#cs fic

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: let's sail away (an anthology)

a flatback casebinding! WOOT!!

(this is, to date, my first and most successful flatback after the demo i made in bookbinding class)

the binding flatback casebinding as demonstrated in introduction to bookbinding and custom cases by tom and cindy hollander. glued headbands. duo bookcloth in oatmeal.

did the cutout on my silhouette portrait. covered the cutout with the bookcloth, cut and cleaned up the fabric, and laminated the davey board to that layer before gluing the text block.

cutout design is a converted embroidery pattern from UrbanThreads traced with a foil quill using the silhouette portrait.

HTV is siser twinkle for the stars / metallic gold for the titles.

the story an anthology of short Captain Swan fics from sambethe, including two no longer online from my personal archive.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Being Ghosted (2/4?)

Summary: Killian and Liam Jones are called in to help with the haunting of an old carriage house where a skeleton was recently found walled up within the cellar. This is no ordinary ghost hunt for the supernatural fighting brothers, however. This job will require Killian to face the person who has been haunting him for nearly a year. Emma Swan. The woman he ghosted.

A/N: Yeah, yeah. I know the holiday season is in full swing and we ought to be done with the spooky stuff, but I love a Victorian/Dickensian Christmas aesthetic that leaves room for good old ghost stories. This addition gives me a BINGO for my Fall/Spooky card (better late than never) and will likely have two additional parts to come.

Shout out to @kmomof4 for her exceptional beta skills!

Rated T / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One

Part Two

Leaves rustled overhead, clinging to branches that were ready to be freed of them as the crisp autumn breeze coaxed them from their perch and gently swirled them to the ground below. Those with the misfortune of landing on the pavement were crunched beneath the tires of Killian Jones’ Chevelle, pulling up in front of an old carriage house that was being renovated into a home.

A home for Emma Swan. A home she recently began to share with her boyfriend. A home where the two resided, sharing all of the intimacies he desperately wished he could have shared with her. Intimacies and quiet moments and heated arguments and passionate make up sessions and mundane chores and yes… even their current plight.

A haunting.

Killian would have willingly faced it all with her had circumstances been different, which, he supposed, was why he was here now.

“You ready for this, little brother?” Liam questioned after Killian had put the car in park and shut off the engine.

“Younger,” Killian reminded him in his usual exasperated tone, pushing open the driver’s side door and climbing out while side-stepping his well-meaning brother’s inquiry.

The front door of the carriage house opened and a man exited, greeting them hesitantly, “You must be the Jones brothers?”

“We are,” Liam said, approaching the man with an outstretched hand. “I’m Liam. This is my brother, Killian. Are you the owner?”

“Uh, no,” the man said, shaking Liam’s hand then stuffing his hands in his pocket with an acknowledging nod towards Killian. “I’m Neal Cassidy. My girlfriend’s the one who called you. She technically owns the place, but we both live here.”

Something in Killian’s gut twisted, the ache intensifying when Emma emerged from the carriage house, looking as stunning as he remembered but without the warmth and affection he’d last received from her.

“You guys must be exhausted,” she said after introducing herself to his brother and barely giving him her notice. “We’ve made up the guest room and there’s a pullout in the office.” Turning to her beau, she placed a loving hand on his arm and sweetly suggested, “Why don’t you show Killian to the office and I’ll take Liam up to the guest room.” Addressing Liam - and only Liam - once more, she said, “After you two get settled, we can take you down to the cellar where this all started.”

“That sounds grand,” Liam said, gesturing towards the carriage house. “Lead the way, lass.”

As they filed in, Liam looked back at Killian over his shoulder. His expression echoed that which Killian was already telling himself.

He had fucked up.

Badly.

“So,” Cassidy began, showing Killian into the office where the pull out couch had already been made up for him. “How do you know Emma? She wasn’t really clear on the details.”

Dropping his duffle on the bed, Killian busied himself with rifling through his supplies, attempting to keep a neutral tone. “What details did she share?”

“Something about a dare and the cemetery and not wanting to talk about the experience because it had been too intense.”

Killian let out a commiserating hum. “Intense is certainly one word for it,” he murmured, the memory of Emma laid out beneath him, kissing the holy hell out him while making sounds that haunted him to this day flashed through his mind and tightened the fit of his jeans.

Unwilling to betray Emma’s confidence, and not exactly eager to share the details of their acquaintance with her current paramour either, Killian shifted the conversation to the matter at hand. “As I understand it, the paranormal activity began after the two of you uncovered skeletal remains in the cellar. Is that correct?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy replied, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought Emma was crazy at first when she insisted we had a ghost. I mean… you know how irrational women can be.”

Killian chafed at the man’s derisive tone. “If there’s one thing I know about Emma, mate,” Killian informed him with a slight edge to his words, “it’s that her instincts should never be dismissed.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Cassidy back pedaled. “I believe her now. Kind of hard not to when a ghost appears over your bed while you’re trying to convince your girl she’s not too tired to fulfill her duties. You know what I mean?”

Fists balled, Killian took a deep breath and tried to rein in his anger. He was saved from doing anything rash by the sounds of his brother’s voice.

“Ready to check out the cellar?”

“Aye,” Killian clipped out, following after Liam and resisting the urge to shoulder check the repulsive man who had somehow fallen into Swan’s good graces - and her bed (not that he wished to dwell on that fact) - as he passed.

Emma led them down a steep flight of steps into the cold, dark, and dank space below. The atmosphere had an immediate effect on Killian, raising the hair along the back of his neck and giving him the eerie feeling of being watched.

“This was part of the original structure, yes?” Liam asked, shining his flashlight into the inky black corners the dim bulb at the bottom of the stairs couldn’t quite reach.

“Yeah,” Emma answered, lingering by the stairs with Cassidy as the Jones men looked around. “From what I understand, it was cold storage for oats and hay and other food stuffs for the horses lodged here when it was a carriage house.” Gesturing towards an opening, she continued, “I noticed that space had been bricked up and I wanted to open it back up. That’s when I found…”

“The body,” Killian supplied, casting a glance towards her and meeting her eye for the first time since he’d arrived. His heart clenched, the look on her face making him wish he could have spared her such a discovery. Perhaps if it had been he who had been there… No. There was nothing to be gained in thinking that way now. The past was the past and there was no changing it.

“And you called the police?” Liam confirmed, searching the area where the skeleton had been found.

“Of course we did,” Cassidy scoffed. “What else were we supposed to do?”

Killian and Liam exchanged a look. Neither of them could fault their decision, but they both knew, had it been them, they would have handled it much differently.

“And how soon after the body was removed did the occurrences begin?”

“Almost immediately,” Emma answered. “It started with noises on these steps.” She gestured at the stairs they’d used to access the cellar, the tension in her demeanor evident in the stiff, closed-off way she stood in the unsettling space.

“Noises?” Liam questioned. “Like footsteps?”

“No,” she replied. “More like… something falling down them. Then things actually started crashing down them.”

“What do you mean?” Killian pressed, his concern heightening as she continued.

“If we leave anything sitting in the hallway outside the cellar door, it will eventually make its way down here. Clearly having taken a tumble down the stairs.”

“Yeah,” Cassidy said, backing her up. “I thought it was the authorities being careless, because we had a parade of crime scene personnel traipsing through here for weeks after we reported the body.”

“But you knew it was more than that, didn’t you, Swan?”

Emma locked eyes with Killian. He could tell his question had brought back the memory of her first ghostly encounter. She swallowed hard and for a moment it was as though they were the only two people there.

“Rooms would get cold,” she told him in a quiet voice; her words conveying all the nuance and unspoken truths she knew he would understand in a way her boyfriend had not. “I would hear things. Smell things. Things I hadn’t experienced in all the months I spent renovating the upper levels.”

“What sort of smells?”

His brother broke the reverie that had momentarily linked them, snapping the connection that reminded Killian of what they had once shared.

“Um,” Emma began, shaking herself and focusing on the question. “Leather? Hay? Like a barn, but without the pungent animal smells. More how I’d imagine this place was when it was an active carriage house, I guess.”

“So, he could have been killed here during that time,” Killian said to his brother

“Agreed. We’ll need to learn more about the building’s history.” Addressing Emma once more, Liam inquired, “You told Killian the authorities had yet to identify the remains, is that correct?”

“Yeah. But they did issue a cause of death. Blunt force trauma and a broken neck.”

“Injuries one might sustain from falling or being pushed down a flight of stairs,” Killian remarked. “It would certainly explain the occurrences surrounding the cellar steps.”

“My friend Belle is the town librarian and she has access to city records,” Emma informed them. “When you agreed to come, I asked her to pull anything that might tell us the history of the carriage house. Who owned it. Who may have worked here. Things like that. She said she’d try and have a file ready for when you got here.”

“Good thinking, love,” Killian praised, unaware of the endearment he’d let slip until Cassidy shot him an affronted glare then suspiciously flicked his gaze to Emma’s pinked cheeks before sending another hard look Killian’s way.

Clearing his throat, Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear, turning his attention towards Liam and suggesting, “Before we go any further, we should ascertain what sort of spirit we’re dealing with.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked.

Killian couldn’t help the smug feeling that went through him at the sight of her pulling away from Cassidy’s attempt to wrap a possessive arm around her waist. She took a step towards the center of the room where Liam was already pulling supplies out of the bag he’d brought with him.

“There are generally two kinds of spirits who refuse to move on,” Liam told her. “Malevolent ones who were equally nasty while alive, and those who simply have unfinished business they feel compelled to resolve before they can find peace.”

“Malevolent spirits refuse to leave,” Killian added. “Hell bent on punishing or exacting revenge against the living. The only way to be rid of them is to--”

“Salt and burn their bones,” Emma said, causing Cassidy to balk behind her.

“How did you know--”

“Aye,” Killian said, cutting Cassidy off. “Which will be somewhat difficult to accomplish, seeing as they are still in the medical examiner’s possession.”

“So…” Emma drawled, joining he and Liam as they continued to set up the space for the task they would need to perform. “Best case scenario would be this spirit just having unfinished business?”

“That won’t necessarily make matters any easier,” Liam informed her. “Figuring out a spirit’s unfinished business isn’t usually as straightforward as salting and burning bones.”

“So, how do we determine which kind of spirit it is?”

“Ems, the thing attacked us while we were making love,�� Cassidy said, being sure to emphasize the making love part as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “The thing is obviously bad news.”

“We weren’t--” Emma began, mortification giving way to irritation as she looked back at him then shook her head and said, “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” Looking down at the two brothers as they finished lighting the circle of candles they’d set out, she said, “As I told Liam upstairs, when he manifested he didn’t look threatening. He had his hands over his mouth--” she raised hers to mimic what the spectre had looked like, “--but was clearly trying to tell us something when he vanished almost as quickly as he appeared.”

“Well,” Liam said, pulling the last piece of the equipment from his bag, “This will hopefully allow him to tell us what he tried to communicate with you.”

A belittling snort escaped Cassidy. “A ouija board? Be serious.”

“I assure you, mate. We are quite serious,” Killian informed him as he took a seat upon the cold, cellar floor alongside his brother. “But if the idea of communing with the dead is too much for you, then feel free to sit outside while we conduct our investigation.”

Clearly catching the challenge to his courage, Cassidy grit his teeth and grumbled in Emma’s ear. “Can you believe this guy?”

“Neal,” Emma sighed with a tone of censure. “Shut up and sit down.”

Entering into the circle, Emma lowered herself onto the stone floor and crossed her legs beneath her. Reluctantly, Cassidy followed, a disgruntled look passing over his features in response to the sitting arrangement that had placed him between Emma and Liam instead of separating her from Killian.

“A few ground rules before we get started,” Liam began, holding the planchette in his hands.

“I think we’ve all played with ouija boards before,” Cassidy interrupted rudely, earning him a stern stare from the elder Jones.

“Aye,” Liam responded with a cutting edge to his words. “You may well have, but what we are preparing to do is not child’s play. We are opening a portal to the spirit realm, and for all our safety, precautions must be taken and adhered to.”

Cassidy shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing more.

“Go on,” Emma urged. “We’ll do whatever you tell us to.”

“Right,” Liam began again. “Once we’ve placed our hands on the planchette, they must remain there until the session is concluded. I shall be the only one addressing the spirits, so you must refrain from talking or reacting. And when it becomes clear that the spirits are finished communicating, we must all close the session together by moving the planchette to goodbye. This is the only time we intentionally guide it. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. The seriousness of their endeavor hung heavily around them as Liam continued.

“I’m going to set the planchette on the board, but before anyone touches it, we need to attune the space.” Setting the planchette down, Liam extended his hands to Killian and Cassidy, saying, “Everyone needs to join hands and focus on the spirit we wish to call forth.”

Killian took his brother’s hand then opened the other to receive Emma’s. When she tentatively placed her hand in his, Killian glanced up at her face. They locked eyes for a brief moment before she flicked hers away, but Killian knew his touch was having the same effect on her that her touch was having on him. There was no mistaking the familiar physical tension they’d once shared under similar circumstances.

“Focus on the person we seek,” Liam instructed. “We know him to be a man. We know there is something he wishes to communicate. We know this space was his final resting place until a few weeks ago. However you choose to manifest him within your mind, hold that image there and focus on him.”

Difficult as it was, Killian tried to push aside thoughts of Swan and the feel of her hand in his. Even still, she remained a fixture in his attempt to concentrate. She was there when he thought of the man’s body being discovered. She was there when he imagined how he may have looked when he’d manifested himself to her. She was there with every noise, every scent, every strange occurrence that had led her to reaching out to the one person she knew could help her. Despite the tragic circumstances that led the man to being walled up within the cellar, Killian could not help but feel gratitude to the spirit who had brought Emma Swan back into his life.

“Right,” Liam said a moment later. “With the man still centered in everyone’s mind, place your hands on the planchette.”

Killian sucked in a breath at the loss of her hand, but quickly schooled his emotions and joined the others, placing his hands upon the planchette and readying himself for what was to come.

“We call forth the spirit of the man found concealed behind the wall in this cellar,” Liam called out. “We ask that he come forth and tell us his name. What is your name, spirit?”

The temperature dropped and several of the candle’s flames flickered. Killian could hear Emma’s rapid breaths over the pounding of his own heart.

“Spirit!” Liam called out again. “We invite you to tell us your name!”

A gasp fell from Emma’s lips when the planchette jerked beneath their fingers. With wide, green eyes, she cast her gaze towards Killian as the planchette slid across the board. He gave her a look of encouragement, hoping his own gaze conveyed that there was nothing to fear - that he would not let any harm come to her - before her eyes fell back to the board and the word being spelled out beneath their fingers.

“D-A-N-I-E-L,” Liam read out as the planchette roamed across the board. “Daniel? Your name is Daniel?”

Yes

“What is it you want, Daniel?”

H-E-L-P

“You need help? That’s why we’re here. How can we help you to move on?”

H-E-L-P

“We understand. How can we help? What do you need us to do?”

T-E-L-L-H-E-R

“Tell her? Her who? You want us to deliver a message to someone?

Yes

“You need to tell us who. Who is her?”

L-O-V-E

“Someone you loved?”

Yes

“What’s her name?”

R-R-R-R-R-R-R … No

“No? No, what?”

No

“We don’t understand. No, you don’t want to tell us her name?”

C-A-N-T

“You can’t?”

C-A-N-T

“Why can’t you?”

C-C-C-C-C-C

Killian leaned over and whispered into his brother’s ear. “Another spirit maybe? Interference from another entity?”

“Is there another spirit with us? Someone who does not want you to communicate with us?”

Yes

Killian removed his hands from the planchette, earning him a startled gasp from Swan and a scathing reprimand from his brother.

“Killian!” Liam hissed. “What the devil are you--”

“Use my energy, Daniel,” Killian offered, opening his arms, and himself, up in surrender. “Take my energy and manifest yourself. Tell us who’s trying to silence you.”

“Brother, have you lost all sense?”

“It’s alright, Daniel,” Killian encouraged, ignoring his brother. “You can take my energy and--”

Killian’s words fell away when the fine hairs began to lift over his entire body. His arms began to feel heavy and it was a struggle to keep them lifted, especially when his breathing also became laboured.

“Killian, put your damn hands back on the--”

Liam’s admonishment was cut short by a startled, expletive falling from Emma’s lips. Manifesting above the board, in the center of their circle, was the ghostly image of a young man.

“Is that… Daniel?”

“That’s the man we saw!” Emma confirmed, her eyes wide as saucers and brimming with equal amounts of fear and awe. Forgetting herself, and the rules, she tentatively asked, “Are you…? Are you Daniel?”

The spectre nodded. He couldn’t have been more than early to mid twenties when he died, and though it was difficult to ascertain certain physical identifiers like height or hair or eye color, given his current metaphysical state, his clothing could serve as a clue that would narrow down the timeframe of his passing.

“Tell us how we can help you?” Liam said.

Killian, relieved that his brother was willing to capitalize on the moment, knew that he’d get an earful later, especially if Daniel managed to draw energy off him to the point of him passing out. Though woozy, Killian focused his efforts on the questions his brother continued to repeat and the spirit’s attempted replies.

“Who is the woman you want us to contact? Who else is here with us?”

Daniel tried again and again to speak, but the sound of his voice could not pass from his plane to theirs. Reaching down with ghostly hands, Daniel nudged the planchette and guided it once more to the R. Before he could maneuver it to the next letter, a second pair of hands appeared from behind Daniel’s head and wrapped around his lower face, obscuring his mouth.

Emma screamed and Neal jolted back, nearly knocking over the candles behind him.

“Nope!” Cassidy exclaimed, scrambling off the floor and sprinting towards the stairs.

“Neal!” Swan called after him, though she remained rooted where she was with her hands still affixed to the planchette.

Daniel struggled against the phantom hands, clawing at them with his own while Liam tried to wrestle back control of the seance.

“Reveal yourself, spirit! Tell us who you are and why you wish to silence Daniel! What unfinished business does Daniel--”

The planchette began to spin, making it impossible for Liam and Emma’s hands to remain there. An impossible gust of cold wind swept through the cellar, extinguishing the candles and ruffling both Killian’s and Emma’s hair. The light bulb at the bottom of the stairs shattered, sending down a shower of sparks. The only illumination remaining was Daniel’s ghostly form, but it too was quickly snuffed out, leaving the three of them in darkness.

“Bloody hell,” Liam cursed, the sound of him rummaging through his duffle preceding the beam of his flashlight. Reaching over, he grasped Killian’s shoulder and questioned, “Are you alright, little brother?”

“Younger,” Killian muttered, earning him a relieved clap on the back from his brother; his petulant response the only proof Liam needed as to his brother’s condition.

“You two stay still,” Liam instructed. “I’ll relight the candles and clean up the glass. Is there a broom down here?”

“Y-Yeah,” Emma responded, shakily. “In that cabinet.” She gestured towards the corner, then offered, “But I can do that.”

“No,” Liam said, waving her off as he finished lighting the candles. “You stay with Killian. He’s going to need a minute to recover from his tomfoolery.”

“It got us answers, didn’t it?” Killian shot back, heavily. Drained of energy, it was all he could do to remain sitting upright, but he’d be damned if he let Liam know just how much the encounter had affected him.

“Aye. I suppose it did,” Liam conceded, procuring the broom and dustpan so he could begin sweeping up the broken bulb.

“What answers?” Emma asked. “All I have is more questions.”

“We know there’s indeed another spirit here,” Killian told her. “A woman, if the ringed fingers and manicured nails give any indication. We also have a name to work with - Daniel. Based on his manifestation, I’d wager he was in his mid 20s when he died and by the looks of his clothing, I would guess he worked as a stablehand at some point. That gives us a frame of reference to work with as we investigate his identity further.”

“Speaking of which,” Liam said, disposing of the broken glass and tucking the broom back into the cabinet. “You said you had a friend assisting with research?”

“Yes!” Emma replied, plucking her phone from her back pocket. “Belle. I’ll text her now and see if she’s ready to share her findings with us.”

“Perhaps you would like to check on Mr. Cassidy as well?” Liam suggested, reminding them both of the forgotten man.

“Um, right. Yeah.” Swan stood and brushed the dust off the back of her jeans. Her phone vibrated in her hand, capturing her attention. “Belle says she has everything ready and we can come by the library any time.”

“Terrific,” Killian responded, attempting to pick himself up off the floor… and flailing. “Um, Swan? Would you mind, uh…”

Emma glanced down at him and must have perceived his predicament. Her eyes widened, a startled expression crossing her features, as she reached down and helped him up.

With a steadying hand pressed against his chest, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just a bit… unsteady.”

“Here,” she said, leading him towards the stairs where he could rest against the banister. “Better?”

“Aye. Thank you, love.”

Her posture stiffened in response to the endearment and she turned away, intent on climbing the steps out of the cellar. Killian reached out and lightly grasped her elbow, stalling her steps.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… are you alright? I should have asked how you’re handling the ordeal.”

“I’m fine,” she told him. Her position on the steps had brought her to eye level and though there was still only candlelight illuminating their surroundings, Killian could see the truth of her words in her eyes. “This isn’t my first haunted rodeo. Remember?”

Killian let out an amused huff. “Aye. How could I forget.”

They stood there a moment longer, Killian’s hand still resting against the crook of her elbow. He could feel the raised flesh of her arm through the thin fabric of her sleeve and wondered if it was a remnant of the ghostly encounter or perhaps an involuntary response to his touch.

Was he wrong to hope for the latter?

“I, uh… I should go check on Neal,” she said, dragging her tongue across her lip before her teeth scraped over the tender flesh in its wake.

The sound of something heavy scraping the floor above them pulled Killian from thoughts of capturing her mouth with his own, and almost too late he noticed an object about to hurl itself down the cellar steps.

“Swan! Look out!”

