#enchanted forest au
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swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters · 10 months ago
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young queen Regina and knight Emma, pls and thank you
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chicken-needle-soup · 2 years ago
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More of the AU where Red Is a huge beast trapped in a forest!!!
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Now with Duck, a tiny beast also trapped in the forest!
Being a huge beast, Red has so much hair that tangling is an everyday thing, lucky for him, his tiny husband can help with that!
And ofc Yellow picked all the flowers ✨
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introvertedexhuastedpigeon · 6 months ago
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swan queen - arranged marriage enchated forest AU
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deadlyflames · 5 months ago
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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.
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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
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swanqueenffprompter · 3 months ago
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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.
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princess-and-the-swan · 5 months ago
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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
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ohmightydevviepuu · 2 years ago
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fanbinding: for tonight you're only here to know
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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)
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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
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rawbutprecious · 9 months ago
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“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.
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sotangledupinit · 2 years ago
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running home to your sweet nothings
PROMPT: Enchanted Forest AU
SUMMARY: His informality is refreshing; like water in a desert, Emma is parched and desperate for more. “Take note, Princess, that I take no pleasure in pointing out the susceptibilities of your security or skills. It is my loyalty to you that wants you to remain safe.” There’s an earnestness to his voice and Emma feels her cheeks heat. His breath fans against her face in soft puffs as he speaks and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. “What have I done to earn such loyalty other than wear a crown?” she asks in an equally quiet voice. She’s breathless as she speaks but she yearns for his unfiltered response. // or the four gifts of killian jones
RATING: Mature on AO3, Teen on Tumblr.
WORD COUNT: Over 16k words. (16,932 on AO3)
AO3
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please note that the tumblr version of this story as seen below has been edited to be a T rating. If you want the M version, please click the AO3 link above.
Chapter 1 of 2
*
six and ten. spring.
The castle walls suffocate her. They act as a constant reminder that despite her position — Princess Emma Margaret Nolan of Misthaven — she is trapped. Guards follow her every move; every breath she takes, each time she blinks, and even the side of the mouth she chews her food on are all reported back to her parents. Her clothes are picked out for her, her day is scheduled to the second, and she isn’t allowed to venture outside of their grounds.
She understood, albeit begrudgingly, when she was a child. Regina had been a massive threat for most of her life. Fireballs scorched castle hallways for years, the Evil Queen’s magic able to break through the protection barriers only momentarily every once in a while. Out of an abundance of caution, Emma was confined to a singular wing of the castle grounds, limiting her already strained freedom. Worry lined her parents' faces whenever she saw them, and a great relief escaped their lungs whenever they saw her alive and breathing before them. They told her of Regina’s threats, of her power, of her determination and thirst for revenge.
So she understood the fear that took hold of their hearts for so many years.
But she’s sixteen now and Regina’s been dead for four months already. She needs freedom. She needs to spread her wings like her mother’s birds and explore their kingdom beyond the castle walls. Meet their people, understand their lives. Instead, her requests to her parents are met with firm denials as they say that the land is still unsettled and they haven’t determined all of Regina’s followers yet. They fear one of them might make a martyr of Regina and start an uprising of their own. And so she goes back to her days cataloged to the minute and her guards counting the steps she takes on one foot versus the other.
Five months post-Regina, Emma sees an opportunity.
The Duke of Atlantica is visiting and Emma, having been excused for the evening, finds herself in her room with minimal security outside and a lone guard sweeping the perimeter under her window every twelve minutes. She guesses everyone else is too busy protecting her parents and the Duke.
She puts on her riding trousers, a loose top, and a scarf around her hair and face. A glance outside tells her the drop from her windowsill to the courtyard below is a bit higher than she anticipated and her magic is still too unsteady to be guaranteed to work if she needed it to stop her fall. Instead she grabs bedsheets, dressing gowns, and a curtain and knots them together sloppily, tossing the bundle over the sill to billow in the breeze below. She tugs hard on her contraption and once satisfied, descends.
When she was young, less than half her age now, her parents and her would play a game. It was their way of tempering her restlessness and her thirst for adventure. The castle grounds by her wing of the castle quickly became her playground. They would take turns hiding while one of them sought the others. Her father would proudly proclaim their family motto whenever he finished counting.
I will always find you!
One such game led to Emma hiding amongst the buttercups she planted the spring before with Johanna. The flowers had started to climb up the stone walls enclosing the garden she played in and, as she ran her hand along the blocks, she noticed the area was rarely in sight of any of their guards or the towers. After the game, she’d searched out the area from her window and noticed a steep drop on the other side, a slope that ensured an inability to broach the castle walls.
But it didn’t stop anyone from leaving.
At first, she had a fear of the area. She questioned her parents about Regina being able to climb the wall and her parents had Blue cast protection charms over it to cease her nightmares.
But as she grew older and the restraint on her freedom grew tighter, Emma looked at the wall in a new light. Now, as she dashes across the castle gardens to where the buttercups grow wild and free, it is her salvation.
Emma’s eyes cast around for anything that could ruin her potential night of freedom but nothing seems amiss. The patrols have left the area and she has about four more minutes until they come back. Before she climbs the wall, she turns back towards her room and casts her hands out. Eyes squeezed shut, she whispers a spell to hide the evidence of her escape and glances up in time to see a glimmer across it. Releasing a deep sigh, she climbs the wall.
*
Her boots are muddy and Emma slides more than walks down the slope outside the wall. It’s steeper than she anticipated and the recent rain has left it hard to keep her balance. She’s not sure how she’ll go about getting back over the side but she supposes it’s an issue to figure out on her return.
Specks of mud have kicked up from her boots and onto her trousers and she winces at the sight. She knows she’ll have to hide them from the staff until her next riding lesson to ensure no one asks any questions. A lie will have to be prepared, ready to be said on the tip of her tongue, if anyone should ask about her whereabouts tonight. She knows she’ll have to practice it on the way back. But now she approaches the nearest village to the castle and lanterns are lit outside of the dwellings and there’s an orange glow cast around the streets like sunset had found a permanent home right there.
Boisterous laughter rings out of a nearby tavern’s open window and she hears the chittering of women in the building beside it. She can barely see it but further down the street, there’s a boy and a father at the docks putting on an act for bystanders and an upturned hat at their feet holding a few silver pieces.
