#enchanted forest au

[isthatmyjacket-covenofchaossq]

young queen Regina and knight Emma, pls and thank you

[introvertedexhuastedpigeon]

swan queen - arranged marriage enchated forest AU

[the-darkdragonfly]

Happy Birthday @donteattheappleshook

Here, have some crack ♥️

Not much happens, it's soft and fun and there's a bath or two...

Evermore - A Captain Swan Tale

Bare feet slipped against the sea soaked shore as she leapt from the boat into the pulsing cold of the harbour, hissing a creative explicit out between clenched teeth, hands tugging against the roll of the tide while she pulled the small craft up into the pebbled beach; the hull scraping against the shore in protest as she tied a clumsy bowline knot. 

Cursing again, she yanked the rope free to redo it; if she lost another boat, she’d never hear the end of it. 

Her fingers hummed with cold, the frigid air of deep winter sinking down into her bones, but the lights in the forest danced the way she’d come to recognize and she hopped quickly up into the boat again to pull the small bag of provisions from its secured place, hefting the satchel onto her shoulder.

The boots she’d discarded before leaping down into the frigid surf- you’ll be cold regardless, love, might as well keep your shoes dry- snugged comfortably back onto her feet, socks pulled from where she’d jammed them down into the toe as her small boat washed towards the familiar foreign shore. 

♥️♥️♥️♥️

Read the rest here.

♥️♥️♥️♥️

Tagging:

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

[deadlyflames]

and the world has somehow shifted

Swanfire - Tangled AU - role swap

Snow White and Prince Charming are unable to beat the Evil Queen and King George after the monarchs align themselves with a dragon and a sea witch. Years later, Snow White and her husband live as outlaws at the edge of the enchanted forest, with a band of rebels as their subjects. Their daughter, Emma, is known as the rebel princess, and she takes up her parents' mantle of fighting against the tyrannical rule of the evil queen.

After centuries in Neverland, Baelfire is rescued by his father and taken back to the enchanted forest. To keep him safe from Regina, who grows more powerful by the day, and any of his countless enemies, Rumplestiltskin ensures that his son remains hidden away. For the past 4 years, Baelfire has been locked in a tower, in a deep valley surrounded by steep cliffs and mountains, protected with a powerful barrier spell.

And both their worlds were shifted when the princess without a crown managed to break through the spell that kept the boy in the tower separated from the rest of the world.

Lots of people in the swanfire au have the tangled au with Emma as Rapunzel (lost princess) and Neal as Flynn Ryder (thief using a fake name).

But Emma has canonically cosplayed as Flynn Rider.

Plus Neal is an artist like Rapunzel, and his dad would absolutely lock him in a tower to keep him safe. So i think this version works too

[swanqueenffprompter]

The Enchanted Forest was steeped in shadows, a world of secrets and power, where rulers sat on thrones built of fear. Queen Regina, feared by all as the Evil Queen, stood in her private chambers, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the dark stone walls. The burdens of rulership were heavy on her shoulders today; she was plagued by disobedient guards, petty squabbles among nobles, and a kingdom filled with resentment and whispered curses.

A guard had displeased her, a minor offense, yet it prickled her pride. It wasn’t uncommon for her to inspect the dungeons herself; fear was a currency, and its careful administration was essential to maintaining her control. With a swish of her black cloak, Regina swept out of her chambers, heels clicking against the stone floor as she descended into the bowels of her castle.

The dungeons were dark, cold, and damp, the air heavy with the scent of mold and despair. She marched down the corridor, her steps echoing off the walls, intent on berating the guard who had riled her earlier that day.

Regina descended into the dungeons with an air of command, her black cloak billowing behind her, heels clicking sharply on the stone steps. It was a routine inspection, something she did periodically to ensure that fear, her most valuable weapon, remained sharp in the hearts of her subjects. The dungeons were always cold, damp, and filled with the stench of despair. She liked it that way—every crack of stone, every flickering torch reinforced her control.

Tonight, however, something felt off. As she neared the lower levels, she heard faint cries, not unusual in this part of the castle, but these were different. They were high-pitched, desperate. The sound of a child crying.

Her brow furrowed. There are no children in my dungeons. The thought unsettled her. She quickened her pace, rounding a corner, and that’s when she saw it.

One of her guards was inside a cell, towering over a blonde woman, his hand raised as if to strike. The woman was on the ground, battered and bleeding, her arms wrapped protectively around a small boy. The boy was sobbing, clinging to her with wide, terrified eyes as he cried out, “Mommy, please! Stop hurting her!”

Regina froze, her blood boiling. This was not how she ruled. Cruelty was a tool, yes, but this—this was barbarism. It wasn’t her way.

The guard brought his hand down to strike the woman again.

“Enough!” Regina’s voice cracked like a whip through the dungeon. With a wave of her hand, magic surged from her fingertips, throwing the guard across the cell. He slammed into the opposite wall and collapsed, unconscious or worse—she didn’t care. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from the exertion of magic, but from what she had just witnessed.

