn to rule a kingdom, shouldn’t I be old enough to have input on how we treat the abuse of my soulmate?” 

Her father wore a look of shock, but it was her mother’s face she was drawn to. Snow looked sad, But also proud. Her daughter was going to make a wonderful queen. 

“I figured it out after he took the beating. The only power that could do that is soulmates. I don’t want him to suffer, so if we have it in our power to do something about it, then we need to help. And not just my soulmate, but others who may be in the same position. Where do we stand on ideas?” 

Emma was leading negotiations just the way her mother taught her, which made David realize it was pointless to try to argue.

“I would like to place extra soldiers in towns and villages to do outreach. Let the people know that if they need help, the crown will be there for them.” Snow restated her intentions from the beginning of their argument.

David was on the verge of interrupting, but Emma held up a hand, and he held his tongue. 

“I also want to fund orphanages all throughout the kingdom so that children without families can be provided for.” This had been a project Snow had wanted to start for a while. The incident with Emma’s soulmate just made it seem more urgent.

Emma thought for a moment, and then turned to her father and nodded, giving him his chance.

“Putting more soldiers in villages will do nothing but scare people. I know we do our best to prove to our people that we are not Regina, but the Black Knights caused too much damage to people and land for soldiers to be seen in a good light so soon after their reign of terror. I don’t oppose the orphanages nearly as much, but how are we to make sure that the children are in any better hands there than on the streets?” This was the circular argument that Snow and David had been trapped in for days.

“And what of our ports?”

Snow looked at her daughter with a furrowed brow. “Why do you think anything needs to be done at our ports?”

“Remember several days ago, when I couldn’t leave my room because of nausea? I was dizzy and felt like the world was rocking. I think he might have been at sea during the storm that rolled in a few days later.” 

Both David and Snow looked at their daughter in awe. Her lessons were clearly paying off. She would make a great ruler one day.

Before either of her parents responded, Emma came to her own solution. “We should place extra soldiers and stricter guidelines on ships that come to port. Allow search and questioning of the crew, but never seizure of the cargo, unless that ‘cargo’ includes people, then they are freed.” She looked to her parents, who still looked surprised, but nodded their agreement. “The orphanages are also a good idea, but we should place guidelines on the orphanages allowing for inspections. I think we should make a committee of advisors with a special interest in the wellbeing of children. Perhaps led by Granny or Geppetto.”

Snow was the first to react, getting up to hug her daughter. “That is an amazing idea, Emma. I am so proud of you.”

David embraced his girls. His duckling was growing up, and as proud as it made him, he also worried about how much longer she would need her doting father. “You make me proud everyday Emma, but this might be a new record.”

-----

Ten years passed. Emma’s plan for the children of the kingdom has flourished. The children of the orphanages are well-provided for, educated in the orphanages and then going on to get apprenticeships in their towns. The ports have shut down any slave trade movement through Misthaven and ensured the safety of crews.

As for Emma, she has grown into an accomplished, beautiful, and intelligent woman. Many a nobleman have come to try to court her, but Emma shows no interest in them, preferring to focus on the needs of her people. Emma does outreach programs throughout the kingdom, going from village to village and meeting with her people. If there are problems to fix or disputes to be resolved, Emma helps in the few days she is there. She also spends time in the orphanages, meeting with the children and making sure that they are taken care of.

Of course, she now spends much of her time at the palace as well. She sits by her mother’s side, assisting with the Queen’s duties. On this particular morning, they meet with leading members of the military to receive reports of the ongoings in their peaceful kingdom. And tomorrow night there will be a ball to celebrate promotions throughout the military.

Currently speaking is Captain Liam Jones. He's a handsome man, tall with wavy brown hair and nice blue eyes. Tonight, he'll be promoted from captain to rear admiral. He is young for the position, just shy of thirty, but during his captaincy aboard the kingdom’s flag ship he has justly upheld their laws and helped spearhead some of the changes made to Emma’s plans for the ports.

If the story she'd heard was correct, Captain Jones was a new member of their navy when the child protection laws were first set in place. He and a few other top students of the Naval Academy were assigned to the ports some days for hands-on training. One of the ships that pulled into port was one his father was supposedly working on. When the ship came to port, the now Captain—then Ensign—Jones found out that his father had abandoned the crew, selling his much younger brother into service to the captain. From the stories Emma heard, Jones was quite a sight to behold that day. Initially he was justly in a rage, but he pulled himself together enough to cite the new rules of the kingdom. In accordance with the new rules of port, ships with slaves working on them, there was a fine heavier than most ships could ever pay, or they could release the slaves. As the story goes, the younger Jones became a cabin boy until he was of the age to join the navy himself. He will be promoted tonight to captain, quickly working his way through the ranks.

As the current Captain Jones finishes speaking to her mother, he moves back to the line of men reporting. As her mother dismisses the men, Emma stands and walks over to Captain Jones.

“Captain Jones, a quick word, if you will.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and he kneels in front of her. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Rise, Captain Jones.” The captain comes to his feet, looking worried. “There is no need for concern. I just wondered if your brother would be attending tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“He will, Your Royal Highness.” There's still a fretful edge to the captain’s voice.

“I would like to speak to the both of you then, if you don’t mind.” Emma is curious to hear the accounts of these two men. She often hears about the benefits of the orphanages, but would like to know more about the naval aspect of her project. These brothers would be useful, having been on both sides of the situation.

“If I may be so bold as to inquire what this will be in reference to?” Jones seems almost suspicious of his princess.

“It will just be some shop talk, I am afraid. I have heard your story and I would like to know more about it, especially in reference to the safety measures I helped put into place.”

Captain Jones looks offended at Emma’s interest. He glances around, seeing that the queen and king are waiting for their daughter at the royal entrance. In a low voice he hisses, “Listen, princess, your parents have been very good to my brother and me through some very difficult times in our lives. For that, I will be forever grateful. You, however, sit here in the castle and reap the benefits of their thoughts and actions. Indeed, you just called their plan yours. My brother has been through enough hardships to fill several lifetimes, and I will not add being the princess’s storymaker to the list.” Jones gives a harsh nod of his head and storms from the room.

Emma is astonished. Not only has no one ever spoken to her like that, but Emma has an excellent popularity rate throughout the kingdom. She tours once a year, meeting with those in need and doing her best to make sure that every citizen of their kingdom is provided for.

But Emma’s shock turns to anger quickly. Just who does this Jones think he is? She'd worked hard to do her best for the kingdom and he has the gall to act as though she just sat here being frivolous. She had worked hard through much of her youth to make this kingdom a safe haven for her people. And he just comes in here acting like she has no idea of the troubles of others.

Emma storms past her parents, who are trying to ascertain the meaning of her conversation with Jones. She has much she needs to do to prepare for tonight, setting a new plan in place.

-----

Emma’s wardrobe has always been more modest than those of her peers. She rarely even tried to keep up, anyways, preferring to work on ways to help her people. But there is another reason. 

Emma’s soulmate experience had been quickly quieted throughout the castle. As most everyone who saw the incident in the training ring were soldiers of the kingdom, the king had to only ask for them to keep silent. The servants that helped tend to Emma afterward were the most devoted in the castle, too loyal to the family and charmed by the princess herself to spread the secret. The fashion now is to wear dresses with one's shoulders exposed, the neckline cutting almost straight across. The gowns are beautiful, but they would expose Emma’s scars on her upper back from the beating that was given to someone else. And Emma never wanted anyone to know.

Until now.

Emma has decided to let the kingdom know about her motivations behind her actions over the past ten years. In the morning a personal statement of hers will be issued through the kingdom. Emma dictates it to Ruth this afternoon (Ruth’s handwriting is better than Emma’s anyway) while Emma is fitted for her new dress for the ball. Johanna, the palace seamstress, is a miracle worker to have modified the dress made in a little over eight hours, but she too has always been fond of Emma.

The new dress is a simple, red, long sleeve ball gown. The only embellishments are some gems around the neckline. Her hair is up in an elegant twist with a delicate crown placed atop her head. The back shows a bit of her upper back and her scars.

Emma meets her family on the landing above the throne room. There will be an hour of ceremony before dinner and then they will move through to the ballroom for socialization and dancing afterwards.

Leo is the first to see Emma coming down the hall. His mouth drops. Never has he seen Emma looking so much like a real princess. (He has just turned twelve, meaning he now has to come to some of these royal events.) “Wow Em,” is all he can say.

Snow, David, and Ruth turn to see Emma. Ruth beams, having seen the dress earlier while she was dictating Emma’s statement. Snow knew Emma planned on changing her dress, as well as the statement she wrote and the brief words she wants to say to the men tonight. Snow smiles at her eldest, holding back the bittersweetness of watching your child become an adult.

David is speechless. He did not know about the changes to the dress. His little girl stands before him, no longer the girl who told stories of True Love to everyone she met. Now, walking towards him is a woman, elegant and beautiful. “You are beautiful, my duckling.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Before anything else can be said, Leroy begins to introduce the royal family into the function. 

Leo and Ruth descend the staircase together. Emma, as the crown princess, follows alone, then comes the king and queen. The hall is full of military men, standing to attention for their monarchs in two lines on either side of the aisle from the stairs to the dais with the thrones. The three divisions of the military—Army, Navy, and Royal Guard—are sorted by rank instead of by branch of service. This is another of Emma’s ideas from a few years back, to promote unity between the branches, as to not show favoritism to any one branch in particular. The mens’ families are also invited, as are any visiting dignitaries, and the courtiers of Misthaven.

As the royal family proceeds to the dais, the servicemen stay at attention and the rest of the guests bow and curtsy as their hosts pass. As soon as heads rise behind the family, some eyes are caught on the silvery scars on the princess’ shoulders. Some of the guests cannot help but to start whispering their own version of how the crown princess of Misthaven got what appear to be whip marks on her back.

Each family member stands in front of their throne as they wait for the king and queen to make it to the dais. Leo and Ruth have the simplest, hardly more embellished than cushioned armchairs, to their mother’s left. Snow’s throne is in the center of the dais and is the most majestic of the set, though still modest by some royal standards. David sits to her right, as he is her right hand in all that they do, and although they rule as equals, David’s throne is a touch less grand than his wife’s. Emma’s is the last of the line, though the median in design. While her parents’ seats have silver and gold inlays and their cushions are of splendid fabrics, the wooden base to Emma’s has only a few details that differentiate it from her siblings. And the cushions are much closer to theirs as well, with a bit of golden thread embroidery to distinguish it from Ruth’s and Leo’s.

As they take their place, Snow steps forward to address the partygoers. “Welcome honored guests. Tonight we celebrate our military and, in particular, the men being promoted tonight. My daughter, Crown Princess Emma, would like to share some words.” Snow sits, shortly followed by David, Ruth, and Leo. Emma stays standing and addresses the crowd.

“As her majesty said, tonight we celebrate the men who protect Misthaven and keep us safe. My family and I hold these men in the highest regards, however, today was also an anniversary. It is ten years since the start of our initiative to make the children of Misthaven safer. The origin of this project has been speculated, but there has never been confirmation of our motivations. Was it my father’s humble start, my mother’s time on the run, or the birth of their children that put the idea in the mind of our gracious queen and king? Well, today the speculation can cease. I am here to set the issue to rest.

“As we all know, our two esteemed rulers share the truest of true love bonds. They are soulmates of the deepest nature, sharing feelings, both emotional and physical. A little over ten years ago, we received confirmation that I, too, have a soulmate. Although it should have been a joyous realization, it was dimmed in the cruel manner in which we found out. You see, my soulmate was whipped. And as we share our true love bond, I felt as he did that day.” 

The crowd murmurs in surprise at the princess’s revelation. Only the courtiers closest to the royal family, an extension of the family itself, had ever known what happened all those years ago.

“As you can see, I bear the marks from the horrendous encounter.” The princess turns, showing the marks that can be seen on her shoulders. After giving the crowd time to see her scars, Emma turns back to face the masses and continues, “I do not reveal this now to gain sympathy or praise. I have kept this to myself all these years, not out of shame, but out of devotion. My soulmate went through something awful, and I never wanted this to be the reason we were drawn together, the scars and shared pain. I wanted to find love without proof, not displaying our scars before everyone. Recent conversations have proven that not everyone understands my devotion though. Not only to my soulmate, but to the kingdom at large. The laws enacted a decade ago were my idea. I wanted to protect not only my true love but all the children of the realm. I obviously could not have done this without our gracious monarchs, but the solution evaded us until we came together as a group to combat the injustices that plagued the children. No solution is ever perfect, and we work to improve everyday. If you take nothing else from this story, please know that I share my parents' passion for improving the lives of our citizens. I cannot and will not sit back in my luxurious life and let our people suffer. I will strive to protect not only our children but all the citizens of the kingdom, including the military officers who are here tonight. So I will hand the ceremony back over to our benevolent queen, my mother Snow White.” 

Emma turns to her mother and curtsies, and Snow pulls her daughter into her arms before she can fully rise. “I am so proud of you, dear,” Snow whispers.

“Thank you, Mother,” Emma breathes back, releasing her mother to take her seat for the ceremony.

As the promotions are given, Emma thinks back to her speech, particularly the reaction of one rear admiral-to-be. The older Jones brother started the speech with the proper steady attentiveness that military men wear in formal situations. However, Emma had seen flashes of surprise and a return of the anger after she had shown her scars. His gaze had flickered between her and someone in the crowd of soldiers. It was not an encouraging sign, but Emma is not one to be deterred. She plans to speak to the newly promoted Rear Admiral Jones and see if she cannot find an amicable solution to their rift. The Jones men are rising fast through the naval ranks, which means that Emma will likely have to work with them for years to come. She does not want that to be a contentious relationship.