There is so much life and joy in the village and Emma wants to explore every inch of it. She stays on the outskirts at first, observing with a thrill of excitement as she tries to decide where she will explore first. The scarf had slid down her face during her hike from the castle wall and she hasn’t bothered to fix it as the different aromas from the village assaulted her nose. She breathes it in and decides her first place will be the inn where a most delicious smell seems to come from its dining hall.
A destination in mind and determination settling in her shoulders, she barely lifts a foot to step forward when one arm wraps around her middle from behind and another comes up to her throat, the shine of silver glaring in her eyes for a moment before she feels the cool metal of a knife against her throat.
“Shhh, love. Don’t scream.”
The voice that speaks in her ear is accented from a place far from Misthaven. It’s the first thing she notices before her fight instincts kick in and she wiggles in her captor’s grip. Her efforts are futile as she can’t free her arms from where he’s trapped them at her sides and the knife follows her throat with each moment.
“Let go of me,” she demands through gritted teeth, her words coming out stronger than she feels. “Do you know who I am?!”
“Aye,” the voice continues and then he lets go only to grab one of her wrists and spin her to face him. “That’s why I’m disappointed it was so easy to grab you.”
Shock doesn’t begin to describe how she feels when she faces her assailant.
He’s young, probably her age if not a year or two older. His hair is dark and disheveled and his piercing blue eyes meet her gaze. He sheathes the knife he had pressed to her throat just moments ago and sighs. The urge to run away – back to the safety of the castle, away from the troubles her parents always feared for her – pulls at her muscles yet her feet remain rooted to the ground. She holds the boy’s stare, only a little comforted by the fact the knife now rests safely against his thigh.
He glances around quickly before he tugs on her arm and brings her to the side of the building, out of the lantern lights and under the alcove hanging from the local blacksmith shop.
“With the tools and talents at your disposal, Princess, I had hoped you’d be on your guard better. Especially considering you’re wandering around alone. Are you even aware there’s still people who sympathize with Regina that live in the kingdom?!”
The tone of his voice reminds her of a reprimand she’d get from her parents and her nose scrunches up in annoyance. Who is he to be lecturing her? He was the one who grabbed and threatened the Princess of Misthaven with a knife to her throat. She opens her mouth and says as much. Every bit of moodiness she feels as a trapped woman just sixteen years of age bleeds into each word she speaks to him. It builds stronger as he stands there looking bored.
His answer, though, comes through a heated whisper as he steps closer to her in the darkness. She notices the way his eyes scan their surroundings and realizes he’s been keeping watch even as he points out her glaring mistakes. “I’m the one who could have killed the Princess of Misthaven because she’s too bloody foolish to pay attention and be on guard when she sneaks out.”
“Perhaps you’re the foolish one for attempting such a thing when I could have your head on a stake by morning’s light.”
“If it means the Princess learns to take better care of herself on her future adventures then it will have been a thankless action well done.”
Emma glares even as she tugs her wrist free of his loose hold. “How do you know I snuck out anyway? I could have a number of guards waiting to grab you on my signal.”
He snorts and rolls his eyes and the action looks so good on him that it infuriates her. He is nothing but a young man who thought himself a know-it-all. What she’d do to wipe the smug expression off of his face.
“You’re not exactly hiding, Princess. You’re like a swan swimming amongst ducks. I spotted you the moment you entered the edge of the village and there’s not been a single movement in the trees behind you nor a rustle of chain link in the air.”
The you’re alone is unspoken yet it rings as loudly in her ears as if he’d yelled it. Despite his sheathing of the knife, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she checks her surroundings from the corner of her eye. She hates realizing she was unaware of the vulnerable position she’s placed herself in until he so unceremoniously pointed it out and the thought makes her nervous. Had she really let her guard down so much that a stranger could come up on her and do this?
Foolish, indeed.
Her eyes give him a once-over, taking in his ragged clothes and the dirt on his handsome face. His fingers are red and he stands tall with a straight set of his shoulders. The knife at his side is low enough that Emma guesses she could nick it off of him and have herself with a means of protection should his intentions differ from his words, but that only remains the issue of how to get closer to him.
She imagines the blood vessels in her father’s forehead straining at the thought of her within a foot of a male her age. Unsupervised at that. Her mother would find the situation hilarious and provide her tips for the future. Similar to how I met your father, she’d say in amusement. Nevertheless, it is all with a plan in mind.
Clearing her throat, she holds her head high like her mother taught her and meets his gaze.
“I thank you for your service to, and protection of, the Royal Family of Misthaven, no matter how unconventional your means are.” He cocks an eyebrow, amusement dancing along his features. She swallows hard as she steps closer and extends one hand to him. The smirk remains on his face as he takes her hand in his calloused one and bends to place a kiss upon her knuckles.
“If you think you can take my knife, Princess,” the mystery boy begins, his lips brushing her skin with every word. It takes her breath away and she forgets to inhale. Mirthful blue eyes meet hers from under the cover of his eyelashes and she’s mesmerized. Few in the realm hold magic. Most users, like Regina and her mother Cora, learn through difficult training that involves more blood and soul than most are willing to give up. Very rare others, like Emma, find their power from being the product of True Love. As far as she knows, she’s been the only one for the last two centuries.
But as this boy – no, young man – stares up at her from where he is bent at the waist, she swears he must have magic. For there is no other reason that she would be so entranced by his gaze and the sound of his voice. It takes her a moment to realize that he continued speaking.
“… then you will be sorely disappointed.”
Her eyebrows pinch together as she stares at him in confusion. It’s not until he presses a gentle kiss, finally, to her knuckles and then stands while holding his sheathed knife in his other hand that she understands he was onto her ruse. She rips her hand from him and steps back despite the way he doesn’t move to hurt her.
“You must think yourself so clever.”
“Well, I’d rather hope I am. Otherwise the rather great army that Misthaven boasts about over-promises and underdelivers. Especially in matters pertaining to the skillset of their princess.”
Emma huffs but says nothing as he’s clearly shown her up on more than one occasion in their brief meeting. Instead, she inquires about his identity. “May I at least know the name of the person who takes such glee in pointing out our weak spots?”
He steps closer, the sheath held tightly in his palm rather than the knife’s handle. Voice dropping to a whisper, he dips his head as he addresses her. Everything about his posture and his proximity goes against the expectations of the court but she finds a thrill in it. Nothing about her interaction with him has been anything like her usual meetings with advisors and other royals. Stiff greetings and full addresses are nowhere to be found. When he addresses her as Princess, his tongue forms the word as if it’s a nickname rather than her royal title and it sends a shock of excitement down her spine.