The woman gasped, her body trembling as she tried to push herself upright. Her face was bruised, blood trickling from her lip, but her arms never left the small boy, who was still sobbing into her chest.

Regina stepped forward, her anger seething just below the surface. The air around her crackled with power, her eyes blazing as she looked down at the unconscious guard. How dare he act without her sanction? How dare he defy her authority and inflict such cruelty—especially on a child?

“Who are you?” Regina demanded, her voice low and commanding as she turned her gaze to the woman on the ground.

Emma looked up at her through swollen eyes, defiance still flickering despite the pain. She coughed, wincing as she tried to shield her son from Regina’s imposing figure. “Emma,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Just… please… he’s just a boy.”

Regina’s eyes flickered to the child, his small face buried in Emma’s torn cloak, his body trembling with fear. He couldn’t have been more than five years old. The sight of him stirred something deep within Regina, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Pity? No, it was more than that. Anger, perhaps—anger that this boy had been subjected to such terror.

“Why is there a child in my dungeons?” Regina asked, her voice sharp but quieter now, as if trying to understand what had happened. “I gave no order for this.”

Emma gritted her teeth, her arms tightening around the boy protectively. “He’s my son,” she whispered. “We… we were captured together. I told them not to hurt him. But they didn’t listen.”

Regina’s stomach twisted, a wave of fury surging through her. She was the Evil Queen, yes, but this—this was a violation of her rules, her control. She would never allow a child to suffer for the sins of the mother. Her rule was built on precision, not mindless cruelty.

"And?" Regina asked, stepping closer, her eyes boring into Emma’s. “What did you do to be here?”

Emma looked up at her, defiance still in her eyes despite the pain. “We were running and...We were on your land, though I didn't know it at the time,” she said quietly. “Just trying to survive.”

“Running from what?” Regina’s voice softened, though the hardness remained in her eyes.

Emma hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to answer. “From the war. From… from people like him.” She nodded toward the unconscious guard. “People who think they have the right to take what they want, hurt whoever they want.”

Regina’s gaze flicked toward the guard again, disgust curling in her chest. She had built her kingdom on fear, yes, but it was a calculated fear, not this senseless brutality. She knelt down slowly, bringing herself level with the boy, whose sobs had quieted but whose body still trembled against his mother.

“What’s your name?” Regina asked, her voice soft, though still commanding.

The boy didn’t answer at first, peeking out from behind Emma with wide, tear-filled eyes. Regina could see the fear in them, the kind of terror that only a child who had seen too much could carry.

Emma gently stroked the boy’s hair. “It’s okay, Henry,” she whispered. “You can tell her.”

“Henry,” the boy whispered, his voice so small it was barely audible.

Regina’s heart tightened. Henry. She didn’t know why, but hearing his name sent a jolt through her, as if the boy were something more than a nameless child in her dungeons. He was real, innocent, and he had been dragged into her world of darkness and fear.

She stood, her gaze hardening as she turned back to Emma. “This guard will be dealt with,” she said firmly. “And you—”

Emma’s body tensed, her eyes filled with fear, but she held herself tall, defiant.

“—you and your son will be moved,” Regina finished, her voice calmer now. “You don’t belong in the dungeons. This treatment was not my order.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion, disbelief flashing across her bruised face. “Why?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Why would you help us?”

Regina stared at her for a long moment, unsure of the answer herself. There was something about Emma—her strength, her fierce love for her son, her refusal to break—that Regina found both frustrating and admirable. She didn’t know why she was helping them, only that she couldn’t leave them here, not like this.

“Because I don’t condone this kind of cruelty,” Regina said, her voice firm. “Not to children. Not to anyone who hasn’t earned it.”

Emma’s lips parted in surprise, but before she could speak, Regina turned on her heel, her cloak swirling around her. “Follow me,” she commanded, not waiting for a response. “We’ll find somewhere more suitable.”

As Regina led them out of the dark, damp dungeons, she could feel Emma’s eyes on her, wary but no longer filled with fear.

[princess-and-the-swan]

MC Fic Rec: Seal the Deal

By @hollyethecurious | Rating: E

“Then we have a deal,” The Dark One murmured. “When you return home, you’ll find your father well and healthier than he’s ever been. All the pain and suffering a distant memory.” Emma released stuttering breaths of pure joy, her eyes stinging with the happy tears pooling in their corners. “Thank you! You… you’ve no idea what it means to me. What he means to me.” “I only hope he’s worth the price you’ve agreed to pay,” he replied, his hand still firmly enveloping her own. “Which we shall begin working towards tomorrow eve.” Emma cocked her head to one side, brows deeply furrowed. “What?” A cunning grin pulled at his lips. “You agreed to give me your firstborn child, did you not?” “I… yes?” “Well…” his pregnant pause and suggestively raised brows caused Emma’s heart to palpitate painfully in a vice of dreadful understanding his next words clamped into place. “With no husband to assist in the matter, how else did you presume to give me your firstborn?” Complete