Emma is pulled from her thoughts as her mother promotes men to the rank of captain. The younger Jones brother, Killian, is called forward to receive his promotion, and Emma is stunned. Never before has she seen a man so… beautiful.

Killian Jones has dark hair, nearly black, cut short and styled back. His frame is long and lean, clearly honed from years at sea. But it is his eyes that catch Emma’ attention. They are the clearest blue she has ever seen. She remembers his brother’s eyes, and while the color is almost identical, something is different. The princess stares, trying to see what the difference is, but Killian Jones is already taking his place back in the masses. Throughout the rest of the ceremony, Emma strains to see Killian Jones again but is unable to through the crowd.

Dinner is slow. All Emma wants is to seek out the young captain, to speak to him. It is a feeling the princess has never felt, the need to seek someone out for no reason but desire.

After the feast, the crowd is shown into the ballroom by the staff. Once the throne room holds only the royal family, they bid Leo goodnight. (He will not attend a ball for a few years yet.) Leo is escorted upstairs by Granny, who says she is too old to attend a ball. But before Granny takes her leave, she hugs Emma, sharing her pride in the young woman she has become. As Granny is not one for displays of her affection, Emma is surprised by the old woman.

That hug from Granny is enough to knock Captain Jones from Emma’s mind until they enter the ballroom. The royal family is, once again, announced, and the king and queen open the ball with the first dance. When the music starts, Emma starts searching the gathered crowd for the newly minted captain. But before Emma can find the younger Jones, the older finds her. 

Rear Admiral Jones bows to the princess. “May I have this dance, Your Highness?”

Emma pauses for a moment, confused. However, she does know she needed to speak to this Jones as well, so she curtsies and accepts his hand. “Of course, Admiral Jones.”

They move to the dance floor and bow respectfully to each other. Neither of them speak as they start to dance, and Emma’s eyes start to scan the crowd again.

“Looking for my brother, Princess?” Rear Admiral Jones states, rather bluntly. His eyes, so similar in color to his brother, have a storm raging behind them.

“Why would you ever say that, Admiral?” Emma did not want to admit her curiosity to the older Jones brother, seeing as he already does not seem to like her.

“I find it curious that you knew of my brother’s story before meeting him, as you admitted yesterday. And then today, your timeline of your own true love story lines up conspicuously well with my brother’s unfortunate history. Why are you so fascinated with Killian?” The change in tone when he mentions her ‘true love’ indicates he does not believe a word she said.

The princess focuses all her attention on the admiral. “What do you mean by that? Your story is quite the legend in the town, and we are not as disconnected from our people as you seem to think we are. I had heard of you rescuing him from a ship not long after we passed the laws ensuring children’s safety. Just because it happened close together, I see no other links to my past and his. Furthermore, do you not believe that I sustained these scars through a soulmate bond? Why would I lie about such a rare and beautiful thing, and such a tragic experience on top of it?” Emma is proud of her ability to keep her voice level, though her agitation starts to peek through her tone towards the end of her inquiry.

“Is it not curious that soulmate bonds only appear within royalty? It seems to be a tactic to place them further above their people. As to how you got those scars, maybe you aren’t as perfect as you would have us commoners believe, or perhaps you had a strict governess. I don't really care how they happened. I care that you seem to be fixated on my brother. So, Princess, I ask again. Why Killian?”

“The stories of true love in royal couples spread because stories of royalty spread further than others, but I have seen true love in everyday life, and I am sorry that you have not. And I am sorry you do not believe my account of my life, but it did happen as I said. I still do not understand the connection to your brother, but as far as I am concerned, he is a good officer with an overprotective big brother. If you ask my younger siblings, they would say that is a curse, but I am sure it was seen as a blessing when you rescued him all those years ago. I will ask once more that you believe that I had no other ulterior motive to tell my story, other than to settle questions in the minds of our citizens who, like you, have their reservations about me as a ruler. I intend to do my best for this kingdom, and to do that, I need to have the belief of my people.”

The song ends and Emma steps away from the admiral, curtsying to leave, but, as Admiral Jones bows in return, he asks “You truly didn’t know that Killian was whipped about a month before I found him?”

Emma freezes on the dance floor and, as a new song starts up, she looks at Liam Jones. “A month?” That would mean…

“I could never get many details about the beating from Killian, but one of his crewmates told me a little about it. It happened a little more than a month before I found him, about three weeks before the child protection laws were in place. Your story may have happened around the same time.”

Standing in the middle of all the twirling couples, Emma and the admiral are in the way. She pulls him to the balcony as her head swims. Could it be…

“I just want to protect my brother. And I know you are right, I am overprotective. But after our father abandoned him, selling him to slavery, I just knew that I had to protect him. Even if it meant protecting him from the very royalty that saved him.”

“When?” Emma asks, starting to pace. She is now remembering a night long ago that had been burned into her memory. 

Admiral Jones looks confused. “I don’t understand, Your Highness.”

“When did your father leave?” Emma demands, putting more force in her tone than intended, but she needs to know. Is this why she cannot get the younger Jones out of her thoughts?

“He abandoned Killian two weeks before the beating.”

“And your mother? She died two years before that?”

“How could you possibly know…”

“Because I felt it. I woke one night with a terrible heartache and ran to my mother. I had the terrible feeling that she had died, and I needed to prove she was still there. That was my first time experiencing my soulmate’s emotions.” Emma cannot breathe. She moves to one of the benches near the railing of the balcony, letting the cool sea breeze calm her. Of all the ways to find her soulmate, she never imagined it would be during a fight with his brother.

In the shock of the moment, neither Admiral Jones nor the princess noticed someone joining them on the balcony. But as Princess Emma catches her breath, Admiral Jones turns to leave the princess to her thoughts and sees his brother standing by the doors in shock. He strides quickly to Killian, wanting to talk to him before the princess sees him.

Killian finds his voice before Liam reaches the doors. “Brother, what is going on out here?” It is quite the scene to walk into, his brother having a word with the crown princess of Misthaven, and that is not even the strangest part. From what Killian has overheard, Princess Emma felt it when their mother had died. That must mean she is the soulmate to either him or his brother. And Liam has never been whipped.

Emma looks up at the sound of Captain Jones’s voice. Their eyes lock and for a moment, Emma sees confusion in his sky blue eyes. She stands, watching his eyes for the illumination of clarity to shine through.

“Four years ago, did you cut your arm?” Killian asks, his right hand moving to his left forearm. Under his uniform there is a scar from an injury he could not remember sustaining. It was as if it appeared from nowhere.

“I was thrown from my horse as I rode through the woods. I cut my arm on a rock in the fall,” Emma whispers, almost timidly.

Liam stands, watching his brother realize what is happening. He knows he ought to leave, but he turns to the princess. Liam needs to see her reaction. The shyness in her voice throws him for a loop and he finally believes her. As his brother moves from the doorway, Liam Jones steps back into the ballroom, leaving Killian and the princess to talk.

Killian barely notices his brother leaving, but the sounds of the doors closing makes him snap back to reality a bit. He’s speaking to the crown princess and has not addressed her properly at all. He kneels before the princess, averting his eyes from the beauty that stands in front of him. “I apologize, Your Highness, for my bluntness earlier and the lack of proper address. You must understand the shock…”

Emma moves to stand right in front of the captain. “I do not need your apologies nor your formalities, Captain. Please stand.” As he does, the princess extends her hand. “I think, after all that has been revealed tonight, we should be properly introduced. I am Emma.”

Killian grasps Emma’s hand, keeping eye contact as he kisses it. “I am Captain Killian Jones, Your Highness.”

Emma smirks, “I thought I said we need no formalities. To you, I hope to always be Emma.”

Still in awe of what is happening, Killian flushes slightly at the thought of addressing the princess by her given name. “That may take some time to settle in, Princess. It feels awfully disrespectful to address royalty by their given name.”

Emma chuckles slightly, “I hope that you can come to think of me as more than just royalty.”

Killian scratches behind his ear, an old nervous habit. “I could never think of you as ‘just’ anything. It will be a journey, but one I am more than willing to embark upon.” 

For a moment, the princess and her captain stand on the balcony, looking into each other’s eyes, smiling at Killian’s sweet words and the thought of a future spent learning more about the other.

Killian takes a deep breath and says, “Would you care to dance, Emma?”

She responds with a smile that outshines all the stars. “With you, Killian, always.”

They walk back into the ballroom as they will do everything from now on: together.

Final Notes: So in my vision Emma's ballgown in the dress from the season 3 finale with a modified neckline so it is off the shoulders and would show the top of her scars. Also I do not like the ponytail look for Killian, so his hair is short and slicked back for the ceremony. I envisioned it like his hair at the wedding.

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 8/?

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! We just moved into a new house, and at first we didn't have internet. I also felt that every spare moment needed to be spent unpacking and getting the house all set up. I finally escaped to Barnes and Noble to write because I just can't do it at home right now! Anyways, I hope the contents of this chapter make it up to you. We're getting to the good stuff ;)

Is the situation Emma is in as a pregnant foster teen accurate? I really have no idea, but it's in the book Impossible that this is based on. I also have no idea if you can make a shirt like that. Again, I'm going by the book Impossible. I'm not following it exactly, but those two plot points were kind of important, so I left them in. Anyways, things are going to keep getting steamier from here on out, though our lovers are far from out of danger. Plus, we've still got Snow, David, and their kingdom out there somewhere, so hang on, folks! It's gonna be a romantic yet bumpy ride.

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious​

Chapter Eight:

The entire family jumped right in to help Emma solve the riddle that had defeated her mother. Liam dove back into every bit of research he had accumulated about the song Scarborough Fair. He and Ingrid met with the art professor he had mentioned who had done her dissertation on textiles. Elsa talked to the scientists on board ship and zoomed with the family every single day. Even Anna found her niche, taking Emma to the library and helping her check out every book available about pregnancy and childbirth. 

And Killian? He was the rock she could lean on. The one who made her smile or laugh just when things got too heavy. He also ran whatever errands he needed to: taking Emma to her first prenatal appointment, shopping for a long list of different types of fabrics at the craft store to make this impossible shirt, and going for a late night ice cream run when Emma’s cravings started. In some ways, nothing changed.

Yet his declaration of love still hung in the air. He hadn’t brought it up again, hadn’t treated her any differently, hadn’t asked her on a date or tried to get physical. He was giving her space to decide what she wanted, and it honestly was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. 

At the same time, Emma was confused. She had always loved Killian, of course. But was it romantic love? She could even admit she had been physically attracted to him at times, but did that mean she was in love with him? Did she even want something like that right now, when she was processing having a kid of all things and still healing from a violent rape? Did Killian fully understand what he would be getting himself into? Did she want to burden him with all her crap? 

She was just completely and utterly confused. 

Then, as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, Ingrid came home one day from work visibly shaken. The entire family stilled in the process of getting dinner on the table when they saw her standing in the kitchen, her face ashen. 

“What is it?” Liam asked, his voice filled with dread.

“Emma,” she said, her voice choking on her foster daughter’s name, “Liam and I need to talk to you. Immediately.”

Killian found Emma later, sobbing in her bed. When she poured it all out to him, he was livid. 

“This is absolute shit! I can’t believe they would do that!”

“They would, and they can,” Emma explained as she hugged her pillow to her torso. “Because I’m still technically in foster care, my baby automatically is, too.”

“They can’t just take it away from you!”

Emma shrugged. “Ingrid and Liam are no longer licensed to take in infants. I either have to find somewhere else to live, or my baby will be put in a different foster home.”

“Can’t they just get licensed?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s a year-long process of paperwork and visitations from social workers. I’m due in five months! Killian, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

She began to sob again, and when Killian eased into the bed next to her and put his arms around her, he could feel the small swell at her abdomen where her baby was growing. He felt a strong desire to protect them both. 

“We won’t let them take you or the baby away from us. We’re a family.”

“That’s what your brother said. Exactly.”

Killian chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“But Killian,” she choked out, “what happens if I don’t solve the riddle? I was comforted at least knowing my baby would be safe and raised by Ingrid and Liam, but now . . .”

She sobbed again against his chest, and he held her tight. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed. “You aren’t going to go mad, Emma, you won’t. We’ll solve this. All of it. Together.”

*************************************************************************

The only time Emma’s family ever used the formal dining room was on Thanksgiving. Someone always had to actually dust the table and air out the room, but Ingrid always insisted they “do Thanksgiving right,” even down to the old chipped china plates with the maple leaf border. 

So it felt odd to be in here now with the warm summer sun spilling through the window and shining on the ancient area rug. Assorted fabrics littered the table and a sewing mannequin stood in the corner, the headless and limbless torso sending an ominous shiver down Emma’s spine. 

“So this one is probably our best bet,” Ingrid explained. 

She cradled the bundle of scratchy, thick fabric and held it out to Emma who reached out and ran her hand over the coarse woolen felt. 

“That feels like it would make the most uncomfortable shirt in the history of the world.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Does it really matter? You wet this fabric, mold it to that torso over there, and according to Dr. Freemont, when it dries, it will hold together.”

Emma took the fabric and nodded. “So then we have it. A shirt made without needle or seam.”

“Who’s gonna wear it, though?”

Ingrid and Emma whirled around at the sound of Killian’s voice. Emma’s mouth went dry immediately. He stood there, his hair wet with sweat, and his chest bare. Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. She used to think chest hair was gross. She was wrong. Killian’s was thick and dark, and it set her pulse pounding. Realizing just how long she’d been ogling him, she dragged her gaze up to his face. He gave her a knowing grin as he lifted a carton of milk to his mouth and took a swig. 