His informality is refreshing; like water in a desert, Emma is parched and desperate for more.
“Take note, Princess, that I take no pleasure in pointing out the susceptibilities of your security or skills. It is my loyalty to you that wants you to remain safe.” There’s an earnestness to his voice and Emma feels her cheeks heat. His breath fans against her face in soft puffs as he speaks and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.
“What have I done to earn such loyalty other than wear a crown?” she asks in an equally quiet voice. She’s breathless as she speaks but she yearns for his unfiltered response.
“Your heart,” he says as he takes another step forward. His toes touch hers and she prays he can’t hear the way her heart beats against her chest like she can hear its echo in her eardrums. “It is pure and light and, like your parents, you chose to see the best in people. Even if they don’t have the best of intentions towards you.”
He licks his lips as he looks at her. Not as the princess, not as a trophy to be won. But as if she were just another girl at the market. No, not just another girl. Like a girl who stole his attention and he has no thought but for her. It leaves her gobsmacked and a part of her wishes he would kiss her, be her first. But she’s not sure how many more lines she can cross tonight.
“What is your name?” Her question breaks his gaze from her mouth and it quickly darts up to meet hers. He scratches at the back of his head, just behind his ear, and she finds the action endearing. For all his suave moves and confidence, he is an awkward adolescent just like her.
The answer that laid on the tip of his tongue is stopped by an approaching voice.
“Killian?” the voice calls out, a deeper, more mature male voice with a similar accent to the mystery man’s.
“Bloody hell,” the figure before her murmurs with his head turned towards the alleyway. She assumes it is safe to assign the name to her companion this evening. As the other voice calls his name again, Killian turns towards her and adjusts her scarf over her hair and face before she can even blink, successfully concealing her identity for the time being.
Right as his fingers curl the cloth around the shell of her ear, the other figure emerges from the darkness.
“Bloody hell, Killian. I’d been calling your name for…”
The voice trails off as the person takes in the fact Killian isn’t alone.
“My apologies, Miss…”
The first thing that comes to mind is Killian’s earlier statement, the odd comparison he’d made, and so she blurts out before he can, “Miss Swan.”
“Evening, Miss Swan,” the gentleman says as he steps closer to the sole lantern light on the side of the building. He has a sharp jawline reminiscent of Killian’s with matching blue eyes. His hair curls close to his head and Emma notices he wears the uniform of her family’s navy. “Lieutenant Liam Jones. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, despite the late hour,” he says. The end of Liam’s statement is directed towards Killian in a way that reminds her of the subtle way her parents reprimand her when in company.
He takes her hand in his and bows as he bestows a kiss on it. It’s routine and perfunctory and so different from the one Killian had placed in that very spot moments prior. She only hopes that the turn of her head is enough to keep him from recognizing the uncovered parts of her face.
“Aye, apologies, brother,” Killian starts. He steps in front of Emma just slightly and she feels tension in her shoulders she hadn’t realized were built begin to release at his actions. “She’s a new servant for the royal family. It’s her first night away from the castle and she seems to have gotten lost. I was just escorting her back to her quarters.” Emma peers just slightly over his shoulder to see his brother’s narrow-eyed gaze fixed on Killian in contemplation. She wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t believe him.
“Let’s be on our way then, little brother. It is late.”
Liam looks at them expectantly and Emma barely pays attention to the mutterings of Killian's 'younger brother’ as blood pounds in her ears. This spells disaster.
Killian, it seems at least, would go along with her charade, not turn her into her parents and let her be on her way. Perhaps he’d have escorted her back but standard practices don’t exactly seem his way of life. Liam, on the other hand, exudes the essence of the perfect soldier. Straight back, formal introductions, and following the expectations of the court to the line. If he finds out who she is, Emma will never be able to escape again. Her father will have her under lock and key and her mother…
She’s not sure what her mother would do.
Being at the center of Regina’s turn to evil never rested easily on her mother’s shoulders. The ten-year-old little girl inside of her carried the guilt of a kingdom despite never truly doing anything wrong. Regina’s misplaced anger resulted in the suffering and death of far too many. It wasn’t an experience her mother took lightly. Emma’s heart breaks at what would become of her mother finding out about her activity.
But she knows of her mother’s own thirst for adventure, of the trials and tribulations that she faced when forced to fend for herself during Regina’s reign. The same kind of living that led to her meeting her True Love.
Emma’s True Love isn’t Killian; she’s positive of that from the way he grates on her nerves and his infuriating confident swagger. Snow, though, doesn’t need to know that – especially if it permits her more time away from the castle.
She shares a glance with Killian and he reads the short expression on her face like he spent all day in the library pouring over his favorite book and he immediately steps in to intercept his brother.
“I hardly think that both of us going is necessary. It’s just a short walk up to the castle grounds.”
Disapproval radiates from Liam in waves as he glares down at his younger brother. The minute shift in Killian’s stance would have been unnoticeable if she weren’t nearly pressed against his back.
“It would be improper to allow you to escort Miss Swan back to her quarters unattended.” Liam’s reply is only thinly veiled in a polite tone.
The trio trek in silence, dew from the grass wetting her already muddy trousers. She sticks close to Killian’s side and keeps as far away from Liam’s gaze as possible. Whenever he turns back to check on them, she turns her head away, allowing the scarf to conceal her identity from the angle of her tilt.
“Will you find yourself in trouble when you return?” Emma whispers hastily to Killian, lifting the edges of her cloak as they come upon mud spots. Her trousers and boots are already going to be a pain to clean, the last thing she needs to do is add to her secret laundry list.
“As long as no one finds out about tonight, Miss Swan,” he says, emphasizing the fake name she gave his brother. She levels a glare at the amusement that seeps into his words before he grows more serious. “Then both of us will be free of trouble. Let’s keep it that way.”
She huffs, turning her gaze onto the pathway leading to the servants quarters. Rarely does she ever find herself in that portion of the castle, but she’s thankful that her lockdown for the last sixteen years meant she had the chance to explore it more than once. The only trouble she’ll face is bypassing any servants that may see her.
Liam coughs as they happen upon the entrance, turning to Killian and Emma expectantly. “Goodnight, Miss Swan.”
Emma panics for a moment, glancing at Killian before she curtsies to Liam. The action feels strange in front of a party other than her parents or fellow royals but she hopes he’ll blame any clumsiness on a supposed shy servant unused to such attention. “Thank you, Lieutenant Jones,” she begins, turning to Killian next and curtseying again, glaring as she comes to a stand when she spots the quirked corner of his mouth. “Mister Jones.”