Read it on AO3

[ohmightydevviepuu]

fanbinding: for tonight you're only here to know

MOAR concertina books! here's another dos-a-dos for the collection, modified this time for a little secret art action from @carpedzem-art 😍(artwork used with permmission as the basis of the story)

story: for tonight you're only here to know fandom: once upon a time category: captain hook / emma swan

the story is written in three parts, so i typeset it in three signatures for the dos-a-dos. the story ends with a book-within-the-book so i made two title pages, one for the fic and one for the book--mostly because i so enjoyed playing with the stock images.

the 'covers' are paste paper from an artists' event at the new york city Center for Book Arts, with the images transferred on using a foil quill. the signatures are sewn in with a three-hole pamphlet stitch. the idea for this bind came from an example in Making Handmade Books: 100+ Bindings, Structures & Forms by Alisa Golden.

title pages are inkjet on clearprint vellum textblock is neenah cougar 80# text weight fonts: treefrog, lost dragon demo, 1938 STeMPEL stock images: mystic black heart, octopus, magic potion, hand-drawn star

[rawbutprecious]

“show off.” (For Emma)

Princess Emma looked over at the Huntsman while lowering the bow in her hand. The arrow that had just flown from the quiver . She couldn't help but beam a large smile at him. He'd been her guard for as long as she remembered to the point that he was more than her protector, but her friend as well.

"What would you expect from the daughter of Snow White?" she asked, playfully batting her eyes. "Come on... show me what you got. If you can do better than that... then.... hmmm.... I'll march around town proclaiming you are the best shot in all the land... while banging on a tambourine.

[pappelsiin]

it turned into au art 💫

[nilefreemans]

have some of my 911 Once Upon a Time AU

* * *

"Uncle Buck-" Jee says and Buck looks down at her lap, but she wasn't looking up at him, instead her finger was pointed to the page of her storybook where a beautiful woman was laying amongst a field of flowers.

"I don't know bunny," Buck says amused. "I don't think I can fit in that dress."

"No that's you," Jee insists and she looks up at Buck then. "You but diff- differ-"

"Different?" Buck prompts and Jee nods her head smiling.

"You think I'm Beauty? And not the Beast?" Buck asks, curious now and Jee nods her head and she turns the page.

The beast in this storybook is massive. A tall creature that stands on it's hind legs. His paws are large, ending in wicked looking claws and his teeth are just as sharp. He's terrifying at first glance, but Buck has read this book with Jee before and he knows that the terrifying expression on the Beast's face softens as he finds love with Beauty.

His blue eyes, the same color as twilight, seem to shine when he looks at Beauty.

He should have wings. Buck thinks as his finger traces the illustration. It's wrong somehow, but Buck has never thought that before. The features are different, the color of his fur should be darker-

Buck shakes away the suddenly strange thoughts and Jee turns the page again.

"I've never been Beauty before?" Buck asks. In the dozens of times they've read this fairytale, Buck has been many things in their world of pretend. Dragons and Princes and Knights. He's even been Alice and everytime Jee-Yun has laughed and gone with their make believe.

She sounds so serious now.

Buck wants to ask know, he wants to know who the Beast could be - when Chimney comes in, a grim look on his face.

"Sorry Buck," Chim says as he comes into the room, wiping the grease from his forehead with a frown. "You need more than just my knowledge for the jeep. You need a proffesional."

Buck sighs, letting his head fall ontop of Jee's which makes her giggle and tell Buck that he had a heavy head. It was a little bit of a balm to the dissapointment he had in Chim not being able to get her to start.

"Is there even a mechanic in Storybrooke?" Buck asks. He's had his Jeep for years, and he's never needed help with it before, Buck can't even think of the last time he needed an oil change.

"There's one on the outskirts of town, right next to the lake. It's called Harbor," Chimney says. "Guy who runs it, he doesn't really come into town that much."

"You know him?" Buck asks and Chimney's brows furrow his gaze going distant for a moment-

"I've seen him in town," Chimney says finally, his voice more monotone then before, almost rehearsed.

Buck has a moment of thinking it strange-

"I think your jeep has enough life in her to make it out that way," Chimney explains as he goes to the kitchen to clean up. Buck kisses Jee's head before setting her down on the couch by herself and goes to follow his brother in law.

"Do you want us to come with?" Chimney asks and Buck shakes his head.

"Nah," He smiles. "Jee missed her Dad, you to should snuggle up with her," Buck suggests with a grin. "Maybe watch a movie with her."

"Yeah," Chimney says and his eyes glance over to where Jee was arranging her stuffed animals carefully by her tea set. She was quietly singing to herself in one of the many songs she would make up on the spot.

Chimney's smile turns sad and Buck follows his eyes to the picture of Maddie that hung on the wall.

Buck feels something tighten in his chest, and he reaches out and puts an arm around Chimney, hugging him close.

They don't talk about Maddie outside of telling Jee about her memory.

"Get out of here before Jee asks you to stay," Chimney jokes, pushing playfully at Buck. "I don't want to lose my snuggle bunny for the night."

Buck goes to say his goodbyes, giving Jee an extra big hug and promising to see her soon.

The drive there is miserable. The jeep sputters and groans on the way there and Buck repeatedly pets the dashboard and begs it to make it just a little bit further.