With all the strength he could muster, he managed to force her against the wall, shielding her as something crashed down the stairs. Their bodies pressed together, chests heaving against the other’s, it took them both several moments to process what had just happened.

“Emma!” Neal cried out, sprinting through the floors above and coming to a stop at the top of the cellar stairs. Staring down at his girlfriend who was currently being blanketed by another man, Neal’s face grew thunderous as he exclaimed, “What the hell is going on here?!”

“It appears to be some sort of statue,” Liam commented. Killian wasn’t sure if it was genuine ignorance as to the man’s meaning or if his brother simply wished to avoid a scene. Crouched down, Liam inspected the object and added, “Lucky the two of you managed to get out of the way. This could have done serious harm.”

Swan pushed against Killian’s chest, forcing him to step back from her so she could turn and take the man still fuming at the top of the stairs to task.

“It was that stupid garden statue of Pan you insisted on bringing inside!” she shouted. “I told you not to leave it in the hall!”

“How was I supposed to know a ghost could move it?” Neal shot back. “The thing weighs like fifty pounds!”

Stomping up the stairs, Swan grabbed Neal by the arm and hauled him away from the cellar entrance. Although Killian could not discern what was being said between them, there was no mistaking the tone of argument in their voices. He probably ought to feel guilty for having a hand in their current discord, but all he could focus on at the moment was the way his body was still reacting to having been pressed against Emma’s. The way she’d felt beneath his weight, the intoxicating scent of her hair, the feel of her hands clutching the back of his shirt, the way their eyes had connected after the danger had passed, the moment their gazes flicked down in unison to the other’s lips, the impulse he’d nearly given in to kiss her, the certainty he felt that the same desire had run through her mind as well.

“Brother,” Liam said, his tone making Killian groan internally.

He knew what was coming.

“Don’t,” he replied. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh?”

“Aye,” Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I was rash and foolish in the way I invited the spirit to use my energy, and I need to get my head on straight. No more distractions.”

“Actually,” Liam said, hoisting his duffle, which he’d repacked, up onto his shoulder before crossing the cellar and joining Killian on the stairs. “I was going to say… A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.”

Slapping his brother on the shoulder he continued up the steps, leaving Killian utterly gobsmacked.

Chapter Three - Coming Soon!

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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[swanslieutenant]

a place in time - chapter xv

Available now on AO3 (catch up on the rest of the story here)

Fic Summary: Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”

Rating and Warnings: Teen. Wordcount (this chapter): roughly 8K

Due to the current atmosphere of potential AI theft, this chapter is only available on AO3 to registered users.

Read Chapter 15 here

[everything-person]

Captain Swan SuperNatural Summer

I was looking so forward to this event. I had so many ideas and concepts. But real life happened and my muse ran away so i was unable to write any of my ideas no matter how hard. But with this being the last event I will not turn up empty handed so I made art for all the ideas. @cssns

TRIGGER WARNING under cut has 9 art pieces they are numbered the 9th piece contains images of blood

1.) Sands of time based on the movie/video game Prince of Persia. King Nemo ruled with his brother and right hand Jafar. The King already had sons but one day while wandering the market he found two orphan boys that showed grant potential and took them in. After invading the sacred oasis of MistHaven Killian is framed for the murder of his adoptive father. With the help of Princess Emma he escapes and finds there is more to the dagger and plot behind his fathers death then he thought.

2.) Phoenix Diamond Based off of Onward. Henry never knew his father Graham. ON his 16th birthday his mother gave him a gift from his father it was a magic wand powered by a phoenix diamond to bring Graham back for one day. He tried the spell himself but it didn't work. But when his mother touched the wand it began to glow. The spell went a miss and now they are in a race against time to find another phoenix diamond to bring him back unbeknownst to them the dangers that lie in their quest.

3.) Living in the Dark inspired by Being Human. Killian is a vampire that has stopped drinking from fresh blood. Graham is a werewolf. They get an apartment together and be roommates. They wind up renting from Emma but there's something strange about her son who randomly pops in on the guys. Everyone trying to get a sense of normal life but how can they living in the dark.

4.) Wrong Ship inspired by Doctor Who episode. Jolly Roger magically tranforms into a human woman and goes to find Killian. Confusion and misunderstanding puts a rift into Emma and Killians relationship.

5.) Sandcastles and Riptides Liam and Killian are mermen raised under their grandfather King Triton brother to King Poseidon. Emma is the princess of misthaven raised under her well meaning but over protective parents. Each of their worlds forbidden from each other but fate demands them together.

6.) The Swan and the Hook is a pirated themed story with lots of twists and turns. I know doesn't appear supernatural but trust me there was/is supernatural undertones.

7.) Witches of Storybrooke loosely based on Hocus Pocus. After Henrys mother dies he goes to live in the sleepy town in Maine. He learns the legend of three witches that used to live there and of a candle that was to bring them back to life. Hoping maybe he could find some magic to bring his mother back he ventures into the woods. But he finds there is are two sides of every story when the witches do come back.

8.) Dance with the Devil Killian succeeded in his revenge against Rumplestiltskin and turned into the Dark One as a result. For centuries he stayed in the dark ones castle until one night he heard of princesses coming of age ball. Unable to turn away the temptation he slipped into the ball and had a hypnotizing dance with a beautiful blonde before barricading himself back into his castle. What happens when he finds the same blonde battered and abused in his forest years later?

9.) How a got a pet vampire was a supernatural comedy that came about from a discord discussion of a prompt.

Those were my ideas and maybe some day I can actually write them the titles might change if I do these were just the best I could come up with.

[4getfulimaginator2022]

Past the Veil of Shadows. Canon divergence AU and crossover. Emma Swan and Killian Jones, back in Storybrooke after time-traveling to the Enchanted Forest, are mysteriously summoned to the land of Essos in the Game of Thrones universe. With the reason for their visit unclear, they quickly join forces with Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen, and her faithful knight, Ser Jorah Mormont, to reach Westeros and find a way home. In Progress. Read on AO3.

[overlordofthelollipopguild]

Taking That Second Chance -- Chapter 5

Summary: After the end of 4a (pre 4b), Killian dies in a random accident and Emma thinks about all of the time she wasted with him and how she regrets they didn't have more. The next thing Emma knows, Mary Margaret is waking her up in the EF. Emma realizes that she's travelled back in time, so she has a choice to make: follow the same path, or change it so she and Killian have more time.

Start here on FF.net and here on A03.

Chapter 5 is here and here.

And below:

Also, I'm saying off the top: yes, Belle is going to come off as incredibly naive in this chapter. It's a part of her character arc. Bear with me please.

Chapter 5

I find the best way to love someone is not to change them, but instead, help them reveal the greatest version of themselves. — Steve Maraboli

They shouldn’t have kissed. She shouldn’t have kissed him. Or did he kiss her? It didn’t matter; it shouldn’t have happened. Guilt festered in her heart as Emma refused to look at Hook as Anton climbed down the beanstalk, both of them holding onto Anton. It was much faster than their climb the first time around. 

Emma needed to figure out how to shrink Anton. 

Hook’s eyes burned into her. He wanted to talk about it.

She couldn’t let him. It wasn’t fair to him that she kissed him. Emma had months of a friendship and romance and memories of private talks and secrets revealed all twirling around in her head. Her love for him was already there, but Hook didn’t have any of that. 

He just had his revenge, his past, and his pain. For him, she was a stranger that came into his life and completely upended it. 

Starting something with him now, when she had so much of an advantage over their relationship, was wrong. It felt like manipulating him. She couldn’t do that to him. No, if they were going to be allies and maybe friends, Emma needed to put distance between them. 

Once they rejoined the others, Emma would focus on getting home and figuring out where to go from there. She still wasn’t sure about the consequences of her time traveling and probably needed to look into that when they got back. Of course, she still wasn’t sure if she could even tell anyone the truth about time traveling. If she told anyone, they’d think she was crazy. No, it was better to keep it to herself. 

“So, when we get down there, how are you going to explain me?” Anton asked after a prolonged silence. He knew there was something going on between Emma and Hook, the tension too palpable, but wisely chose not to comment.

“We’ll tell them that you’re on our side.” Emma said. “As for your size, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“How long have you had magic?” Anton asked. 

“I think I was born with it.” Emma lied, pretending to theorize because Rumple wasn’t around to confirm it for her. So, she was rolling with manipulating the narrative as realistically as she could. “My parents are True Love, and I’ve been told that that’s the most powerful magic of all, so I guess that’s why I have magic. I just kind of discovered it though, and completely on accident.”

“Who are your parents?” Anton asked. 

“Prince Charming and Snow White.” Emma said. “My mom’s actually here.” Which reminded her that she still had to apologize to Snow for her harsh words the other day. It wasn’t fair to Snow how Emma reacted; her reaction coming more from being overprotective of Killian as well as hurt that her mother had so little faith in her. Was trust too much to ask? Was faith in her abilities too much to ask? Probably not, but Snow was trying to mother to an adult, who never had a mother before, and Emma knew that the situation wasn’t easy for her. 

“Never heard of them.” Anton admitted. “After my family was killed, I never came down here.”

“Well, they’re heroes.” Emma said. “They fought a war against King George and the Evil Queen and they won. Until the Evil Queen cursed everyone.”

Anton had so many questions. Spending years in isolation had that effect. As he asked everything, Emma filled him in on the stories, explaining how she learned all of this from her son’s magical storybook and explaining her role in breaking the curse. 

Hook remained silent the entire trip. 

When they finally got to the bottom, Anton helped them down as Mulan, Snow, Marian, and Aurora looked warily and somewhat fearfully at Anton. 

“So, this is Anton.” Emma introduced. “He’s actually a good guy and helped us out. He’ll be coming with us to Storybrooke.”

Anton smiled politely, waving a bit shyly. 

The other women gave polite smiles as well, and Mulan helped Anton find a place nearby to settle for the night. It was too late to travel.

As Marian, Hook, and Aurora settled around the fire Snow pulled Emma away from the others to talk. 

“Emma, where’s a giant going to live in Storybrooke?” Snow asked. 

“I’m working on it.” Emma shrugged.

Snow could only nod, but she still wasn’t sure. Emma had been so closed off in Storybrooke, but now, not only had she given the infamous Captain Hook a chance, a giant was getting a second chance too? What was going on with her? “Emma, is there anything that you want to tell me?”

Emma knew that Snow was trying to figure out why she appeared as a completely different person, but Emma wasn’t going to tell her about time traveling, not until she found out more about how she ended up back here. Emma wanted to say something though. “Actually, yeah. I wanted to apologize for what I said. About not needing you.” Emma looked away, trying to find the right words. “I know that this isn’t easy for you, me being an adult. You were barely a mother before everything was taken away from you.” Braving it, Emma glanced at her mother. 

Snow’s expression was one of pained sadness. 

“I never had a mother.” Emma said. “Well, that’s not completely true. I was adopted. The Swans adopted me when I was a baby because they thought they couldn’t have their own kids. When I was three, they had their own baby girl and put me back in the system. After that, well, it would be a kindness to call any of my foster parents actual parents.” Her voice shook as old memories long buried surfaced. “So, when I say I’ve done fine without you, what I mean is that I survived without you.” Tears burned her eyes. This was the most open she’d ever been with her mother. Even in her other life, she feared opening up this much to Snow, not wanting the other woman to feel guilty. This time around, Emma wanted to deal with her past. Maybe losing Killian had her realizing other things, like how much she still kept most people at arm’s length. “I don’t know how to be the daughter you want. I am who I am, and it’ll be hard to be for me to accept parents, but I can try.”

Snow was openly, silently crying as Emma spoke, torn as she was glad that Emma opened up to her, but heartbroken at hearing that her daughter’s past wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. Giving up Emma was supposed to ensure that she grew up to break the curse, but Snow always hoped that Emma ended up somewhere where she’d be loved. When the curse first broke, she was so happy to be reunited with Emma and Charming, that she didn’t let herself think too much about it, wanting to be a family again. It was clear Emma had walls that were hard to climb and she wasn’t one to be openly vulnerable with people. Now, Emma was trying, clearly emotionally exposed. Snow cleared her throat, reaching out, taking Emma’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, and it never will be enough, but I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know, Mom.” Emma said. “But it’s not your fault. Or Dad’s. Yes, you chose to send me away, but I’ve been thinking about it.” Truthfully she had been thinking about it for months, but never voiced it to her Snow or her David in the future. “When I said which curse would be worse, us together under the curse or us missing out on what could’ve been, I realized that you and Dad really didn’t have a choice. The curse didn’t give any of us a choice.” 

“I’m still sorry.” Snow hugged Emma to her. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. That’s a promise.” 

Emma hugged her mother back tightly, feeling as raw and exposed as she had been talking with Hook on the beanstalk. Maybe this was a part of why she time travelled? Maybe she didn’t just need to make up for lost time with Hook, but with everyone else too. Her relationship with her parents had gotten better after she and Henry returned to Storybrooke after Zelena’s curse, but Emma knew that it wasn’t anywhere close to the relationship she or her parents wanted. 

Maybe she was meant to fix all of that. After all, she was the Savior. Surely she could make things better with her parents this time around. 

As Snow let go of her and they walked back towards the fire, Emma vowed to try harder in mending her relationship with her parents. They all deserved it after everything they’d been through. 

Hook’s eyes found hers and Emma looked away. She knew she’d have to deal with him eventually, but still exposed from her talk with her mother, Emma stayed as far as she could from Hook, eating dinner quickly, before claiming exhaustion as an excuse to be left alone for the rest of the night. 

The Savior could only do so much in one night.

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

The flames licked at her skin, causing Aurora to jump back. When were these nightmares going to end? It was too vivid, too hot, too real. Tears started in her eyes as frustration mounted. How could she get rid of these nightmares? 

“Help me, please.” She whimpered to no one as she backed away from the flames. There shouldn’t be a reason to be scared. This wasn’t the real world; it couldn’t hurt her, but it felt real. The flames were hot as though she was really here and not in a dream world. 

Her eyes caught a shadow. She wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?”

The shadowy figure moved a little closer. 

Even so, there wasn’t much she could really see. The figure was still too far away. “Who are you?” She called out. 

A voice came across the flames but still it was a muted mumble. 

They wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the flames. 

Aurora warily watched the flames dance. Could she cross them without getting burned? If this was a dream, were the flames real? Gingerly, she reached out her hand to touch only to retreat when the heat got to be too much. 

Her eyes found the figure again. “Can you cross?” 

The muffled voice still wasn’t clear over the flames, but the figure stepped a little closer. It was still in shadow, but Aurora could tell that the figure was shorter than her with a small frame. 

Was that a child? How was a child in such a horrible place as this? 

While Aurora wanted nothing more than to wake up, she couldn’t leave a child in this place. But how was she going to cross? 

Looking around her, she saw how everything, even the curtains, was engulfed by flames. There wasn’t anything she could use to protect herself from the fire. 

The only way through was to brave it and go through somehow. Aurora walked alongside the flames, trying to find an opening. If she could find any low enough, she could jump. Not that this dress was conducive to any kind of jumping. Eyeing the flames for a long while, Aurora noticed a pattern where some spots would flicker lower then shoot up before lowering again. As she watched, she counted how many breaths it took for the fire to change height. 

She counted about a dozen times to see if it was consistent. Once she figured it was, Aurora walked away from the flames as far as she could. Here in this dream realm, nightmare realm, wherever this was, Phillip’s dagger was still in the folds of her dress. Taking it in her hand, she knelt down and cut through her skirts until her dress was just above the knee. Once that was done, Aurora discarded the ragged scraps of fabric and stood. 

Her gaze found the flames with her opening. It was high again, but she didn’t know how long it had been that way. When they finally lowered after a few still seconds, Aurora broke into a run. Jumping over the flames just in time, Aurora landed on her feet, quickly stumbling into the ground. Groaning, she pushed herself up only to come face to face with a boy, who looked about nine or ten years old. 

His bright green eyes looked at her with concern. “Are you okay?” He asked, helping her up. 

“I’m fine.” Aurora said as she looked down at herself. Luckily there were no signs of burns. Her poor dress was completely ruined. Her gaze returned to the boy. “I’m Aurora.”

“I’m Henry.” The boy said. “Were you under a sleeping curse too?” 

“I was.” Aurora answered, surprised that someone cursed a little boy. Then she registered his name. Henry. Wasn’t Emma’s son named Henry? To be certain, she asked another question. “How did you become cursed?”

Henry grimaced. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. How do you explain to a stranger that one of your moms was trying to kill the other one and that he was the one that prevented it.? “I ate a poisoned apple turnover.”

Her brow arched at that, but stranger things were known to happen. “Would this have been in Storybrooke?”

His eyes widened. “How do you know about Storybrooke?”

“I’m traveling with two women from there.” Aurora said. “Emma Swan and Snow White.”

“My mom’s with you?” Henry leaned forward, eyes glittering excitedly. “Are they okay?” His mom and his grandma were still alive! This was great news. He’d have to tell grandpa as soon as he was awake.

“They’re fine.” Aurora said. “We’re trying to help them get back to Storybrooke.”

“Where are you?” Henry asked, trying to get as much information as possible. 

“We’re in the Enchanted Forest.” Aurora said. “We might have a portal back to your Storybrooke. Well, as long as Cora doesn’t get in our way.”

“You have a portal?” Henry was relieved to hear that. “Wait, who’s Cora?” He vaguely remembered that name. It had to be someone from…wait. He did know that name. She was mentioned in his book as…Regina’s mother. “Not…are you…do you mean the Evil Queen’s mother?”

Aurora nodded. “She’s here in this land and she’s got magic. She wants a portal as well.”

“Why?” Henry remembered the book said something about a pirate being sent to kill Cora before the curse. 

“She wants to reunite with the Evil Queen.” Aurora told him. “Likely to start a new reign of terror in your realm.” 

Henry swallowed. While his mom might not be terrorizing people now, there was no guarantee that Regina was changing her ways. “Okay, I’ll warn people over here.”

That was a good idea. “Do you want me to give your mom and grandmother a message?” 

Henry thought about it for a moment. “Just that I’m safe with grandpa and that we both miss them and we love them.” Henry figured that was good enough for now. “And, we can’t wait for them to come home.” He smiled at the real possibility that his mom and grandma would be home any day now. 

“I’ll be sure to tell them.” Aurora returned the smile just as she felt herself being tugged awake. “I think I’m waking up. Be careful, Henry.”

With that, the fiery room faded away. 

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

Belle woke up clenching her sheets, gasping harshly as the images of Rumple killing the dwarves stuck in her mind as she came into the waking world. Her nightmare was so vivid; it felt so real, almost as it were a premonition itself. 

No, no, that’s not going to happen. She told herself. Rumple promised you that he would stop using magic. He’s a changed man now. He changed for her, because he loved her. A smile crept on her face, banishing away the last, horrifying vestiges of her nightmares. 

Looking around her, she found herself alone in the darkened bedroom. Hadn’t Rumple stayed with her as she fell asleep? Where did he go? She hoped he didn’t think he’d be intruding, staying with her all night. That’s exactly what she wanted; him near, his presence a comfort. 

Feeling a desperate need to go find him and seek out his comfort once again, Belle stood from the bed. Her hands reached for her robe, throwing it around her shoulders for warmth as her room was rather chilled. Though it was late winter, which certainly wasn’t kind to older houses such as this one. The old wood floors were cold as well, so she secured her slippers to her feet. Once that was done, she slowly opened the bedroom door, leaving the room. 

Her feet carried her to Rumple’s bedroom, only for her to find the door ajar. Opening it further, she saw it was empty and the bed was made. As the Dark One, Rumple didn’t sleep like she did. 

She shivered again, and not from the cold. Had he not brought magic to Storybrooke, would he be sleeping? Would he be a normal man? Or with the curse broken, would he be the Dark One again whether magic was here or not? 

Belle hadn’t dared ask him any of these questions. While she loved him, she was more than aware of how volatile he could be, especially when pushed. It scared her, as did his magic. He  promised her that he wouldn’t use it anymore, but she knew that was easier said than done. 

Perhaps, one day, she could try True Love’s Kiss again. It almost worked back in the Enchanted Forest; it could work this time as well. Rumple was trying to be a better man. Surely, he wouldn’t push her away this time. 

As her search continued through the rather large manor, which she was still very much unfamiliar with, there was no sign of Rumple. Just where was he? How big was this house? It was almost like a castle with the many winding and connecting hallways. While there was plenty of windows, there were also heavy curtains, which brought darkness with them, causing her search to be much slower as she felt around her surroundings. 

Finally, she turned a corner, intent on at least finding the kitchen for some water, when a glimpse of light caught her eye. 

A yellow tinted sliver of light came from behind a slightly open door.

Where did that door lead to? Was Rumple there, or had he simply left a light on? 

Curiosity outweighed any hesitance on her part. After all, Rumple told her that his home was her home now, and she was welcome anywhere. Still, she kept her footsteps light and slow. Creeping ever so silently towards the door, Belle’s breathing slowed and softened so that she wouldn’t be heard. 

She reached the door. 

Now, she hesitated. What was she going to find behind this door? She closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself. Belle blinked her eyes open. Wait, why did she need to prepare? Rumple wasn’t going to keep secrets from her. Not anymore. Right? 

If you trusted him, you wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. A voice in her head reasoned. You know what he’s up to. 

She had a feeling, of course. 

Slowly, she crouched down and peered through the crack. Down in what appeared to be a basement, Rumple sat at a table, books of magic, magical items, a cauldron, and scraps of paper with notes littered the table and space around him. Not too far was his spinning wheel surrounded by gold straw. 

He was mixing together a potion. 

He was breaking his promise to her. 

She backed away and eased along the hallway, just as silent as before to not draw his attention. Her eyes watered thickly and her throat tightened. 

Had her wishes truly not meant anything to him? Had he really thought so little of her that he’d blatantly use magic in his home, knowing she wasn’t all that far away? And really, sneaking around at night? Had he thought that she wouldn’t catch him? Did he think himself to be clever?