Killian turns to his brother and raises his eyebrows expectantly only for Liam to shake his head. But Killian persists. Emma acts as a spectator to the silent conversation between the brothers, confusion clouding her thoughts until Liam sighs heavily and turns slightly to the side, gaze away from the two of them. Killian waits a moment, staring at his brother’s back, before he moves.
He steps closer to her until his toes touch hers. Bending slightly, his face is a breath away from hers and her eyes widen. Killian has been the only boy - no, man - brave enough to get so close to her and her breath catches for a moment until he stands straight again, the knife from his thigh in his hand. He uses his free hand to lift one of hers until it rests on the scabbard. He curls her fingers around the knife and pushes it towards her.
“Learn to use it. You better be the one to surprise me next time.” He smirks, dipping his head for a moment to press a searing kiss to her knuckles before he steps back and speaks at a volume that allows Liam to hear. “Have a good night, Miss Swan.”
Emma’s eyes bounce to Liam’s imposing figure briefly before she locks her gaze with Killian. Despite how infuriating their encounter has been, it’s one she’s grateful for. She thanks him, her words quiet but no less genuine, and hopes he understands how deep they ring before she hastily curtseys once more, hurrying into the servants door and counting her blessings that it is empty for the moment.
As silent as she keeps her footsteps, she’s sure anyone within a ten-foot radius would be able to hear her racing heart.
- - -
nine and ten. summer.
Sweat trickles down her back down a familiar path created over the last hour. Hair pulled back in a high bun, the bangs that usually frame her face are plastered to her forehead as perspiration drips from her hairline. It pours from her in areas she didn’t know it could come from. Her breathing is hard and she feels uncomfortably hot in her disguised clothing.
The heat, she figures, is a combination of the unbearable humid summer night that waits outside the walls of the blacksmith’s shop and the roaring fire in the back of the room.
“Again!” Killian yells out to her, bringing his body into a starting fighting stance. He’s moved aside the tables he works at during the day and created a small area in the middle of the blacksmith’s shop for them to spar.
After that fateful spring night, Emma hadn’t seen Killian for three years. Managing to get her father to agree on a joint royal visit to the village had taken weeks and, where her past self would have been overjoyed at the ability to go beyond the castle grounds, her mind only drifted to seeing Killian.
He, though, was not in the village that day, nor on the other nights she snuck from her tower room. Life picked up after that, royal engagements and duties begun to pile upon her shoulders with great weight and a part of her missed the solitude from Regina’s torment. Her ventures to the village that were numerous at the start trickled down to once every few months as Emma found herself sitting in appointments and teachings with her parents. It wasn’t until she let her guard down during another spring festival, watching from afar yet again, that he managed to sneak up behind her.
He’d been disappointed at the fact it was so easy to do once more, and merely rolled his eyes when she told him she’d been practicing.
Her tutors weren’t suitable for the kind of fighting and defense she needed, he preached. Her tutors were the best of the best, she cried back at him in exasperation, they were teaching her well. It was a stance she held until he asked her to spar and had her on her back in twenty seconds.
“Propriety of the fight has no place when someone wants to kill you,” Killian said at the time. “On the battlefield, soldiers are fighting soldiers. They will follow similar rules of war. But for you, Princess, they will fight to harm you, to murder you. There are no rules at that point.” She remembers how he swiftly danced out of her range, using the objects within the shop to his advantage until he fought her to the ground again. “Listening to your tutors will get you killed.”
“So teach me,” she challenged through gritted teeth from where she laid on her back. She still remembers the way he contemplated the idea before he accepted.
Three months later and she’s yet to win a fight against him.
Her feet turn her body in a smooth spin on the sand of the shop and their swords clang loudly in the otherwise silent night. The shutters are closed, for they both know they can’t risk someone peeking in and seeing the princess in a sword fight, so the fire provides their only light. It glows against his tan skin like a sunset and she blinks in rapid succession as she feels vibrations from her sword down to her elbow.
Boots shuffling on the floor, she desperately tries to overpower him or dislodge his weapon from her own, to no avail. It is only as she is managing to move his sword above her head that he pulls from her and she sighs, yelping just a moment later as he smacks the flat of the blade against her backside.
“Hey!” she calls out, hand instinctively reaching behind her to rub at the sting. “You truly are a pain in my ass, you understand that, right?”
He smirks. “It is my duty as your friend to keep you humble under the weight of that crown. We simply cannot have you getting too comfortable.”
Emma shakes her head to hide her grin at his words. Friend. She doesn’t think she’s had one of those before. Most of the people she associates with have a large age difference between them and what interests her doesn’t typically interest them. She’s interacted with other royals her age but most of the encounters were awkward and stifling.
With Killian, things are easy. Awkward moments are few and far between, and he doesn’t tiptoe around her feelings. He is honest, if a bit too blunt, and open about what he thinks. There is no stuffy protocol or ‘Yes, Princess,’ ‘Of course, Princess,’ with him. In fact, she swears that he gets more enjoyment out of denying her almost anything she requests. So confident in that idea, she’d bet her crown on it.
Her arms feel heavy as she lifts them to her starting stance once more, without Killian needing to ask. “I’m ready,” she says through her labored breathing.
“Think you can handle it, Princess?” he taunts, that infuriating smirk glowing on his face.
“Please,” she scoffs, “you’re the one who can’t handle it.” She adjusts her weight and nods to him. “Let’s go.”
Their swords clash again, the ringing of metal meeting metal echoing in the blacksmith’s shop. While Emma is soaked in her own perspiration, she can only spot a few lines of sweat trailing down the side of his neck and small beads along his hairline. There’s a sluggishness to his moves, an effect of the two hours of training they’ve exhausted themselves with tonight, but her moves are far worse. She feels the delay in her response and the way she doesn’t see his sword come towards her.
She belated raises her own to stop him and the rattling is enough to spring the sword from her grip. Killian attempts to stop the unexpected downswing of his sword from the loss of hers, but it isn’t enough. The tip of his blade swipes across her open palm and blood immediately comes to the surface.
“Fuck,” he mumbles.
Emma merely stares at her hand in shock, the stinging sensation faint noise in the back of her mind.