“Where the hell is your shirt?” Emma snapped.

“Where the hell is your glass,” Ingrid added drily. “You’re not the only one who might like some milk, you know.”

“I just got home from work, and I’m hot,” Killian responded, as if that explained everything.

Emma tried really, really hard not to think of the other connotation of the word hot, but she was failing. Killian hadn’t brought up his declaration since that fateful dinner last week, and Emma was still trying to process it. Yet ever since, she was hyper aware of Killian’s presence. 

His lack of a shirt didn’t help, either. 

“Pour that milk in a glass, Killian, I’m not kidding,” Ingrid said in her rarely used mom voice. 

“Sure,” Killian said, sauntering back towards the kitchen. He gave Emma one more backwards glance with a delighted smirk on his face. Emma’s face heated several degrees. 

“I think I know what he means, though,” Ingrid sighed.

“What?” Emma asked, her head still a little fuzzy.

“Is it really a shirt unless someone actually wears it?” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “So have someone wear it.”

“I’ll do it.”

They whirled back around to find Killian standing in the doorway again. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of Oreos in the other. He still hadn’t donned a shirt. Emma found herself staring again, admiring the way a summer working in construction had toned his muscles. She dropped the fabric she’d been clutching in her hands and swore under her breath as it rolled across the floor. Killian smirked at her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap it off his face or kiss him senseless. 

“Well,” Ingrid said, seemingly oblivious to the sexual tension in the room, “if Killian’s going to wear it, then that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why?” Emma and Killian asked simultaneously. He had stepped further into the room, and his close proximity almost made Emma lose hold of the fabric she’d just stooped to pick up. 

“Well, if we mold the shirt to that torso over there, and it dries, I don’t think it will fit him.”

“So measure me,” Killian said, taking a bite of a cookie. His back was to Emma now as he addressed Ingrid, and it was just as distracting as the front of him. He had freckles across his shoulders, and a few along the small of his back. 

“That won’t work.” Ingrid shook her head. “The fabric doesn’t work that way. Not if we’re trying to make it without needle or seam. We’ll have to mold it to your body.”

Emma gave a little squeak at Ingrid’s words and nearly dropped the fabric all over again. To Killian’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

“What would that entail?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his milk. 

“I’m not sure,” Ingrid mused, tapping her finger on her chin. 

Silence fell for a moment, the only sounds from Killian snacking on his milk and cookies. Then Ingrid suddenly clapped her hands together. 

“I’ve got it! Duct tape!”

Killian’s eyes widened. “If you wrap me in duct tape, you’ll never get it off. Not without taking my skin with it.”

“You could wear a shirt,” Emma said. 

“You made that clear already,” Killian smirked at her. “I told you, I’m hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean for the duct tape. You wear a white undershirt, I wrap it in tape, then I can put the shirt, molded to your torso, on the mannequin. Then I make the shirt.”

“You’d need to be wearing the shirt when she tapes it,” Ingrid clarified. 

“I figured that,” Killian nodded.

Emma’s throat went suddenly dry. She’d have to put her hands on his body. She’d have to be in extremely close proximity to him. She was equal parts giddy at the thought and terrified. She was light-headed just thinking about it. 

“Perfect,” Killian announced with a grin. “When do we start?”

Emma wanted to ask Ingrid if she would do it for her, but she couldn’t risk that. The riddle implied that Emma had to make the shirt herself. She steeled herself and turned to Killian. 

“Shower so you don’t stink, and then we’ll get to work.”

“As you wish,” he told her with a mock bow before he turned from the room.

Ingrid, still oblivious to the fact that Emma was practically swooning and trembling simultaneously, turned away from the dining room table and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair. 

“Since you’ve got this under control, I’ll head to the supermarket. Anything you need?”

Slightly dazed, Emma managed to shake her head “no.”

“Great, I’ll see you kids later.”

In the kitchen, Killian rinsed his dirty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. He hadn’t pressed Emma in any way since his declaration. Whether she shared his feelings or not, he’d told himself, he would still be there for her. Yet the way she’d reacted to him just now gave him hope. Maybe he would win her heart after all. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Sit right here,” Emma instructed, pointing to the dinner room chair directly in front of her. Killian obeyed, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t hold teasing as she’d expected. They were tender and vulnerable. Emma swallowed nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“You’re holding that roll of tape so hard, your knuckles are turning white.”

Emma scowled at him and pulled a long strip of tape from the roll. He blanched, and she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she told him. 

He swallowed, and she followed the motion of his adam’s apple. She licked her lips as she drew closer, touching his arm gently as she raised it.

 “I’ll start with the sleeves,” she explained unnecessarily. 

She had to slip her fingers beneath the fabric to make sure she didn’t accidentally tape his skin. She thought she heard an intake of breath from his throat as her fingers skimmed his bicep, but maybe she’d imagined it. She wound the tape around and around the sleeve of his shirt, but when she began to wrap it around his shoulder blade, she had to step closer to him. He spread his legs to allow it, and she leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his collarbone. The sharpness of breath this time was impossible to ignore. She paused and locked eyes with him - he face was so close to hers . . . 

“Did I hurt you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, so she continued. Was his breathing becoming shallow, or was that her? Was that his heart thumping so fast, or her own? When she wrapped the tape around his chest, she could feel a “thump, thump” beneath her palm. 

“Um, Emma, give me a second.”

Killian grabbed a throw pillow from the wingback chair in the corner of the dining room then resumed his seat. He clutched the pillow in his lap, and his face flamed all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed softly. 

Killian swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Emma said, her own cheeks warm. 

“I just don’t want to freak you out . . . or scare you or anything. You know, because . . . because of him.”

Emma shook her head, tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks where they fell from the messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip as she got lost in his eyes; darker than usual and stormy. She stepped close again, between his legs, and she almost laughed when he clutched the pillow tighter. 

  “Emma,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut. 

“I’m glad,” she said, her own voice deep and trembling, “that I have that effect on you.”

“You do?” 

He opened his eyes, and she nodded. Her hands shook as she lifted them and rested them upon his temples. She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He tipped his head back and watched her intently. She thought of him the other night, stating so matter-of-factly that he loved her. He had said it as something unshakable and infallible. Something as predictable and steady as the seasons. Then they had gone on as they always had, with no demands that she respond to his declaration in any way. 

“And you could never scare me, Killian,” she clarified. 

Then, suddenly, she was kissing him. She was kissing Killian in the middle of the dining room. His torso was half wrapped in duct tape, he was helping her make this crazy, ridiculous, magical shirt . . . 

And she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. He was kissing her back after declaring his love for her at the kitchen table. He was kissing her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, even though she hadn’t said it back.  Or maybe it didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure. After all, this was only the second boy she’d ever kissed. But no, she wasn’t going to think about that or him. Not when Killian was kissing her within an inch of her life.

The pillow he was clutching fell to the floor when he wrapped his arms around her, and Emma could feel his arousal through his jeans and pressing into her. For a split second, fear tried to grab hold of her, but it was banished quickly. He wouldn’t just take her; he wasn’t like that. 

Killian pulled away, and Emma was shocked to hear a whimper slip past her lips, especially when he stood up from the chair and took a step back. Why was he pulling away, when they - oh.

He was sinking down on one knee, and she suddenly wondered if she were dreaming. It all felt so surreal, and he was still half wrapped in duct tape. Maybe Snow had whacked her in the head with one of those bottles after all, and all this time she’d been in a coma at the hospital. It would explain so much, honestly. 

“Emma,” he said, (and were those tears gathering in his eyes?), “I know this is a lot to ask of you, since you haven’t even told me yet how you feel about me. And this is something I think I always knew I would do eventually, just not now.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and continuing. His words reverberated in her soul, and she knew he was right, they were always going to arrive here, somehow. She knew it the same way she knew her own reflection. 

“But with everything going on, I don’t want to wait. I know you face an uncertain future, Emma, but I always want to be by your side. So, will you marry me?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, but plunged ahead. “It makes so much sense, if you think about it. I mean, we’re going to break this curse, Emma, we will. We won’t give up, ever. But, I know you worry, and if I’m your husband, you won’t have to. You’ll know I’ll be there for the baby. It will be mine, legally. It won’t end up in foster care. Not that anything’s going to happen to you, I swear to you it won’t, but if I can ease your burden . . .”

He trailed off, and Emma sank to her knees right along with him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. 

“And if I do go insane -”

“You won’t!”

“But if we don’t break the curse . . .”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said solemnly, “always and forever.”

It would be selfish of her, she knew that it would, to ask that of him. Nevertheless, his vow felt like the sun breaking through the darkest of clouds, and she knew she couldn’t refuse his gift. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, then his arms, and she clasped his hands tightly in hers. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t, she discovered, difficult to say. It was just so true, so undeniable, like how she knew the sun would come up each morning. His smile was bright and blinding, and she smiled too at the sight of his dimples. They had been so rare lately. 

“Does that mean yes?” he asked her teasingly. 

A tear slipped down her face, and she found she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and he understood. Everyone would say they were crazy, of course. He was nineteen, and she was seventeen. It was absolutely insane. Ingrid and Liam wouldn’t like it, she was sure, but she also knew they wouldn’t stop them.

 He dried her tears with his thumb, then traced her lips before kissing her tenderly. The kiss continued as they clung to one another in blissful, shining faith and hope. In that moment, she believed him: They would break the curse. 

Emma and Killian were so wrapped up in one another, they didn’t notice the slight shaking of the house or the rainbow colored light that swept through the room. 

**************************************************

It wasn’t the first time Robert Gold had entered the Swan/Jones home when the family was gone. He had explored every nook and cranny, flipped through photographs, smelled their clothes. He knew this family; every weakness to be exploited had been sifted and examined. 

Yet the house had never protested like it did today, and when he turned towards the dining room, he could clearly see why. 

It was a shirt. Hideous, smelly, and dripping wet, but a shirt nonetheless. When it dried, it could even be worn. 

“Well, well, well,” he muttered, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Almost immediately, he recoiled, the shirt burning him before he’d even grazed it. Magic radiated from it. The glamor spell he always wore faded, and his hands turned a scaly green, nails yellowed and gnarled at each finger tip. It wasn’t just the shirt, he realized. The entire dining room reeked with the magic, and he was in pain from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. 

“Of course you’re in pain, Dark One.”

He writhed on the ground and cried out as a much younger face pulled away from his ancient, twisted one. 

“Stop fighting me!”

“I’m doing all this for you, son!”

“Are you, Papa?”

“I got her for you, didn’t I?”

“But I can’t keep her!”

The Dark One could no longer hold onto the shared body, and the younger man stood to his feet, opened the front door, and walked out onto the sidewalk. Neal Cassidy was the name he preferred in this realm, a name that Rumplestiltskin hated. Baelfire was his name: a strong, powerful name.

“Oh Papa,” Baelfire - Neal - whispered, “settle down and cooperate.”

“You know I’ll take over again eventually.”

Neal didn’t argue. Instead he clenched his jaw and gritted his next words through his teeth. 

“This won’t work forever. You’re losing, and you know it.”

“They only finished the first task. They’ll never complete the rest. Not in time, anyway.”

“But that magic - you know exactly what that was.”

Ah yes, he did. True love. He wasn’t worried. The Dark One had defeated true love before, and he would do it again.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Very very dumb Bleach AU idea where Ichigo(at full power basically soul king level) goes back in time to fix everything ends up way further back like young captain commander time, he's able to fully kill Yhwach and prevent him doing anything at all, no sleep no future quincy war, he also gets involved in making soul society...more so just vetoing anything like central 46 because nothing involving them ended well, and should make things easier and less likely for anyone to manipulate.

He travels around for a bit making sure everything settled and no other persons gonna try to take over the world before not really knowing what to do... when he next checks in on soul society gotei 13's all established and everything seems to be going well, but when he checks in on captain commander he's like 'Well we need someone in charge'

'Isn't that you old man?'

'I can't be fully in charge of all of soul society I run the gotei 13... no we need someone else to run soul society'

'...'

'...no'

Ichigo is now on the run from all the captains who are trying to get him to take over things because a) he's insanely powerful b) he's actually good and not corrupted and will actually care about people and not just the nobles c) He has common sense.

'DON'T YOU HAVE THE SOUL KING FOR THIS?'

'Ichigo I am still convinced you are the soul king'

'I'm not!'

'You haven't aged a single day in the hundreds of years i've known you and you literally bitch slapped Ywatch into oblivion, you also seem to have all the powers..ALL OF THEM'

'...I...I...I mean your wrong... bit I do get it'

And this goes on for centuries Ichigo tying very hard not to have to rule soul society and convince people he isn't the soul king. Only her keeps ending up doing this because he keeps ending up adopting younger versions of captains and others. (It started with the captain commander sending little Jushiro, Kyoraku and a tiny feral Unohana to stop Ichigo he just went big brother mode... he is the one person Unohana will listen to and not try to murder...well when she tries to murder him it's more a game then an actually murder attempt)

Just Ichigo who ends up being big brother to like all of Seireitei, he doesn't age at all but even when the others get older them him still totally see him as their big brother. Him always having at least one or two following him around like ducklings.