She entered her bedroom in a daze, tears slowly sliding down her cheeks. Shutting her door with a soft click, Belle pressed her back against it, descending to the floor. Her knees met her chest as she held herself. She bit her lip to keep her cries quiet. 

She trusted him to do as she asked. She trusted him to put his faith in them. Yet, he couldn’t give up magic. Not even for her. 

He never would. 

Heaving a breath, trying to pull herself together, Belle was hit with clarity. 

If he wouldn’t give up magic for her, then she had to give him up for herself. 

She couldn’t be in a relationship with a man she couldn’t trust to not lie to her. If he couldn’t be open with her, or lean on her, and his preference was sneaking around at night to practice magic, then she needed to walk away.

Letting him go would be hard, but Belle believed that perhaps, if Rumple truly believed that their love was worth fighting for, then he’d chose to be a better man. 

Her decision made, Belle stood with determination.

This was going to end, no matter how much it hurt them. 

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

What was she doing here?

It was the ass crack of dawn, black night turning into a grey, dull winter’s morning. She should be in bed, sleeping in the comfort of her blankets, warmed by central heating. 

Instead, Henry’s words were getting to her, having kept her awake most of the night. 

I think you could be good if you really wanted to be. 

Could she be good? Did she even have the capacity for it? Regina had no idea. For so long, she’d been filled with hatred and anger. There was a void where her heart was, and even Henry never quite filled it. All she wanted for so long was for everyone else to suffer. 

Victory had been hers for a time, but now…

Now she was all alone and the most hated woman in Storybrooke. Even her own son didn’t want to be around her, preferring to trick her so that he could find a way to bring his other mother back to their realm. 

Just thinking of Emma Swan filled Regina with such a blinding rage that her knuckles turned white as they gripped her steering wheel. Everything would’ve been just fine if that woman never came to town. Her curse would still be intact and Henry…well, she would’ve figured out sooner or later how to deal with him. 

Gritting her teeth, Regina almost started her car to return home. 

She caught sight of red hair. 

Archie was walking up to the building where his practice was, with Pongo trailing along next to him on his leash. 

I think you could be good if you really wanted to be.

That’s why she was here. Her anger still simmered, but at least it wasn’t an all consuming rage. Henry believed she could change if she tried. If he believed in her, could she believe in herself? Ha, likely not.

But…but this would at least be a step in the right direction. 

Though she didn’t exactly have faith in the abilities of a former cricket. How effective could his form of therapy even be? 

She scoffed, once again debating about turning the ignition on and leaving. She couldn’t be good. Her blood was full of dark magic, just like her mother’s. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from that tree, did it? 

Her stomach sank at the thought. 

Was she like her mother? Memories of using magic on Henry time and time again throughout his life assailed her. Everything she did, she learned from her mother. It was no wonder that Henry hated her. 

I don’t hate you. He’d said that of course, but had he just been saying that because he needed her out of her office? Or had he truly meant that? Did he really believe in her? 

Henry had such a good heart. He was nothing like her. So much of him came from his grandparents and even Miss Swan. There was nothing of her in him despite raising him for ten years. 

Though, with how she turned out, that was probably for the best. Even if it meant Henry didn’t want to be around her. 

But Regina wanted to be around Henry; she wanted to be in his life. 

As long as she was the Evil Queen, as long as people viewed her as such, then she’d never be able to be in his life. She’d be ostracized at best and likely arrested or killed out of revenge at worst. Sure, her magic was back, but it was spotty. There was no guarantee she could defend herself when the time for it came. 

She stared at Archie’s building, not knowing how long it had been since he’d gone in, but the sun was higher in the sky now. Grey was tinted with bright blue at the horizon. 

Regina swallowed. 

There was a choice to be made, and she had to make it now. 

If she went through with this, if she tried to change, could she achieve her happy ending? Or was it better to stay as she was and be the villain everyone saw when they looked at her? 

Closing her eyes, Regina warred with herself. To get therapy or not to get therapy. There wasn’t a guarantee that it would work. Perhaps she had nothing but a dark and wretched heart. So many choices led her down her path to darkness. It hadn’t bothered her until Henry.

What if he meant it? What if he truly did believe that she could change?

“There’s one way to find out.” Regina whispered to herself. She took the keys out of the ignition and grabbed her purse. Locking her car, her heels clicked on the pavement, the only noise echoing on the silent street. 

She paused before the door. 

You can do this. She told herself as she took a long, deep breath. For Henry. You can do this for Henry. 

Opening the door, Regina took the first step forward to changing her life. 

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

Waking with a start, Aurora sat up quickly, looking around camp, finding everyone already awake and the sun rising over the horizon. 

“Are you all right?” Mulan asked, kneeling next to her with concern. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Nightmare. Aurora whipped her head around, spotting Emma sitting with her mother as they divided up berry portions for breakfast. “Emma!” Aurora scrambled to her feet, rushing over to the startled blonde. “I saw Henry.” She said as she dropped in front of her.

The others were just as startled, sharing confused looks as to what Aurora meant. 

“Henry?” Emma blinked. “How did you…?” She trailed off as the realization hit her. So much had been going on that Emma forgot Aurora and Henry had both been under the sleeping curse. Their nightmares were some kind of dream realm.

Luckily, Aurora quickly filled in the silence, unknowingly covering Emma’s remembering. “We were both put under the sleeping curse. So, whatever realm I’m in in my dreams, Henry’s there too. We can communicate.”

Hook scrutinized Emma’s expression. When she had begun to ask Aurora about how she saw Henry, Hook could’ve sworn realization crossed Emma’s face, as though she knew the answer before Aurora revealed it. How could that be?

“You talked to him?” Emma leaned forward. “Is he okay? What did he say?” She knew that he was with her dad by now, and she could find a way to thank David for getting Henry out of Regina’s custody for the moment when they returned to Storybrooke. Still, Emma wanted more than anything for Henry to be all right and knowing if he was would ease her mind at least.

Aurora smiled. “He said that he’s safe with your father. They both miss you and Snow and they want you home.”

“We’re getting there.” Snow said, excited and determined. “Did you tell him we were on our way?”

“I did.” Aurora’s face fell. “I also warned him about Cora.”

“That’s wise.” Hook spoke. “Emma said the Dark One brought magic to Storybrooke. Which means if Cora gets there, she’ll have magic as well.”

“And if she gets Regina on her side,” Snow started. “Storybrooke might be in for a war.” She hated to think about going through another war against Regina. They barely survived the last one, and if Cora was around this time, they could all very well be destroyed. And that wasn’t even accounting for Rumplestiltskin joining them or not. 

“We won’t let that happen.” Emma said, determination filling her. She stood then. “We’re going to use the portal before she can get the chance.”

“If she’s as powerful and clever as you all seem to fear,” Anton began, looking down at all of them from his great height, even as he was seated. “Then how are you going to stop her?”

No one was sure how to answer that. This was Cora after all.

“We’ll figure it out.” Emma said.

“We need to figure out how to get the ashes to work.” Snow said. “The sooner we do, the sooner we can get home and leave Cora here.” How to get the ashes to work though? Was Emma’s theory even correct? Could they still have magic even though the wardrobe burned?

Emma gritted her teeth. There was no way she could mention Lake Nostos without drawing suspicion. She wasn’t from here and she wasn’t suppose to have knowledge of Lake Nostos or the magical properties of the lake. There had to be some way to bring it up, but how? 

“Maybe we should return to the Safe Haven.” Marian suggested, an idea coming to her. “If Cora was posing as Lancelot, it’s possible she might continue to do so. If she is, then maybe we can trap her somehow. With her knowledge of magic, surely she knows how the ashes work?”

If Emma could cheer without looking insane, she would. How had she not thought of that? Cora might not return to Safe Haven, but if there was a chance she would, then they could stop her. Without Hook to cover for, Cora wouldn’t need to kill anyone, so they could get others on their side to help trap Cora. Then Emma could figure out how to get Cora to reveal the truth of Lake Nostos.

Hook wondered just why Emma looked relieved about that. There was nothing to be relieved of where Cora was concerned. While Emma had his trust, his instincts were telling him that there was more going on than any of them knew. Emma knew something and he’d figure out how to get her to talk. Though they still needed to discuss their kiss, and he hadn’t had much luck with that. It wouldn’t hurt to try again. 

“Do you really think she would return?” Aurora asked. 

“If she needs allies or some sort of cover, it’s a possibility.” Hook said, adding to the conversation.

Mulan glared at him with suspicion, which was nothing new. 

“Okay, we return to Safe Haven.” Snow agreed. “We trap Cora and we get the information we need.”

“Then we go home.” Emma added with a smile. They’d be back in Storybrooke in no time now. 

“Let’s get going then.” Mulan said, curtly. “We shouldn’t waste anymore daylight.”

As they broke down camp, Cora watched from the trees, her presence rendered invisible by her magic. It was almost cute that they thought it was possible to trap her. Well, she wouldn’t allow that of course. Safe Haven proved to be a problem as their returning there meant they'd gather allies. 

Cora’s lips curled into a cruel smile. If she did away with the people, then she’d prove to them just how much of a threat she was, especially when she revealed to them her hostage. They’d comply with her once they knew she’d do anything to get to Storybrooke. 

Transporting herself back to the Safe Haven, Cora began her work to defeat the heroes. 

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

Henry hurried down the stairs as soon as he was awake. 

Liam, being an early riser, was already sitting at the counter as David cooked bacon and eggs.

“Grandpa!” Henry practically crashed into David as he came to a stop. “Mom and Grandma are coming back!” 

“Whoa, wait, what?” David blinked, surprised by Henry’s statement and caught off guard by so much energy this early in the morning. He then registered exactly what Henry said. “Henry, what do you mean they’re coming back? How do you know that?”

“They’re with Sleeping Beauty.” Henry said. “Princess Aurora. She was under the Sleeping Curse too.” He spoke quickly, full of excitement at his discovery. “The room where the fire is has to be a realm when we’re asleep.”

“Okay, so you saw this woman in your dream?” David asked slowly, trying to remember if he knew of a Princess Aurora. The name sounded familiar. He took the cooked food off the stove to focus on Henry. 

“Yeah.” Henry said. “She’s traveling with Mom and Grandma. They’re getting a portal home.”

Relief was the ultimate understatement for what David felt in that moment. His emotions overwhelmed him as a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Emma and Snow were coming home. They would be reunited and be a whole family once again. 

Liam wanted to be happy for his friend. He knew how upset Henry was that his mom and grandma were gone, but he couldn’t stop the jealousy settling in his bones. Henry would have his whole family again, and Liam would be alone. His papa was still gone and then when Emma and Snow came home, there wouldn’t be room for him to stay here. He’d be kicked out and on his own again. Was it his fate to always be alone?

“Did she say when they’d be home?” David asked. 

“She said they were woking on it.” Henry said. Then his smile faded and he grew serious. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked. 

“They said a woman named Cora was trying to come too.” Henry said.

“Cora?” David’s look of horror chilled both boys. If David was scared of her, then she was seriously bad news. “Cora is alive?”

Henry nodded. “She wants to come here for Regina. Aurora said that if that happens, then they’ll terrorize everyone.”

David turned grim. “They will.” Seeing the scared expressions on both boys’ faces, David added. “But we’ll fight them. We won’t let them win, all right?”

The boys nodded, but they weren’t all that reassured. 

“Hey, I promise.” David started. “If Cora comes here, then we’ll stop her and Regina from hurting people.” Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, David sighed. “I know neither of you want to go to school right now, but it’s safer there. I have to warn others about Cora and we’ll need to prepare.”

“We can help.” Liam protested. Storybrooke was their home too; they could help defend it. 

“No, boys.” David was stern. “You have to go to school. I know you want to help and I know you’re scared, but this is most definitely a job for adults. If it comes to fighting Regina and Cora, you both are at risk of getting hurt.” David grasped Henry’s shoulder in one hand, and reached out a reassuring hand to Liam’s forearm. “It’s good to want to help, but you both have to promise me that you’ll listen to us and stay out of this fight. We can’t beat Regina and Cora if we’re worried about you two, okay?”

Reluctantly, both boys agreed. 

“Okay, let’s eat up and get dressed.” David said, plating up their bacon and eggs. As the boys ate, David walked away into his and Snow’s bedroom area and dialed Ruby’s number. 

“Hey, David.” Ruby answered after only a couple of rings.

“Hey.” David kept his voice low so the boys wouldn’t hear, and thankfully with Ruby’s wolf hearing he could whisper and she’d understand him clearly. “I need you to gather our allies. Henry made contact with someone in the Enchanted Forest. Snow and Emma are okay and they’re coming home, but Cora’s alive and trying to get here too.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby practically screeched. “The Enchanted Forest still exists? How did Henry make contact? And what the hell do you mean Cora’s alive?”

“I’ll explain later.” David said. “Have everyone come to Granny’s. We’ll meet in the sitting room.” He glanced back at the boys. “I have to get the boys to school, then I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Ruby said. “See you soon.”

When she hung up, David looked in the mirror above the dresser. No wonder the boys weren’t all that reassured. He looked like a ghost, grim and dour. Cora was bad news and without the fairies having their magic, how the hell were they going to fight her?

There’s always the Dark One. David grimaced at the thought. Going to Rumplestiltskin for anything made his stomach knot. But, as the Dark One, he was more powerful than Cora, possibly more powerful than Cora and Regina combined. They would need him on their side. 

He didn’t like it and he really, really didn’t want to do it, but he was going to have to talk to Rumplestiltskin.

After he took the boys to school, he’d stop by the pawnshop on the way to Granny’s, just to see exactly what the dealmaker would say.

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

Belle left the house early that morning without seeing Rumple, not quite ready to face him. Most of the early morning hours were spent with her walking practically all over Storybrooke to prepare herself to confront him. It was magic or her, and if it was magic, then she’d walk away. 

She just wasn’t ready for Rumple’s reaction. He wouldn’t be pleased about her wanting him to choose. In fact, he was likely to be cold and furious all at once. Belle swallowed; she shouldn’t fear him so much. Dark One he might be, but he’d never hurt her. He loved her. Their love was True Love; it had to be and she was going to do what was best for both of them.

If she left him, he’d change for her. She knew in her heart that he would become a better man. She just needed to give him the right incentive. Winning her back would do just that. 

Her destination was now in sight. Just down the block and across the street, the pawnshop looked somewhat harmless in picturesque Main Street. Steeling herself with a deep breath, Belle walked forward with a confidence she wasn’t quite sure she felt. 

The closer she came to the door, the less certain she was of her decision. 

No, you can’t doubt yourself. Belle chided as she crossed the street. This is what’s best for both of you. 

When she reached the door, she saw Rumple through the glass. With another deep breath, Belle opened the door, meeting Rumple’s eyes.

Rumple smiled. “Belle, you were gone this morning.” He worried about where she’d gone off to, because she wasn’t that familiar with Storybrooke yet. After checking all of the shops on Main Street, he came to the pawnshop and used magic to locate her. His map of Storybrooke showed a dot representing Belle walking all over Storybrooke. He didn’t know why exactly, perhaps she was trying to familiarize herself with the town, but he felt that wasn’t the case. As she neared his shop a few minutes ago, he turned off the locator spell and waited for her at the front counter. “You should’ve said you were off. Storybrooke is still a strange place for you. I was worried.”

Guilt ate away at her. How could she not tell him? Sure, she was hurt and angry that he broke his promise, but he shouldn’t have had to worry about her. “I’m sorry.” Her feet stopped before the front counter. “I didn’t sleep well last night and I thought a walk would clear my head.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Had she woken up in the night and seen him? He hoped not. It was like Belle to be curious, but for her sake, and his, he hoped she stayed in her room. While he welcomed her into his home, Rumple knew he should’ve set some ground rules. He missed her so much for so long, so he wanted her to feel like his home was hers. However, if he was ever going to cross the town line to find Bae, he needed magic. What he didn’t need was Belle snooping around. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I did.” Belle braced herself. “You used magic and killed people.”

Of course, it always came back to him abusing his magic. Though it’s not like using his magic to kill people was anything new. He’d been doing that for centuries. “Belle, it was just a bad dream. I promised you that I would try and not use magic.” Rumple kept his tone reassuring, not wanting her to suspect what he’d actually been up to. “I haven’t used it, because of you. You need to believe that you can trust me.” 

His lies stung and it took a lot more strength than she felt for Belle to keep her emotions at bay. “You haven’t?”

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Rumple said. “Surely you know how important you are to me. I wouldn’t break my promise to you.” His reassurance was strong so that she’d believe him and stay out of his way. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his son. If he could keep Belle in the dark and get Bae, then he would have her and Bae and his life would be complete. 

Her tears came on their own, stinging at her eyes. “I saw you in the basement last night. You were using magic then.”

Rumple tensed at her accurate accusation. “I wasn’t.” He lied. “I was researching something. Research doesn’t mean I was using magic.” He couldn’t let her know he broke his promise. He needed her. 

“Stop lying to me.” Belle pleaded. How could he lie to her face like this? She knew he loved her, but his lies were coming between them. His secrets were poisoning them. “You were making a potion. That’s magic.”

“Barely.” Rumple’s tone darkened. “Belle, please, what I was doing doesn’t amount to anything.”

Belle shook her head. “It still counts and you know it.” She placed her palms on the glass, looking earnestly into his eyes. “Rumple, please. You know magic is a crutch that only hurts us. You have to stop.”

Anger blinded him for the briefest of seconds. Who did she think she was to speak to the Dark One that way? Breathing through his nose, Rumple forced down the voices of the previous Dark Ones, who called for Belle’s blood. “It only comes between us because you let it.” Rumple stepped back from her proximity to calm himself. “Magic is a part of me and you need to accept that.”

“It’s a curse, Rumple.” Belle argued. “And curses can be broken.” 

He saw the hope in her eyes and it made him sick. He couldn’t try True Love’s Kiss; it would rid him of his magic. He needed his magic. “It’s who I am. You need to accept that.”

Her chin lifted defiantly. “It isn’t you. You’re a good man. I know you are. The darkness in you is just a poison that’s festered for too long.” Belle moved, coming around the counter. 

Get her away. Older Dark Ones hissed. 

“Rumple, you can choose not to use your magic.” Belle continued. “I know that you can. You’re stronger than this curse.”

“You’re naive to think that.” Rumple snapped, turning his back to her. “I became the Dark One by choice and I remain so by choice.”

Hearing those words shattered Belle. It was the curse talking; the curse was what made him evil. Now was the time to make the choice for both of them. He would change for her if only to win her back. “Then we can’t be together.” 

This again. Rumple shook his head. “Of course we can.”

“No.” Belle said. “It’s me or magic, Rumple. If you choose your magic and being the Dark One, then I’m walking away.”

A heavy, stifling silence descended upon them as they stared off. 

Rumple calculated his next move. He couldn’t have her leave him, but he also couldn’t promise to not use magic. Clearly, it hadn’t worked the first time, using magic behind her back, and she’d be more alert to his machinations a second time around. 

The silence broke thanks to the bell jingling above the door. 

Annoyance coursed through Rumple’s veins as Prince Charming walked in. 

David stopped short when he realized something was happening between Rumplestiltskin and his…friend. “Sorry, I’m interrupting, but I have news.”

“Please, do share.” Rumple snarled. “It’s not as if we weren’t done with our conversation.” 

David glared at the Dark One’s snideness, but this was more important than Rumplestiltskin’s relationship problems. “Henry’s been having nightmares since the Sleeping Curse. He seems to be in another realm and he’s made contact with a Princess Aurora.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Rumple said. “She’s one of Maleficent’s unfortunate victims.” 

“Right.” David said. “Aurora is with Snow and Emma and they plan to get a portal home. The problem is that Cora, Regina’s mother, is alive and after the same portal.” 

Rumple stiffened. “Cora is alive?” Truly, he shouldn’t be too surprised. Cora was the wiliest student he’d ever had, if not one of the wiliest magic users he’d ever met. Himself included. “Well, she always was clever. Let me guess, she wants to come here for Regina?”

“It seems so.” David confirmed. “Look, I don’t know what Regina will do if Cora shows up here, but I do know that we’ll need someone with magic to help us fight them.” David stepped forward, his jaw set. “Even if Regina doesn’t aid her mother, it’s not likely that she’ll stop her. You have the power to do that.” Preparing himself for a deal, David hoped that he wouldn’t have to give up too much. And whatever he did give, he hoped his family would forgive him. “We’ll need your help if Cora comes to Storybrooke. Will you help us?”

While Belle didn’t know who Cora was and she didn’t like the idea of Rumple using magic, it was clear that the acting Sheriff was afraid. Even Rumple seemed uncomfortable at the idea of this Cora person coming here. Was she truly so terrible? If so, then, Rumple needed to help them. The fact that it involved magic made Belle’s stomach twist, but perhaps it would show Rumple that he could be good. If he worked with heroes, then he could very well have a chance at becoming one. Please, Rumple. You can be good. I know you can. Help them. 

Rumple stared David down. Anyone who stood against Cora was a fool; he wouldn’t help her if she came to him, but he wasn’t going to get in her way either. “No.” Rumple stated with finality. “Cora’s trouble, and I’m not going to stick my neck out for you heroes. If she comes here, I won’t aid her or you. Whatever happens is your problem.”

Clenching his fist, anger filled David, though since it was the Dark One he was dealing with, he should’ve expected such an answer. “We need someone with magic on our side. The fairies don’t have dust and I doubt Regina’s going to warm up to us. You’re the only other person who can help.”

“No, I’m not.” Rumple said. “Miss Swan has magic.”

“What?” David’s brows furrowed. “Since when?” Emma had magic, really? But how? She’d never shown signs of it, and he and Snow didn’t have it to pass on.