It's not a long drive, Storybrooke is a small town, but it's the furthest he had to drive in -

He can't remember how long.

The shop itself is unassuming, more of a large garage connected to a small house than anything else. Next to it is a small junkyard, filled with rusting cars, broken appliances and a small biplane that surprises Buck to see. He doesn't remember ever seeing a plane fly over Storybrooke.

Shaking his head away from the strange thought, Buck moves to go into the shop.

There's a thick metal door up front, and Buck would think it looked unwelcoming if it werent for the crooked open sign. He pushes at it, and the hinges move smoothly despite the weight. It's well taken care of.

Despite how the outside looks, the inside feels more welcoming. There's a small couch next to a desk that sits at the corner of the garage. The couch is well loved but clean, and Buck can imagine sitting comfortably in it, maybe even reading from one of the many books that are crammed into the book case next to the couch.

A sign says to ring the bell for service and Buck does so, tapping it three times.

He rocks on his heels, turning to look at the shelf with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, pulling the fabric in front of him.

Buck reaches out again and taps the bell.

"I heard you," A gruff voice says and Buck turns to look at the owner of the voice.

He's a tall man, as tall as Buck is himself and broad.

The man steps from the shadows, and Buck's eyes widen.

There are scars on the man's face that span further down, hidden by the collar of the man's jumper. One of them pulls at his mouth, making it look like he was frowning.

Beyond the scars though are a pair of blue eyes.

The same color as twilight.

part two here

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 5

Enchanted Forest AU / Sandman - Dreamling / Carol

Hob stared at the enormous, ice-limned tree that was planted squarely in the middle of the path.

The tree that definitely had not been in the path when he’d come into the forest. He hadn’t strayed off the path the whole time, except for one brief moment when he’d spotted the pale blue petals of the magical flower he’d come into the forest for. He’d picked the flower and come straight back to the path, following his own footsteps in the snow.

The wind had risen not long after that, and it had been a matter of moments before the remainder of his footprints had been obscured. But he’d been back on the path by then, and confident that it would lead him home again.

But now there was a tree in the path that hadn’t been there before. The path curved around it on both sides, and continued past it, but Hob knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Not in this forest.

He shuffled to the left and then to the right, trying to peer past the tree without actually going around it. He couldn’t discern a difference.

“Think,” he ordered himself. “If there’s only one true path, which one is it? To the right, for the left is the Devil’s hand? To the left, where the heart lies?” His breath turned to steam in the icy air, puffing like a dragon, but it provided no answer.

The wind blew colder, and he pulled his shabby cloak more tightly around himself. “If I can’t go left, and I can’t go right, then the only way forward is straight down the middle, aye?” 

Deep in the forest, a tree branch cracked under the weight of the ice and snow, the sound echoing eerily as the wind died away. Hob shivered from more than the cold.

“It’s an adventure, Hobsie,” he muttered. He clutched close his cloak and the pouch in which he’d stowed the precious flower, squeezed his eyes tight shut, and stepped forward. And forward again. Three steps. Five. Ten. Twenty.

He should have run into the tree by now, surely. Or stumbled over a gnarled root.

A sound wormed its way into his hearing. He thought at first it was the wind, but it was too rhythmic. Music of some kind? A few more steps, and it was clearly singing of some sort. The wind returned, tugging at Hob’s cloak, pulling him forward until he could hear that there were several voices joined in the song.

It was in a language Hob didn’t know, but it was beautiful. The voices were clear and true and strong, and even if he couldn’t understand the words, they were full of joy.

“And who have we here?” asked a voice, deep and beautiful.

Hob’s eyes opened before he could wonder if it were wise to do so. 

Hob saw a man, taller than any Hob had ever met, slender and nearly as pale as the snow, with hair like raven’s feathers. His eyes were a dark void scattered with stars. His clothes were dark as midnight shadows, and as formless, pooling around him and shifting not with the wind but against it, as if they were creatures.

He was clearly not human. He was terrifying. He was awe-inspiring. He was--

“Beautiful,” Hob blurted, and clapped a hand to his mouth before it could betray his stupidity any further.

The man’s head tipped slightly. “Your name is Beautiful?”

“No,” Hob stammered. “No, your lordship, I’m-- folks call me Hob.”

“Hob,” the man repeated, and on his lips, Hob’s simple name sounded like an angel’s song. “Come, Hob.” He gestured with an arm that was just a little too long, drawing Hob’s attention to a blazing bonfire, surrounded by several dozen creatures ranging in size from a mouse wearing courtier’s attire complete with a needle-sized sword to a dragon several times larger than Hob’s own house. 

The pale man put a hand on Hob’s shoulder and urged him forward, gentle despite what Hob sensed was immense strength and power. “Come and warm yourself at the fire, and tell me what brings you this eve to my domain.”