She doesn’t remember the last time she bled this much from an injury. Perhaps it was when she was six and she fell from the tree in the palace gardens, stockings stained red. Maybe it was when she was eight and poked herself with a quill. It could have been from the split lip she got when she was eleven while fighting a stable boy when he wouldn’t leave a maid alone. One thing she is certain of is that most cuts and bruises healed incredibly fast once her full powers came in at twelve.
Cuts barely bled and what should have been black and blue bruises remained a light pink.
In the time since Regina, she’s barely had any instances to result in such an injury. The sight is mesmerizing, even if its implications are terrifying, and she barely registers the way Killian stands in front of her, readying a bandage, until a harsh and sudden sting, not from the initial sword swipe, causes a hiss to snake through her clenched teeth.
"What the hell is that?!” she whispers hotly as the liquid from his flask runs over her cut. She tries to pull her hand away but he won’t let her. All she succeeds with is getting pulled closer to him.
“Rum,” he mutters, eyeing the cut. “A bloody waste of it, too.”
The response that sits on her tongue never makes it past her lips as she watches the way Killian wraps a cloth around the palm of her hand, concentration on her injury. When he finishes, he holds the cloth in place with one hand, grabs an end of the material with his other hand and grabs the other end of the cloth with his teeth. He pulls, gently but enough to tighten the makeshift bandage around her hand.
She’s positively captivated by the way he looks so tempting in the glow of the fireplace. Scruff is finally coming in thick sections across his jaw, teeth a perfectly white shine that could make the stars jealous. And his eyes… Perhaps it is the firelight that makes it so, or it is the way he looks up at her from beneath his eyelashes with the end of the cloth between his teeth, but Emma’s never seen a sight so alluring.
“Now,” he says, voice low. Her head tilts closer to his, afraid to lose his words to the deafening silence of the night. “Hopefully those damned tutors gave you some proper first-aid lessons. Nothing like the sad excuses for combat training they’ve given you.”
“My mom taught me first-aid,” she whispers back. She takes pleasure from the way he looks up at her in surprise and slight embarrassment.
“Then you were in good hands, indeed.”
“Not as good as these ones, though, I suppose.”
Her breath hitches in her throat as she registers what she’s said. Wide green eyes stare at his ocean blue ones, the flirty tone of her words sinking in for them both. She swallows hard at nearly the same time he does and her heartbeat quickens under his attention.
“Is that so, Swan?”
She licks her lips, suddenly dry in the heat of the night, and feels her body grow hot as his eyes follow the movement of her tongue. Panic rises within her as she becomes keenly aware of her inexperience.
It doesn’t come due to thinking he’d judge her for it. No, she worries she could do something wrong or embarrass herself further and she cannot have that. Her ego can only take so many hits in a single night, most of which already occurred in their impromptu sparring circle.
Words come from her throat in response though she barely thinks before she speaks.
“Are you ever going to tell me where you were for the last three years?” she asks in a hurry. “You were here and then you disappeared.”
He clears his throat at that, drops her hand, and steps back. She feels cold without him near but there’s a comfort in the fact that static still dances in the air between them. The heat has gone from searing to simmering though she knows that it can turn up again with a single look. It’s happened to them in the past when their sparring has gotten them particularly close or in damning positions.
The answer rests on the tip of his tongue yet he remains hesitant to say it. He struts to the fire on the far side of the room and rests one arm above it, leaning towards the heat. Only when she opens her mouth to prompt him again does he speak.
“I’ve been in training at the naval academy,” he says. She suddenly feels like she cannot breathe, for a different reason entirely. “I was promoted to Lieutenant and assigned to my brother’s ship eight months ago and we’ve been away on a mission until this spring.”
“W-Why?” she stutters.
“That’s need-to-know infor –”
“Cut the bullshit, Killian,” Emma says. She feels anger rising in her chest and stares at him from her spot in the shop, hands clenching and unclenching while her breath quickens. “Why’d you join?”
“Why shouldn’t I have?”
“You could get killed, for starters!”
How could he value his life so little that he’d thrown himself into danger? He made a name for himself, if the villagers were to be believed, as the blacksmith’s apprentice and could have easier taken over so the old man could take a step back. If he didn’t want to do that, Emma would’ve found a place to put his skills to use within the castle.
His eyes shoot up to meet hers in a quick fury, the flames dancing beside him in a matching rage. The clench of his jaw is the only other sign she gets that he’s trying to keep his temper in check. “There are still rebel groups scattered throughout the Enchanted Forest who are loyal to Regina and –”
She glares, face hardening. “And what? You’re going to eliminate the few scattered remnants singlehandedly with your superior swordsmanship?”
Killian takes a step closer, leaving a large gap between them still, and curls his fingers into a tight fist. “Few scattered remnants,” he mocks, voice pinching up as he does so. He shakes his head. “Regina reigned for over two decades, and she tried to kill you for nearly all your life! Nearly forty years of hatred doesn’t disappear in a few years, love. Don’t be naive.”
Tears burn at the back of her eyes but she refuses to let them gather and fall. “Don’t patronize me,” she grits out.
“You need to understand what’s really going on out there. This isn’t a game; it’s not sneaking out to play with swords. Real people are putting their lives on the line for you and your family.”
Indignation keeps her tears from falling. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then start acting like you do!” he cuts to her, temper rising and anger barely under control. “Regina may not be here but the threat is still real!”
“But why did you have to join when we have armies already doing this work!”
“Why is it such an issue for you now? You haven’t cared about it in the past. This is something that’s always been done for the crown.”
“Of course I’ve cared!”
“Not like this.”
“Because none of them were you!”
The dead silence of the night invades the shop. Blood pounds in her ears as they stare each other down and she can see the way his chest heaves the same way hers does from their heavy breaths. The string connecting them is pulled taunt until Emma feels a shock travels across it, the two of them immediately jumping into action and marching towards each other.
Their mouths meet in a messy kiss, all clanging teeth, bruised lips, and fighting tongues. Her sword clatters to the ground around the same time his fingers thread through her hair. She completely surrenders herself to him and feels her body melt in his hold, his arm around her waist being the only thing holding her up. Her skin tingles under his attentions, a full-body shiver shaking her spine when his mouth descends onto her neck.
It reminds her of when she had magic.
The humid night air outside is nothing compared to what is boiling within the blacksmith’s shop.
She swears that when their passion cools from its rush and they exchange a short, soft kiss, the softest of the night, a spark of magic emits from her fingertips. The tingling sensation beneath her skin paired with the overwhelming warmth is the exact feeling she’d get right before performing magic. But Killian doesn’t yelp or flinch or react at all to anything other than their kiss.