Some hollows figuring out how to evolve to arrancar naturally... Ichigo was in Hucheo mundo for a while and his weird reality breaking powers might have affected things. Shinigami are totally chill with them because all of them have seen these types of hollow powers before most grew up seeing Ichigo use them casually. (Also Unohana wants to fight them)

Well until Grimmjow shows up and him and Ichigo are fight flirting just being very weird and all of seretiei are ready to give a shovel talk. Captain meetings are them plotting 'Big brother can do way better'. Captain commander is just watching all this amused.

(None of them realize Grimmjow thought process is

'Wait if I date Kurosaki I get to fight all of them... OI KUROSAKI WE'RE DATING NOW!'

'...WAIT WHAT?')

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Planes, Love, & Rock ‘n Roll 🎸🩶| Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic)

📨 = requested works | TGM Main Masterlist

Content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. | Female!reader (she/her)

Series Summary 🩶: The Dagger Squad didn’t know much about their former instructor turned friend, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Only Rooster had insight on all there was when it came to the famous pilot, and his love life certainly fell into that. When the squad shows up unannounced to Maverick’s San Diego home for his birthday weekend, they are greeted with the shock of the lifetime when it’s revealed Maverick’s lady once ruled the radio of the decade they were born in. And what better way for them to properly meet one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist than by attending the bands reunion concert that night.

Imagines:

It's A Long Way To The Top

The Rockstar, Her Husband, & Their Dagger Ducklings

The Daughter of Rock 'N Roll 📨

The Romantics 📨

Memory Lane 📨

Social Media AU:

Part 1

[paintbrushnebula]

Have you ever thought about making a Ghostflower Tangled AU? Because I can't stop thinking about Miles with 70 feet of blonde dreads, and Gwen's failed smolder and begrudgingly guiding Miles to see the lanterns. It just works so well in my brain.

Hi! YOU! YES YOU! You've got my number! Because I LIVE for Ghostflower x New Dream. Gosh, I live for Spider-Verse x Tangled, period! I've had it rotating in my brain for about a year now, although I guess I've never really talked at length about it or shared any of my ideas for a proper Spider-Verse x Tangled AU, have I?

I was a little embarrassed before, if I'm being honest 😅. But if y'all wanna indulge me, THEN HYYYES IMMA WAX POETICALLY ABOUT THIS AU TILL THE END OF TIME AND SPACE.

Rapunzel - Miles Morales Eugene Fitzherbert/Flynn Rider - Gwen Stacy/Ghost Spider Mother Gothel - Olivia Octavius Captain of the Guard - George Stacy King Frederic - Jeff Morales/King Jefferson Queen Arianna - Rio Morales/Queen Rio The Stabbington Brothers - Tombstone and Ben Reilly/Scarlet Spider Maximus - Widow (Web-Slinger’s horse) The Snuggly Duckling Pub Thugs - The Sinister Six (they’re soft-confirmed to appear in Beyond the Spider-Verse after all) Pascal - isn’t in this AU.

So the overall plot of Tangled remains relatively the same, with the cast of Spider-Verse implemented into it, of course.

18 years ago, King Jefferson used the sundrop flower to heal the dying pregnant Queen Rio of Corona. Prince Miles is born with golden, ultra kinky 4c hair and magical healing powers, gets kidnapped by Mother Olivia, locked away in a tower deep in the woods, the whole shebang.

Now, Gwen Stacy is the secret identity of masked legendary thief Ghost Spider, currently a respected, high-ranking member of the Spider Society, a crime syndicate run by The Kingpin in the neighboring kingdom of Vardaros, the most powerful in the Seven Kingdoms due to its members' all wearing masks that hide their faces, rendering their identities completely unknown to anyone and impossible for any law enforcement to track them down. Recently, Ghost Spider has been commissioned by The Kingpin to steal the Lost Prince of Corona's crown from the palace.

So Ghost Spider has been on the run for years from the Captain of the Coronan Guard, Captain George Stacy, her father, who has no idea the masked thief he's hunting is his own daughter.

And don’t think I haven’t thought about the TV series exclusive characters!

Cassandra - Lyla (you have no idea how happy I was when I came up with that) Lance Strongbow - Hobie Brown/Rebel Spider Kiera and Catalina - Peni Parker and Margo Kess (they’re not kids in this though) Uncle Monty - Aunt May Varian - Miles G. Quirin - Aaron Davis Adira - Jessica Drew Hector - Miguel O’Hara The Baron - Kingpin (obv) Anthony the Weasel - Web-Slinger Baron’s Henchmen - Spider Society Lord Demanitus - Peter B. Parker King Edmund - Spider-Noir/King Benjamin Hamuel - Spider-Ham/Hamuel (he’s not called “Spider-Ham” ofc but he is still a talking anthropomorphic pig in this) Zhan Tiri - The Spot

Your concepts about Miles with golden dreads, Gwen's smolder, her taking him to see the LANTERNS OOHHHHHHH yeah imma just have to draw all that, sorry. Talking about it aint enough. Expect a buncha Tangled x Spiderverse fanart to be flooding my blog soon XD

[snowbellewells]

@the-darkdragonfly Oh my goodness!!! 💖💕💖 Just a little teaser, and I can already tell how much I am going to love this one. The melancholy that she can’t claim him as her True Love before one and all and have him standing at her side always is palpable, and yet I still love how you’ve made it clear they’ve built something beautiful, warm, and comforting between them despite the obstacles. My heart aches for both of them, but it swelled too at the love you felt between them as she remembered receiving the swan pendant. His reasoning that swans mated for lift and her assurance that it suits perfectly were wonderfully priceless. I can’t wait to read this full work!!!

WIP Wednesday: Fine Line - A Captain Duckling Tale

Here is a small sneak peek of the Tale that will be going live in celebration of my darling bestie's birthday. Happy 12 days and counting @elizabeethan !!!! I tried to write PWP, but it caught feelings, then it... developed angst... #sorrynotsorry

♥️♥️♥️

The lantern on the mantle had burned down several inches since it had been lit, her gaze wandering to the window, at the sea spreading out before her, the sails she waited for, yearned desperately for, still missing from the horizon. He wasn’t coming.

The chambermaid had asked her what was the matter, twittering and twitching and rubbing against Emma’s last unfrayed nerve- nothing is the matter, thank you, that will be all- the need to be alone and heartbroken thick in her veins. He was going to miss her birthday. 

It wasn’t as if he would have been able to celebrate properly with her anyway, but for the last three years, his ship has sat in the harbour as he waited for her in the room above the quiet tavern which was as much theirs as her room at the castle was hers. She’d always gone to him. 

But the Jolly was still absent, the errand he had needed to undertake- I’ll be back before you can miss me, love- was taking far longer than she had expected- not possible, Captain, I miss you already- and her heart ached with the grief of knowing what they could never be. 

Her parents worried for her, she could feel it in their gaze, the set of her mothers shoulders and the way her fathers voice would become a forced light thing- you’ll find someone, Emma, they’re out there somewhere- whenever they spoke to her of the future and love and everything she had already found in a man she couldn’t keep. 

That’s very pretty- her mother had touched the necklace at her throat, a delicate chain with a small swan encrusted with diamonds which sat at the base of the neck. A Hogmanay gift from Killian months before, she’d worn it everyday, safely tucked beneath the layers of her winter dresses. But spring had broken into the world, and the small swan glistened in the light of the sun, hidden no longer. 

She’d smiled, a sad secret sort of smile- it was from a friend- and the question which had been poised on the tip of her mother’s tongue, the one of happiness and True Love, died as she watched the slip of sadness overtake her daughter’s eyes. 

He’d slipped the chain over her head, a kiss pressed against the column of her spine before securing the gift around her throat- it reminded me of you, love- her fingers rising to encircle the small pendant, head turning slightly to catch his gaze in the warm light of the fire he had stoked before joining her in bed- a swan?- her question a whisper in the dark. He’d nodded, eyes serious. They mate for life- she traced her fingers down the side of his face, the scratch of his beard rough under her nails. He’d nodded again, the twitch of his jaw telling of anxiety and fear. 

“It’s perfect,” she’d kissed him, pulling him down into the safety of the nest they had built together. 

The necklace sat at her neck over the years, the weight of it a constant presence in her life when he could not be. 

♥️♥️♥️

Coming January 16th, 2023

Read my other stuff.

Tagging:

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @batana54 @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @zaharadessert @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @jlsadphoenix @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @last-tsarina @lfh1226-linda @hookedmom @yikes-00 @midnightsuki @paradiselady19

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Law of Surprise (1/3)

Summary: The Law of Surprise: a custom as old as humanity itself. The Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his savior a boon whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In most cases, the boon takes the form of the saved man's firstborn child, conceived or born without the father's knowledge.

A/N: This is NOT a Witcher AU. Want to make that clear from the get go. The idea for this fic WAS inspired by the show, however. I’m not sure if the Law of Surprise was a show/game creation or if it existed before. Regardless, this fic is my spin on the concept and will be posted in three parts.

Much love and thanks to the @cssns mods for keeping this event going year after year! A HUGE shout out to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the AMAZING pieces she made to accompany my fic. Go give her ALL the flails! Finally, all the hot chocolate, rum, and grilled cheese sandwiches for my amazing betas @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. LOVE YOU LADIES TO BITS!

Rated T (for now) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One

Smoke billowed from the hull, choking the air as steel clanged around them. Shouts and screams echoed across the deck that was coming apart beneath their feet.

“The King! We must save the King!” Liam bellowed over the melee, dispatching a man who, up until a few days ago, had been one of their brothers-at-arms. No sooner had the man’s body hit the boards than another rushed forward to take his place, challenging the traitorous sea captain whom they had expected to aid them in their mission, not take up arms against them.

“Brother!” Killian cried out, moving through the throng towards Liam with slashes of his cutlass clearing the way.

“The King!” Liam commanded once more. “Get to the King! That’s an order!”

Killian’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and he swallowed past the instinct to ignore such an order. Notes of black powder, brine, and blood filled his sinuses as he took in a fortifying breath and turned away from his captain in search of His Majesty King David. Through the soot laced plumes, the dying breaths of a ship that would soon find itself on the bottom of the sea, Killian could see King David fending off multiple assailants with sword skills that had become legend. Movement through the swirls of ash caught Killian’s attention and his stomach dropped. Lurking behind the King was an unseen assassin, and Killian had but a few seconds to launch himself between his would-be sovereign and certain death.

The force of their meeting blades jarred Killian, but he held firm. Applying a few less than savory tactics to give him the upper hand, he made quick work of the assassin then threw himself into the fray, defending the King as they fought side by side until the remaining adversaries lay dead.

“Y-You,” King David panted, his chest and shoulders heaving from his exertions as he tried to catch his breath. “You serve my… my father, King George.”

“Not any longer, Your Majesty,” Killian told him. “Once we learned of George’s treachery against Queen Snow, we could not stand idly by and accept such orders.”

“We?”

“My brother, Captain Liam Jones, and those of us who chose to follow good form rather than betray a treaty made in good faith.”

“Lieutenant!” one of their men shouted. “Captain says we must abandon ship at once!”

“Too right!” Killian called out, grasping the King by the arm. “Time to go, Your Majesty.”

The planks they’d used to board the crippled vessel were just coming into view when the ship lurched and began to list violently. Grabbing onto the rigging, Killian prompted King David to hoist himself up onto the gunwale.

“Here!” Killian shouted, forcing a length of rope into the King’s hands. “Take this and swing over. Our men will catch you!”

“What about you?”

“There’s no time! You must go, Your Majesty. Now!”

When the King attempted to voice his protest once more, Killian gave him a firm shove, forcing him to cling tightly to the rope as his feet lost purchase with the side of the ship. The sight of the King being hauled to safety was the last thing Killian saw before the deck beneath him gave way. Agony ripped through his wrist where the rigging was still wrapped around it. The weight of his body and the vicious twisting of the rope as it held to the cleats it was knotted upon effectively severed his hand, dropping it into the flood waters below with a sickening splash that preceded the rest of Killian’s body as he desperately tried, and failed, to grab onto the railing with his remaining hand.

Sea water filled his mouth, still open from his screams of pain, and forced its way down his throat. Panicked, he reached out, hoping against hope to make his way out of the collapsing hull, determined it would not become his tomb. Through the vanishing streaks of sunlight, Killian watched in horror as crimson began to surround him. His own blood, freely flowing from the shredded remains of his wrist, colored the frigid waters as his consciousness started to wane and black threatened to overtake red. Something brushed his side, and with the last vestiges of his strength and wits, Killian noted it was a barrel, still sealed and buoyant, making its way back towards the surface with the line and hook that had once secured it within the hold still attached. Scrambling, he secured the hook to the straps crisscrossing the front of his uniform and prayed the sea would not yet claim him, giving into the oblivion that was proving too much to overcome.

~/~

The room was still. Too still. And bright with sunlight. The serenade of cooing songbirds, the swishing of skirts, and the flutter of wings too big to belong to the nesting swallows were within earshot.

Killian groaned and willed his eyes to open, though he had to squint past the assault of the sunbeams streaking in from the windows. Just as he’d deduced while coming out of his stupor, he was no longer on a ship, but in a stone room with many windows and a number of cots filled with others who, like him, were suffering from a variety of injuries. Killian had almost gotten up the courage to inspect his own grave wound when a shifting presence seated at his bedside snapped his attention to the person keeping vigil.

“Y-Your Majesty?” Killian croaked, stunned by the fact Queen Snow would be the one in attendance at his sick bed. “What? How?”

“Shh,” Her Majesty soothed, waving one of the healers over. “You have been unconscious for some time.”

“Surely you have not been at my side this entire time.”

The Queen chuckled. “No. Your brother and I have been taking it in turns.”