[italymystery-swanqueen]

Everything Will Be Alright

I Promise You

[v-chase-art]

princess emma of the white kingdom (definitely guilty of breaking a fair share of other princesses’ engagements and not allowed to attend any royal wedding in the enchanted forest)

for the sake of peace between the kingdoms we should all hope she’ll meet one particular queen soon enough

[charlieactuallydiesforreal]

Pim Pimling

Alive and... unwell.

After Charlie dies, Pim carry’s an immense guilt. He blames himself for starting the argument that lead to his death. His grief is inconsolable. He needs something, he needs closure.

So, he begins researching the afterlife. He gets so deep into his studies that he stops showing up to work. Allan and Glep are Not good at making people smile. So, pretty quickly, the Smiling Friends charity shuts down.

Meanwhile, Pim falls deeper. His eyes are strained, he’s needed glasses for a long time but hasn’t gotten new ones since he was a kid. But he needs to see, so he puts on his old pair. He ditches his work clothes, donning a mourning black tee shirt and shorts. No shoes even, just socks. And, of course, the only physical thing he has left of Charlie: his hat.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "A Cottage by the Sea"

This 7 chapter MC was written for the @cssns20 event, and I have always been pretty proud of how it turned out. This one pulls a bit from Pirates of the Caribbean and a bit from 1989's The Little Mermaid, and then throws in the happy ending vision that came into my head that I just needed to find a story to help them reach. I've been travelling back through all my @cssns entries recently, and I hope you'll enjoy this one if you didn't see it then - or if you decide you might want to revisit it!

**Beautiful cover art is by @searchingwardrobes! I'm still in love with it and grateful to have it to put with my story.

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…”

**Also available on AO3, if that's your preference**

By: @snowbellewells

Prologue

The land around her parents’ castle had always called to Princess Emma. The open spaces and craggy cliffs she could see in the distance as they plummeted into the churning sea, were windswept and wild much like herself. Though she had always been cared for and beloved, the sole heir to the kingdom of Queen Snow White, Emma also felt the desire to run free, as if she were destined for more than curtsies, crown fittings, and learning to smile demurely. Naturally, she adored her happily devoted, perfectly paired father and mother - just more so when they were teaching her to ride or aim a bow than when they were reminding her once again that she must exude patience and diplomacy at even the most interminable state dinners. She valued her kingdom and its people, understood the honor of her role in it, but that knowledge and affection failed to negate the fact that she often wished just as strongly to rip the fancy curled updos and jeweled tiaras from her head and run streaking like a loosed cannon along the wet sand at the ocean shore she could see from her chamber window, hair streaming behind her and cool, salty air on her face. All the proper princess etiquette and worries left behind.

The easiest - and her most favored - cure for that feeling of wanderlust and burning energy within was for either her mother or her father, or both whenever possible, to take her walking along the water’s edge in the evening. Emma would almost swear the Queen and King enjoyed the calming getaways almost as much as she did, both as a moment to be free of so many fussing, crowding, obsequious attendants and hangers-on, as well as to feel the open air of the world outside their palace cleansing them. She knew - though from nothing more than history and bedtime stories - that her parents had once lived and thrived out of doors, falling in love on the run as rebels before her mother regained the kingdom she had been born to lead. Both her mother, once a legendary bandit, and her father, who had started life as a humble shepherd, seemed to appreciate the chance to escape the castle walls of stone and venture out on their own with their adored and wild-hearted little girl. It concerned neither of them that Emma was bold and adventurous, bucking the traditional prim and dainty image of feminine royalty; in fact, they might have treasured those traits in her even more for how they harkened to what each loved most in the other.

One such evening, however, Queen Snow had been kept well into the twilight hour in a council meeting over trade routes and revenue, along with Emma’s father, and even Red, her godmother. Waiting impatiently, Emma fretted that she wouldn’t get outdoors and down to the shore at all, as she sat in the wide, cozy window seat of her tower room, looking out over the waves crashing up on the sands. She took in the lights of ships in their harbor, the mist and waves, and she longed to be closer - to be part of it all. In fact, she was mischievously contemplating whether or not she could scale down the outer walls in her nightdress and robe, and get to her usual walking course alone without being detected, when the door to her room opened behind her.

Snow White entered in a pleasantly flushed bluster of activity. Charming followed her with an indulgent smile, happily sweeping his daughter up into his arms as she ran to him in an excited blonde blur. She might be nearly 10-years-old, but he could still swing her up in his arms and twirl her through the air and all around the room as easily as he did when she was but a babe. Giggling happily, Emma threw her arms around her Papa’s neck and revelled in the exuberant joy of his affection.

When he put her down again, she immediately hopped around him excitedly tugging on his hand. “Can we go out for our walk now, please? Down by the shore… can we? Can we, pleeease?”

The King shook his head with a rueful chuckle, having known this would be her request the moment they set foot in their daughter’s room. She was made for the out-of-doors, an enchanting sprite of waves and sky, and he found it nigh as impossible as ever to disappoint her if her wish was within his power. “You’ll have to ask your mother this time, Sweetheart. I have more meetings, stores to check for the winter, applicants for aid to hear, a few more hours of work this evening yet.”