“She was born with it.” Rumple stated as though it was obvious. David’s ignorance irritated him. “True Love is the most powerful magic of all. A child born from True Love is a representation of that. Her magic is powerful, likely more powerful than Cora and Regina combined. Though, she doesn’t have the training, so there’s no guarantee she’ll be effective.”

David supposed that made sense. Perhaps that’s why Rumple fated Emma to be the Savior. “Then you could teach Emma, couldn’t you?”

“Get your pests, the fairies, to do it.” Rumple said. “I’d rather not waste my time. Now, if you’ll be so kind, get out.”

So much for that. David glared at Rumple a final time before storming out of the shop.

Rumple turned to Belle with the intention of finishing their conversation, stopping short of speaking when he saw the disappointment in her eyes. “Belle, I…”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” Belle said. “Don’t expect me to come home. Don’t expect anything of me.” Be strong, Belle. You have to do this. “We’re done.” She turned on her heels, stalking off, practically running out the door as she did so. 

Rumple gripped the edge of the counter tightly. Belle couldn’t break it off; he couldn’t let her. No, no, he’d get her back. She’d cool off and realize her mistake and everything would be perfect once he got back into her good graces. 

He just needed to be patient. 

As for Cora, well, he was serious. He wouldn’t interfere as long as she left him alone. The Savior would do well to stop Cora from coming though. Cora being here was a complication no one needed. 

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

Jefferson groaned into his hands as the headache that plagued him since he woke up at The Rabbit Hole persistently stuck with him despite the ungodly amount of Tylenol he consumed. His second cup of coffee was no help either.

Hopefully the bacon, sausages, and eggs he ordered would be greasy enough to help and not cause his stomach to empty itself out into the nearest toilet. 

“Here you go.” Ruby placed the plate in front of him, devoid of her usually upbeat charm. 

Jefferson looked up at her. “What’s got you in a mood?” He grumbled reaching for a fork. 

“Nothing.” Ruby growled, though she kept looking nervously at the door, like she was expecting the world to fall apart. 

“Fine, jeez, don’t bite my head off.” Jefferson stabbed at his fried eggs. He was never drinking that much again. That was a guarantee. 

Ruby glared at the former portal jumper. “When I bite your head off, you’ll know it.” She whirled around, walking away to attend to other customers.

“It’s not like I haven’t lost my head before.” Jefferson mumbled. As he aggressively cut his eggs with his fork, his thoughts turned over to exactly why he was hungover. 

Grace. He still hadn’t gathered the courage to see her. Or, well, meet her. He watched her from afar sometimes, but it was too painful knowing that she remembered him now. He was too afraid to see a look of hatred on her face. Abandonment changes a person and he definitely abandoned Grace, though it wasn’t intentional. 

No, it was fucking Regina’s fault.

Then again, Jefferson was the one who agreed to work for her again. The guilt was never going to leave him; he shouldn’t have left her. Grace was better off without him, in a home with two parents, who would never leave her. She was happier without him; it was for the best. 

Poking at his food, Jefferson forced a sausage link down his tight throat and into his queasy stomach. Though he knew that Grace was better off, it didn’t stop the pain of losing her. After Priscilla died, Grace became his whole world and he vowed to always protect her and never leave. Yet, he broke his vows and failed so completely as her father. 

His wallowing kept him from noticing the stool next to him being occupied at first. 

“Portal jumper.” Dr. Victor Whale greeted curtly. 

Jefferson turned to face Whale, glaring at the man. “Mad scientist. What the hell do you want?” He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with old colleagues. Or, well, scheme buddies? He wasn’t sure what to call Whale. They only worked that one job together for Rumplestiltskin, which only made Regina a monster. He winced; he didn’t like remembering his hand in helping create the Evil Queen. His already ill stomach twisted even more. 

“Your hat, if you still have it.” Dr. Whale said. “I want to return to my realm.” While he believed that his realm was destroyed during the curse, he’d overheard a couple of dwarves at the pharmacy talking about Emma Swan and Snow White being alive and in the Enchanted Forest. If the Enchanted Forest still existed, then his realm likely did too. He needed to get back and check on his brother. Who knows what happened to Gerhardt in the years since Whale was stuck in this accursed place. 

“I don’t have it.” Jefferson said evenly before taking a sip of coffee. He wasn’t going to tell him that David had it, even knowing that the hat wouldn’t work without magic anyway. 

“Where is it?” Whale asked. 

“I don’t know.” Jefferson lied. He picked up a slice of bacon, chewing it carefully as he stared Whale down. “Why do you want to know?” What was Whale up to? Jefferson only met him the one time, but from what he gleaned from the man, his experiments were important to him. He wondered what exactly Whale did with that enchanted heart. 

“That’s none of your business.” Whale glowered. He looked away from Jefferson, thinking about what to do next. There was magic in this realm now, so that meant the Dark One and Regina had magic. He didn’t want to make any deals with Rumplestiltskin and he doubted he had any bargaining chip that demon wanted anyway. That left Regina and after leading an angry mob to kill her, he doubted that she’d be receptive of him.

No, he needed something to use against Regina. Hadn’t he heard a rumor that she brought magical items over to this realm? Turning back to Jefferson, he asked. “Did Regina bring magical items here?”

Jefferson paused in forcing down his breakfast. For a few seconds, he considered telling Whale to fuck off, but then he remembered Regina was the one to leave him in Wonderland, permanently separating him from Grace, only to bring him over with her curse solely to torment him for twenty-eight years by trapping him in a huge house within viewing distance of Grace. “Yeah, she did.” So he was spiteful and maybe a tad vengeful. “She has a vault under her father’s grave in the Mills Mausoleum. That’s where she keeps everything.”

Whale nodded and scurried off.

Honestly, Jefferson didn’t care what Whale was up to as the guy wanted to get home and whatever he did would probably ruin Regina’s day, and that thought gave Jefferson some amount of satisfaction. 

Ruby reappeared sometime later to take his empty plate, but she disappeared as soon as David walked through the door. 

Jefferson briefly wondered what that was about before returning to his coffee, wallowing once more. 

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

The trek through the forest was awkward to be sure. There was still suspicion and mistrust amongst a few of them as well as the odd tension between him and Emma and Emma and her mother. Snow seemed to glance at Emma with worry and guilt every few minutes, Mulan led them occasionally glaring at him or up at poor Anton every now and then, and Anton, being a giant, made way too much noise. Truly, it was a miracle ogres hadn’t come upon them yet. 

Emma had fallen behind some time ago, likely to avoid her mother’s glances and definitely in an attempt to avoid him. 

Hook wanted to talk to her about the kiss, of course, and about how she knew how Aurora made contact with Henry. There was something she wasn’t saying every time they had a conversation. He could see it in her eyes that she was hiding something, holding back information. Come to think of it, despite claiming to not know of her magic, she used it with more ease than any other amateur he’d seen. 

Glancing back, he realized she was further behind the group than was safe. A pang of fear shot through him at the thought of losing track of her or her being vulnerable to ogres should they come upon them. He slowed, slipping back, stopping to wait for Emma to catch up. 

Her eyes were fixed on the ground, lost in thought, so she hadn’t noticed he stopped until she was almost upon him. Her steps faltered, hesitation clear in her expression. “Hook.” Emma’s voice was soft, yet there was a stern undercurrent, almost a warning. She started walking again, with Hook stepping in time with her. Please don’t mention the kiss. She silently begged. Not now. Everything’s too confusing. 

He didn’t speak at first. Hell, he wasn’t sure how to start without saying something that would cause her to immediately shut him out. Perhaps…if he caught her off guard. She would expect him to try to bring up the kiss, but not his other suspicions. His gaze flickered to her form as they walked, though it was clear that Emma wasn’t speeding up to catch up to the others, meaning that she either gave up on avoiding him or she didn’t want to risk him following her to confront her and having the others overhear their conversation. Here goes nothing. “You knew about the dream realm before Aurora told you, didn’t you?”

Shock jolted her so badly, her feet stumbled, causing Hook to reach out to catch her. As his hands rested on her hips to steady her, Emma shot up to look at him, her eyes wide. How the fuck did he know that? “What?” 

Hook drew closer, keeping his voice low. “You knew what Aurora was going to say. Then when it was suggested Cora might return to the Safe Haven, you were relieved. Why?”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. Emma swallowed as Hook’s intense scrutiny pinned her in place. She could deny it, but her reaction to his accusations wouldn’t help her denials. In fact, it would’ve only cemented the truth to him. Pulling away from him, Emma started walking again, a little bit more speed in her step as her stumble had put them further behind the group than was safe. 

Hook hurried alongside her. “Swan, wait.” Her panicked look was one that told him that he was on the precipice of discovering what she was hiding. “Look, I meant what I said. I trust you, but if there’s something else going on, shouldn’t you tell the rest of us?” He looked ahead, hoping that no one would overhear so that Emma might be receptive to speaking with him. They didn’t need any interruptions. Not if he could get answers. 

Emma didn’t know how to respond to that. This wasn’t the time or place to go into the whole story of time travel. She wasn’t even sure if she should tell anyone, if it was even safe to tell anyone, about her inadvertent time traveling. “I…Hook, I can’t…” Emma started, but she couldn’t figure out what needed to be said. She stopped again to fully face him. 

He didn’t step closer this time, giving her some space to sort through her words. 

Emma’s mind raced as she tried to come up with excuses, denials, confirmations. She was completely torn as to what to do. The entire story was so bizarre that she would’ve thought she was crazy if she wasn’t living it right now. And she didn’t want to keep lying to him. Lies didn’t make for a friendship let alone a relationship. But things were too complicated. They needed to get Cora, open the portal, and get to Storybrooke. Then when everything settled down, she could figure out what to do. But how could she alleviate his suspicions for the moment?  

She looked away from him for a second to clear her head, only to realize the group was well ahead of them. She didn’t need the others wondering why she and Hook were hanging so far back. “Look, I can’t explain right now.” She might as well be honest for now. It would at least give her time to figure out what to do next. “This isn’t the time or place, okay? Let’s focus on getting back to Safe Haven and getting to Storybrooke.”

While he wasn’t keen on her not really answering his questions, she at least confirmed that something was going on. “All right, Swan.” Hook agreed. 

“Let’s catch up.” Emma said, hurrying along. “And one more thing, don’t tell the others, please? I’d rather keep this between us.”

He wasn’t sure what it was she was hiding, but if she didn’t think she could tell the others, and if he wanted to earn her trust, then he wouldn’t say anything. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

A small, slight smile from her soothed him just a bit. “I know.”

It wasn’t long before they caught up to the others without attracting attention.

Emma really hoped no one noticed just how far back she and Hook had been, especially her mother. Despite their talk, Emma knew her mother didn’t trust Hook and she’d be even more concerned over Emma after the whole revelation of her past and complete lack of parental figures in her life. 

After a time, Mulan finally stopped them. “We can’t go on like this.” She stalked over to Emma. “He’s too loud.” Her arm motioned up at Anton. “He’s going to attract too much attention.”

“We can’t leave him behind.” Aurora protested. 

“Taking him with us is only going to get us killed.” Mulan argued. 

“Well, he is bigger than the ogres.” Marian said. “He could just stomp on them.” 

“I’d rather not.” Anton winced. He wasn’t much for taking life, even if ogres were mindless killers. “I’d walk quieter if I could, but my size isn’t exactly helpful.”

Marian looked up at him. “That’s it, it’s your size that’s the problem.” She turned towards Emma. “Your magic, could it shrink him?” There was a lot that magic could do after all, certainly it could be used to help Anton.

The suggestion surprised Emma. Cora shrunk Anton somehow before bringing him to Storybrooke the first time around, but Emma had no idea how she did it. “I don’t know…I just learned about my magic.” 

“You can do it.” Marian encouraged. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Snow cut in, her brows tight. “Magic always comes with a price. It’s too risky.” Truthfully, Emma having magic worried Snow. She saw how magic corrupted others. Her daughter couldn’t fall down that path too. 

“But Emma did well at the castle.” Aurora reminded. “And there haven’t been consequences yet.” 

Her success at the castle was because she basically was pulling a few tricks Regina already taught her. Though from Regina’s own research, she hadn’t found the magic of True Love to follow the same rules as regular or dark magic. “Yeah, barely.” Emma shook her head. “I have no idea how to shrink him.”

“It won’t hurt to try.” Mulan grumbled, crossing her arms. “Better than being ogre food.”

How the hell could she shrink him? She didn’t know the right spell, or even if it was a spell. For all she knew, Cora might have given Anton a potion to shrunk him. In fact, she hoped that when they trapped Cora at Safe Haven, they could convince her to shrink Anton. That way he could live a normal life among humans whether here or in Storybrooke. 

She glanced at her mother, who still looked leery of the idea. Snow never was receptive of Emma’s magic and with everything that happened with Elsa, Emma saw just how much her mother was uncomfortable around it. Likely due to everything with Regina, but they never talked about it.  

His presence appeared behind her. “You can do it, love.” His voice was low, his tone supportive. 

Emma looked over her shoulder at him. 

Hook’s eyes were filled with faith in her. He gave a slight nod of encouragement. 

Emma sighed and turned towards Anton. “Okay, I’ll try, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“That’s okay.” Anton shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Still, if he was honest, he was terrified. He knew Emma wouldn’t intentionally hurt him, but she admitted to her lack of knowledge and skills in magic. As Emma lifted her hands and closed her eyes, Anton shut his own eyes, not wanting to watch in case something went wrong. 

Emma tensed up, uncertain about her success rate. What if she failed? What if she hurt Anton? What if she hurt the others? Leaning on her love for her family, Emma called forth her powers. She felt magic thrum in her veins, but it hesitated to unleash itself. 

His quiet, reassuring rumble reached her ears alone. “I believe in you, Emma.” 

That did it. She could, no, would, do this. Her body relaxed, her breathing became even. Emma could see Anton in her mind’s eye and willed her magic to do her bidding. Make him smaller. Make him human sized. She repeated over and over again in her head. Her magic responded and Emma released it.

Anton suddenly felt enveloped in warmth and then a sensation of falling, seeing bright light from behind his eyelids. When the light dissipated, he slowly opened his eyes, finding his previously tiny companions staring up at him. While he still towered over Princess Aurora, the shortest of the group, he was just over half a foot taller than the other women, and barely had an inch on Hook. 

With the exception of Hook and Emma, who still had her eyes closed, they were looking at him in wonder. 

“You did it, Emma!” Marian exclaimed, causing Emma to open her eyes.

Emma’s jaw dropped when she saw that Anton wasn’t all that much taller now. Instead of a towering giant, now he towered at a human-sized height. All of his limbs looked intact and there didn’t even seem to be a tear in his clothing or a hair out of place. “I did it.” She breathed out in utter disbelief. 

While Mulan looked relieved that he wouldn’t be making anymore noise, Aurora and Marian walked closer to Anton, prodding at him with compliments on how good a human he’d make. 

Emma glanced at her mother and her heart sunk. Snow didn’t look proud or awed. Instead, her brow furrowed and her face was tight, more than likely worried about what Emma’s use of magic would mean. 

Hook noticed Emma’s shoulders fell when she realized Snow White didn’t hold the pride that a mother should whenever her child accomplished something. That didn’t settle well with him, but he didn’t feel like analyzing why at the moment. Without thinking, he came to her side, hand drawing up to the back of Emma’s neck, a gesture meant to soothe. 

Her bright green eyes latched onto him.

“See, Swan,” He smirked. “You can’t fail. You’ll give Cora a run for her money if you keep this up.”

The blinding smile that appeared on her face sent his heart stuttering. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He grinned more genuinely than he had in a long, long time. “You’re amazing, Swan.” For a heartbeat, he knew they were going to kiss if he didn’t step back. He saw a longing fire in her eyes, which he felt matched his own desire. But this wasn’t the time or place, and she’d told him before, their kiss was a one-time thing. He wouldn’t allow her to do something she’d regret. Reluctantly, his hand dropped from her and he took a step back, noting the disappointment in her eyes. “Well done.”

Though she was disappointed, and relieved, that he hadn’t kiss her, Emma couldn’t stop smiling at his words. “Thanks, Killian.” 

Her soft proclamation of his name surprised him to his core. She hadn’t used his name all that much, preferring the Hook moniker as the others did. Only thrice before had he heard it from her lips, all on that blasted beanstalk, and each time, he felt his walls crumbling. It was then, as he watched her slowly turn away, giving him a lingering look of want, that he realized something. She didn’t use Hook because of him or the others; she was using it to keep a barrier between them. Hook was safer than Killian. Hook was who she needed him to be; Killian was who neither of them could handle at the moment. Shaking himself, his attention returned to the now human sized giant, shoving away his revelation. 

“All right, we need to keep moving.” Mulan declared. “We’re losing sunlight, and I’d like to make it back to Safe Haven before dark.”

As they began their trek, Snow fell into step with Emma. Quietly, she asked, “Emma, what did Hook say to you?” 

The question surprised her. “What do you mean?” 

“Before you shrunk Anton, when you were concentrating,” Snow began. “It looked like your magic wasn’t going to work, then he stepped closer to you and whispered something.” Snow’s expression was serious and concerned and oh so very motherly. “What did he say?”

I believe in you, Emma. 

“Nothing important.” Emma lied, avoiding her mother’s eyes. 

Instead, she looked ahead of them, where her pirate walked alongside Anton. 

She had to tell him the truth. As soon as they were alone and they had time, Emma would tell Killian everything. Her heart needed him to know, even if he came to hate her for it. 

[killiansprincss]

Timeless - a Captain Swan AU Chapter 11/19

Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?

In which every chapter is inspired by a different Taylor Swift song.

Previous Chapters, AO3

This fic means the world to me and I would love for people to love it as much as I love it 🫶🏻

_________

CHAPTER 11 - WILDEST DREAMS

Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just pretend

___

“So that was a weird day.” Emma says as they get back into their carriage after their encounter with Rumple. “How are you doing?” Emma was cautious with Henry, seeing his adoptive mother look at him and not know who he was must have been horrible.

“That Regina, wasn’t Regina. She was, it was-”

“She was way too nice?” Emma suggests, making them both laugh.

“She seems happy though. And I’m glad she’s had a life without magic, she suits it. Robin makes her happy and I’m glad they found each other.” He comments, Emma has to agree, Regina was at times a horrible person and it clearly stems from her magic. “Does Hook make you happy?” Henry asks with the biggest smirk on his face.

Emma just laughs at her son, how could he compare what he saw with Robin and Regina to herself and Hook? “There is no correlation between those two things.” There wasn’t, she and Hook were not a thing before the curse, and she was still sure that he had something to do with getting the two of them together.

“How did you meet? In this world I mean?” He asks and Emma can’t help the smile that appears on her face as she recounts the memory.

“There was a ball, I danced with him under the impression he was a Prince or a Lord, but I eventually found him in the throne room trying to loot us.” She catches the smirk on Henry’s face as she continues trying to keep it age appropriate. “I met him again when I snuck out to a tavern, we got talking and I don’t know- something just clicked, I wanted to see him again. We hid our relationship for a few years and then he proposed, we planned to run away together. Long story short your grandparents weren’t happy about it, but they came around and offered him a Naval Captain position and let us marry.” She was so excited to marry him, she loved him, but those feelings were warped-she didn’t know if he had some role in this happening or not but it just didn’t explain why they met at the right place at the right time.

“I may not have had my memories, but I saw what was going on. I thought he was this ex boyfriend who you realised you were still in love with and that’s why you turned down Walsh’s proposal and we randomly went on a trip to Maine. You dumped me with him when you had saviour stuff to do, I thought it was a way for you to introduce me to him before you told me you were getting back together.” His explanation was pretty wild, but then again she wasn’t completely honest when they came back to Storybrooke. “Mom, if he makes you happy, I’m okay with it.”

“Thanks kid, but let’s save our town first.” That was the problem. He did make her happy. And she hated it. If she did decide to continue their relationship when the curse was broken, would she be as happy as she had been? Would Killian want to be with Emma Swan, the orphan, he fell in love with Princess Emma, and she was a very different person.

The ride back to the castle went by pretty quickly, Emma was lost in thought about what to do, and Henry fell asleep. She bids Henry goodbye just outside of the castle where Leo was waiting for them, “lie low for the next couple days and I’ll send word to you.”

When the carriage drops her back at the Castle, Emma runs up to her room, up the back staircase so nobody would see her. She takes a deep breath in and out once she's inside and the door is shut behind her.

“Everything okay, love?” A voice from behind her says.

Fuck.

“Killian, what are you doing here?” She asks as she turns round and sees her fiancée sitting on the bed with a book in his hand.

He moves up off the bed towards her and Emma’s heart starts to race, she knew she had to keep up the charade but she was nervous she would mess up. “Where have you been?”

She gives him the sweet smile she always gave him, well the other Emma gave him. “I was doing wedding prep, didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Wedding prep? What else is there to do?” He asks, coming closer and closer until his hand is pulling her closer until she is wrapped in his arms, and her heart begins pounding.

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a surprise.” It felt really good being in his arms, he smelt like the ocean and it would be so easy to fall back into the life she had been living, but she had a job to do.

He twists her round so they are now facing one another and he brings his lips to her ear, “I do love surprises.”

His lips move from her ear to her neck as he begins to place hot kisses along the side of her neck, slowly moving towards the column of her neck. Emma forgot how good this felt as she whisper moans his name, “Killian.”

She shouldn’t be doing this. This wasn’t right. But why did it feel so good? It was wrong to take it any further, but instinct took over and she grabbed the back of his head, pulling it towards her as she captures his lips and kisses him hard and fast. His lips tasted of sea salt just like he smelt and it made it that much harder to pull away, especially as he grabbed her legs and carefully places her on the bed. No, it couldn’t go any further than this. When he threw her on the bed, it was usually a quick and hard fuck to satisfy them both, but when he carefully placed her on the bed, this was when they took their time with each other and Killian would make sure to kiss every part of her body.