Must have been a trick of her imagination.
Later, as they almost finish readying to leave for Emma needs to return back to the castle before the quickly approaching daylight beats her to it, he says, hesitantly, “This cannot happen again, love.” Her head shoots up from tying her cloak around her neck and he quickly amends his wording. “I – I don’t regret a moment. Trust me,” he adds with a grin that has her blushing. “But… this is not feasible. We cannot, Princess.”
It's a proclamation and a resignation in one. A reminder, too, of what exactly their roles are in the social hierarchy.
“My father was a shepherd,” she points out.
“Who was able to masquerade as a king before marrying your mother.” He raises an eyebrow at her and she’s never hated it so much before. Despite their two years age difference, the way he looks at her now makes her feel like a child and he the responsible adult.
As much as it was brought up in their past meetings, especially their first, the realization of their different lives and expectations never sunk in until then. While not outright forbidden, their friendship is taboo. At least to the eyes of the kingdom.
He is right that her father took on the role of prince from his deceased twin brother and no one was the wiser. The truth trickled out from the very start and once her parents took the throne back from Regina, it became Misthaven’s worst kept secret. In truth, half of their people believe it to be just a story, a little detail added to romantic love story of Snow White and Prince Charming to make it grander, more epic, truer.
Funnily enough, the people also seem to forget that nearly all of the council are regular folks just like themselves, Blue being the exception. Red, the dwarves, Geppetto – they were all just regular people who helped her mother when she had no kingdom, no throne, no knights. They continued to help her parents when they needed it, no expectation of being rewarded.
But things were different now. The kingdom had lived in fear and uncertainty for Regina’s return for sixteen years and only now is gaining a sense of security again after all the turmoil.
She knows what her people expect of her – to marry a man of noble standing from a foreign kingdom to help strengthen Misthaven’s armies, grow relations with allies, expand borders, and produce an heir. It is an expectation of any heir in order to help their kingdom thrive. While Killian doesn’t look at her like that’s what he sees in her future, it’s clear he anticipates it as a way of life and refuses to get his own hopes up. He’s lived in other kingdoms before he and his brother settled in hers; he’s seen the expectations and routine of royalty elsewhere. All he has to go off of is his own knowledge.
Emma isn’t sure what makes her say it but she finishes knotting her cloak and lets her words land heavily in the silent room.
“My parents want me to marry for love, no matter who it is or what they can or cannot provide for the kingdom.” She chances a glance up at him. “They know the sacrifice that comes with the crown, the sacrifices they have made over and over again through the years, and this is one that they will not have me make.”
Killian gulps and stares at her.
Clearing her throat, Emma nods her head at him. “You going to escort me back to the castle or am I roughing it alone?”
He shakes his head and gives her a wry smile. “At your service, Princess.”
She catches what he doesn’t say, what he means both in front of and behind the veil of his words. She waits until his face is turned away from hers, focused on lacing his boots, and asks, “When do you ship out?”
His fingers still their movements before resuming the action like she never spoke. “One week’s time.”
“Oh.”
The last three years without him were fine. She stopped looking for his dark hair around every corner in the village after the first month and she didn’t dare ask any of the townspeople about him directly, lest word get around that the young princess had a crush on the blacksmith’s apprentice. She even stopped coming up with excuses to drop in on her father’s meetings with the blacksmith himself, Atticus Brown, when they discussed new armory for their soldiers. He quickly faded to a thought that crossed her mind only once in a blue moon.
Then she spotted him in the market three months ago and their eyes connected like they were drawn to each other. She snuck out that night in hopes that he would find her again and walk her back to the castle. His ability to come up on her without recognition or fast enough retaliation led to her baiting him into teaching her how to truly fight – how to fight for one’s life.
And now it is at its to end and she’s not sure how she’ll make it through this absence. They’ve become friends now, albeit friends that, as of minutes ago, do more than friends normally do, but friends nonetheless. His presence has become a constant in her life and she can already feel the aching void he will leave on shore.
She sucks in a breath, unsure if she wants to actually know the answer, and quietly asks, “What’s going on out there?”
Killian scratches behind his ear as he diverts his attention back to the fire momentarily. He doesn’t want to let her in on the dark dealings he has faced, that much is clear to her, but she cannot be left unaware any longer.
Her inexperience is no excuse. She’s going to be a queen one day – she needs to be in tune with her people, their wants and needs, their worries and fears. Counselors and her parents can only keep her in the dark for so long. To succeed when she takes the throne, she cannot be left floundering for information because they’d been too scared or nervous to give it to her.
“The dissenters are getting desperate but it also makes them crafty. They’re taking on guerilla war tactics and picking off troops slowly until they are all gone. Right now they’re focusing on military camps and ships.”
“But…” she starts, eyeing him considerably. “You’re worried they’re going to go after merchants and civilians next, aren’t you?”
He shrugs, waving one hand away before it rubs at his mouth, his other resting on his hip. “I… I think I am the only one worried of such a thing but I know these types of people and there is only so long they can be held at bay with just this. They’ll keep pushing until they succeed, no matter the cost.”
“Shit.”
Killian’s sudden, booming laugh startles them both and Emma can’t help but fall into a fit of giggles. She quickly slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound but the moment she thinks it’s passed, a suppressed giggle leaves her shoulders shaking. Killian laughs quietly with her but he holds a soft look in his eyes, one that she can’t decipher the meaning of but she knows is the same as the look she gives him.
When they’ve finally calmed down a few minutes later, they both confirm they have what they need and begin their departure. Or, so she thought they would.
“Wait,” Killian starts. She turns away from the door and to him, words teetering on the tip of his tongue. He settles on just two. “Take this.” He extends his arm and Emma gasps.
“You’re not serious,” she whispers as she admires the handle of the blade she’s been using for the last few months. It’s one she recognizes, one that he’d been working on for his personal collection for the first month after they reconnected as he waited for her to come for their training sessions. She’s watched him a few times when he asked for a few extra minutes before they began and the proud smile once it was finished, his insistence that she try it out. It quick became her favorite and she repeatedly selected it to use in training.
The way Killian works with the weapons and metals in the blacksmith’s shop is how she imagines some people might admire her magic, had she still had any ability to use it. He works with an ease that makes his efforts look simple and he manipulates the heated metals in a way that leaves her speechless. On more than one occasion, her mouth has gone dry as she witnessed his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sweat glistening on his skin.