“Why on earth would you--”

“You saved my husband’s life. Ensuring you survived your injury seemed like the least I could do.”

His injury. His hand. Killian clenched his eyes tightly and swallowed back the bile his anxiety was threatening to send up his throat. The Queen took his remaining hand and leaned in to softly murmur words of comfort into his ear.

“The fairies did all they could, but with your hand lost to the sea they could not…” She paused, her voice strained and filled with compassion as he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head so he could take in the bandage wrapped remnants of his left arm. “You had already succumbed to fever by the time the ship returned, and while their magic was able to tend to the wound, the trauma you sustained made it difficult for them to apply the full measure of their powers. Now that you are awake, you can begin to…” Again, her voice trailed off, most likely distressed by the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. “Lieutenant, look at me,” she insisted, squeezing his hand a bit tighter until he complied. “You will survive this. Your brother tells me there is none as resourceful or as a stubborn as his little brother, so I know you will manage to adjust in time, and with the fairies aiding you in your convalescence--”

“Younger,” Killian choked out, a sob catching in the back of his throat. When the Queen’s brow pinched together, her head tilting in perplexity to his response, he clarified, “Liam knows I abhor being referred to as his little brother. I prefer younger.”

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips - lips as red as roses, or so it had been said in the tales chronicling her and the King’s storied love - and the corners of her eyes crinkled affectionately as she yielded, “Younger.”

“Your Majesty,” the young fairy she had waved over when he’d first awakened timidly interjected. “I should tend to Lieutenant Jones now. Would you also like me to send word to Captain Jones--”

“No, I shall inform him,” the Queen replied. With a sigh she stood from her seat and allowed the fairy nurse to take her place. “See that you comply with everything they request of you,” she commanded Killian, her gaze turning regal and unrelenting until he nodded his agreement. “Good,” she said with a warm smile, one that tilted further upwards into a teasing smirk as she vowed, “I promise to look back in after Captain Jones has had his chance to fuss over you.”

“Perhaps your fairies ought to put me out of my misery now,” Killian groaned, the prospect of Liam hovering by his bedside, relentlessly questioning the fairies’ work while issuing his own commands of healing and restoration upon his little brother making him wish for the sweet abyss of sleep once more.

~/~

It had been the rumors of poisoning that had first started the brothers Jones to question their allegiance to King George. Whispers of a treachery that would ensure Queen Snow’s line ended with her had begun to spread and with it, the suspicion of their King’s true character. Killian had suggested King George might not be the noble and just ruler they had first thought when signing on with His Majesty’s Navy after being freed from indenture when the ship they served sank in a storm, but Liam would not hear such slander. It was not until the rumor had been confirmed by Lancelot, a soldier turned traitor they had been tasked with capturing, that Liam finally accepted that which Killian had tried to convince him.

King George had poisoned Snow White. Cursed her during his toast at the wedding that was supposed to unite their two kingdoms - an added benefit to the true love she’d found with George’s son, Prince David. It was not love, either for his son or new daughter-in-law, that filled the King’s heart that day, though. George had wanted revenge, he wanted to punish them both for going against his wishes, for robbing him of a union with a more prosperous kingdom, so he had Snow’s goblet dosed with a potion that rendered her barren and unable to produce an heir, a fact he revealed to them after he’d returned to his own kingdom, thereby nullifying the treaty they’d made in good faith before the wedding.

Lancelot had not only provided them with the truth about their King, but confided in them his knowledge of a plot the sovereign had conspired against his own son. The newly crowned Misthavian King’s life was in danger. Before George had dispatched Liam’s crew to go after Lancelot, he’d commissioned another ship to lay in wait, sure that King David would sail to confront his father about what he had done. Their orders were to waylay King David’s vessel and see to it the ship went down… with no survivors.

Without a moment to spare, the brothers Jones had rallied their men, calling upon them to reject the traitorous King and instead take up arms in the service of the noble King David, and set a course towards the location an ambush would most likely take place. Luck had been on their side, arriving just as King David’s ship had begun taking on water.

During his many weeks of convalescence, Killian learned that upon returning to Misthaven, King David had accepted the allegiance and oaths of fealty from those who had defected. In addition to new loyalties was the boon of acquiring George’s most prized ship, the Jewel of the Realm, of which he had insisted Liam remain captain once the damage she’d sustained in battle had been seen to.

Both Liam and Queen Snow kept Killian apprised of the war that was now in full swing, and the lieutenant would be lying if he said he was not eager to join his brother in the fray once more. His injury (and his own stubbornness), however, was delaying such a desire from becoming reality. Though healed to the best of the fairies abilities, it was Killian’s determination to rehabilitate and acclimate to his new reality without any magical assistance that slowed his progress. All that changed, however, when he heard the news that repairs had been completed to the Jewel, and Captain Jones was being called forth for his first mission under their new sovereign.

“Are you sure?” Tink asked, again. “You’ve been doing so well without it.”

“I will not let my brother sail into dangers unknown without me to watch his back,” Killian growled. “You’re the one who kept insisting I was making things too difficult for myself, so just perform the bloody magic so I can present myself to Their Majesties at my brother’s side!”

Tink gave him one last assessing look, then sighed. Holding out her wand, she sent a cascade of magic over him, altering the dominance of his muscle memory from his left side to his right.

“There,” she said. “All you were able to do with your left hand before, you will now naturally experience with your right.”

Killian clenched and released his right hand, then wrapped it around the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip. Drawing it, he cut the air around him with metallic swishes, marveling at the ease with which he instinctively maneuvered it with his previously weaker hand.

“We still need to determine the attachment you wish to have fashioned for your brace,” Tink reminded him, but Killian waved her off.

“Later.”

Returning the sword to its scabbard, Killian straightened his appearance. “Have they assembled?”

Tink peered over the gallery’s balcony wall that overlooked the throne room. “The King and Queen are just now being seated. They’ll be calling for your brother momentarily.”

“Then I’d better hurry,” Killian quipped, shooting Tink a quick wink. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back, grasping the fairy by her shoulders and pulling her in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmured before pulling back and placing a quick peck on her cheek.

Tink rolled her eyes. “Go,” she said with half a laugh, and Killian did not have to be told twice.

“What do you think you’re doing out of the infirmary?” Liam questioned when Killian made it down to the hall outside the throne room just as the Royal Usher appeared to announce their entrance.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you go on this fool’s errand without me, did you?” Killian needled with a hint of cheek.

“It only becomes a fool’s errand when a fool joins it,” Liam shot back, stifling the smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Precisely,” Killian agreed, waggling his brows in Liam’s direction. “Your involvement alone has seen to it.”

A chuckle rumbled through Liam’s chest and he slapped his brother good-naturedly on the back. “We’ll see what His Majesty has to say about it. I suppose you’ve earned at least that.” Turning to the usher, Liam requested, “Please announce our arrival to Their Majesties.”

Nodding, the usher signaled the guards who pulled open the large wooden doors.

“Captain Liam Jones and Lieutenant Killian Jones of Their Majesties’ Royal Navy!”

Killian kept stride a step behind his captain, focusing on his breathing and the rampant beat of his heart the closer they got to the dais. Though he’d had the pleasure of becoming acquainted enough with Queen Snow to no longer be nervous in her presence, this was the first time since shoving the King off the gunwale of his ship that Killian had been in the imposing man’s presence. Following Liam’s lead, he bent low at the waist when presented and awaited acknowledgement from his sovereigns before straightening to attention.

“Lieutenant Jones, how wonderful to see you,” Queen Snow greeted with a warm smile. “Though, I confess, we had not expected you.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Killian offered. “I hope you forgive my impudence, but once I learned of the commission placed upon the Jewel, I could not, in good faith, sit idly by whilst my captain and fellow sailors answered the call of duty.”

“And do you feel as though you are fit for duty, Lieutenant?” the King inquired, assessing him with a stern glance that flicked to the brace that covered his blunted wrist. “We’ve been kept apprised of your progress, and it was my understanding you had refused magical assistance.”

“It’s true, Your Majesty,” Killian replied. “I was resistant to it, but I have since relented.”

In his periphery, he saw Liam’s head jerk slightly towards him, his eyes darting to the side as he remained at attention in the presence of their commander and king.

“I see,” the King said, his expression growing pensive as he shared a look with his wife. “And you are adamant in your request to join your captain?”

“I am, Your Majesty.”

“And you, Captain? What have you to say about your Lieutenant’s request?”

“I leave such matters in Your Majesties’ hands,” Liam responded with the diplomacy he’d been taught, until a flicker of something passed over his features and he dared to add, “but there is no other I would rather have by my side whilst completing this mission than my lieutenant.”

Killian fought against the proud grin pulling at his lips and lifted his chin a bit higher as he awaited the King’s response.

King David cast his eyes towards his wife who gave a demure nod before he turned back and stood, surprising the assembled court.

“Then I suppose we have no objection,” he commented. “However, there is something that must be done first…” He held his hand towards a squire stationed next to the platform. The lad approached, a broad sword laying flat across his palms, and presented the weapon to the King who grasped the hilt as he motioned for Killian to step forward.

“Kneel,” King David commanded, and Killian, knowing he was the final deserter of King George’s service who had not undertaken a new oath of fealty, did as he was commanded. The weight of King David’s sword rested against Killian’s shoulder and his eyes never wavered from his sovereigns as he was asked, “Do you, Killian Jones, in good faith and without deceit, pledge your fealty to this kingdom and to the Sovereign Family who governs it? Will you, to the best of your ability, faithfully serve those who may call upon your duty as well as those who are in need of your charity? Do you vow to never cause harm to those to whom you have sworn your allegiance and that you will honor your accords so long as they are honored in kind?”

“I do,” Killian answered tightly, his throat constricted from the swell of emotion rising up within him.

King David lifted his sword and repositioned it to Killian’s other shoulder. “Then in addition to accepting your allegiance, and in accordance with the practices and traditions of this land, I not only recognize your selfless bravery in saving my life, but offer you a boon in addition to my gratitude.”

Killian’s brows pinched together and he felt the tips of ears go red. Other than the Queen’s remarks after he’d regained consciousness, nothing more had ever been mentioned regarding his actions that day in battle. He had simply been doing his duty; never would he have imagined a public ceremony, much less a boon.

“It gives me great pleasure to bestow upon you…” the King continued, his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed hard, “The Law of Surprise.”

A flurry of murmurs erupted throughout the throne room. Killian’s lips parted in shock and his brother had to assist him back to standing.

The Law of Surprise. A windfall whose nature is unknown to the parties involved. Whatever treasure or lands or blessing the King had yet to become aware of, but destiny had already designed for him, would actually be Killian’s to claim, the value of which could be innumerable.

Vaguely, Killian was aware of the order that the hall be cleared as the King offered the lieutenant his hand. Accepting the gesture, he managed to croak out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“No. Thank you,” Queen Snow replied warmly, having joined the men from the dais. “Both of you. This Kingdom is forever in your debt.”

“And I am in yours,” King David declared, releasing Killian hands. “Until the Law of Surprise is fulfilled. So…” Reaching into his robes, the King produced a scroll, sealed with the Sovereign stamp. Handing it over to Liam, he continued, “Take all precautions to keep yourselves safe during this mission the Queen and I am tasking you with. These orders are to be kept under seal until you are ready to depart from our shores. We cannot risk anyone finding out.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Laim replied, taking the scroll and giving a reverential bow of his head. “Come, little brother,” Liam prompted, slapping Killian on the back. “We have our orders and must ready the Jewel.”

Killian stumbled, his body slow to obey, still too overcome by what had transpired. Bowing to their Majesties, Killian was about to follow his brother out of the hall when the Queen surprised him once again by throwing her arms around him and giving him a tight hug. Words seemed to get caught in her throat for a moment, and Killian sensed there was something she wished to say, but then thought better of it.

When she finally pulled away, she took his hand in hers and imparted, “Take care of one another and return home as quickly as you can.”

“Aye,” Killian answered with one last nod of his head. “Until we meet again, Your Majesty.”

~/~

Awaiting them on the deck of the Jewel was a large trunk with a smaller satchel set atop. Liam gave the order to prepare to set sail, and the crew busied themselves with their tasks, ignoring the parcels as best they could.

Liam motioned Killian towards the captain’s cabin, and once they were below they began to inspect the King’s orders together. Having grabbed the satchel on his way down, Killian opened the latch as his captain broke the sovereign seal on the scrolls.

“Star charts?” Liam murmured, inspecting the first parchment closely. “I've never seen these constellations before.”

“And I’ve never seen markings like this,” Killian added, showing his brother the golden sextant that had been hidden away in the satchel. “To what strange land are we headed?”

Liam set aside the star chart and began to read the official missive. “We're going to a new land, brother,” he said excitedly. “One that requires… a pegasus sail in order to reach it!”

“A Pegasus sail?” Killian replied, incredulously. “Is that what the trunk aboard deck contains?”

“Aye!” Liam answered, his eyes continuing to scan their orders. “A sail woven from the feathers of one of the last remaining pegasus.”

“Legend has it that horse could fly.”

“Indeed.” Liam looked up from the scroll, his eyes as big as saucers. “So can we. Our orders are to fly to this new land and stop King George’s men from obtaining a weapon.”

“What sort of weapon?” Killian snatched the parchent from Liam’s hand and began reading the orders for himself, even as his captain continued to relay them.

“A plant.”

“A plant?” Killian parroted, snidely. “His Majesty wishes us to cross realms for a plant?”

“All King David knows is that George also has a pegasus sail, and plans to use it to send men to obtain that plant, which, according to the fairies, can be used as a weapon capable of terrible destruction.”