She tries to say his name, tries to stop but the way he kisses her felt so good. His fingers traced the edges of her thighs over her pants and she knew if he put his hand near her core how wet for him she would be.

No. She couldn’t do this, it wasn’t right. Killian wasn’t having sex with the right Emma and that would kill him. “Killian.” She finally manages to say, “stop. Not tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks as he raises himself up and off her body.

“It’s fine, I just don’t feel too well. I wanted to come home and get some rest, my head is still pounding.” It was a clever lie, he still had no idea where she was all day and wouldn’t ask.

“I will retreat back to my chambers then love.” He kisses her cheek, “I wish you regain your strength tomorrow, I hear your mother has a few tasks of her own for you.”

“Do you know what she has planned? My dress is not being fitted for another 2 weeks and the flowers are being imported from the Thimblewood kingdom.” She was rattling her cursed brain for what else was on her mother’s endless to do list.

“Not for the wedding, it’s for the ball.”

“Of course, of course. I just have our wedding on the brain.” She says nervously, hoping he believes her. Shit, their engagement ball. After officially courting for a year as Princess and Naval Captain, Killian was finally able to propose again and this ball was for everyone in the kingdom. Her parents pride themselves on the fact that Snow married a “commoner” and they should extend their invitations to balls to the same “commoners”. Except in the craziness of breaking the curse before their wedding, Emma had forgotten they had a ball this weekend to celebrate their engagement.

“Aye, I’m excited too, not long to go. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” He takes her hands and places a kiss on both. She needed to make sure he wasn’t completely hurt when she breaks the curse.

“You don’t have to go.” She felt bad, he was waiting for his fiancée to come back home and she practically sent him away, that’s not what other Emma did. “I was going to have a bath, but I could use the company tonight, I missed you.”

“Do you wish for company in the bath?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“No Killian. But I am starving if you could get something from the kitchen that would be perfect.” She really needed just a few minutes alone with her thoughts.

He kisses her on the cheek again and Emma breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves. This was going to be a lot harder than she originally planned. She went over the plan as she drew the bath.

The ball was on Sunday, three days until then. She could busy herself with the planning until then and she had been to hundreds of balls over the years, she could get through the ball and then the next day Killian and her dad were travelling to the Kingdom Navarra which was the perfect journey. She would wait a few days until they were at Sea and would not be home for a while. That way she could poison her mother and her dad would come home, give her True Love's Kiss and they could go home. Home to Storybrooke, where she could figure out what she was feeling for the Pirate.

That night she goes to bed with Killian by her side as they have done hundreds of times before and it felt nice. Comforting. She had spent many nights alone in her life, cold and dark places and many in her car. But in this life she never had to worry about where she was sleeping that night, and she had a guy who loved her more than anything in the world beside her. She was going to hurt him when the curse breaks and she was prepared for him to hate her, but for now she enjoyed pretending she was still the Emma he loves.

____

The next few days leading up to the ball were hectic and Emma realised she had never seen her mom this stressed in Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest really highlighted how different they were.

“No. Those flowers are for the Grand Arch, not the Stairway!” She would yell at a poor servant who was just trying their best.

Normally when her mother was like this and planning a ball, she would try and excuse herself to see her brother or get Killian to come and save her. Except this time she was unable to do either as her brother was hopefully keeping her son hidden, and she found it hard to pretend to be Princess Emma in front of Killian, she didn’t need to spend any more time than she had to.

So she busies herself with tasks her mother assigns her, checking on the food and checking the servants list to see who would be working. Her name glosses over the list, and one name pops up that she has a bad feeling about one of the servants conveniently named “Harry Potter.” Dammit Leo, he was meant to keep Henry hidden, not put him to work.

At night she returns to her room and is asleep before she catches Killian, thankfully he was getting his ship ready for the venture he and her father would be taking the day after the ball. It was also out of pure exhaustion that she falls asleep almost instantly from her mother working her very hard.

When the day of the ball eventually arrives, Emma does her best to put on her Princess act and also play the very important part of the excited fiancée, it was her engagement ball after all. It was just one night and then Killian would be gone and arrive back just as her parents break the curse. Then everything would go back to normal. They would be back in Storybrooke by this time next week and she could go back to being Sheriff and could deal with him then.

___

It’s very easy to pretend to be the Crown Princess everyone loved, she had been that girl for most of her life. She knew the right etiquette of a ball, unlike the first ball they held for her parents' coronation, she must have stepped on the toes of many young Princes, and she did not hold herself the way a young Princess should have. She had fond memories of that life, it was real, she remembers it clear as day, just as she remembers being the same age and having her foster family say they don’t want her anymore and going back to another group home.

Her dress was beautiful, there was no other way to describe it. It was a deep shade of Red, similar to the colour of her trusted leather jacket, with a sweetheart neckline with subtle white detailing. It was plain and her hair was swooped back into a low bun at the back of her head with a few curled pieces framing the front of her face. Her tiara sat nicely on the top of her head, it was a simple crown compared to ones she had worn previously, simple white gems and small flowers that complimented the dress.

“You look stunning Emma.” Killian tells her as she walks into the entryway before they are presented. She can’t help but smile as she sees Killian, he always had that effect on her.

“You look very dashing.” She says as she takes his arm as the double doors open to the ball. He was dressed differently to his naval uniform she had come accustomed to last year, he was wearing a light brown coat with black lapels, a little more open than a suit her father would wear. He suited this look, she just could not imagine him wearing jeans and a plaid shirt like her father. As she looked out at the crowd of people in front of her, it made her realise how much she missed Storybrooke.

Emma knew royal etiquette, this was not her first ball. But it was the first one she was facing awake from whatever these past few years have been. She feels her hand being squeezed and looks away from the crowd to the man beside her, he gives her a simple nod as if to say ‘you can do this’.

He knew she was feeling overwhelmed. He would always give her hand a squeeze when she was stressed or nervous or anything in between. She doesn't know how he could tell, but he just could. And it would always work. Including tonight. She takes a deep breath as they descend the stairs to their faithful subjects and Emma allows herself to become Princess Emma, whose wedding she was terribly excited for in just a few short weeks.

She spends most of the night dancing, mainly with Killian who was an incredible dance partner, even when she had forgotten a few steps covered her. She also spends it talking to everyone.

“I’m very excited for the wedding.”

“Thank you very much for coming.”

“No, No plans for children just yet.”

“You will all see the Wedding Dress on the day, no early surprises.”

It became exhausting by the end of the night, she remembers when she and Leo were younger and would sneak into the kitchens, back when nobody cared about the Princess and Little Prince. She couldn’t exactly sneak out of her own engagement ball. Or so she thought.

“Want to get away?” Killian whispers as the crowd starts to die down.

Emma nods her head, “Please.”

He takes her hand and glides through the dying crowd towards the back of the ballroom, keeping an eye on the front to make sure they were not being followed. She follows him up the stairs to the second floor, and crosses the hall to another staircase and up another floor until he leads her to a bookcase and Emma knows where he was taking her. They push the bookcase to reveal the hidden staircase to the top of the castle. They can see everything from up there, all of Misthaven.

“I’m going to miss this place.” She catches herself saying. It was beautiful, it was called the Enchanted Forest for a reason, enchanting was the only way she could describe it. She looks up at the sky and can see the stars clear as day, she can point out the different constellations in the sky as well as the moon at its highest peak. You wouldn’t be able to spot the stars in the sky in cities like New York or Boston, too much light pollution and bustling traffic.

“Why? Where are you going?” Killian asks.

“I mean I will miss being able to do this, sneak away and come up here. Once we’re married I fear we will not get these moments to ourselves anymore.” She carefully lies, not wanting to accidentally say something about Storybrooke.

Killian smiles, “I understand. It’s why I thought I would bring you up here, think of it as our last night of freedom. The stars are out, and I want you to dance with me.”

Emma looks up at the stars, it was a beautiful night. “Dance with you? But there isn’t any music.”

Killian just extends his arm out, “Imagine the music.”

Emma has to laugh as she takes his hand and he pulls her closely, moving as if nature was playing the song they could both hear in their heads as they moved slowly together. This life she had was beautiful, and she wonders how many people she could hurt by waking them up. She almost wishes she could fall back asleep and go on with life as it was, despite how much she missed electricity and modern plumbing. But she was the saviour, it was her job to do the right thing. This life was not the life she was meant to have, she was put through the wardrobe to save everyone.

“What are you thinking about?” Killian asks, noticing her lost in thought looking at the stars.

She takes her eyes off the stars and looks into Killians blue eyes, “I want you to remember me in this moment. If something happens, if anything goes wrong over the next few weeks and we are not able to be married. Remember me, in this moment, together.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We don’t know what the future holds. What if something happens on your trip and I never see you again? Or you come back and I’m a completely different person?”

Killian tucks a loose strand of her behind Emma’s ear, “my love, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m a survivor. Nothing will happen. And I will love you, no matter who you become.”

She raises her chin to look at him properly, the scruff on his face and the small scar above his right eyebrow he got from a fight with another Pirate years ago, and his eyes as blue as the sea. This man loved her, and it was going to kill him when she woke him up.

“ad astra per aspera.” He whispers to her as he captures her lips with his and Emma swears she can hear fireworks.

It was a latin phrase he had taught her when they had first got together, meaning ‘to the stars with difficulties’ or something like that, but it meant that she would look to the stars on a night she felt alone and know he was there for her, no matter how hard it was to be apart, he was there.

[grimmswan]

Dracula in Storybrooke part 7

@cssns

For Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

Once Upon A Time - Emma Swan and Killian Jones

 While the monster inside of him demanded that he destroy Dracula, the man worried about being seen as a monster in the eyes of the woman he loved.

“Emma.” Killian spoke softly as he pulled her to him. “We never really talked about it. And I know you and your parents always want to redeem the villain. How do you feel about killing Dracula?”

“That it is necessary.” Emma sighed. “Normally there would be a chance of setting things right and redeeming the villain. But in this case, it’s not possible. The only way to save everyone is to take Dracula’s power from him. And taking his power is sure to destroy him. We don’t have a choice. Especially if we’re going to turn you human again.”

Killian was relieved to hear that he and his true love were on the same page.

Snow and Charming were of the same mind, as usual. They wanted to protect their daughter. Dracula was a threat to her safety and happiness. Therefore, he needed to be ended, for good.

“We need to corner him somewhere, so the pirate can do his monster thing and end the guy.” Leroy suggested.

“We’d have to lure him somewhere to make cornering him possible.” Whale said. “Maybe we should use Emma as bait?”

“You’re not using her as bait!” Charming, Snow, and Killian all shouted angrily at the same time.

Fearing for his safety, Whale backed up several feet and said, “I’m only suggesting it because she is who Dracula wants. If you know of a better bait, let’s hear it.”

“He’s right.” Emma said. “It’s me Dracula wants. If he thinks I’m alone and vulnerable somewhere, he’ll follow me.”

Killian kept shaking his head. Emma cupped his jaw, running her thumb over his stubble. “You know this is the best way. And I trust that whatever creature has suddenly awakened inside you will get to Dracula before he gets to me.”

“I’ll tear Dracula’s non beating heart from his body.” Killian vowed. “The closer he gets to you, the more agonizing I’ll make his demise.”

At that moment, Smee walked into the diner with a triumphant grin on his face. “I found it! I knew I had it among my things somewhere, and I finally found it.”

“Found what?” Killian asked. 

“Van Helsing's journal.”

“I had Van Helsing's journal.” Whale said with a frown, “I misplaced it years ago. But my former professor gave it to me when he retired.”

“You didn't misplace it. I stole it from you.” Smee replied matter of factly.

“When did you do that?”

 When our memories returned. I saw it in your office. I thought it would be of use to me.” Hook’s former first mate answered as though he was not going to get in trouble for just admitting theft.

But considering all of the other shady things he had been up to in the past, and all of the trouble he had gotten into (Like being turned into a rat) it stood to reason that punishment from the sheriff was not high on his list of concerns.

“You can decide if you want to press charges later.” Charming told Whale “Right now, we need to find out if Van Helsing ever figured out how to end Dracula, for good.”

“Well, as it happened, I can’t actually read it. It's in German.” Smee explained. He then handed it to his former captain.

“Just how many languages did they teach you in the Royal Navy?” Emma asked teasingly with a big smile on her face.

“When you travel the realms, it's Important to be able to communicate with those who can give you supplies.”

Killian flipped through the pages until he spotted the words vampire and Dracula. He then translated outloud to the group.

“I have discovered ancient scrolls hidden in the depths of an old church. They spoke of a prince's transformation from man to monster. To conquer his enemies, he consumed the blood of a creature from another realm. It gave him great strength and great speed. Made him immortal. It made him able to do many wondrous things. But that power came with a price. He had to take the life force from others. And he became a monster. 

I have learned of beings that were known as Dracula’s enemies. He seemed to have feared them when he feared nothing else. They were called the hunters. Strong, powerful beings. But driven to extinction on Dracula’s orders. He sent his minions out in hoards in order to eradicate the beings he feared would end him. The only hope of salvation from the monster, is if the blood of a hunter is awakened in a descendent.”

“So you've become a hunter?” David asked Killian. 

“It would certainly seem so.” Killian nodded. 

“Then we have the advantage we need.” Snow said.

“We already had one advantage. What with your daughter being a source of vampire repellent.” Leroy reminded his queen.

“Does it say how the hunter can destroy Dracula?” Emma asked, eager to see this big bad gone for good.

“Apparently, only a hunter has the strength and speed to rip off Dracula’s head and tear out his heart.”

“Well that's pretty graphic.” Whale commented. “It makes sense that the pirate would have enough brutality in him to kill a real monster.”

No one deemed it important to react in any way to Whale's comment. 

“The best place to corner Dracula would be in a cave or stone fortress.” Snow advised. “That would also give Killian the best advantage. Dracula can't run from him if there is nowhere for him to go.”

Coming up with a plan, the group gathered and infused as many crystals as they could find. Even if they were separated in the battle, those without special abilities would still have the protection of light.

Snow tied light infused crystals to her arrow. David used the crystals on his sword.

Emma’s magic and Killian’s new powers meant they did not need additional weapons for this battle.

Both Whale and Smee were completely useless as warriors, so they stayed behind. Much to their relief.

The hunter blood that awakened within Killian gave him the ability to know exactly where the vampires were hiding.

The Tunnels.

The dwarves and the fairies had the simple task of placing glowing sun crystals at every opening of the cave system. That way no vampire would be able to get through.

The rest of the heroes followed Killian to where his instincts were telling him Dracula had hid his coffin.

Emma knew that Drake would remain hidden as long as she was close to her parents and Killian. She also knew that they would not approve of her plan if she told them, so as slowly and quietly as she could, she moved away from them and down a shadowed corridor.

Credit where credit was due, Whale was right when he said she was perfect Dracula bait.

“Emma” The familiar voice came from the shadows. “You are very far away from that pirate. Tell me, what did you think when I turned him into one of my kind?”

“I didn’t really think anything. But Killian has a way of scrambling my brain whenever he kisses me.” Emma didn’t want to mention Killian being turned into a hunter, in case Dracula didn’t know.

As if reading her thoughts, he said with a growl. “And now he is a greater monster,” Realizing he was losing control of himself, and failing in his seduction, he calmed his voice and said, “But he still lacks my special skills.”

“Trust me, Killian has his own special skills. I know that from personal experience.”

Her tactic to draw him out of the shadows by antagonizing him worked.

He came flying toward her, hissing, “I will make you forget all about him, and his skills you like so much!”

“I doubt that! Vlad!” Killian shouted.

Dracula stopped his approach to Emma. And gave a long loud hiss at Killian, “Hunter! You will die like the rest of your ancestors!”

Killian’s eyes began to glow a hypnotic blue. His nails elongated to razor sharp talons.

Dracula’s eyes grew large and wide with fear at seeing the emergence of his age-old enemy in his rival. But he composed himself, refusing to allow his enemy to witness his weakness.

Dracula may have been afraid, but Emma, though she only said the words in her mind, found Killian’s transformation to be a huge turn on.

The two monsters lunged at each other. Snarls and growls echoed through the chamber as the two wrestled for dominance.

In order to help, Emma focused on her love for Killian. She used it to fuel her power, making the light within her emerge, surround her, and grow to encompass the entire area.

Dracula screamed in agony. The light both blinded him and burned his skin.

Inserting his hook deep into Dracula’s neck, Killian held the vampire in place as his clawed hand dug deep into his chest and ripped out the beast’s heart.

Once Emma’s bright light hit the black organ, it burned and crumbled into dust.

Killian’s hook slashed deeper into Drake's neck, severing his head from the rest of his body.

As Dracula’s body suffered the same fate as his heart, Emma saw Killian’s claws regress back into his usual well manicured nails. His beautiful eyes dimmed back to their usual mischievous sparkle. And his usual smirk returned, minus the long fangs.

Answering Emma’s unasked question, Killian nodded. “I’m my devilish self again, love.”

Emma sighed with relief. “Hopefully everyone else he turned is human again, too.”

“You know that they are. Don’t try to distract me from asking you why you put yourself in danger like that.”

“You know it was the only way to get Dracula to come out of hiding.” Emma moved to Killian, giving him her best flirty smile. “Besides, I knew you would come to my rescue.”

“Are you using your feminine wiles to stop me from being upset with you?”

“Of course. And I know it’s working.”

“Naughty minx. I’ve always said you have a little pirate in you.”

“I have a pirate in me pretty frequently these days.”

They pulled each other close and sealed their lips in a joyful and passionate kiss.

[stubblesandwich]

Return To Me - Chapter 4

A/N: It was requested I post this here, as well, so here ya go! (Sorry if I double tagged anyone.) I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you endlessly to anyone still following this story. You have all my love.

Summary: Emma Swan is dying. Her last remaining hope is a heart-transplant, and those aren't easy to come by. But, as luck would have it, fate finds her worthy, and on a stormy autumn night, Emma is given a second chance at life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Boston hospital, Killian Jones has been devastated by the sudden loss of his wife.

Inspired by the 2000 film of the same title with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny. Find on A03 here

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Chapter Four - Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Three Weeks Post-Op 

Emma had been called a cynic plenty of times in her life. As it turned out, being pushed through the foster system for a decade and a half hadn’t exactly turned her into a beaming optimist. Like most cynics, she claimed she was actually a realist. She planned for the worst, because things tended to not work out that great for her, and hoped for the best. Sometimes she was pleasantly surprised. 

But in the litany of potential outcomes Emma had been preparing herself for, a new heart had never actually made the list. It was akin to winning the lottery, in her mind. Life had not been particularly kind to her. Yet, she had always taken her blows in stride, and she never took handouts. And the prospect of finally making it to the top of the transplant list at the age of twenty-six, after almost a decade of waiting, felt like a handout from life. 

Emma Swan had never been one to sit around waiting for handouts. 

There were other things she had prepared herself for. Increasing the handful of pills she took each day to keep her body from failing on her any faster. Moving from her full time job and supporting herself completely on her own to working part time, then very part time, to not at all. Getting on a government disability program. Each new punch to the gut from life she took in stride, as best she could. 

And through it all, righting her each and every time she stumbled, were David and Mary Margaret. They were some of the best, most genuine and caring people ever to be placed on planet earth. She didn't deserve them—there was a small, cruel voice in the back of her head that affirmed this for her every day. But they just kept showing up for her, and they wouldn’t leave, and they wouldn’t let her quit. 

As it turned out, after the first week, getting a whole new vital organ sewn into her chest wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be. By the third week, the pain was starting to subside, transitioning into a residual soreness, and her biggest struggle currently was not clawing at her incision every time it itched. When the skin itself didn’t feel like an odd mixture of both tight and numb, it felt ablaze with itchiness. It was all she could do not to scratch at it. (Every time she did, Mary Margaret would bark at her to stop it, or David would throw a random item in her direction. Most recently, it had been a box of tissues that had narrowly missed her head, and he threatened to get an extendable fly swatter to swat her with, as needed.) 

For the first time in her life, Emma was well and truly doted upon. She had family members who inarguably refused to leave her side. That is, of course, until Mary Margaret was forcibly removed by way of her impending school year start. 

She’d had almost a month left of her summer break when Emma had had her operation, and she had been able to push almost all of her classroom prep off until the very last minute. David helped her ready her room when he could, but Emma knew her friend was fraying at the seams from trying to do so much in such a short span of time. Mary Margaret had a handful of vacation days, but she hoarded them like a dragon for true emergencies, and worried constantly that if her students started off the school year with a substitute teacher, they would just end up watching movies all day instead of actually learning something. 

This was their last weekend before the new school year started and Mary Margaret went back to working full days. Emma was lounging on the couch, dozing, lidded eyes half focused on the episode of Friends quietly playing on the living room TV. She and Mary Margaret had just finished putting together twenty-five “Welcome back!” folders for her incoming students, as well as a second set for their parents. 

“Why couldn't they have been ready for you to have the surgery during the start of summer?” Mary Margaret lamented, as she plopped her last folder down on the pile.  “I would have had three months off to be here with you!” 

David glanced over at them from the pile of pans he was washing at the kitchen sink and gave his wife an odd look. “You do realize you're wishing the woman whose heart Emma has now had died earlier in the year instead of later, right?” 

Mary Margaret looked aghast. “No! Of course I don’t wish that. I didn't... I just meant...” 

David raised his eyebrows at her, but by now he was smiling gently at his wife. Mary Margaret huffed. A slightly awkward silence settled between the three of them. The fact that another person was dead and Emma was still alive because of it was something they all knew but typically left unsaid. David had said it out loud, and now the strangeness of that fact settled over them all heavily. 