In a way, it’s a shame that Killian’s joined their navy. He is a fine blacksmith and would have been an incredible successor to Atticus when he retires soon. None of the apprentices that he’s taken on since Killian’s left have been inspiring. But she knows, from her gut, that he’s an asset they cannot afford to lose in the navy. He’s on the fast track to captain, she’s sure.
Killian gives her a scabbard with a leather belt to sit around her waist. She struggles to get the sword in it at first, the angle awkward and the action unfamiliar.
“Here,” Killian says as he comes up behind her. Emma sucks in a breath and delights in the shiver that crawls down her back as he presses against it and takes hold of the wrist clutching her new sword. “Focus, love,” he teases. His lips brush against her neck as he speaks, deliberately so, and Emma whines. All talk of the fact they cannot have a repeat of earlier tonight is out of her mind until Killian clears his throat.
Words fill the air but she hears none of it. Instead, she concentrates on the feel of his skin against hers, the way his chest vibrates against her back as he talks, the smell of ash, sea water, and wood wax. She collects what little tidbits she can, even as he helps her practice sheathing her sword. For all she knows, this may be the last she has of it. Of him.
The thought brings tears to her eyes and she blinks them away, glad they are gone by the time she turns around to face him. “Ready, sailor?”
He grins and her heart flutters and its then that she realizes she’s in deep shit. “Aye.”
The inevitable freakout that comes from her startling realization is shelved until she’s alone in her room, away in her solitude. For now, she enjoys their walk back to her secret exit. They’ve done the route enough that they could make the trip with their eyes closed while walking backwards, but Killian remains vigilant and continuously scans the area for anything out of the ordinary.
The dawn’s early light is breaking over the hill beside the castle and Emma knows they only have precious few moments left. With that in mind, she breaks their comfortable silence.
“How did you recognize me? That first time?”
“You’re hard to miss. Like I said,” he teases, a grin tempting the corners of his mouth. “A swan amongst ducks.”
She gives him a wry grin. “That’s not an answer. Only a handful of people knew what I looked like then.”
Killian swallows audibly at being caught, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. They’ve moved close enough that she can feel the tensing of his knuckles against her own and a part of her longs to reach out and tangle their fingers together again. A blush works its way up her neck, warmth making her feel hotter than the humid air already has, as she thinks back to the first and last time they held hands earlier that night.
In all honesty, she didn’t know what she was going to say when she opened her mouth. Their first meeting certainly hadn’t been on her mind. But now that the question hangs over their heads, she has to know.
“I was there,” he says. Taking a deep breath, he focuses on his rings, fingers fiddling with the metal he probably crafted in the very shop they left. “That day, when you killed Regina.”
Her heart races. Blood pounds in her ears. The adrenaline rush she gets now is different from what she’s experienced before in his presence.
No.
No, this is panic. Fear. Anxiety. No one is supposed to know it was her doing that killed Regina. She can count on her fingers how many people do know, simply because it was unavoidable. So she does what she does best and hides her heart in a concrete vault, walls scaling higher than the castle tower they’re approaching.
She remembers the way her mother flinched back when the magic burst from her palms. How her father got caught in the crossfire and nearly died when her magic shot him across the room. What happened to Regina wasn’t what she intended. All she wanted was to stop her, protect her family from being hurt by her again.
Despite years of teaching and training, Emma’s magic was more powerful than anyone had seen in the realms before. The only one who came close to what she was capable of was the Dark One and he’d gone into hiding nearly two decades ago. With her incredible power came an incredible lack of control, no matter what she did or what Blue tried to teach her.
Little things she could do. Small spells that magical beings learn when they’re young. It was the stronger spells, the ones that required her to tap into more of her power, that gave her issue. The more power she needed, the less control she had. Her mind couldn’t find a focus, a singular thought, a strong enough pull to keep her centered.
She doesn’t remember much of the night Regina broke the magical barriers to the castle and attempted to murder her and her father in front of her mother. Attempts to recall the way in which Regina stole her from her bed and brought her to the highest tower of the castle result in a blank. How her and her father broke free of Regina’s magical holds is an unknown to her, one that her parents refuse to tell her.
But Regina’s murder – the way her own magic made her a monster… that she cannot forget.
The smell is what always comes to mind first. Burning flesh holds a rancid smell unlike any she’s experienced and incites her gag reflex. The sound is next. Regina’s gurgles as her blood boiled beneath her skin and her organs melted within her body makes Emma want to sob until she is dried of all her tears. Last is the vision. The sight of Regina crumpling in pain as Emma’s magic destroyed her body from the inside out, of the once evil queen begging and pleading for mercy while Emma’s magic wouldn’t let up.
For decades, her parents showed Regina mercy. They gave her chance after chance to prove herself, never wanting to sink to her level. And Emma ruined that in a single night, providing one of the most gruesome deaths in Misthaven’s history.
Emma avoids his gaze, eyes fixed on that very tower before them as she feels her good mood dissipate.
“If what you’re saying is true, shouldn’t you be afraid of me?”
Her tone doesn’t reach the joking lilt she is aiming for so she nervously laughs to cover it. Killian’s small glare at the side of her head tells her she is doing a miserable job.
“What was it you said before, Swan? Bullshit?”
A warning tone takes hold of her voice as she says, “Killian…”
“No one else knows,” he prefaces. “I didn’t tell a soul, I promise.” She turns and holds his gaze for a few moments and he lets her, completely unguarded and honest like he always is. A few of her newly constructed bricks fall. He waits for her nod before he continues.
“I had just finished a meeting with your father, Graham, and Atticus regarding upgraded protections for the troops. Graham and Atticus left a few minutes prior and your father offered to help me gather the materials we brought. One moment he was handing me a chest plate and the next, he disappeared in a cloud of purple and gray smoke. I knew something had happened, something bad, so I went looking.”
“Why didn’t you tell any guards?”
“There were none.” Killian eyes her curiously. “How much do you remember from that night?”
“Only what I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”
She remembers the aftermath even less. The incredible use of her magic left her asleep in bed for nearly three months as her body attempted to recover from the amount of power drawn that night. Physically, it helped her. Magically, however, is another story.
He stops her then, just outside of the wall on the hill that she uses for her escape. The jovial atmosphere that has come and gone throughout the night has completely disappeared. Killian’s hand gently gripping her elbow sears her skin, imprinting itself there forever, she hopes, and she is left stunned by the gravity of his gaze.
“Regina very nearly killed your entire family that night, love.”