Snow smiled at him over Emma’s tousled blond head, nodded her agreement to a short jaunt while there was still light, Emma squealed with glee and danced an excited little jig before scampering toward the door, pulling at her mother’s hand impatiently, determined to hurry her along, Queen or no.

“You and Granny had better have cocoa and biscuits waiting for us when we return, Charming,” the dark-haired monarch grumbled, appearing stern, but the playful spark in her eyes told her husband she wasn’t really that upset. He was assuring they had what was needed for charitable giving to those less fortunate throughout the kingdom once harvests were over for the season; it would take but a moment to let the head palace cook know his wife’s wishes before continuing with his tasks.

“Anything for you, Dear,” he playfully mock-bowed before happily accepting a sweet kiss on the cheek and following his wife and daughter from the room. He was off in one direction; Marco and Jiminy both waiting down the hall to help him judge numbers, ask questions, and take notes, while Emma and Snow went in the other, headed down the stairs to the first floor side entrance and quickest path to the shore Emma was so anxious to reach. Charming supposed that many might think it strange he was not more troubled by letting his beloved and his only child wander outside the grounds alone, but his Queen could more than take care of herself. And if he knew Snow’s trusted bodyguard at all, the Huntsman they had long ago freed from Snow’s stepmother’s control, he would not be far if they had need of him when David could not accompany them - whether he was in view or not.

~~***~~

They were hand in hand, Emma’s shoes in her mother’s grip, as she skipped with exuberant satisfaction at her side, toes squidging with the exquisite feel of the wet grains of sand as she did. It was all Emma had wanted all day, from the moment she’d gotten dressed and shared breakfast with her parents and godmother, informal as they had no visitors in the warm, cozy castle kitchens. Throughout her interminable etiquette lessons with the Blue Fairy, and studying with her tutors, she had wanted nothing more than to be carefree by the water like this, and she was beside herself with excitement to be there at last.

Ruffling her daughter’s hair, Snow let the worries and concerns of meetings, treaties, budgets, and protocols slide from her shoulders while the evening breeze caressed her face. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment and laughed into the wind right along with her precious child. Perhaps she had needed the escape just as much.

Then, with a sharp jerk, Emma’s smaller hand tugged from hers with a cry of surprise. “Mama, look there!” she called, her fingers slipping from her mother’s grasp as she began to pelt across the sand in alarm. “A boy! A boy just came out of the water!  He’s hurt!”

Immediately, Snow White’s focus was sharp, snapping back into full awareness, scanning ahead of them to where she saw a dark, bedraggled shape, not much larger than Emma, lying on the lighter colored beach. Emma had run forward in such concern that she had already almost reached the small shape, and her mother quickly gathered up her skirts and jogged forward to catch her, not sure yet what to expect. “Emma! Wait! Be careful!” she warned, though she already knew the caution would fall on deaf ears. Emma was fearless for her own safety, and had a soft spot for any person or thing injured or in need; she wouldn’t be stopping if she thought she could help.

Nearing the indeed soaked, disheveled, and unconscious child, Emma had already fallen to her knees, trying to shake and urge the unknown person back to awareness. The queen’s concern for her daughter’s safety instantly melted into compassion for the waif who didn’t move, didn’t speak, and barely seemed to breathe. For a child of his seeming height, he was frighteningly thin, his clothing threadbare and torn, hair too long, nearly hiding his closed eyes as soaked to his skin as it was. The Queen’s maternal heart ached for him, wondering how he came to be in such a state, alone and washed up from the sea. Taking Emma’s hand to stop her jostling him, Queen Snow could only hope they weren’t too late to save this mere boy’s life. It was only just beginning.

She looked up, wondering how they could get him back to the castle and trying to gauge how far they had traveled from the gates. Just as she was vaguely considering whether or not she could call one of the birds she was able to use as messengers - a gift that had served her often throughout life - when a tall shadow materialized from the woods bordering the shore, before she even needed to call out. Her long time bodyguard, Graham, Snow realized with easy relief; she should have known he would not be far, and regardless of the necessity - or lack thereof - in this moment she was glad he was there. This child needed help, and they needed to get him to a physician as soon as possible.

The Huntsman scooped the still-motionless boy up easily and began to carry him back the way they had come. Snow and Emma hovered on either side in anxious worry. As soon as they got him home to safety, they would bring him around. They had to. They had to have found him for a reason.

~~***~~

Once the unknown boy had been carried back to the castle, his slight form hardly causing the Huntsman to strain himself, bundled down before the warm hearthfire of the kitchens, boneless still, but changed from his wet rags into a old castoff tunic of the King’s (long enough to be a nightshirt on the lanky youth) and covered in numerous blankets, it took little time for the youth to come back to himself. 

Emma hovered anxiously next to the little stranger she had found, feeling oddly protective of “her boy” as she was already thinking of him in her head. She only paused in her agitated fidgeting to briefly take a cup of cocoa for herself and return the supportive hand squeeze offered her by their friend Red, Granny’s actual granddaughter and Emma’s frequent babysitter and playmate as well as her godmother.