“So, what? Does he wish for us to capture the plant for ourselves?” Killian did not much like that plan. He would gladly fight his enemies, but his code demanded he fight fair. The only weapon he knew of that came from plants was poison, and the idea of using such a tactic was underhanded and loathsome. Was it not George’s use of poison against Queen Snow that had caused them to defect from the kingdom of their birth in the first place?

“No,” Liam assured him. “We are to stop George’s men from retrieving it, burn their sail, and once we’ve returned, burn ours as well, so no one can ever venture there again.”

Killian relaxed his posture, relief flooding him, along with a measure of guilt that he’d ever doubted King David and Queen Snow's intentions.

Doubts that were further laid to rest when one of the men called down from the hatch, “Lieutenant! A parcel has arrived for you. From Her Majesty the Queen!”

Both men made their way back up, and Killian took the parcel from the sailor’s hand. It was heavy and odd-shaped, with a letter attached. Handing off the parcel to Liam, so he could open the note, Killian shook out the page and read:

Dear Lieutenant,

Tinkerbelle informed me you had yet to choose an attachment for your brace. I hope you will forgive my presumption, but I thought this might be a suitable option.

The wrapping crinkled as Liam opened the parcel, exposing a shiny, silver hook, the base of which had been refashioned to fit the mechanism within his brace.

It is the very hook you used to strap yourself to that barrel, which ultimately saved your life that day. It is my hope that this hook will bring you the same favor each and every day you wear it, as it did the day you brought favor back into my own life when you first employed it.

Yours,

Queen Snow

The entire ship had gone silent, with only the snapping of the sails and splash of waves against the hull daring to compete with the Queen’s words. Sun gleamed off the surface of the hook, still held in Liam’s hand, and Killian swallowed tightly as he took it in his own. Holding it up, he considered how this seemingly inconsequential piece of equipment had changed the course of his life, and with the Law of Surprise still owed to him by the King, the greatest of those changes were as yet unknown to him. Queen Snow was right. He could think of no other attachment that would be more fitting for whatever the fates might have in store for him.

Positioning the hook into the end of the brace, he gave it a firm turn until it clicked into place, restoring a piece of himself he never thought he’d get back. Clearing his throat, Killian shifted his posture, bringing himself to full height, faced his brother, and asked, “What are your orders, Captain?”

Liam’s eyes filled with pride, but he maintained his composure in the face of their crew. “Deploy the Pegasus sail and begin charting our course, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, aye,” Killian acknowledged before addressing the crew. “Get ready to set sail, mates! Make speed!”

~/~

Killian’s boots sank into the damp sand as he followed Liam up a small hill, heading away from shore. Behind him, the rest of the scouting party fanned out, their eyes cutting through the vegetation ahead for any sign of inhabitants. Dense jungle crept towards them with towering trees and lush ferns obscuring any view they might have into the island's heart. Once they made it to the top of the berm, Liam turned to instruct his men and Killian followed suit. No sooner had Liam opened his mouth than a voice spoke up from right behind them.

“Are you two lost?”

Whirling back around with his sword drawn, Killian was astounded to find an adolescent youth staring at them curiously. Where the devil did he come from?

“You look lost to me,” the boy said with a smirk as he lazily perused the men before him, seemingly undeterred by the many swords pointed his way.

“Identify yourself, boy,” Liam commanded.

“I'm Peter Pan,” the boy stated. With a sweeping hand, he gestured towards the island and added, “I live here. Who are you?

Liam studied the boy for a moment more before sheathing his sword and signaling the rest of the men to do the same. “Captain Jones,” he replied before gesturing towards Killian. “And this is my lieutenant. We're here by order of the king.”

Killian secured his own sword, unnerved by the way the boy’s eyes lingered upon him, especially his hook, before responding to Liam’s statement.

“The king, huh? We don't have any kings in Neverland,” he informed them, then smugly added, “just me.”

“That's funny,” Liam deadpanned whilst pulling a folded piece of parchment from his vest pocket. Shaking it open, he held it up in front of the boy. “We seek this plant.” He gave the boy a moment to look at the drawing. “Now tell us, boy, where can we find it?”

Ignoring Liam’s demand, the boy plucked the parchment from Liam’s hand and inquired, “Your king sent you for this plant?”

“You know it?”

“Dreamshade?” the boy replied, his brows high upon his forehead with a glimmer Killian did not much care for sparking in his eyes. “It's the deadliest plant on the island. Your king is really ruthless.”

“It’s not like that,” Killian countered. “King David sent us here in order to prevent that plant from falling into the ruthless hands of King George. We’re here to safeguard it, not exploit it.”

The boy flicked his eyes up from beneath his brows, and the sinister smile pulling at the corners of his mouth made Killian’s blood run cold.

“Funny,” the boy drawled. “They said the same thing.”

A battle cry rang out from the treeline, followed by the sounds of foliage being snapped and trampled by a dozen or more men rushing from the brush. King George’s men descended without warning, having clearly arrived at the island before them with enough time to set up an ambush. Killian drew his cutlass and threw himself into the fray, clashing swords with an enemy whose blade was smeared with a black, sticky substance he did not recognize.

Though outnumbered, King David’s men were able to make short work of George’s. Killian surmised they must have made land on the opposite side of the island and were therefore already fatigued from their trek through the jungle, giving King David’s men the upper hand. When Killian managed to disarm the opposing captain, his hook pressed against the man’s throat as he gave the order of surrender, George’s remaining men all threw down their weapons and sank to their knees.

“Tie them up,” Killian ordered as he scanned the beach for the treacherous boy who had clearly aided in the ambush. He did not find the little miscreant, but did see his brother wincing at the water line, his hand clamped over his arm as blood oozed from beneath his fingers.

“Liam!” Killian cried, rushing to his brother’s side. “You are wounded!”

“It’s nothing,” Liam said, attempting to wave him off. “Merely a flesh wound.”

Unable to keep his balance, Liam practically fell into Killian, who wasted no time in tucking himself under his captain's arm.

“Starkey!” Killian called out, gaining their bosun’s attention. “See that the prisoners are transported back to the ship in the other dinghy. I’m taking the captain back to tend to his wound.”

“Aye, aye!” Starkey replied, ordering two of their men to accompany the captain and lieutenant back to the Jewel.

By the time Killian managed to get his brother back on board and safely within the captain’s quarters, Liam’s complexion had become sickly pale and his skin clammy. When Killian insisted on seeing the wound, Liam muttered something about Killian fussing like an old woman.

“Let me see!” Killian barked in command, taking his brother aback enough that he complied.

Rolling up his sleeve revealed a nasty gash on his forearm, but more alarming than the blood were the black streaks running along his veins beneath his skin.

“What the devil?” Killian muttered, examining the pattern branching up Liam’s arm.

“I think it was… whatever they had… coated on their… blades,” Liam said, his breathing clearly labored. “Some sort of… poison, perhaps?”

Poison.

“Dreamshade,” Killian exhaled on a panicked breath before launching himself towards the cabinets at the far end of Liam’s cabin. “There must be a cure,” he said, rifling through the bottles of potions and elixirs the fairies had supplied them with. “An antidote or magical healing potion that can--”

“Oh, you won’t find a cure in there,” a voice quipped from behind him.

Spinning around, Killian found himself face to face with the demon boy they’d met on shore. Pan.

“He'll die as soon as the poison reaches his heart.”

His callous tone had Killian seeing red. Grabbing the boy by his tunic, Killian slammed him against the steps that led up to the helm, hook at his throat as he demanded, “Tell me how to save him!”

Pan appeared more amused, excited even, than terrified, and merely hummed before confessing, “There is a way to stop him from dying.”

“Tell me,” Killian snarled, releasing Pan and taking a step back so the boy could procure something from his belt.

“Pixie dust,” Pan stated, holding up a pouch that somehow shimmered despite its dark leather exterior. “Powerful stuff, and easily capable of curing any ill. Even dreamshade.”

Killian reached out to take the pouch, but Pan toyingly pulled it away. “I must warn you,” he said in a tone of mock seriousness. “All magic comes with a price, and this dust is no exception. Don't use it unless you're willing to pay.”

“Whatever the cost. Whatever you want. It's yours,” Killian agreed.

Pan held his gaze for a second more then handed the pouch over. Killian wasted no time. After righting his brother, who was nearly slumped off his chair and unconscious, he pulled the pouch open with his teeth then poured the contents on the festering wound that was nearly black as pitch. The glittering substance shone brightly as it reacted with the poison, forcing Killian to shield his eyes.

“Brother!” Killian shouted, shaking Liam’s shoulders and willing him to wake up. “Brother!”

Jolting awake, Liam sucked in a deep breath and swallowed thickly, his eyes casting about as he got his bearings. “That's captain to you,” he croaked out cheekily when his eyes landed on Killian, attempting to assuage his brother’s concerns. Getting to his feet, he let Killian help stabilize him as he asked, “What happened?”

Relieved to see the ruddy vitality return to his brother’s cheeks and no remnant of the vile dreamshade clogging his veins, Killian chortled, “It doesn't matter. Let's pay the boy and be on our way.”

“What boy?” Liam inquired, prompting Killian to turn circles within the cabin.

“Boy!” he called out, unnerved by the way the brat seemed to appear and disappear into thin air. “What do you want?” he called out again, when suddenly, from overhead, shouts began to bellow on deck.

“Is that…”

The acrid scent hit Killian at the same time as his brother and their heads snapped towards each other as they exclaimed, “Fire!”

Scrambling up the hatch steps, they were met with chaos as the crew floundered helplessly under the flying embers of the pegasus sail, its golden plumage being consumed by flames.

“What is the meaning of this!” Liam shouted. “Who is responsible for--”

“I decided what I wanted,” a now familiar voice stated from behind. “I want this ship and a crew to serve it… and me. That’s my price.”

Dread laced with fury washed over Killian. Stepping forward he towered over the demon boy and through clenched teeth declared, “No. I never agreed to--”

“Whatever the cost. Whatever you want. It's yours,” Pan parroted his own words back to him, a self-satisfied smirk twitching at his lips that made Killian’s blood boil.

“I cannot pay you with something that is not mine to give.” Sweeping his arm out towards the men, he said, “These men’s lives are not mine to barter, and are therefore exempt from having to pay the debt I alone owe.” Casting a glance towards his brother, Killian swallowed hard before turning back to the boy. “It was my brother’s life you spared, so it is my life… my service alone that--”

“No!” Liam shouted. “Killian, don’t be a fool. None of us shall pay such a price.” It was now Liam who loomed over the boy, who appeared as bored as ever. Drawing himself up to full height, Liam commanded, “You may have taken our sail, but that does not leave us without means to leave this place.” Calling out over his shoulder, Liam bellowed, “Lieutenant! Take a contingent of men and retrieve George’s sail. Starkey! Take this miscreant to the brig.”

Killian wanted to argue, unable to shake the feeling of dread the boy’s presence wrought over him, but before he could voice his concerns Pan issued his own warning.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Captain. Your brother made a deal for the island’s magic, and all magic comes with a price. You would be wise to honor the cost.”

“Your cost is too high,” Liam sneered. “I won’t see any of my men forced into your servitude, especially my brother, simply for my sake.”

“Very well, then,” Pan quipped with a shrug. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Liam scoffed and turned his back on the boy. Setting his sights on Killian, who still had not made a move to carry out his earlier order, Liam opened his mouth to issue it again when his face purpled and a choking sound emitted from the back of his throat. Killian watched in horror as his brother collapsed, the sprawling blackness of the dreamshade once again snaking its way up the veins of his neck.

“Liam!” Killian rushed to his brother's side and gathered him in his arms. “No! No, no, no, please!”

“I did warn him,” Pan drawled in a taunting tone. “He should have paid up when he had the chance.”

“Let me pay,” Killian begged. “The deal was struck between us. You and me. I’ll stay in exchange for my brother’s life and our men’s freedom. Save him, return them all to our kingdom, and I’ll remain here. In your service. For as long as you wish.”

“And the ship?”

Killian hesitated. The Jewel wasn’t truly his to give, but surely their Majesties would value the lives of their subjects over a vessel they’d only acquired in battle.

“Aye. The ship as well.”

Crouching down in front of the brothers, Pan’s indifference to the gurgles and gasps of dying breath from the elder sprawled prone in the younger’s embrace only heightened Killian’s terror as the boy stated, “Ten years.”

“What?”

“I want to make sure the terms are clear this time,” Pan clarified. “Ten years of service from you and this ship, with no interference from your brother or your kingdom.” His cold eyes shifted down to Liam’s, which were wide and bloodshot with panic. “If you make any attempt to rescue your brother or take back this vessel, I’ll consider the deal forfeit… as well as your lives. Yours, your brothers, and anyone else who mettles. Deal?”

“Yes,” Killian agreed, desperately. “We have a deal.”

“Captain?” Pan inquired of Liam, who could only nod his consent, though reluctantly. “Excellent.”

With a wave of his hand Liam’s malady was lifted, but before Killian could assist his brother back on his feet, Pan flicked his wrist again and Liam, along with the rest of the crew, disappeared before his very eyes.

“What have you done with them?” Shooting to his feet, Killian grabbed the brat by his tunic and began shaking him violently. “Where have they gone? Tell me!”

“Relax,” Pan replied. “I’m keeping up my end of the bargain.” Turning his head, he nodded towards the far end of the coastline. “There. Your brother, fellow crewmen, and captives are there.”