“I wonder what she was like,” Emma murmured from her spot on the couch, puncturing the silence. “They couldn't tell me much. Well, couldn't or wouldn't, not sure which. All they said was that she was older than me, but not by too much, and in great health. Obviously we had to have the same blood type. But they couldn't tell me how she died, just that it didn't affect her heart.” 

“Probably head trauma,” David said sagely. Emma winced at the thought, but he was likely right. He had seen enough as an officer to know. Especially working night shifts, when the majority of car accidents took place in the area. 

“That sounds awful,” Mary Margaret said quietly.

“I'd never say I was glad someone else died,” David said after a while. “But I'm glad Emma's still with us.” The fact that these things were one in the same went unsaid. Mary Margaret reached over and squeezed Emma’s arm in gentle agreement with her husband. Emma glanced over at her and offered her sister-in-law a small smile, trying to convey to her without having to say it aloud that it was okay. 

But in truth, Emma was uncomfortable. It just made her feel so strange, knowing that for every happy moment she now got to have here with her family, someone out there was living new moments, making new memories, without their own loved one to share them with. Someone out there was grieving a tremendous loss—had lost a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife. The woman whose heart Emma now had could have been any one of those things, or all of them at once. She was presumably loved, adored, missed dearly. And Emma just didn’t know what to do with that information, how to carry these feelings with grace and proper gratitude. Often they \manifested in the form of guilt. David and Mary Margaret were quick to talk her out of that whenever it came up. That woman’s death meant something, they assured her. Part of her lives on, and part of her saved a life. That has to mean something to her family, right? 

They were right, Emma knew. David saw so much meaningless death in his line of work that she inherently believed him when he told her that it was a gift, her being able to use someone else’s heart. (She didn’t have the courage to ask him how he would feel about any of Mary Margaret’s vital organs going to someone else, if she died.) It was a guilt she carried nonetheless, and she carried it poorly. It was an awkward shape, this guilt, and heavy, and she didn’t know how to carry it well. It all too often made her fumble. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said Mary Margaret looked over at her sharply, instantly suspicious that Emma was still feeling off from the previous conversation, but Emma was quick to wave away her worry. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Really. I just feel grimy, and I don’t want to taint the epicness of Last Dinner with my stink.” This was their last evening—Last Dinner—before Mary Margaret returned to work full time, and they were marking the occasion with David’s mother’s famous lasagna recipe, a favorite from David and Emma’s semi-shared childhood (and coincidentally the only meal David really knew how to make, but that was beside the point). 

“I second the vote for a shower,” David said, raising his hand in mock vote. 

“You would,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes that David didn’t even need to see to know was there. Mary Margaret started to rise with her, as if about to help her to her feet. “Relax, woman,” Emma said, putting her hand on her friend’s shoulder gently to stop her. “I’ve got it. I’m not a complete invalid.” 

“Jury’s still out,” came David’s response. 

Emma looked at Mary Margaret, half expecting her to admonish her husband, but Mary Margaret just stared up at her with poorly veiled anxiety. “I’m not!” Emma said. “Guys, it’s been almost a month.” 

“Three weeks,” Mary Margaret corrected. “Since you got a new heart. Not since you got your tonsils removed.” 

“Okay,” Emma said, stretching out her back a bit as she stood there, chasing a kink out between her shoulder blades. “Sure, it was a big surgery.” David scoffed from his place by the sink, and Emma shot him a warning look. “But the doctors even said I have to try to do more on my own. I think it’s safe to say that includes showering.” There was no argument from David on that one. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, looked unconvinced. 

“What if you slip and fall?” 

“I’ll be sure to have my Life Alert button handy,” Emma retorted wryly. “Seriously, guys, it’s okay. I can handle showering.” Before they could argue any further, Emma slipped away, locking herself in the bathroom.   

“Let me know if you need any help, okay?” Mary Margaret called through the door in a singsong voice only a few moments later. Emma swore she heard the doorknob jiggle, like her friend was testing to see if it was locked or not. It was, thankfully. Emma was already halfway undressed, and the last thing she needed was for her brother to get an accidental peep show because his wife thought Emma had already gotten stuck behind the toilet and died or something. “Emma?” 

Oh, my God, Emma mouthed to herself. “Thanks,” she called out. “I will!” That seemed to appease Mary Margaret. But the faint squeak of the bar stool at the kitchen island assured Emma she hadn't gone far. It was endearing, how much they worried about her. At least, that's what she told herself in the moments like this, when it was almost impossible to find even just two seconds of privacy. Sometimes, she really did feel like she was a little kid again. Only now, she was re-living a much different version of her childhood. A sweeter, kinder version wherein people actually wanted to take care of her and didn't think of her as a monumental burden. 

The tub's faucet squeaked shrilly as she turned on the water. When she’d first gotten home a week ago, just that motion, gripping the handle and giving the antique metal a yank, had left her arm feeling like a limp noodle. She was doing much better now, but she still felt pathetically weak and exceptionally out of shape. At one point, long ago, she had been fairly strong. A thin child, but always scrappy. Now she was a pale waif, muscles atrophied over the years as she'd gotten sicker. She vowed to herself that was going to change. Despite how frail she was, at the same time, she legitimately felt like she could take on the world now, with this new heart. She could finally breathe, take a breath fully in and out, without feeling lightheaded. That alone was a miracle.  

Gingerly, she lifted her tank top up over her head. Her scar, where a surgeon had cut into muscle and bone and forcibly ripped open her sternum, stood out, an angry red slash against alabaster skin. For the first few weeks, it had been concealed by gauze. By this point, it was still tender, but her doctor encouraged her to air it out often. She even had some skin mobility exercises she was supposed to be doing daily, to help the layers of tissue beneath the scar not permanently adhere to one another. The scar itself stretched from the top of her chest, dropping down in between her breasts, all the way past her sternum bone. It was a thick, gnarled thing, aesthetically ugly; but she found herself overwhelmingly grateful for it the longer she looked at it. As ugly as it was, this scar meant she was going to live to see her next birthday. 

Washing herself was still a slow, cautious process, but much easier than it had been when she’d first gotten out of the hospital. She took the time now to do her full, luxury, self care princess shower routine, something she hadn’t had the strength to do in months.  The venting system in the loft's tiny bathroom was terrible, and by the time she stepped out of the shower, steam cloaked the room like a fog. The sheer dampness of the air made her cough when she inhaled. Emma didn't care; she felt amazing. It was easy to underestimate how much better a good shower could make a person feel. She felt human again, instead of the fresh-from-the-hospital, invalid goblin she’d been feeling like for the past few weeks. Humming to herself, she dried off, turbaned her wet hair, and started to dress. 

David had the water running at the sink, and the apartment’s ancient radiator had kicked on next to the bathroom; when Emma finally opened the bathroom door, her brother and sister-in-law didn’t hear the faint creak of the old wood on its hinge as it started to open. 

“But you love your classroom.” David was saying in a low voice. It was clear he was trying to be fairly quiet, but this felt like intruding in on a conversation that had been going on for several minutes. Possibly the whole time she’d been in the shower. 

Emma didn't hear Mary Margaret sigh, but she could tell by the tone of her voice that her words had come on the end of one. “Of course I do,” she said, “And I really do miss my kids. But Emma needs me here. I can't just leave her! She just got a new heart, David. A heart. It's not like she had her wisdom teeth removed and just needs a day or two to get back on her feet.” 

The aforementioned heart skipped a beat in Emma's chest. A familiar, sinking feeling of guilt settled low and heavy in Emma's stomach. 

“But she will get back on her feet,” David said gently. “You know she will. She just needs time.” 

“Exactly! And she needs me here to help her until she does.” 

“No, she doesn't.” 

“David—” 

“Mary Margaret,” David interrupted lovingly. “She's going to be okay. Better than okay. This is the day we've all been waiting for, don't forget. She's getting a second chance at life here.” Unexpected tears welled in Emma's eyes at that. “And Emma knows that,” David continued. “You and I both know she's going to be chomping at the bit to get back out there. It's going to be hard enough keeping her here the six weeks it'll take for her to heal. She's not going to need our help half as much as you think she will.” 

Mary Margaret started to respond, but Emma couldn't take it anymore. She took the bathroom's old doorknob in her hand and gave it a good rattle, like she had just started to open it, and the door creaked loudly as she pushed it fully open. David and Mary Margaret grew hush until Mary Margaret piped up with, "Oh, hi Emma!" a little too brightly. David noticeably busied himself with cutting the garlic bread he’d pulled out of the oven moments before. The guilt at having eavesdropped coiled in Emma's chest like a snake ready to spring, and she swallowed around the lump that had grown in her throat. “Hey,” she said, trying her best to sound normal.

“Everything go okay?” Mary Margaret asked. “No dizziness?” 

“I didn’t hear the Life Alert alarm go off,” David said dryly, shooting his sister a wink. 

“I feel amazing,” Emma said earnestly. “Seriously.” She sidled up to her brother and successfully bumped him out of the way, taking over the cutting of the garlic bread despite his weak protestations. 

“Oh, good,” Mary Margaret breathed, and the relief was evident in her voice. She shared a glance with David, which Emma pointedly ignored, and moved to grab the stack of dishes waiting on the island so she could start setting the table. 

“I was thinking,” Emma went on, “Maybe I could come help you set up your classroom later today. If you think you need the help. Or I could just come keep you company, get a change of scenery.” 

“That sounds like a great idea,” David said, as he watched his wife’s expression. 

“That would be great, honestly,” Mary Margaret said, but was quick to add, “As long as you’re feeling up to it.” 

“I mean, as long as you don’t have me lugging around twenty-pound carts of Crayons or something,” Emma laughed, “I think I’ll be okay.” 

“Do fourth graders still use crayons?” David asked, as he popped open the oven one final time and withdrew the lasagna. The cheese on top was browning and bubbling and a minute away from burnt, just the way his mother had always cooked it, and the whole thing looked wonderful. 

“Not really,” Mary Margaret said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter. I have a big, handsome deputy to do all my heavy lifting for me.” She batted her eyes at her husband a few times, who grinned back at her. 

“All right, lovebirds,” Emma said, as she clicked the salad tongs at them a few times in playful warning. “Let’s eat. I’ve got my appetite back and I’m actually starving.” 

“Jeez,” David said, “You’d think she’d gotten a new stomach with the heart. She’s gonna eat us out of house and home now.”

Table set, food out, they took their respective seats. David uncorked a bottle of red wine he’d been saving for a special occasion, which Emma was definitely not allowed to have, but she told Mary Margaret to enjoy it for her. 

As Mary Margaret spooned squares of lasagna onto everyone’s plate, Emma took a moment to try to find the right words to say to convey how she was feeling to these people who would seemingly do anything in the world for her. But what she wanted most is for them to get back to living their lives, too. They had put off so much for her sake, and she was more grateful than she knew how to say. But it was time to move on now, to heal, for all of them. 

“I know it can suck, having such a huge surgery,” Emma started, pausing to clear her throat. “But this is different.” She glanced up at Mary Margaret, who was watching her closely. “I mean, a month ago, I was dying. I never told you guys this, but it just felt like the end. I was working on drafting a will.” 

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret said quietly. 

“That’s so morbid,” David said.

“I know it’s stupid.” Emma toyed with the end of her napkin as she stared down at her plate.  “I don’t really have anything to will to anyone. I was just going to leave anything I had to you guys.” She cleared her traitorous throat again and took a moment to blink back some tears. She needn’t have bothered; when she glanced up at her family, they were both openly tearing up as they looked at her. “Okay, stop,” she said, pointing her fork at them, “Or I’m going to lose it. Absolutely no crying in baseball.” 

“Got it,” Mary Margaret said, her voice watery and absolutely unconvincing. 

“Just… Thank you,” Emma said, when she finally got her voice back under control. “I don’t want to think about where I’d be without you both. From the bottom of both my hearts,” she said, with a wry little smile she couldn’t keep at bay, “Thank you.” 

David chuckled, wiping at his eyes, and Mary Margaret continued to stare at her, smiling and barely holding back the floodgates. “We love you, sis,” David said, and a moment later he raised his wineglass. “To Emma’s new lease on life.” Mary Margaret’s wine glass followed, and Emma clinked her water glass with theirs. 

“And Mary Margaret’s new school year,” Emma added. 

“Hear, hear,” Mary Margaret agreed. “I’ll take prayers, good vibes, anything you’ve got.” 

“You’re going to do great,” David assured her, as he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer to kiss her cheek. “Those kids are lucky to have you.”

Dinner was splendid, and the company even better. It was the first full meal Emma was able to enjoy without feeling nauseated, which was a win in her book. She literally couldn’t think of the last time that had happened. Mary Margaret did indeed have Emma’s wine, and was perhaps a little tipsy when they later ventured out to put some finishing touches on her classroom, which just made it all the more enjoyable for Emma and David. 

And as Emma settled into bed that night, for the first time in a long time, she felt well and truly good. She felt full, warm, strong, and loved. And she knew, felt sure in her bones, that this was the start of one of the best years of her life. 

+++++

The funeral went as well as a funeral could--especially considering there was no actual body to bury. Milah had set it up long beforehand that all salvageable organs were to be donated to the nearest hospital at the time of her death, then the rest of her body donated to science. This made planning her funeral and memorial service a unique affair, as there was no body for a wake, no urn of ashes received. That he would receive later, whenever the hospital saw fit. So Killian honored his wife's memory the best way he could. 

Everyone who had ever known her in the past few years since she and Killian had moved Stateside was crammed into a small funeral home to celebrate her life and speak well of her. Her parents were long dead, but he had managed to get his hands on some childhood photos from her aunt who still lived across the pond; a small smattering of her extended relatives had sent cards to pay their respects. But the room was filled primarily with her coworkers and friends she’d made in the few years they’d lived in Boston. 

Milah had been a truly gifted photographer, both in her work and personal life, evidence of which sat neatly framed and displayed on nearly every available inch of table space in the room. All the best photos Milah had ever taken through her work had been printed and framed and displayed, tucked neatly between bouquets of flowers. One table was so long, it took up the entire back wall. 

Killian had almost, almost, completely lost the last tenuous grip he had on his sanity when the wrong flowers had come in that morning. He had distinctly ordered stargazer lilies, his wife’s favorite flower, for the table arrangements. Instead, what had been delivered to him were a rainbow assortment of Gerber daisies, of all things, which he viewed on this particular day as nothing short of an abomination. As it turned out, there had been a mistake with the delivery trucks, and his order had been sent to a birthday party instead. It probably should have embarrassed him, how angry a simple mix up of flowers had made him. But as he had very little pride left, he was literally seeing red, until Robin showed up beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gently steered him out the side door and outside for some fresh air. Will took over, his general belligerence a helpful and actually useful tool that day, and tried to get the flowers sorted out with minimal shouting. 

As Killian stood now, gazing down at the myriad of perfect photos his wife had taken over the course of her career, he belatedly realized he had been the star of many of them, unbeknownst to him. His wife had apparently been a ninja behind her viewfinder when he wasn’t paying attention. It should have made him feel awkward, being the focal point of so many of her photographs; the last thing he wanted now was attention. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at most of them. One of him leaning over the railing of a dock, for instance, staring pensively out at sea, squinting slightly in the light of the sun. Another of him from behind, a shadowed figure standing on the beach with his toes buried in the sand and his hands in the pockets of his shorts, staring out at the red slashed sky of an oncoming storm. He was the blurred, black clad figure in the background or at the helm in several photographs of the ships he and his brother had helped restore. 

It was visible, tangible proof of how much she had loved him, how often her camera found itself pointed in his direction, focused on him. And God, if that didn’t make him miss her all the more. His heart was an open wound, and he was never going to be able to staunch the flow from it. Day by day, he felt like he was bleeding out, until soon there would be nothing left of him. 

One photo, his favorite, and one that was already framed in his home, stood out prominently. His and his brother, Liam, in front of their first real score for the ship restoration foundation, a beautiful, towering piece of history in the form of a stunning antique merchant vessel. Liam’s arm was thrown over Killian’s shoulders, his face alight with absolute joy (and possibly the buzz from the beers they’d had over lunch). They were both squinting, laughing like fools at having finally pulled it off. Towering behind them, not to be overshadowed, was the ship, herself: the Jewel of the Realm. Milah had been sent by a local paper to get photos of the ship, and her new owners, as a focal point for a story on local maritime history. 

Killian felt fortunate he remembered that day so well. It had felt like the best day of his entire life, at the time. Seeing his brother so elated, after everything they had endured together, had been enough to send Killian to the moon. It felt like things were finally, finally going their way. He had taken to Milah instantly, and spent the hour regaling her with the history of the ship. A merchant ship, originally, but thought to have been used for piracy at one point. He leaned heavily into the implications of the latter fact, as he felt—rightly so—that it added intrigue, and Milah had been enamored with the Jewel. He'd joked that day about renaming it the Jolly Roger, much to his brother's chagrin. She’d had other work to get to that day, so she hadn’t stayed long, but she’d given him her business card, which he still carried in his wallet. Liam had been killed shortly after, on one of his last missions with the Royal Navy before his scheduled retirement. Everything had changed, then. But Killian had always felt especially lucky that it had been Milah that day who had come to take their photo. For one short hour, she had been able to meet his brother, before Killian had lost him forever. The stars had aligned, and for one short span of time, the man who had meant the most to him and the woman who would come to mean everything to him had met, briefly. It wasn’t much, in the grand scheme of things, but to Killian, it had to be enough. 

And then there were the glorious photos of the rest of the ships he had brought on through the years. He had always marveled at Milah’s skill behind a camera, her ability to find just the right angle, at just the precise time of day, to truly capture the essence of the ships he restored. Through her eyes, even the in-progress pictures never made them look like pieces of floating shit, which some of them very much were at the start of the process. She managed to make them look like hidden treasure, just waiting to be uncovered. Pieces of history waiting to be lovingly restored to their former glory. That’s what he’d felt like, with her. She’d been the one to see past his flaws after the death of his brother, to see something worth loving in him, something worth restoring. 

And now what was he, without her? 

The frequent looks of sympathy that came his way over the course of the memorial service were one of the worst parts of the day. Each and every concerned glance that flit in Killian's direction was threaded not only with heavy condolences, but something much worse: pity. And he knew he was a pitiable sight, indeed. He was dressed well enough, in a deep black suit Milah had bought for him after his business had another big break. But, his arm with the broken collarbone was still in a sling and had no hand at the end of it. Dark circles cradled his eyes, which seemed to be permanently bloodshot these days. He had given up almost entirely on sleep.

Sleeping felt impossible, an insurmountable task despite its simplicity; the bed was too big, too cold, and too empty when he was the only one in it. He tried—really tried. Each night, he made a valiant attempt to sleep in his own bed. He'd toss, turn, and generally do a lot of staring up at his ceiling. Eventually, he resorted to Netflix. But his “recently watched” list was full of her favorite shows, episodes half finished, series just begun. It was a terrible distraction. 

The first week after he arrived home from the hospital, his recliner chair in the living room had been the only place he could comfortably fall asleep with his arm in a sling. It was a lumpy, unsightly thing he had inherited from his brother (it was this reason and this reason alone his wife had allowed him to keep it.) Milah had called it his old man chair. These days, he’d often fall asleep in the chair, wake up with a start an hour later, and make his way to the couch, where he’d try to fall back asleep, but would mostly lie awake, staring into the dark, letting his mind off its leash and letting it wander to dangerous places. 

Often these thoughts centered on what he would do if he could track down the driver who had hit them head on, then fled the scene. What he would do when he found him or her varied. Sometimes, he pictured lighting him on fire. The next moment, he'd revel in the thought of running him through with a knife, watching him slowly bleed out on the floor. Or he’d take his hand from him, too. Such thoughts kept him company and carried him through until morning. 

Now, with the lack of sleep and the general dissociation he felt, he often didn’t feel cemented in reality. When he looked around the room, taking in the funeral parlor, it felt like this was happening to someone else, and he was merely observing. It didn’t help that he was surrounded by a sea of people who didn't know what to say to him. The moment never came that he was spared the awkward indignity of a conversation with someone who had little else to say other than I'm sorry. 

She was a lovely person. 

(Each time, he bristled at the use of the past tense.)

She'll be missed. 

Pity had overtaken the room, lingering like a dense fog. Everywhere he turned, his friends, her friends, co-workers, even a handful of people he had never seen before in his life, were all wearing the same expression on their faces. It transcended simple pity. It was next-level pity, flashing from their eyes and those slight down-turned corners of their mouths like a brightly-lit billboard in the night that read "YOUR LIFE DEPRESSES ME." 

He couldn't blame them. He pitied himself, too, when he wasn't numb, pulled down so deep into his own despair he could no longer think straight.

At least the food was decent—or so he had been overhearing. One quick glance over at Will Scarlet in the back of the room, face stuffed with h'orderves, told him the funeral parlor's appetizers couldn't have been terrible. If there had ever been a time he appreciated his friends more, he couldn't think of it. Of all the people who had shown up to the service, Locks and Scarlet were the only two who didn't make him want to scream. Or run. Or throw a punch. All of it, all at once. 

Will and Robin sat apart from the rest, in a pair of wingback armchairs in the corner of the room. Killian hadn't had a chance to speak to either of them, apart from initial hellos and quick hugs when they'd first arrived, and of course the ordeal with the flowers, but somehow, he knew without even asking they intended to stay for the entire affair, likely planning to take him out for a drink when this was all over.

What else do you do for your best friend after his wife's funeral?

All in all, it wasn’t a very hopeful affair, and too often bordered on bleak. Killian had no words in honor of Milah he wanted to share with a roomful of people who didn’t know her very well, and he didn’t trust himself to speak without breaking down. So, people ate, drank, and made a reserved and somber form of merry. They swapped stories back and forth, each offering up little pieces of the woman they had known.

Milah's parents had died years ago, and she had no siblings, so the room was occupied primarily by people she had thought of as friends. That was a nice thought, and in the coming weeks, Killian would be touched by the food, flowers, and cards that continued to arrive on his doorstep in memory of his wife. 