Of course, Doc, the castle’s rather unofficial physician, had been sent for upon their return, but as the child before them began to stir of his own accord, Emma let herself hope that it would prove a mere precaution and their charge would be just fine. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked open slowly, as if still weary and reluctant to revive. When finally the thick, dark lashes parted to reveal rather stunning, unbelievably sea-blue eyes, Emma gasped at the shock that ran through her. Even as the boy’s widened in equal surprise and alarm, his eyes fixed on her gaze for several endless moments before darting around his surroundings, clearly unsure where he was or what had happened.

“Shh…. sh… hush now…” Emma felt her own tense muscles loosen as her mother’s voice calmly bathed the scene in gentle comfort. The Queen, soft and careful, and looking for all the world in that moment just like any other mother hoping to reassure her frightened child, stooped down to eye level with the boy they had propped up in a heaping nest of pillows and quilts by the fire. She reached out to softly brush his dark hair off his forehead, but froze when the boy flinched back like a startled animal. Instead, she only added in the same low, sweet croon. “You’re safe here. No one is going to hurt you… It’s alright now.”

The youngster’s eyes continued to cast about him for several tense moments, but then he seemed to finally register the calm surrounding him and accept that he would be alright. The tentatively crooked smile he offered back to the Queen sparked a bit of hope in all who were gathered around him. And when a steaming cup of cocoa was pressed into his hands by Granny with a brusque but concerned admonishment to “drink up, it’ll warm your insides” before the cook bustled off again, he seemed to come back to himself even more at the scent which wafted up into his face of chocolate and their family’s customary hint of cinnamon.

Emma could practically see interest light up those expressive eyes, but the child hesitated rather than bringing the cup to his lips for a taste. Darting from Queen to Princess uncertainly, he seemed to be gauging whether or not it was truly acceptable for him to take a drink.

“Go ahead,” Emma urged, smiling in what she hoped was reassurance. She wasn’t known for her patience, and she couldn’t know that this youth had never experienced hot cocoa, nor many pleasant treats at all, in his young life. Hoping to encourage him, she lifted her own mug to drink and then smacked her lips at the delightful taste, making Ruby laugh and her mother shake her head at her dreadful table manners. The boy’s face, however, lit with a bit of humor and happiness that it had not yet held. “It’s good, I promise,” Emma added with a grin. “You’ll like it.”

Almost as if he could resist no longer, the boy tipped his cup and took a sip of the warm, rich beverage at last. Then, it seemed he discovered the powers of liquid chocolate that everyone else in the room well knew. His eyes widened in delight, and he tipped his head back to get every last drop as he quickly guzzled down the rest, making Emma giggle, and him startle guiltily as if he’d done something wrong.

“Don’t worry,” Emma assured, reaching out innocently to lay her hand on his, “You can have some more, right Mama?”

Queen Snow White’s eyes were a bit misty with unshed tears, having already met Granny’s gaze over Emma’s head and Ruby’s as well, the three women piecing together things Emma in her sheltered, loving world could not yet know about what this youngster must have gone through. His reactions and his guardedness spoke volumes, even in silence. Nodding simply, not sure at first that she could speak around the painful lump in her throat, Snow finally managed to agree, “Yes, for tonight at least, our new friend may have all the hot cocoa his heart desires.”

~~***~~

The boy’s name, it turned out, was Killian Jones. He did recall that much once he regained his bearings, as well as the fact that he had possessed a father, mother, and older brother in a happy little house before his mother had seemingly vanished from his young life, and they had sent sail on the boat he had been on before washing ashore. No matter how many questions they asked or how he tried to call more forth, he remembered little else of what happened to his mother or father. He knew he had been told she fell ill and died, but all he could bring forth in his mind’s eye was that one morning he had awakened and she had vanished from his life as if she never existed at all - just a pleasant dream. His elder brother Liam had been on the boat with him, and Killian had shed tears that broke all their hearts when he recalled the day his brother had been swept overboard and lost to him forever. But as to what had become of his father, and how he had been sentenced to the life of hard labor he had clearly endured afterward, there was nothing but a blank and questions.

 As days and weeks, then months, and finally years went by, he remained with them at Misthaven castle.  Though far from a young prince, Killian was raised as a member of the royal household, growing up side-by-side with Princess Emma. They appeared to be quite close in age, and joined by the fact that she had found him and seemed to take Killian on as her own, he and Emma were quite inseparable - the best of friends and as “thick as thieves” as Granny always lamented when they were underfoot or stealing berries meant for tarts and pies on the royal dinner table.

As they reached adolescence, the King and Queen began to wonder where Kilian would be happiest as he came of age. The young man they had come to adore almost as a son had several skills: he was invaluable in the stables, exuding a calming force over the horses and evincing a knack for their training and care; he was quite good as an extra hand in the kitchen when Granny was understaffed or had more visiting mouths than usual to feed (for all her tough talk the aging widow had a soft spot for the boy and would no doubt have mentored him as a cook). Killian was bright; genuine knowledge and curiosity made him a voracious reader and student, honestly gaining more from the princess’ many esteemed tutors than Emma ever had and enjoying the study much more. He would have been easy to train as a page or diplomat, but none of those options seemed quite right.