Killian’s head snapped in the direction of Pan’s gaze, and he loosened his grip on the boy as a ship, King George’s ship, came into view as it rounded the coast. The main sail was not the golden color he’d expected, knowing George’s men had also used a pegasus sail to reach the island. Instead, a sail blacker than night whipped briefly until it caught the winds, billowing out towards the sea.

“What sort of dark magic…” Killian murmured beneath his breath, but the question was cut short when he witnessed the vessel begin to lift out of the waters. Scrambling to get a better view, Killian pulled his spyglass from where it was usually stowed at the helm and peered through the lens. Across the expanse he caught sight of his brother, peering back at him through his own glass. Killian’s heart constricted in his chest. He had not even the chance to say good-bye. Had not been given the opportunity to set his affairs in order. There was so much he'd wished to say, so much he’d wanted his brother to know and to impart upon others who had become important in his life.

Tinkerbelle, the other fairies, Queen Snow, King David. What would they think about the deal he’d struck? What would become of his brother and the other men when they returned without the fleet’s prized vessel? Would they be punished? Demoted? Would his actions become a millstone around their necks for the next ten years?

As the levitated vessel grew smaller and smaller, making its way through the skies, Killian could only pray that the fact that they’d been successful in thwarting George from obtaining dreamshade would be enough to satisfy the king. When at last he lost sight of the ship within the clouds, Killian lowered the spyglass and heaved a despondent sigh while choking back tears. Though he may not know the plight Pan’s service might bring him, nor the response of the king when Liam returned, one thing he did know was Misthaven’s war with King George was far from over, and he would not be there to protect his brother, fight for his sovereigns, or prove he was worthy of the boon the king had already gifted him. A boon that would go unclaimed and unfulfilled.

He supposed he ought to be grateful the Law of Surprise did not work in reverse. He would not wish this misfortune on anyone.

“There, there,” the voice he’d already come to hate patronized. Killian stiffened when the bastard approached, standing beside him and gazing out upon the Neverland waters. “Is it really so bad?”

Killian did not respond. His years of indenture taught him to hold his tongue, and though he was loath to be back in a position of servitude he would shoulder the burden and play the part of compliance, unwilling to give the demon any recourse that might alter their deal and prolong his sentence.

Wiping away the vestiges of the emotional farewell to his former life, Killian straightened his posture and faced his new master. “The ship and I are at your command. What are your orders?”

Pan smiled, a sickening expression that made Killian’s stomach churn, and circled his quarry. “I do have an errand for you, but I’m afraid it must wait until my shadow returns.”

Killian’s brows scrunched in confusion, but he said nothing.

“Until then…” Pan halted his steps and squared himself off with Killian, his hands clasped behind his back as he rolled onto his heels. “I think a makeover is in order. For you and the ship.”

“A makeover?”

“Indeed.” Snapping his fingers, Pan’s smile grew broader as Killian was knocked off kilter. Steading himself, he realized his entire wardrobe had changed. Gone were the crisp white linens and gold embroidered navy wool of his uniform. In their place was a pair of buttery soft black leather pants, a billowing, smoke-hued blouse beneath a silver garnished, corseted leather waistcoat, and an adornment of rings and pendants.

“What the devil?” Flicking his bewildered eyes to Pan, he balked when the boy extended a can of paint and brush towards him.

“Here,” he said. “I’ve seen to your makeover, you can see to the ship’s.”

“And what, exactly, am I to make over?” Killian asked through the tick in his jaw.

“Her name,” Pan declared, as though the answer were obvious. “You no longer sail the Jewel of the Realm,” he informed Killian. “From now until your service has ended, she’ll be known as… The Jolly Roger.”

Killian swallowed the bile creeping up his throat, his fist clenching at his side. “So you mean to make me a pirate.”

Pan’s gaze flicked down to the hook braced at the end of Killian’s left arm, then slowly scanned its way back up. “Oh, I think you and I both know there’s a part of you that’s always been a pirate. Now the exterior and occupation will match the man beneath.”

Anger sparked within him. How dare the little devil associate his hook, gifted to him by the Queen for what it represented to them both, with something as vile and villainous as piracy. “You know nothing about me,” Killian seethed.

“Perhaps not,” Pan shrugged. “But we’ve ten long years together. I imagine we’ll come to know one another quite well by the end of this… arrangement.” Setting the paint at Killian’s feet, Pan’s tone hardened. “Ready your ship, Captain. It’s a pirate’s life for you. For the next ten years at least.”

Killian balked at the boy’s sudden disappearance, then gave himself a moment to come to terms with all the demon had said. He was right. For better or worse, this is the deal he had struck. Picking up the can and brush, Killian made his way to the bow and with a heavy heart, rechristened the Jewel.

Later that evening, with the ship’s main sail infused by a spectre Pan referred to as his shadow, it was not the Jewel of the Realm that departed Neverland. No. The Jolly Roger set sail to complete her first mission. A mission to transport orphaned, abandoned, and truant boys from a lawless place called Pleasure Island back to Neverland. A mission carried out not by Lieutenant Killian Jones of Their Majesties’ Royal Navy of Misthaven, but by the blackguard who would come to be known as the scourge of the seas, a villain whose soul would be described as being as black and depraved as the sail he hoisted. The fearsome and reviled pirate, Captain Hook.

Part Two 

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.) @paradiselady19 @aprilqueen84 @kmomof4 @mie779 @donteattheappleshook @stahlop @anmylica @undercaffinatednightmare @zaharadessert @karl0ta @booksteaandtoomuchtv @courtorderedcake @superchocovian @pirateherokillian @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @the-darkdragonfly @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @xarandomdreamx @teamhook @winterbaby89 @justanother-unluckysoul @whimsicallyenchantedrose @badwolfreturns @deckerstarblanche @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @resident-of-storybrooke @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @youherotype @kday426 @snowbellewells @alexa-fangirl-forever @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @unworried-corsair @justanotherflailgirl @sals86 @natascha-ronin @livykatelin00-blog @jackieorioncat @annep1 @ilovemesomekillianjones @soniccat @youplaylikeagirl @th3capta1n @cocohook38 @zippoluv @killian-whump​

[princess-and-the-swan]

Three-Shot Fic Rec: The Princess and the Apple Tree

By StubbleSandwich (LibraryBandit) | Rating: G

Princess Emma knows no better place than the expansive garden that was built for her as a small child. When a young thief dares to scale the garden’s walls, Emma finds herself befriending Killian Jones, a boy who lives in her kingdom. Over time, they become inseparable, and as they grow, so does their love for one another–until the day Killian mysteriously disappears, and Emma finds herself strangely drawn to an apple tree that appears in her garden. Based on The Princess and the Apple Tree by A.A. Milne.

Read it on AO3

[reineydraws]

Hello! I thought about how Zoro would fit in the hockey AU since his sensei is a figure skater, but his captain's a hockey player, so far I have three theories:

1. Ex-hockey player, now a figure skater

2. Ex-figure skater: danced in pair with his sister Perona as a child, changed to hockey after seeing Kuina in a match

3. Always a hockey player but respects Mihawk's skill above all, so ignores all coaches and hockey athletes and goes straight for him for guidance (can also apply to #2)

What are your thoughts on this?

HELLO! i actually placed him as your second option, with him having been a figure skater and then switching to hockey, but i never fleshed it out much further than that and your ideas of him skating with perona until he sees kuina play hockey is so cute. 🥺🥺 (imagine zoro and perona's lil matching pairs outfits as kids. SO cute. 🥺🥺🥺)

i can imagine kuina challenging him to a race, and zoro thinks he can skate faster than kuina and then gets soundly beaten bc hockey players have to skate fast. i also think kuina's "you're so lucky you're a boy" conversation would make more sense 'cuz she can bring up the the disparity in pay between genders in professional sports. i think he would become a huge advocate for the pwhl and never shut up about how kuina made him change sports. (both of them paint the handles of their hockey sticks like the handle of a samurai sword.)

gotta say tho, i find your third option absolutely fascinating. what kind of guy must zoro be to be a hockey player his whole life, but see mihawk figure skating and think, "yeah that guy knows best about this sport he doesn't play." 😂 just sees mihawk skating at the rink one day before his kids hockey class and imprints on him like a tiny duckling. abruptly stops listening to his own coach to the point that the coach has to ask mihawk if he could maybe give the kid some guidance, please mister dracule (the coach is shaking in their skates, mihawk is so scary, literally no one ever approaches him in the rink except for his coach and his manager). mihawk surprisngly accepts and lays into zoro about manners even as he starts correcting zoro's awkward balance.

tho i suppose you might be coming from the "mihawk is zoro and perona's dad" camp, in which case that's actually cute as hell. zoro to every hockey coach ever in his life: "my dad skates better than you." :')) but ye, i'd been imagining him as a former student of mihawk's, and then he pivots to hockey after meeting luffy, but i like your thing with kuina too. 🥰 this turned out long lol but thanks for the ask!

[bulkyphrase]

Fluffy Steve Fest Rec List Day 4 - Birthday Comedy

It's @fluffystevefest day 4 - Happy birthday Steve! The theme for Thursday is Birthday, but, like yesterday, you're getting something completely different—comedy!

Please enjoy this not at all birthday-themed list of some of my favorite funny fluffy fics.

Son or Dog? by SucculentHyena (@succulent-hyena) (Stucky, General Audiences, 2,518 words)

Summary: Nobody can stop talking about Steve Rogers, the newest employee in the office. He’s nice, he’s handsome, and he adores Charlie. There’s only one thing they can’t figure out: is Charlie his son? Or his dog? Bucky’s going to try his best to find out.

How to Train Your Superheroes by StuckySituation (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 3,150 words)

Summary: “But of course, no matter how much we practice on schedule, we will need to learn constant vigilance and manage to get our reaction times down to the minimum,” Steve continues and takes the last burger beef from the grill and puts it onto the table next to him. Natasha has a brief millisecond to frown and think “Constant vigilance?”, before Steve kicks the grill so hard that the coals rain on top of the flammable carpet feets away. “What the hell-!?” “STEVE!?” Steve is already sprinting towards the ledge. “First training session started! Wanda, Sam, Tony - someone CATCH ME!” Then he jumps off the Tower.

Check One by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 4,263 words)

Summary: The important thing to know - and I mean really, the actually important thing - is that no matter what Bucky said, Steve was not flirting with Tony Stark. (“Yes you were, you son of a - ”) Steve has an annoying best friend. Tony has an elaborate plan. Sam has allergies. Bucky has no idea what's about to hit him.

Blind Date by @aggressivewhenstartled, quietnight (@quietnighty) (Teen And Up Audiences, 8,294 words, No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: “I just had the best idea I have ever had in my life,” Bucky said, punching straight through a doombot with his metal hand and clutching the napkin with Steve’s phone number in the other. The formerly (somewhat) dark and peaceful corner of Central Park was now lit up with energy beams, flashing robotic lights, and panicked astronomy buffs running for cover. Oh well, it wasn't like they'd been going to see many stars what with all the Christmas shit everywhere. “The bar you are setting for that is not high,” Natasha told him over the coms. Also available as a podfic read by quietnight (@quietnighty)

Situation: Normal by redcigar (Mature, 3,155 words, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Summary: AU wherein Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers never met, Steve somehow manages to rescue the Winter Soldier anyway, and Avengers Tower ends up with the world’s angriest duckling and a whole new brand of entertainment. - (“He was dragging him out of the river,” Natasha argues later. “Nat, be honest, he was going for the Full Monty.” Says Clint. “I’m pretty sure we interrupted him in the middle of giving ‘emergency CPR’,” Tony agrees, “Or the stage after emergency CPR. Emergency Dick? Is that a thing?” “That’s not a thing,” Natasha and Clint reply.) Also available as a podfic read by quietnight (@quietnighty)

How Steve Rogers Singlehandedly Lost the Cold War by redcigar (Mature, 3,880 words, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Summary: AU wherein Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes never met, but the Winter Soldier takes an interest in Captain America anyway, and has an odd way of showing it. -- (On the helicarrier, hurrying to reach the central hub of the third aircraft in time, the chip clenched in his gloved fist, Steve turns to find a ghost blocking his path, and is abruptly reminded on what the road to hell is paved with.) Also available as a podfic read by quietnight (@quietnighty)

The God of Solid Life Advice by kehinki (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 1,583 words)

Summary: It's 2012. Steve is just informed by Loki that Bucky's alive. Loki also tells him some other things.

Bait and Switch by @galwednesday (Teen And Up Audiences, 2,650 words, No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: "Post-action tacos?” Tony suggested. “I’m thinking that place by Fordham. BattleBot, you in?” “Can’t,” the Soldier said, typing something into his phone. “I have a date.” Tony stopped talking for an entire three seconds. “You. Have a date.” The Soldier looked up and blinked, clearly nonplussed to find Sam and Tony both staring at him. “Yes.” “With who?” “My boyfriend.” “You have a boyfriend. You have a boyfriend?” Tony looked like he’d just walked into a lamppost, and then the lamppost had handed him a birthday present. Also available as a podfic read by Nendian

[searchingwardrobes]

No Wives, No Mothers, No Lovers : 5/7

Yes, finally! An update! @snowbellewells​, I'm sorry this fic is taking me so long to finish. I hope you enjoy this chapter, especially the characters that appear in it, even though it ends on a cliffhanger. Yes, I said a cliffhanger. On the bright side, this fic is near completion. Yay! Love ya, Marta, and I hope this summer is full of sunshine and rest.