But here, in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to find hope in anything. 

+++++++

One Year Later 

Was a house truly haunted if you didn’t mind the ghost?

It felt like a haunting for months after Milah’s funeral, this limbo state he found himself in, where he couldn’t bring his heart or his brain to fully comprehend that she was gone. They traded shifts in misunderstanding, his heart and brain. There were days where, logically, he understood his wife was dead. And yet, his heart still leaped at the sound of a car door shutting outside, or an imagined creak in the floorboards that sounded like her coming around the corner in the hall. Other days, his heartache was so profound, he could barely muster the strength to get out of bed. All too often, he’d forget, and for a few blissful minutes, reach for his phone to call her and ask her a question. Those were beautiful moments, the forgetting. But the remembering that followed took his breath away. 

Then there were the things around the home he couldn’t bring himself to toss. Notes she’d left on the fridge, a grocery list on the table. Leftovers from her favorite meal at their favorite restaurant he couldn’t bring himself to throw away until they were fouling up the whole kitchen. Her phone was recovered from the accident and eventually made its way to him, via the detectives working the hit and run case. He went through her email drafts, texts, anything he could get his hands on that held pieces of Milah. He'd saved every voicemail she'd ever left him, had them memorized, and he'd play them when he missed her most, poking the bruise in his heart over and over until it numbed and didn't hurt so much. It all felt relatively harmless, like doing this to himself couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. 

Until he found himself practically sobbing the floor of the shower one morning over a soggy clump of her hair he’d pulled from the drain. 

He just couldn’t seem to pull himself together. 

How do you bring yourself to purposefully excavate traces of someone from your life, after they’re gone, until it was like they weren’t even there at all, the life you shared existing only in snapshots and memories? How exactly does one get to that place, force yourself to loosen your grip on all you have left of the person you love, the person you’d give anything to see one last time? Killian couldn’t fathom it. He couldn’t picture himself ever ridding himself completely of Milah’s memory. 

But he could stop leaving land mines for himself. 

He’d always run a tight ship at home, in terms of cleanliness. He had never had much, by way of possessions, and wasn’t sentimental about keeping things. Now he found himself debating whether or not he should keep a note in the bathroom his wife had scrawled out for herself to remind herself to order new contacts. These were the silly, useless things he stared at for minutes on end, debating what to do with. This little scrap of her pretty handwriting he recognized and loved. The thought of it winding up in a landfill somewhere made him ill. 

Eventually, he gathered these random scraps and pieces of her he’d found (except the clump of hair from the drain—that one did make it into the waste bin, thankfully) and gently shepherded them into a large Ziploc bag, which he kept in a box on her side of the closet. 

Robin and Will called often, texted even more often, and even dropped by now and again. They offered their help constantly, gladly would have helped with menial tasks like this (like throwing away scraps of paper Milah might have touched, God, he was a mess), but he turned them away each time. He just wanted to shut the world out, encase himself in a tomb of his own grief. 

He hadn’t even been able to see her, to say goodbye to her, because he hadn’t been bloody conscious for it. He had no memory of Robin telling him of her death; in the week following the accident, he left a slew of traumatized nurses in his wake as people had to tell him again and again for what felt like the first time that his wife was gone. 

Milah, bless her ever-loving soul, had signed herself up to be an organ donor. Of course she had. On some level, he knew this. It was marked on her driver’s license, and it was surely something they had talked about at one point. But now he resented it, resented the whole idea of it. He resented anything that didn’t allow him to see his wife one last time. One doctor had had the absolute audacity to tell Killian that he didn’t want to see his wife, anyway; the damage from the accident had been too great, the brunt of which had gone to her head, and that it was a miracle her heart was still beating enough to allow for any organ transplants. Killian, for his part, had an entirely different definition of the word “miracle”. 

So he waited to receive her ashes, held a funeral without her body. But he certainly didn’t wait patiently. 

He wonders sometimes what she would think of what he's become. No doubt there would be times she'd laugh at how ridiculous he was being, debating on keeping an old, wet clump of her hair like some kind of serial killer, and the subsequent guilt he felt at throwing it away, this gross little piece of her DNA. 

And yet, he reminds himself that there is, oddly, more of her DNA out there somewhere. Somewhere, out in the world, a select few of her vital organs are in new bodies, presumably thriving and keeping their hosts alive and well. Presumably, there are people out there who will be forever grateful for these pieces of his wife. Actual, living pieces of her. Killian has no idea how to feel about that, truly. There will come a day, when he is able to pull himself out of this darkness that perpetually feels more crushingly inescapable by the day, that he is able to see the true and abundant beauty in it. Milah, gone, but literal parts of her living on, providing life-giving support to someone else’s body and soul. That's the true miracle, really, and something he’d know she would be proud of. 

For now, in the depths of his despair, he feels annoyed, indifferent at best. Her benevolent medical and scientific donation was, for many long months, the thing standing between him and a proper burial for his wife, the thing that stood in the way of closure and him being able to say goodbye to her properly. This is the thing his mind latched onto, chooses as a target for his blame. 

Closure arrives on his doorstep one afternoon, boxed and bubble wrapped, in the form of an unassuming black urn. When he finally received her ashes, half a year after her death, he knew what he would do with them, knew immediately what she would want him to do with them. But he can’t yet bring himself to say goodbye, and the urn sat above their fireplace for months. This is the moment it hits him, truly, that she is gone. This is what it takes for it to finally sink in. He spends a long time building up the courage, brick by brick, to do what he needs to do. And as what would be her 37th birthday approaches on a warm July day, he finally gathered the strength to lay his wife to rest and honor her the way she deserved. 

What he doesn’t appreciate about the day, however, is the weather, which turns out to be an absolutely perfect New England summer day, which Killian very much resented. 

It was almost like it was mocking him. Jabbing a bright, sunshiny finger right into his face and laughing at his grief, which still, even almost a year after the death of his wife, was still a wound that had left him hollowed. When his brother had died, suddenly and with too much life left unlived, he'd felt like the ground itself had been pulled out from under him, and he'd been left in free fall. Now, with Milah gone, it felt as if his heart had been ripped right out of his chest and crushed in front of him. 

How did people live like this? 

If he were truly honest with himself, Killian wasn't certain what he was doing each day could actually be called living. He was alive, sure. Most days, the only thing that kept that from being true was the unknown lurking behind the veil of death. He had his own theories, his own hopes, for what awaited in a possible afterlife, but of course, no one really knows for sure until their time comes. He couldn't be sure what would happen to him, whether or not he'd see Milah, if he died tomorrow. Hell would be dying and not being reunited with her. And that was a hell whose existence he was not quite ready to test. 

The closest thing he had to his wife now was resting in his lap, ashes encased in ceramic. He had taken a small, private sailboat out to sea, sailed until there was no one else in sight, trying to find a good spot to release her ashes to the ocean she had loved so much. It had been close to two hours, now; he knew he was putting off the inevitable. If he didn’t do it now, he feared, with good reason, that he never would.

The best part about giving someone’s ashes to the sea was that there wouldn’t be one particular spot where her body would be laid to rest. The waves would take the dust of her and spread it for him, from shore to shore, just like they had taken his brother’s ashes. There would be no headstone, but the ocean itself would remind him of her, and he could visit her anytime he liked on a sea that had always brought him a sense of serenity. 

Killian Jones had never believed in soul mates until he’d met Milah.  And he still didn't quite believe in them, in the traditional sense. He didn't believe in a ready-made mate just waiting for him to find her. No, in his experience, life was far from ever that easy or that simple. But things had changed for him when he'd met his wife. Then, with her love, the broken pieces in him, irrevocably shattered the day his brother had died, shifted together into something that could almost be held together again. With her, he’d felt more whole than he could ever remember feeling in his life. 

She had been married at the time, when they’d met. Daydreaming of leaving her terrible husband, dreams which grew in intensity with each passing day. And while she hadn't exactly left him for Killian, she may has well have. Everything had changed for her that day, too. 

For while Milah had been his partner, they hadn't met each other and been perfectly content. But they had made each other stronger, in all the ways that counted. Now he believed wholeheartedly that soul mates existed. But they weren't found, ready made and prepackaged. They were made, forged through love and hard work working hand in hand. 

These were the things he thought, as the gentle salted breeze ruffled his hair and brought stinging tears to his eyes. As he looked down at the urn that held the last physical piece of the woman he’d loved, would always love, was lost and adrift without. 

“I love you, Milah,” he whispered to the wind. The tightness in his throat and jaw wouldn’t let him say more, but he knew he didn’t need to. She’d known how much and how fiercely he’d loved her, and he had to think that wherever she was, she still knew the hold she had on him. 

He held the urn against his chest with his prosthetic hand, working to unscrew the top. The breeze calmed at just the right moment, and as he leaned over the side of the ship to release Milah to the sea she'd loved, the dust of her settled gently down into the water. 

=========

gonna tag a few folks who I think might care this is up (again, sorry if I already tagged you!) @spartanguard @sunbeamsandmoonrays @caprelloidea @kmomof4 @queen-mabs-revenge @ahsagitarius @galadriel26 @t-tamm-

@lavendersoapsuds @its-imperator-furiosa @midnightswans @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky @withheartfulloflove @captainswan-middlemist @sarahreadsff @princesseslikepirates @winterbaby89 @pirateherokillian @wordslovedreams

@hannah-mic @thecraftyartist @blackwidownat2814 @once-uponacaptain @kylalovesbabeme @swiftmicheles @emmaswanstlk @captainswanslay

@the-tones-of-wallflowers @kday426 @krystalsficpage

[pirateswhore]

You're enough - comfort one-shot

It's never easy to have your disability be made into a joke - to be reminded every day that you're not good enough or deserving of love & for it to be your defining trait. Killian has learnt to live with it. That doesn't mean Emma can't remind him from time to time.

for @vasfasan HAPPY BIRTHDAY STINKY <33 ILY

Read on ao3 || Read below:

"Mum, could you help me with an art project tonight?"

"Sure, Hook's staying over so we'll help you."

"I think the pirate's going to be more a hindrance than help."

"The one-handed wonder is only good for pillaging and plundering. It honestly surprises me how he can do anything."

"Maybe it's time we replace the missing dwarf. I'm thinking - Stumpy?"

"Shut the fuck up already!"

The dinner falls silent, heads turning towards him. He stands, chair creaking against the floor. His eyes flash across the people sitting at the table with him. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he turns, making haste towards his bedroom in the inn. He can hear the hushed murmur of comments behind him, but his mind is too hazy to actually focus on what they're saying.

He pushes past a confused and worried Ruby and makes it to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he slumps against it. His chest is tight, his breath uneven and strained and his knees give out as he slides down to the floor. His head falls back, a low thud against the wood. His eyes glaze over as tears pool down his cheeks. He swallows, pushing the lump caught in his throat deeper down.

Hook. Pirate. One-handed wonder. Stumpy.

Through his sobs, he can hear a gentle knock on the door. He steadies his breath enough to grunt a "Go away," but it comes out a lot less demanding than he intended.

"Killian, it's me. Please let me in?"

He stands, wiping his face with his hand. He shakes his head, wipes the tears and opens the door. Emma's standing in front of him, hands trembling and anger on her face. She softens and smiles at him, but he doesn't return it.

"What, no comment on how I can unlock the door with one hand?" he grits out, trying his best to sound angry, but his voice cracks and he sounds more pathetic than anything.

"Killian..." she sighs, shaking her head. "Can I come in?"

He rolls his eyes but steps aside so she can enter the room. He closes the door behind her but doesn't turn to face her.

"I told Regina and my parents off for the comments. Henry's pretty disappointed with them too."

He doesn't reply, standing still with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I'm sorry for what they said, I promise not to-"

"You promise not to do what?" He snaps around, catching her off guard. "Not to comment? Not to insult? Not to stare and laugh? You're a few months late to that party, Swan."

She swallows and steps forward. "I'm sorry for not saying anything sooner. You're usually good at standing up for yourself, and you said nothing so I assumed it was all in good fun." Her hand reaches out, stroking his cheek and his facade breaks. A cry breaks from his chest and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch.

She leads him to the bed and sits them down, never taking her hands off of him. One hand holds his cheek as the other strokes through his hair.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He swallows, fingers playing with the zipper of her jacket.

"I didn't want to put a strain on your relationship with your parents. I knew you would get upset with them and I didn't want you arguing with them over me."

She pulls away, worry etched into her features. "Babe... if they're hurting you, you should've said something. I would have told them off earlier."

"I'm not worth the trouble, love."

"To me you are."

He scoffs and shakes his head. She holds him closer, pressing him into her chest.

"I hope you know I don't see you that way. The hook doesn't bother me," she whispers into his hair.

"You deserve better."

"And what could be better than you?"

He straightens, deliberately avoiding her gaze. She tilts his head up and meets his eyes with a soft, encouraging smile. He sighs.

"Someone you won't be ashamed of. Someone who's not broken and ruined. Someone you won't have to explain what you see in him, you won't have to justify your choice to people. Someone who will be able to hold you and touch you with both hands. Someone you wo-"

She cuts him off with her fingers to his lips, a gentle chorus of "shush" on her own.

"Killian, listen to me. I don't care about any of that. I'm not ashamed of you. You may not be perfect, but neither am I, and I refuse to believe either of us is ruined beyond repair. You've helped piece my heart together, and I hope I'm doing the same to you. I don't care about what people think of us, and I don't owe an explanation for my choices to anyone. If they can't see what I see in you, well. Their loss, really." She took his hook and hand in hers and placed it on her sides. "And you can hold me very well, thank you very much. If anyone, anyone, dares to object to that, to us, I have no problem setting them straight. I'll stand up to whoever has a problem with it."

"It's rotten work."

"Not to me. Not if it's us."

His mouth hangs open, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath. Her hands rest on his chest, anchoring him to her. He drops his head and smiles, a breathy "I don't deserve you" on his lips. She leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet, pouring all her unspoken feelings into it.

Their foreheads rest against one another and they hold each other close.

"You're enough. You'll always be enough. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

She takes his hook, carresing it gently, fingers wrapped around its curve. She presses it against her chest, the coolness of the metal causing her skin to prickle. She smiles at him. "This? This makes no difference to me. It doesn't change how I see you, nor does it make me think less of you."

She leans forward to whisper into his ear. "And while I'm being honest, it's unbelievably attractive."

He laughs. Finally, he laughs, happy and hearty and she can feel the rumble in his vest through her palm. He reaches up, running his fingers across her cheek. There's a tenderness in his eyes, and she's certain no one has ever looked at her like that, not before him. Tenderness, utter devotion, lo-

Her thoughts are derailed when he lunges forward, kissing her and pinning her to the bed. She reciprocates in a second, pulling him into her.

"Does Henry still need help with his school project?" he murmurs between kisses.

"Not for a few hours."

"Good."

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: the path that moonbeams make

okay, it's official: my new favorite book size is legal quarto. it's perfect in the hand, it's a really pleasing ratio and shape.

the binding sewn boards with bookcloth spine and homemade bookcloth cover. backed the cover with rice paper for the first time--never going back. printed on the church paper bookbinder special in warm white.

titles printed on siser HTV black glitter using a silhouette portrait.

the story the path that moonbeams make by KnifeEdge

an oldie but, imho, a classic. OUAT season 2b AU. i don't think any other writer has explored this scenario but it's one of those that makes me wish we could go back and do it all again.

[aprilqueen84]

Untitled CS Enchanted Forest AU

So I found this WIP in my Google Docs that I started forever ago and thought that I would share some of it as a bit of sneak peak. 

Emma tried not to stare at him, she really did but he struck such an impressive figure that it was hard not to. Captain Killian Jones stood at a large table across the room, staring intently at the map that was on it while having an intense conversation with her father King David. He was so very handsome with his bright blue eyes, raven colored hair and his chiseled features. Not that she would ever tell him that his ego was already big enough as it is, no her ever growing infatuation for the pirate will forever remain her secret. 

Emma remembers when her parents announced that they were seeking the help of a former pirate with their fight against Regina. She had been shocked at the idea, imagine trusting a pirate (because that is what he was no matter what he said) with their kingdom's military secrets and strategies, what had her parents been thinking. It was only when they sat her down and explained how dire their circumstances truly were that she understood the need for such a radical decision. 

Growing up Emma had heard the stories about her parents' battles with Regina or “The Evil Queen” as she was called throughout the Enchanted Forest and  that she had been banished a short time after Emma was born for failing to enact the Dark Curse. Truth be told Emma hadn’t ever really given the woman much thought, she was gone and couldn’t hurt her family anymore or so she had thought. She had been 10 years old when it happened, her and her father had been riding through the kingdom when suddenly soldiers all in black came charging out of the forest and swarmed them. 

Her father tried to fight them off but he had been vastly outnumbered, fearing that she was going to lose her father Emma felt anger like never before swell up inside of her. And when she let out a scream something unbelievable happened, a blinding light shot out of her and knocked the soldiers backwards. That was when Emma and her learned that she has magic and Regina was back.

For many years after that Emma learned about her magic and how to control it all while fearing for her family and the future of the kingdom. On the day she met Captain Jones her parents explained that Regina had been gaining followers and sympathy throughout the wild southern regions and her forces had begun to push through their outer defenses. They thought that with his past as a pirate Jones would be able to gather information in places they could not. Emma hadn’t known what to expect, she was picturing a weathered, haggard old man with a wooden leg and one eye but when the most handsome man dressed in head to toe black leather she had ever seen walked through the doors of the throne room to say she was shocked was an understatement.

Emma had instantly been captivated by him, his swagger, his confidence, until he opened his mouth and she realized how insufferable he really was. The man was a walking innuendo and she was sure that if he hadn’t had been such a fantastic asset to their cause that her father would have had him hanged ages ago. So what if her heart flutters every time he’s near or skips a beat when he throws a flirtatious smile her way, he was a scoundrel and that was that.

“Emma!" The sound of her mother's voice broke her from her musings of the past. Emma turned her head to see Snow hurriedly make her way over to her.

[everything-person]

Just when they thought they could move on the past comes back to them. Starting with Marian the Graham appearing in the sheriffs station. Soon Storybrooke becomes a place of inbetween life and death. The Savior tried to juggle the towns epidemic with her own personal conflicts that come with it.

[4getfulimaginator2022]

I can't believe this is happening... But this fic has, after 10 long years, come to an end. ❤️

[exhaustedpirate]

only because I have an issue with Zeus in Once Upon a Time, I wanted Persephone instead ( I was trying to incorporate her with the Hades we were given - I love the Hades/Persephone ship but it wouldn't have worked out in the OUAT universe ) rated G | 1287 words also on AO3

The light was blinding. He welcomed it - he was moving on, no more fights, no more pain.

No more more.

"Welcome, Killian Jones."

A soft voice echoed through the empty white room. He thought it was all over, the light was supposed to be the end. Why was he facing a stranger? Why wasn’t it over?

"Who are you?"

"My name is Persephone, I'm here to guide you."

For all the stories he didn't hear of Hades, he knew of Persephone fairly well. Her name was whispered in prayers through the sailors when the weather roughened. She was said to be kind, to welcome them into a peaceful resting place.

Her long brown hair fell by her waist, a soft purple gown fell down to her feet, her dark skin contrasting the whiteness of the room. A kind smile, soft eyes - perhaps the sailors were right.

"Guide me?"

"It is my duty to welcome everyone who makes their way into the light, guide them on their way beyond. You, however, are headed somewhere different."

For a moment, he wondered if he was wrong. If he was in fact doomed to burn for eternity, his actions while living too vile for his redemption to matter. He wondered if, even after death, he wouldn't see Emma again.

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his spinning thoughts. Her understanding smile welcomed him, reassurance in her eyes.

"Calm yourself, Killian Jones, the path ahead of you is bright." Her hand falls away from his shoulder, clasping both in front of her. "I am here to reward you for your heroic actions, in life and even in death."

He had done good deeds, he knew, - that was what heroes did, afterall - but there was clear surprise in his face at the idea that a goddess would think the same. She seemed aware of his shock and laughed, a musical laughter that brightened and lightened your heart even as he stuttered his protest.

"I am no hero, your Highness."

Persephone blushed at the title. She shook her head with a chuckle.

"If that were true, I would not be here." She held out her hand, willing him to take it. "Come."

How could he not? Killian held her hand, following as she pulled. 

They could have been walking for hours, minutes, seconds, he wasn't sure. The room seemed to elongate, never ending, never starting, just light, white and bright. 

"I have heard much about you, your Highness, but never about this occupation of yours."

If he hadn’t been looking at her, he wouldn’t have seen the flash of sadness in her eyes. He could hit himself for causing such a reaction. When her eyes found him, there was resignation, a soft smile on her lips.

"I loved a man, I believe I still do, despite it all. Hades had been much different than he turned out to be." Killian tried to control his surprise at hearing of her romance with the demon who tortured him for days on end. He focused on her words. "I tried to fight back, I tried to escape. When I did, he trapped me here, leading souls just as yours beyond while I stay here, forever." His hand tightened around hers and she smiled, sadness pushed back as a spark of determination filled her dark eyes. His heart stuttered  - how many times had he seen the same happening on green eyes?

"Not to worry, Killian Jones, I am filled with happiness to be able to bring you and everyone before and after to where they belong."

Reassured, his mind flashes with images of his loved one, head jerking at attention.

"Does that mean… you've seen my brother? And my mother?"

Persephone smiles, a brilliant smile of memories, and nods.

"Yes and yes. They've both trekked this path before you. Your mother spoke very highly of you and your brother, telling me stories upon stories of your mischief and love."

Killian couldn't help but blush at the implications, knowing that he had been less than angelic in his youth. Persephone laughed.

"I'm sure she will be expecting you once you do reach her, and so will your brother."

