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edsonlnoe · 2 years ago

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Premios ⬤ 22 | Elegibles

#MG #Eligible Films #Personal #MX Opening Dates #O22 #⬤

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bisexualwillscarlet · 8 years ago

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marry me, he said - lt duckling - rated m - ch 2

Prologue

Chapter 1

Princess Emma marries Rumpelstiltskin to save her kingdom from destruction. She’s given up on her own happiness, but every so often, in a flash of blue eyes, she thinks that she glimpses it.

A/n: This goes to present time for Emma rather than exposition and we get a little glimpse of a certain someone I’m sure everyone is waiting to see make an appearance. ;)

Chapter 2 – Marry Me, Instead

Emma refuses to be intimidated by the castle looming in the distance that will soon become her home.

It looks everything that she could have ever imagined the home of The Dark One to look, she thinks, as she peers through the window of her carriage. Large and foreboding. She drinks in the details through calm, green eyes. Six spindly towers reach upwards, like fingers stretching up into the eerily fitting sky of grey. Storm clouds are beginning to form only miles away, and nervous as she may be, even she must admit in a deep, quiet, part of her mind that it is impressive. It is truly the fortress that the whispered gossip by the servants had made it out to be. Walls of a similar grey stone surround it and just beyond, trees grow close to the castle gate – which itself is also vast, like the gaping mouth of a beast, a crocodile with its jaws wide, its teeth the heavy metal bars. It is built for both defense and grandeur, and while ominous in the gloom of early evening, it must be almost beautiful in the sun, the light glistening off of the colored panes of glass that rest in the windows of the largest of the towers. Something else also flits from the largest of towers – black flags. It is a symbol of mourning in many realms and she finds it curious, but tucks the detail away, prepared to deal with only the issue at hand of meeting her betrothed.

Her carriage approaches, and filled with these thoughts, she swallows hard, causing a slight gulping sound in her throat. Noticing the concern in her hand maiden, Ruby’s, eyes, she quickly forces a smile. It’s not that she doesn’t wish this. Truthfully, up until the castle came into sight, her heart had been a flutter of nerves and doubts and excitement all bundled into an odd pit in her belly. She had never imagined that she would marry a man that she had never met – not with parents such as hers – so she feels she is allowed her anxieties. Furthermore, she reminds herself that not only a powerful ruler lives here, but the man that she had grown to care for as well. Cautious as she may be of the king, Rumpelstiltsin, not once since perhaps a few letters into their courtship had she suspected Baelfire of deceit or foul play. Emma tips her chin up a bit in silent defiance. All will be fine.

Ruby returns her smile, reassuring, and reaches for her hand, squeezing. It is a gesture well received from the servant that she had always considered a friend. She is glad that the young woman is accompanying her on her journey to a new life.

“I’m sure he will be handsome,” she teases, a clear attempt to lighten the mood, also well received.

Emma instead blushes, nerves immediately easing. “He…he seems kind. And clever,” she adds, a soft smirk crossing her features and then disappearing into the feigned poise of a princess. “That is my primary desire for my betrothed. Looks, next.”

Ruby eyes her, amusingly unconvinced that her Princess has supposedly not given his looks a thought and Emma pretends not to notice her maid’s gaze.

“Hmm,” is all Ruby says.

Gods, but she is so grateful for her friend, who must be unnerved just as easily by the appearance of their new home, and yet she shows so little of it on her face and in her speech. She had always had this way about her when Emma needed it most, and for that reason, the princess knew her company would be well kept. And so, they sit in companionable silence for the remainder of the carriage ride.

They are met at the gates. First, by the Tenebri guards on horseback, whose presence causes the gates to creak and then heave open, allowing the royal carriage entrance to the castle grounds. They must follow the men and their steeds for a mile’s time when a second welcome party of Tenebri military greets them. The carriage slows to a gentle stop in front of a small group of well-dressed officers – some she recognizes as Navy – Tenebris borders the sea, of course – and others as high ranking of the foot soldiers. A Naval officer with brown curls and broad shoulders approaches the carriage driver and speaks with him briefly. She finds herself studying the man. He’s tall and has a certain stoicism about him that stands out as one of his most prominent features. They all are. She scans them, the men separated into two, uniform groups, split by soldiers and by Navy. This is clearly not a necessity, she does not even think that it is a show of power, but merely as it appears – a nicety from a kingdom that is so defined by its might.