Summary:   He must be hallucinating. Because Emma Swan is supposed to be in Miami, Florida where he left her. Emma Swan isn’t supposed to be on this rocky stretch of beach, completely drenched, and wearing a ball gown of all things. A Lieutenant Duckling AU (sort of) in which Emma is a siren who isn’t supposed to fall in love with a human.  

Length: about 3k in this chapter

Rated: T

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three  | Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @winterbythesea @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert​ @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare​ @onceratheart18​ @sparlecorn93​ @sals86​ @pirateprincessofpizza​ @xarandomdreamx​ @zaharadessert​ @huntressandlioness1​ @iverna​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​

Chapter Five:

Killian gasps and coughs, his chest burning and his head pounding. He’s trembling all over, soaked to the bone, and the rain is pouring down again. Everything is blurry; he can barely see through the storm and rain, but he thinks he sees Emma’s blonde hair. Thinks he feels its soft, silky strands caress his cheek, which is odd. Her hair should be wet. But maybe every bit of it is a dream because his eyes slide shut, and then darkness surrounds him again . . . 

The next time he awakes, he can’t keep his eyes open, no matter how hard he tries. He only gets glimpses of the people around him, and a bright light above. The light hurts. The sand and rocks scrape his skin. Someone calls his name . . . 

He awakes the third time in a hospital bed. The light still hurts. So does his throat. Its silent except for the beeping of machines. Liam is asleep in the chair beside his bed, but the moment Killian turns his head, Liam is awake and reaching for his hand. 

“Emma,” Killian manages to rasp out, his throat like sandpaper. 

Liam frowns, shaking his head. “You were alone on the beach when we found you.”

Killian struggles to speak, but his throat feels like it’s closing up. Liam tries to get him to stop talking, to calm down. 

“Must . . . find her . . . help her.”

Liam has a difficult time meeting his gaze, but he finally manages to tell him the truth. “Killian, it stormed that night. The tide was strong. The shoes Emma was wearing washed up on the beach, so . . .”

And just like that, a piece of Killian dies. At least, it must, considering what comes as the months slip by . . . 

The doctors can’t explain any of it. There seems to be no purpose for the fevers that rage, the pain that afflicts different parts of Killian’s body: sometimes his throat so he can not speak, sometimes his legs so he can not walk, sometimes his head so he can not tolerate the light. Things get worse as the days turn to weeks, the weeks into months. At times he struggles to breath, at others he doubles over in pain. He has no appetite, but he tries to eat whenever he sees the fear in Liam’s eyes. The food only comes right back up again, though. He’s slowly wasting away, and nothing can explain why. Every test comes back negative. There’s no cancer, no autoimmune disease, no tumors, no explanation whatsoever. Killian jokes that he’s a gift to medical science. Neither Liam nor Elsa laugh. 

He never thought of himself as important in the town of Storybrooke, or even well-liked. Yet, all of a sudden, he seems to be the town's beloved son. The church’s pray for him every Sunday, fundraisers are thrown to cover his medical costs, a wheelchair and a ramp are donated by the nuns in town, and they have enough casseroles in the freezer to feed them for an entire year. 

He has visitors often, even from “the dwarves.” When Liam and Elsa push him along Main Street in his wheelchair, everyone stops to talk.

One afternoon, Killian shouts for Liam to stop. 

“What is it, little brother?”

Killian peers at the boardwalk along the shore, his eyes narrowed. A flash of bright red hair is the last thing he sees. Killian sags in his chair. 

“Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

*******************************************************************

Miles away, a strange procession walks towards the shore. Three beautiful young women carry the emaciated body of a fourth young woman. Though the fourth one is unable to keep her eyes open and sags in their arms, she is easy to carry.

The women walk right into the sea, floating the sick woman’s body upon the water. Her blonde hair fans out around her. It was once sparkling gold, now it is a sallow, dirty yellow. Her once pink, fair skin is now a ghastly gray. Her full cheeks are now sunken and dark circles line her eyes. 

The eldest of the women, a woman with auburn hair named Belle, takes charge. She has served Mother Ocean for fifty years now. Not as long as Emma, but half her sentence. Mother wouldn’t appreciate the word “sentence,” however. She would call the last fifty years her “gift” to Belle. 

“Mother! We need your help, Mother!” Belle calls. 

The ocean ripples around them, shimmering as it curls around to caress them. Though no words can be heard with human ears, the four sirens can understand Mother Ocean as she speaks. 

Well, at least three of them can now. The blonde may be past the ability to hear anyone, even the ocean. 

What is wrong with my daughter? Why is she sick? Sirens can’t get sick!

“Obviously they can,” mutters Ruby, her dark hair cascading about her, still full and dry though it is halfway in the water. Ruby has served Mother Ocean for thirty years and can still be a bit rebellious.

“Careful, Ruby,” Belle warns. 

“Emma is dying!” Ruby snaps. “I don’t give a damn about protocol.”

The Ocean calls herself their Mother. Calls the sirens her daughters. Says she loves them. But she can also be a cruel and capricious master.

My Emma can not die while in my care! 

Mother Ocean rages, ripping Emma’s body from the hands of her sister sirens and plunging her beneath the waters. 

“No!” the other three shout. 

Mother Ocean releases the blonde siren in mere moments, however. Emma pops up out of the water, choking and gasping for breath. She sags, struggles, then goes back under. The other three grab her and hold her aloft upon the water once again. 

“See!” The siren with bright red hair weeps. Her name is Ariel and she has only just begun her sentence as a siren two years ago. She still has 98 years of service ahead of her. 

I don’t understand. The Ocean’s voice echoes in their heads. Why can’t she breathe underwater anymore? Why can’t she swim?

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Ruby replies. 

Suddenly, the waves grab the brunette. Tendrils of watery tentacles wrap around her neck, and Ruby begins to gasp for breath, her fingers clawing at the watery strands about her neck. 

Perhaps I have tolerated your insolence for too long, daughter!

“Please, Mother,” a sickly voice rasps, “spare her. She is only worried about me, her sister.”

Mother Ocean drops Ruby with a splash and envelopes Emma in a watery cradle. 

My dearest Emma, what is wrong?

Though she is gasping for breath, Ruby still speaks the truth. “Perhaps it’s the fifty years you added to her sentence. She only had twenty more to serve!”

She vowed she would do anything if I only saved that boy. She defied me by going to him at all! She knew the rules! I had mercy upon her. And him. 

It was the way of the sirens. No wives, no mothers, no lovers. Mother Ocean would not rescue a woman from drowning if she was any of those things. And when a woman made the deal - salvation from drowning in exchange for one hundred years of service as a siren - she also agreed to never fall in love. 

“Honestly?” Belle says quietly. “She was never the same after the cruise ship.”

She has always been tenderhearted. Sighs Mother Ocean, as if it is a character flaw. Yet she defied me too that day!

Belle, Ruby, and Ariel exchange hesitant glances. It’s true. Mother Ocean has to be fed, and it’s up to her sirens to fulfill her appetite by luring people to their deaths with their song. It isn’t a pleasant task for any siren, but it has always been especially difficult for Emma. Maybe because her family died the day she was rescued. Or maybe because there had always been something special about Emma. A sense of compassion and justice. That fateful day when Mother Ocean had called them to the cruise ship, Emma had stopped singing when she saw the bride in the water, frantically searching the waves for her groom. Emma had been tempted to save that bride, and Mother Ocean was not happy. 

Then Emma had disappeared. They all knew she was heartbroken. They didn’t know she had swam towards Killian - the boy she’d fled from in Miami. 

“She tried to forget him, you know,” Ariel tries to explain. “She said she didn’t even mean to go to him. She didn’t even know where he was. She said she felt a tug in her middle, and she swam where it was tugging her.”

Mother Ocean trembles. What did you say?

Ariel, new at this and still terrified of crossing Mother Ocean, gives her sisters a terrified look. 

“A tugging,” Belle takes over. “She felt a tug telling her where to swim, so to speak.”

And after I saved the boy?

“She was depressed at first,” Belle explains sadly, “and then there was the day you called us to that yacht. She did her job, same as always, but halfway home, she was struggling to breathe and swim.”

I remember that. I carried her home. 

“And it’s only worsened since then,” Ariel continues. “She felt like she had a cold, which should be impossible.”

Sirens are immortal during their hundred years of service. They can’t get sick or hurt. They don’t even get tired or need sleep. Then, after their service is fulfilled, the immortality is lifted, and they are a human again at the same age they were when called: 17, 18, or 19. Each girl gets to choose where to live out her new human life. Her sisters help her plan, get settled, and then . . . Her memory of a siren is erased. 

One hundred years, then a clean slate. It seems an easy choice. At first. When all you're thinking of is death by drowning. 

“I’m telling you,” Ruby says, voice still raspy from Mother Ocean’s threat, “you broke her heart with your punishment. She’s tenderhearted about our job, yes, but she’s always loved you, Mother.”

She is a good daughter. Mother Earth caresses Emma again, rocking her in a sweet embrace. And I love her. Which is why I don’t understand. If she loves me, why should fifty more years with me matter? I confess, I was relieved to have her longer. I don’t want to give her up. 

“That isn’t love!” Ruby shouts. In a perverse way, maybe she wants Mother to destroy her. 

What do you mean? 

Tears stream down Ruby’s face. “Love wants what is best for the other person. Love doesn’t demand affection. Love doesn’t threaten. We fear you, Mother!”

“Ruby,” Belle whispers with concern. 

As you should!! Thunders mother ocean. What power on earth compares to mine? 

“None,” the girls answer.

“Please, Mother,” Ariel begs, “heal Emma.”

I - I don’t know how. This . . . shouldn’t be possible. The boy - No, it couldn’t be. It’s never happened.

The three sirens exchange glances, then they nod in agreement.

“He’s sick, too,” Belle tells the Ocean.

What?

“We tracked him down,” Ruby explains. “We thought maybe if Emma knew he was okay, she would get better.”

Ariel picks up the story. “But when we found him, he was dying. With the same symptoms Emma has.”

“Is it because Emma kissed him?” Belle asks. 

If that were the case, Ruby would have died a long time ago.

Ruby shrugs with a self-deprecating smile as the Ocean ripples with her version of laughter. 

I suspected when you mentioned the tugging Emma felt. It’s incredibly rare, but Emma has found her true love. They are now connected. 

“Then why are they dying?” Ariel asks. 

Because I have separated them. The only way either one will survive is if I let Emma go.

“Then do it!” the three girls shout.

I won’t let her go! She is mine!!!!

“Exactly like I said,” Ruby says sadly, softly, “you don’t know how to love.”

It is eerily silent for several long, tense, moments. Then the tide sucks at Emma’s body, ripping her from the arms of her sisters. The girls cry out, tears streaming down their cheeks. 

Give her to me. It is the only way.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Ok so more dumb thoughts on my previous AU idea of Aizen and Ichigo time traveling after Quincy war goes bad (Link here)

Mainly just thoughts on Ichigo becoming teacher/surrogate big brother to multiple baby captains.

Like obviously Gin is first he Ichigo who is not only stronger than Aizen but also annoys Aizen so much and the man can do nothing about it and is instantly like 'Hello new favorite person other than Rangiku' ( Also realizes how death would be to easy for Aizen BUT eternal annoyance/embarrassment oh now that works and Gin is enjoying every moment of this)

Byakuya is next because he wants to beat Yoruchi and Ichigo is the only one who can beat her in speed so he demands to be taught... he's not even sure how he got surrogate adopted but totally ends up viewing Ichigo as a big brother figure as well as a teacher. He is much less stuck up and much much more likely to break all the rules. Although he still is as calm and composed as ever... but is totally an agent of chaos.

Soi Fon is the final one, one second she's doing reconnaissance because who is this mystery bastard who showed up Yoruichi-sama!... The next he's helping braid her hair... she's not to sure how it happened (Ichigo's big brother instincts are to strong) Yoruchi is of course the best but Ichigo gets second place.

Ichigo wasn't intending to adopt any future captains but now he has 3 following him around like ducklings... but well now he has, so obviously he's going to teach them everything he can because hell no you kids are totally going to know all ther ways to beat people and also how to fuck up everyone's plans now lets all of you Bankai.

Aizen is despairing because not only does he have Ichigo fucking up the time line and made planning impossible but now he has Gin, Byakuya and Soi Fon who are stupidly overpowered and also have been Ichigoified and so are now no longer predictable! HOWS HE SUPPOSE TO PLAN WITH 4 OF THEM! (His only solace is that the other 3 don't have hollow powers... but honestly he's not putting it past them to SOMEHOW get such powers)

Bonus: Byakuya ends up meeting Hisana earlier (Because Ichigo is also making sure his friends tragic backstories don't happen so he's not letting Rukia lose her sister) only he now has 2 disaster friends who want to wingman him

Gin:Byakuya come on let us help

Byakuya: If you try anything I will end you and no-one will find the body

Gin: Oh come on! It's bad enough Soi Fon won't let us help her with her crush on Yoruchi

Soi Fon: One more word and i'm helping him hide the body

Byakuya:I don't need help

Gin:With hiding my body or with the crush thing

Byakuya: Both

Gin:... Fine... guess we'll just stick to trying to helping Aizen with Shinji

Aizen:WHAT YOU DO IS NOT HELP!

In Ichigo's opinion this is a far better punishment for Aizen than his imprisonment ever was.

Bonus Bonus: If AU ever met cannon, all of them trying so hard to not call Ichigo sensei or big brother and also taking pictures cause BABY SENSEI... we can get so much blackmail material!

Also Byakuya and Soi Fon totally trash talking their canon selves and showing off how OP they are. Because these two do not stick to rules and would not get on great with their cannon selves.