That thought sobered him. He could see his family again, he could be a family again.

"And Milah?"

That thought brought a frown to the goddess' face and his heart stuttered.

"Unfortunately, the River of Lost Souls is not part of my dominion."

"So, she's gone?"

"I'm afraid so." Her other hand joins their locked hands in a reassuring gesture.

They stay in silence, walking in tandem, hands interlocked.

It seems like no time after that they find themselves face to face with a door. A dark door contrasting the room they're in. They stop.

"This is where you leave, Killian Jones. Once you walk through this door, you'll be taken to where you belong." Her smile is serene as they turn to each other.

"Will I be able to see my family again then?"

"That is up to you." Killian frowns, confused. "Listen to your heart." Her hand lays flat on his chest, right above his fast beating heart. “It will take you where you belong.”

"And you?"

His question seems to surprise her and her laughter shows it. 

"There is no one more deserving than you, Killian Jones." She says with a bright smile as both her hands cup his cheeks, stopping him from looking away even as his cheeks tinge red. "Worry not, this is my duty, I will be alright."

Killian is ready to protest when the kiss the goddess lays on his forehead silences him. Even as a bitter taste coats his tongue, he nods.

"Go on, your happy ending awaits you." Persephone says as she nods and urges him towards the door.

"Thank you, your Highness." 

With a bow and an answering smile, Killian turns the knob on the door and walks through. 

Images of his childhood, of his mother's voice, of his brother's scolding when one of his pranks went wrong, of the smell of pastries and the laughter of three flour-covered people, flood his brain. How he misses them.

And then, green eyes, blonde hair, soft kisses and passionate kisses. He sees her smiles, so rarely given before, more and more constant as she let her walls down, as she let him bring her walls down. He sees the brown-haired boy's laughter, the boy who looks so much like the people he loved. 

He will never watch him grow. He will never see her smile again. He will never embrace them. He will never kiss her. He will never watch them laugh. He will never feel their love again.

His nostalgia for a past gone by, a past he lived through, a past that he will always remember fondly, is nothing to the yearning of a future he will never see happen, a future he won't witness.

His heart calls for them, for the Swan and her boy.

Killian finds himself in a graveyard, confused as to how it would be possible. His name is etched in the stone. He looks around, looking for answers. How is it that the beyond looks so much like Storybrooke?

And then he sees her.

Walking slowly, head down, her blonde hair swaying limply - the vision of mourning. Could it be?

"Swan?" He calls out.

And then she turns. Any pain, any suffering, any heartbreak is worth it. To see her face, to see her smile of recognition, to watch her run to him. To embrace her tight in his arms, her heart beating in sync with his.

And all he can do is thank her. Thank her for taking him where he belongs.

[killiansprincss]

TIMELESS - CAPTAIN SWAN AU - CHAPTER 8/19

Summary : Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?

Every chapter is inspired by a different Taylor Swift song.

Previous Chapters, AO3

Thank you to everyone who has read this and sent me love on it, I truly love this fic so much and can’t believe it’s almost halfway through! There are a couple chapters of the ‘past’ left and then we dive into the juicy present where things unfold. And if anyone wishes to be tagged in the next part then please drop me a note letting me know 🫶🏻✨

Chapter 8 - I Wish you Would

I wish you would come back

Wish I'd never hung up the phone like I did

I wish you knew that

I'd never forget you as long as I'd live

And I wish you were right here, right now

It's all good

I wish you would

———

The end of it all started out as any other day did. David dropped Emma at his mother’s and Red dropped by to drop off some food that was calming for pregnancy. Snow is sleeping while David is doing housework when he hears the faint noise of a horse and carriage. Curiosity makes him peer out the window to see if he’s imagining it, when he has to do a double take and quickly wakes his wife up. “Snow. Wake up. They found us.”

“Who? What are you talking about?” Snow asks in her half awake state, very much wanting to go back to sleep, she was dreaming of holding a baby boy in her arms.

“Your parents Snow. The King and Queen are here, or at least their carriage is”

Despite being almost 6 months pregnant, Snow jumps up and begins pacing around their small living space. “We have to run. We can’t stay here. How did they find us?”

“Where do we run?” David asks, “Are you forgetting you are pregnant?”

“I was pregnant last time. Must be tradition.” She half jokes, except she isn’t joking. How did they find her?

But it’s too late to even consider running as they hear a knock on their door. They look at one another, considering their options. They could not answer and try and hide, but they would likely break down the door. If Snow wasn’t 5 months pregnant they could have a chance at running out the back door unnoticed, only if they could be sure they didn’t have guards surrounding the perimeter. Eventually David gives in and opens the door to find his mother in law standing in their tiny doorway in the quiet town they had come to love.

“Queen Eva.” What does he say to the woman who wouldn’t let him marry her daughter, the woman he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“David. Oh it’s so lovely to see you. Is this your home?” She asks, no anger in her voice was present, strange.

He mumbles before he tells her to come in, despite the protests he hears Snow whisper shouts.

“Snow, oh my darling!” Eva says as she sees her daughter, all grown up, and visibly pregnant.

“Mother.” Snow crosses her arms, she could not comprehend why she was here..

“Snow. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, your father and I should have listened to you.” Of all the things Snow expected her mother to say to her, years after running away, it was not an apology. She turns to David, “David. Whenever my daughter was around you, it was the happiest I had ever seen her. I’m proud to have you as my son in law.”

“What is it you want mother? You wait 12 years to finally admit you were wrong, well we have made a life for ourselves here and are happy with the life we made.” Seeing her mother after so long made her angry, why didn’t she come find her sooner? How long was it until they just gave up looking? Three years, a year, less? She fights back the tears that begin to form.

“Snow, my dear Snow. Your father and I searched for you up to this day. We feared you had found a bean and travelled realms because it was getting impossible to find you. But we recently made a deal with the Dark One.” Snow shudders, she had heard bad things about the Dark One and about the people he tortured. “We gave him something of yours, and he was able to track you to this exact location.”

“Where is father? You say he cared enough to look but why not come find me? Is being King more important than being a father?” Tears begin to flow from Snow's eye. As much as she appreciated and loved her life here, the fact her parents wanted to find her fills her head with a strange amount of love. But where was her father?

Eva looks as tearful as her daughter. “Your father is sick. Very sick.”

No. Snow thinks. Sick means dying. And Snow can’t have a father who dies suddenly, when she hasn't seen him in 12 years.

Eva takes a moment to wipe her eyes before she explains, “I’m so sorry Snow. Your father fell ill a few months ago, but the healers say he isn’t getting much better. We even hired a healer from another land and he doesn’t sound hopeful.” Eva can’t quite hide the tears anymore for her dying husband, “his final wish was to find our baby girl and apologise. We were wrong Snow, how we were wrong.”

Snow is stubborn, so despite how much she wanted to cry into her mother’s arms and tell her how she forgave her, she didn’t want to crack so easily. “I don’t understand. Why now, all of a sudden father is dying and you finally find me? After 12 whole years? And what do you expect me to say goodbye to him and then we act like nothing? You’ll accept us into the kingdom?”

She knew it hurt her and she immediately regretted it. But she couldn’t help it. It’s how she felt. Angry that they had found her and upset her perfect life, and also angry that they found her right as her father was dying.

This is where David feels best to intervene, stress is not good for the baby, and Snow needs to come to a decision on her own, not by force or guilt. “Your majesty, I think it’s best you leave us.”

Eva tries to object, but can feel the tension and nods. “Well you know where to find us.”

For the next few hours all Snow does is cry, and have David comfort her. Seeing her mother after so long felt strange, she looked older which wasn’t a nice feeling, and she could only wonder what her father looked like.

Part of her did want to forget the past 12 years and go and live in the palace and be accepted, but she begged and pleaded to marry David and they wouldn’t accept it. So how was she expected to forget everything and be welcomed back with open arms? Especially David who will be in constant fear they could change their minds at any moment.

“I’m here.” David tells his wife. “Whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”

Snow slept that night dreaming of her family, which she had not done in a very long time. She dreamt of a life where she was a princess and still met David and was a royal balls with him and was an official couple. It showed her how much she missed her family and how badly she wished they could’ve been as accepting a decade ago.

“I want to see them.” She tells David the next morning. “I’m not expecting anything, I simply want to say goodbye to my father and then we come back here and live our lives as we have for the last 12 years.”

“It’s your choice Snow, whatever you desire.” He kisses her head and begins to make breakfast for that morning. David had a great relationship with his mother, and she had been so kind to Snow all these years, so she wished for Snow to have that from her own mother.

The carriage the Queen had arrived in had caused quite a stir in the village, people wanting to know why she was here and who she spoke to.

“Please Mary, I saw her enter your house, you must tell me what she said to you!” Red pesters and pesters, wanting to know everything.

“She came about a job at the Palace.” It was a smooth lie, “David and I are going tomorrow to find out more. I’m not sure why, but maybe we will find out tomorrow.”

Red’s grin widens, “that’s amazing Mary! My friend is a worker at the Palace!”

If only she knew the truth.

“Would you keep an eye on Emma for us? We don’t want to take her to the Palace and get her excited, it may not even be a suitable offer.”

Of course Red is more than happy to look after her goddaughter. And when the carriage arrives the next morning, they are able to leave without arousing too much suspicion.

“What do you think they are going to say to me?” Snow asks once they are outside of the Village. “I don’t want to go back, they can’t make me.”

“Snow, look at me.” He tells her and she does. “They can’t make you do anything you don’t want, we make it clear this is just to say goodbye and then we can go home to our daughter and our friends.”

Snow nods and smiles at her husband. He always knew exactly what to say and how to make her feel better.

When they walk into the palace, Snow feels a range of emotions flooding back to her. Running around when she was younger with Johanna chasing her just a few feet behind. And exploring with David, trying to find the secret passages until they gave up. And she remembers the day she left, running away in the middle of the night. In her bedroom there was a servant's tunnel from hundreds of years ago that nobody uses anymore which led right to the kitchens and from there she escaped using the servants entrance and met David halfway along to his farm.

David can sense how she’s feeling so he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers, and a wave of calm flows through Snow. They’re greeted by a royal aide whom Snow doesn’t recognise leads them up a staircase Snow knows leads to her parents bedroom. Nothing could prepare Snow for the way her father looked when her mother opened the door.

“Father?” Snow finally says, swallowing the bile that formed in her throat.

King Leopold was once a great man who could enthral his subjects and chase his once little daughter around the Castle grounds. That man in front of her was lying in the bed with a warm cloth across his forehead. Leopold was not the man spluttering blood into a bucket. It couldn’t be. This was her father, he wasn’t supposed to look like this.

Leopold turns his head as much as he can and his dull and dying face suddenly becomes brighter seeing the daughter he hasn’t seen in over a decade. “Is that my sweet Snow?”

Snow can’t hold back anymore, tears begin to stream from her eyes as she runs to her fathers bedside. “Oh Father. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry for running away, I wish I were here with you.”

Leopold manages to sit up further in bed so he can wrap his arms around his daughter. “No my sweet Snow, we are the ones to be sorry. We should have listened to you, I’m glad that you found happiness. And you’re glowing. Is that our grandchild growing inside of you?”

Snow wipes her tears from her eyes and nods. “You’re already a grandfather, we have a daughter. Emma, she’s nine years old and she’s perfect.”

Leopold smiles in between his coughing fits. “I can’t wait to meet her when I’m all better.”

Snow's fresher tears blended in well with the old ones. “As soon as you’re better, I will bring her here and you can meet your granddaughter, and hopefully your grandson too.”

While they had no way of knowing aside from old wives tales, Snow had a strong feeling it was a boy this time. The same strong feeling told her last time that Emma was a girl.

“Please stay with me my dear Snow, I wish to see my daughter again when I wake, having you here and then not having you is a cruller fate than not having you here at all.”

Snow couldn’t leave her father knowing how sick he was, she would stay by his side until his time was up.

“Of course father, of course I’ll stay with you.”

Queen Eva sends for one of her ladies in waiting to prepare a room for her and David. Snow feels overwhelmed, she knew her father was sick but she wasn’t prepared for seeing actually how sick he was, and how close to death he was.

“I want Emma to be here, I want my father to meet at least one of his grandchildren before he dies.” Snow tells her husband once they’re alone. She can figure out what this all means and what to do later, she promised her father he would meet his granddaughter and that is what Snow was going to give him.

“Do you want me to leave now and get her? It’s dark so she may not realise where we’re headed and with any luck be asleep before we are back.” David had no argument against this, Emma was lucky to have a grandmother growing up, who was he to deny the chance to see her only grandfather and other grandmother.

“Is this a foolish idea?” Snow asks, suddenly feeling the weight of the past 12 years on her shoulders.

David just shakes his head, “it’s not foolish. Emma should get to meet her grandfather. Whatever comes after we figure it out then.” He had no clue what was next, whether they would go back to their village just the three of them but visit the palace occasionally, or if Snow would decide to live back in the palace, it was her childhood home after all. But for now, Snow had to be near her father.

“Not tonight. I don’t want to disturb her, but tomorrow.” Snow eventually decides. This would give her a chance to sleep and go over what was happening before making any rash decisions. As soon as she introduces Emma to her grandparents, she will ask about them and what happens then.

So the next morning after they’ve eaten the beautiful breakfast spread sent to their room, David is off and Snow walks back into her fathers room.

“I want to hear about your adventure.” Leopold croaks out after Snow sets herself down in a chair next to his bed.

She raises her brow at her fathers request. “You really want to hear about how I ran away?”

Leopold can’t quite manage the word ‘yes’ in between his spluttering blood into a handkerchief.

So she tells her father everything, how she escaped at night and met David at his farm where they wed before Ruth sold the farm to make it harder for her parents to track them down. And how they managed by themselves until falling pregnant so they moved to the village they had lived in since.

She finishes her story, then finally asks, “how did you find me? Why now?” It was the question she most wanted answered and most feared the answer to.

Leopold takes his daughters hands and squeezes them tight. “My sweet Snow. Your mother and I searched long and hard with no luck. When I got sick and I learnt I hadn’t long left on this Earth, we seeked out the Dark One.” Snows heart drops at this, she had heard only horrible stories of the Dark One and dreads to think what they did. “He offered us a deal. A trade, he wanted a small vial of my blood in exchange for telling us your exact location.”

“A vial of your blood?” Snow can’t figure out why the Dark One would want the blood of a dying King.

“We became desperate, your mother and I. I wanted to see my daughter again before, well you know.” He explains. “I got sick quickly and I decided to do whatever I could to see my dear sweet Snow again.”

All those years of wondering, wishing her parents would find her and bring her home to show how they both felt. They had been going exactly that since she left. “Oh Pappa. I missed you so much and I’m sorry we only have this time together.``The tears flowing from Snow’s eyes didn’t stop.

Leopold puts the palm of his hand against Snows head as he comforts her. “Nonsense my dear Snow. You have been living an adventure, more than your mother and I ever have been. There is nothing you need to be sorry for. You’re here now, that is all that matters.”

____

“Pops, where are we going? I’m extremely bored!”

David forgets sometimes that his daughter is only nine years old, she is wise beyond her years at times, but then sitting in a carriage for an hour without talking to her anything was used to irritate her.

Debating in his head whether to tell her the truth or not he simply tells his daughter. “It’s a surprise.” This kept her entertained the rest of the journey, thinking about what it could be.

When they arrive at the Palace a short while later, Emma realises where she is and cannot contain her excitement, all little girls dream of palaces and being a princess, if only Emma knew what she really was.

“You know your mother and her family lived at the palace when she was your age.” David tells Emma as he takes her hand and leads her up the grand stairs. It wasn’t a total lie.

“She did? Did she meet the Queen and the Princess? Did she meet a Prince?” Emma thinks of the stories of Princesses trapped in towers waiting for a handsome Prince to come and rescue and go on great adventures.

Seeing Emma’s face as they walked around the palace brings David back to when he was a little older than she was and going into the Palace with his mother for the very first time. The look of pure excitement and wonderlust. Part of David wishes they were able to raise Emma in the Palace.

Before they get to the Kings Chambers, David warns Emma. “Now when we go in there, there’s somebody very special to your mother. But he doesn’t look like his usual self, he’s a little under the weather at the moment, so try not to stare or point out what might be wrong with him, okay?”

Emma nods, “okay Pappa.”

David knocks on the door hesitantly, and one of the Queens ladies opens it. David sees Snow in the exact spot she was the day before, in the chair next to her father with a brave smile. Snow waves the two of them over when they enter and David holds onto his daughter's hand.

“Emma, come here there’s someone I want you to meet.” Snow wipes the tears away from her face, making sure to be brave for her daughter. “This is your grandfather.”

Emma looks at the sick man in the bed, gray hair and green eyes that match her own and her mother’s. A grandfather, well she already had a grandmother but she didn’t know you could have more than one, her mother never spoke of her own family. “Hello.” She finally settles saying.

The man, her grandfather, attempts to sit up in the bed but begins coughing up blood into his handkerchief and Emma steps back.

“I’m sorry Emma. This isn’t the introduction I had hoped for us. You see I am a sick man, but I will be travelling to another kingdom far away where I shall be treated better soon. I just wanted to see my only grandchild before I went.” He explains.

Emma wasn’t foolish, she may be young but she knew he meant he was dying. Pinoccio had cared for his father a year ago and confessed his fear of his father dying, thankfully he made a full recovery. But Emma did not think the man in front of her would live the same story.

The nine year old obeys her mother’s wishes and sits by the bedside of her new grandfather and tells him stories of her life and how her best friend is a wooden puppet who can talk and acts like any other kid. And she listens to his stories about her mother and how she would sneak off to meet ‘the farm boy’ who Emma could guess was her father. It was nice to hear what her mother was like at her age, finding out her family worked at the palace, a lady's maid's daughter her father had told her.

Something didn’t quite add up though. What was Snow’s father doing in such a grand room, sure he was on his death bed but unless he was a merchant, or an advisor. Or something else entirely. Could it be? Could this man dying in front of her, in the grand bedroom of the palace, be the King? And if he were the King, that meant her mother was a Princess. It begins to make sense actually, her father used to read her stories of a Princess who ran away with the stable boy. It also explains why Emma had never met any family from her mother’s side. Or heard stories up until this day.

If her mother was truly a Princess, then why had they lived where they did? Why did she not grow up in this Palace with horse riding lessons and archery? Why did her mother run away? She doesn’t say anything to her mother or father though, she is not even certain her mother is a Princess, so she stays listening to her grandfather’s stories and sharing stories of her own until the day is over and it is time to retreat to her room. The room in question is bigger than their house, a grand bed in the center of the room which faces an armoire filled with nightgowns in a variety of colours in one drawer, and also with dresses, shirts and pants,all seeming to fit her size exactly. This only made Emma’s suspicions of her mother’s royal origins rise. Why would the daughter of a former ladies maid be given a room to herself in the palace?

Snow and David were in an adjoining room to their daughter. Snow was thankful she was not staying in her childhood chambers, it would have made the current situation even more difficult.

“What's on your mind?” David asks, Snow was looking out of the window overlooking the gardens, she had the look that David all too well, pondering something, the way she looked out of the window of their home before they moved to their current village.

“My father will barely last the week.” It was the hardest thing in the world to watch her father die, the man she once loved more than anything. “Once he dies, my mother holds no power in Misthaven on her own. I’m the only heir, my fathers cousins have no claim. And if I refuse and abdicate officially, our Kingdom will be taken over by a neighbouring one, Misthaven will eventually cease to exist.” It was the first time in years that Snow had referred to it as ‘our kingdom’.

David knew the answer already, but still asked, “Do you want to officially abdicate?”

It doesn’t take a second before she replies. “No.” She turns away from the window to face her husband, “Is what I’m thinking a bad idea? I left this life years ago, and I’d made my peace with not being Princess Snow. But things are different now, I can’t let my kingdom be swallowed up and cease to exist.”

“If you want to do this, I fully support you. You can be a great ruler, you’re an incredible mother, I believe you can do anything that you put your mind to.”

Snow’s eyes suddenly widened at the sudden thought of her daughter. “Oh Emma. I had forgotten, how do we explain this to her? Will she be happy?

David laughs, “yes telling our 9 year old who was raised on stories of Princess going on adventures is not going to go down well. I’m also pretty certain she already knows about your past.” David was watching his daughter, he could see her analysing the situation in her head and checking out the room, wondering why she was there and why they were getting such special treatment. They had raised a very smart young woman, and David had no doubt she would one day lead Misthaven with the fierceness and passion she will learn from her mother.

___

King Leopold died three days later. He was surrounded by his family, a larger family than he had expected. And Misthaven officially entered its mourning period, with people sending flowers and gifts to the Palace. They allow the Kingdom to mourn for a day before Queen Eva announces that Princess Snow was home.

A week later is the coronation ceremony which Snow was actually excited for, she would be the Queen of Misthaven and David her King Consort, and Emma the Crown Princess. Telling Emma, like David suspected, was very easy. She was thrilled and excited, wanting to know about Snow’s life growing up in the Palace, and also why she ran away. She turned her face up at the fact it was for love.

A crown went atop their heads and Snow felt happier than she had in a long time. She went from Mary, a mother who worked and lived in the Village, to Queen Snow of Misthaven. It was so strange how running away led to her coming back and feeling the happiest she had, with her family and friends by her side. They moved Ruth into her own chamber at the Palace, she was getting older and they wanted to make sure she was comfortable, as much as they protested her working, she insisted she wanted to help in the gardens.

They also moved Red and Granny into the palace too, after they had told them the truth about who they were and what their past was. Red was delighted that her friend was a Queen, and even more delighted that she wanted a werewolf as a royal advisor to magic and magical creatures. Granny set herself up in the Kitchens nicely, glad to have a team who listened and respected her.

Three months later, Snow gives birth to a baby boy, Misthaven’s newest royal, Prince Leopold.