The men stand tall and still as stones, staring straight ahead. They are awaiting orders from the Navy officer, she assumes, who appears to be in charge of the party. She is no stranger to neither guards nor military, but this isn’t Misthaven, nor are they wearing the traditional garb of Misthaven’s soldiers, though the fine cloth and shining buttons that line their coats are familiar. She takes it in with mild fascination, casually gazing out at them, until one man in particular catches her eye. He seems younger than the others, though just as dedicated. His dress is of the Navy, his hair dark and his features handsome, with eyes some of the bluest that she has seen. It shocks her when only his eyes flit unconsciously to her and they meet, for the smallest of moments. It is clearly unintended and she does not distract him further with a smile. Just then, the first officer steps away from the carriage, barks an order to the men – the leader of the foot soldiers repeating the order – and then they are marching on either side of the carriage as it rolls on towards her new home.

They are there in what seems like no time at all. The inside of the castle is quite fortunately nothing like the menacing image the outer walls create for itself. It is utterly grand. While she has wanted for nothing all of her life, the lavish dress of the palace furnishings is almost uncomfortably so.

Hush, Emma. She thinks the rebuke. First, it’s too dark, now it’s too rich? The judgement in her own mind shames her enough for her to take a deep breath and decide to truly clear her mind of all doubts and prejudice until she gets to know it – and her new husband. Still, there is almost a sense of grief, of mourning in the castle, that concerns her. Not one of the servants’ faces anything short of a concealed sadness. She doesn’t like it, and she can tell by the tension in her handmaiden that Ruby does not like the tangible mood of the palace any more than she does.

And then she is being announced.

“Princess Emma – daughter of Snow White and David of Misthaven and future bride of the kingdom of Tenebris!”

-----------------

Emma feels as if all breath is not only gone from her chest, but from the realm, choking her. She feels that she is unable to make a sound, to even gasp. Quickly, she finds herself, years of training from her parents and the countless hours at court coming back to her, even now.

“I--” she bows her head slightly. “My King. I am afraid I have misheard.”

The king is a small, weasel of a man, the shameful thought entirely unregretted in her state of shock. Still, what he lacks in height and stature, he makes up in a general intimidating presence and a vague yet unearthly, golden shimmer to his skin. She would be more concerned by his dark appearance if she wasn’t so terribly alarmed by the words that had just left his mouth.

“I wish it were so,” he says, and his voice is higher pitched than she imagined, but filled with a deep sadness that is so sincere, it could be nothing but truth.

Something clenches in her chest, threatening to choke her again. She feels as if she isn’t even there, as if the words are a dream. Baelfire can’t be-

“I have to admit, I was surprised that you had decided to join us here, after I sent news of my son’s-” He chokes almost imperceptibly. “my son’s death.”

“I had not received such news.” She speaks swiftly and firmly, her mind still denying the truth.

The king might feign surprise, though in her state, Emma does not catch it. No, she cannot quite catch anything that isn’t thrust into her face, much like the death of her betrothed has been at this very moment. Dead. A horse riding accident. The man that spoke of his mother, his love of the sea. The man that had told her secrets and pick-pocketing the maids of sweets. The man that promised to take her riding in the fields of wildflowers everyday if it would please her. These might sound like silly pledges of childish infatuation, but she had clung to his words and childlike excitement about him. Now, he was dead. Her thoughts briefly go to the months that she had gone without letters before the agreement arrived.

“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, Dearie.”

The familiarity in which he speaks with her offends, but she dares not show it.

“The letter was sent as soon as I had properly mourned my son.” He snaps his fingers and Emma is startled back into reality by the scroll that suddenly appears into his hand. Of course, this is the magic that he was so known for across the realms. He clears his throat and nods, as if this is a copy of the notice sent months ago. “It was a generous offer, if I do say so myself,” the slight smile to his mouth sickens her. “We will keep our offer of peace, even after this terrible event, if by tradition you choose to wed your intended’s next of kin. A tradition again noted in the proposal of marriage, Dearie.” His face again draws somber. “The agreement first signed by my son.”

Exactly what he is saying hits her like a heavy weight on her chest. The treaty. The proposal she had signed. The marriage agreement in Baelfire’s hand.

“Well!” He abruptly begins again, this time with a new vigor in his speech, rather than grief. “I suppose what I’m saying is, a deal is a deal.”

Emma feels like she will faint. She wants to say so many things. She wants to decline the despicable offer in so many colorful words. She wants to demand answers of why the letter had not arrived when so many, many letters from Baelfire had arrived unharmed. His skill of magic and rumors of deceit could never have had anything to do with that. Her insides are seething and squirming as she seeks to change her look of fear to one of poise. She fails. There is no argument to be had. She had signed a treaty, her kingdom was too weak to resist, and now the awful truth remains and it makes her ill.

If she wants to avoid war between Tenebris and Misthaven, she must marry The Dark One.

#cs ff #captain swan #lieutenant duckling #cs au #killian jones #emma swan #allie drabbles

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