It was not until his fifteenth birthday that the way Killian hoped to take became clear. It might have seemed improbable to most, knowing that the sea had once nearly swallowed him whole and claimed his life, but to Emma who knew him better than anyone else, it made sense. Those restless, wandering waves held an appeal, a mystery and adventure, and perhaps even still some bit of himself that her friend needed to claim. He stated his intention to join her father’s Navy with a proud certainty. And Emma’s heart swelled with equal gratification, but also fear. The sea had given him to her, but it wanted to take him back again…

It had taken them all such a long time to show Killian that he was welcome there, truly a part of their loving extended family. At first, Killian had shrunk back - shoulders hunched, head bowed, breath coming quickly in frightened pants - any time he might accidentally drop and break a dish or he reached for a second roll at the table, making it clear was that he had been punished and berated, to the point that he cowered like a whipped dog whenever he feared he might have put even a toe out of line. Princess Emma knew that her parents suspected beatings and physical abuse; it was clear in the concerned way their eyes met in silent communication whenever Killian reacted with the intense fear and apology he often showed in his bearing; she sadly had to agree that they were quite probably correct. She shuddered to think of how he might still be suffering under some cruel captain’s mistreatment, miserable, stranded and helpless to change his situation if it had not been for the shipwreck which brought him to Misthaven instead. There had been no question for any of them that he must stay, when they had learned of his indenture and how he had been orphaned and abandoned. She couldn’t have been more glad that all in the castle were in agreement; Emma had already decided that “her boy” needed to stay there with them, where he was safe and she could be sure he was happy and free. Neither of them were small children anymore, but Emma’s care and affection for him had never changed.

For so long before Killian’s arrival, she had been the only child in a palace of grown-ups: rulers, dignitaries, staff - a whole caravan of people who doted and adored, but very few who could be peers, to play with, talk to, and simply understand her. As the days had flowed into one another, turning into months and years until most people could hardly remember when she and Killian were not linked, they  were practically siblings in every way that mattered. The princess knew that she didn’t intend to live - not could she imagine - her life without him ever again.

And then, seemingly in the mere blink of an eye, they were fifteen and moving from playing tag amongst the grape arbors and lilac bushes in her mother’s gardens and slipping out of the interminable poise and etiquette lessons which Emma detested yet was never allowed to miss, to the stage where Killian was serving as her partner while she learned the waltz and other ballroom dances she would need to master for formal balls and ceremonies. Not only that, but as they edged into adolescence, Emma’s heart thumped against her chest differently than it used to as Killian led her gracefully through the steps. Even as her heart seemed ready to ricochet from her body, the warmth of Killian’s skin where they touched and the utter safety she felt in his hold half intoxicated her. As awareness spun her head round, uncertain what to do with it or how to proceed with these strange new feelings suddenly flooding her, all Emma could be certain of was the pang of loss she felt at knowing that Killian’s desire was to soon join her father’s naval fleet. At fifteen, he was at last of age to sail as a cabin boy and begin to work his way up in a ship’s ranks. Though she knew that had long been her friend’s desired course, Emma’s heart still ached to see him go.

However, her parents could not deny him the chance to seek such a worthy ambition. Indeed, they were proud of Killian, happy to help him secure a place on one of their finest vessels and make certain he knew their confidence in him and their faith that he would succeed. All too soon, after years with him at her side, it was the day Emma’s confidant and companion was set to sail on his first voyage. Though she knew in her head that the kingdom was in a time of peace and that it was a mere routine mission, her heart could not ignore the fact that sea travel always came with risk. Not only that, but she would miss Killian terribly.

Still, goodbyes had been said, all was made ready, and she was left on the dock, waving goodbye as the best friend she had ever known met her eyes and waved back. His pretty blue eyes, that had long since begun to speak to her as ardently as his actual words, expressed a potent blend of pained anxiety at leaving his adopted family and the life he had known and excitement for the adventure ahead on the waves that stirred his blood. She stood there long after the rest of the crowd seeing him off had dispersed and gone back to the castle, watching as the naval ship bearing “her boy” (as she sometimes still in the deepest and most secret depths  of her heart thought of him) became a small dot on the horizon before fading from view entirely. 

And only then had the journey truly begun...

Part One

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd @caught-in-the-filter

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@jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @myfearless-love @belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee

[princess-and-the-swan]

MC Fic Rec: Her Dark Protector

By @belovedcreation | Rating: E

Growing up imprisoned in her own home by the Evil Queen Regina, Princess Emma would often hear tales of the Dark One - the only person her dark captor feared. In a desperate attempt to flee Regina's grasp, Emma calls upon the Dark One to make a deal that will set her free. But the man who appears is not who she expected. Dark One Killian Jones reluctantly makes a deal to help her reclaim her throne, but all magic comes with a price and this deal come with ties that bind the dark to the light. Complete.

Another Beloved Creation fic, but are you even surprised at this point? Alllll the kudos to Heather for yet another wonderful fic!

Read it on AO3