The breath Emma sucks in is swift and sharp. A physical pain hits her chest at the thought.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever found out how she got through but when she did, she killed nearly the entire guard. The entire eastern side of the castle was decimated. By the time I made it to the tower where she took you and your family, she was holding your father’s heart in her hands and had a poisoned arrow held mid-flight, pointed straight for your heart.”
No matter how hard she tries, her mind cannot formulate the images he describes. It does bring to the forefront of her mind her mother’s screams as the events unfolded. She hears the echoes of her pleas for Regina to not do this. She feels the rattling in her chest from her mother’s earth-shaking sobs. The agony and helplessness that gripped her mother runs through her blood again and she feels the hot tingle of her magic beneath her skin despite nothing coming to the surface.
“So then you must have seen what I did to her,” Emma says. She meets his gaze head on, eyes welling with tears, and steadies her chin so it doesn’t tremble. “My magic made me a monster.”
“Your magic made you a hero.”
“I killed her. Slowly. Torturously. I listened to her beg for her life and I didn’t even feel sorry. That’s what a monster is.”
“I’m sorry, I must have missed the part where you did all of this as a grab for power or to quench your own bloodlust,” he shoot back at her, eyes narrow and frown etched upon his features.
“I went to her level, Killian.”
“Bollocks, Emma. Complete and utter bollocks.” Killian shakes his head as he begins a short pace back and forth, glancing at her every few steps. “I’ve heard a lot of asinine things in my life but never from you, until now.”
She takes a step back, hurt clear on her face. “What the hell!?”
“No,” Killian starts, shaking his head again before he approaches her, voice cut low so not even the early morning crickets can hear him over their musical sounds. “You are not a monster. Your magic does not make you a monster. It’s a part of you, Emma. A strong, beautiful part of you that comes from love.”
“But –”
“But nothing. Regina used magic through anger and bitterness to get revenge and hurt people. You used magic to protect the people you love. That makes all the difference. You are not the same as her. You never could be.” Any retort she has dies on her lips as his hands come up to cup her face. Their noses brush but their gazes remain locked. “I know the outcome of that night hurts you, but that’s because your heart is good. Your magic isn’t something to be ashamed of. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
She swallows hard. Her eyes flutter closed as she inhales shakily, her words a quieter whisper than even his. So quiet she’s surprised he hears her at all.
“My magic’s been waning since then,” she confesses. “I don’t know what’s happened, but I struggle to tap into it and whenever I do, it’s like there’s barely anything scraping the bottom of the well. I – I don’t think I have any left.”
“Emma…” Killian’s quiet, comforting voice is drowned out by the calling of her name from the tower beside them. The two of them break apart in a hurry, eyes darting up to see if they’ve been spotted but all that greets them is the billowing of her curtains.
“I need to go,” she says regretfully. She hoped they’d have more time for a proper goodbye. Her parents and her are travelling to the opposite coast to spend two weeks touring some of the villages and she won’t be able to see him off.
“Have your sword?” Killian asks. Emma pats her side where it sits in the scabbard. “Your dagger?”
“In my boot,” she answers, raising one heel to tap the side of her boot where the dagger he gave her years ago sits sheathed in its hiding place.
Killian surges forward, pulling her into a hug and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. “Be safe, Swan. Promise me.”
She clutches him as tight to her as possible, closing her eyes as she takes stock of him one last time. “Only if you do too.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, love. I’m a survivor.” She huffs out a laugh at that and shakes her head. A second call of her voice from the tower has her pulling away and whispering a final goodbye.
She feels his eyes on her back the entire time she climbs up the side and she bets he’d clamber over the side wall in an instant if she were to start falling. Not that she wants to test that theory. One of her legs swings over her windowsill and she takes the moment to look back at his waiting form at the tree line. She waves and her heart soars at his wave in return. Always watching, waiting, protecting.
Emma swings her other leg over the sill, coming to a stand in her room in a daze, soft smile on her face.
“You know,” her mother’s voice rings out from Emma’s bed. Snow smirks in delight and amusement as she watches Emma’s eyes widen and face pale. “Of all the times I snuck out of here growing up, I was never caught.”
---
three and twenty. fall.
Atticus Brown dies by the time Emma turns 22.
His blacksmith shop in town lays vacant for the first few months following his death until Emma starts holding workshops with potential apprentices from visiting blacksmiths of allied nations. It makes her feel closer to Killian in his absence while also serving the purpose of scouting a new royal blacksmith. They’re getting by, at the moment, but stores are waning and there’s only so much their allies can offer up without putting themselves at a disadvantage.
The answer comes in a blacksmith from a land Emma’s never heard of before.
A recommendation from Atticus in his dying breath of a man who responds to a letter with a royal seal in only three months’ time. Isaac Heller.
She heard the name in passing before. He’d been one of Atticus’ apprentices before moving away when he was her age. The man never kept up letter writing with Atticus despite the numerous ones he sent Isaac’s way, and that alone left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Then there is the slimy way that Isaac finagles his way into every conversation he hears. It’s like a habit of his, or even a curse. She can spot across a room the way his ears perk up, his back straightens, and his face instantly brightens in faux interest as he inserts his way in.
“I don’t like him,” Emma tells her parents one day once she’s positive Isaac has left castle grounds. “There’s something about him…”
“Is this because of your gut or because he’s not Killian?”
Emma’s cheeks burn at her mother’s mention of Killian while her father’s head shoots up in alarm.
“Killian? Killian Jones? Why would Emma be concerned Isaac’s not Killian?”
“Now is not the time, David.” Snow turns her attention to Emma as David glances between his wife and daughter in horror. “So, which is it?”
Emma rolls her eyes. “My gut says don’t trust him. He has a hidden agenda.”
Snow nods her head. “Your father and I agree. We’re not letting him in on any military plans, but unfortunately he’s all we have for the time being.”
“None of the apprentices from the workshops can do it?”
David rounds the table, coming to stand beside Snow. “They don’t have enough training and aren’t able to do what we need to. With anyone else, we’d have them continue a regular apprenticeship under our blacksmith.”
“But with Isaac being our only option right now, we want as little of his influence anywhere as possible,” Snow finishes.
She sighs, nodding her head in understanding. There had been a time, about a year or so ago, when one of their ships called Jewel of the Realm were making great headway on Regina’s loyal supporters. Apparently the captain and his lieutenant were battlefield masterminds on the water as well as the few times they took their crew to fight on land too.
Then a few months ago, deep in the Enchanted Forest away from any nearby villages, Snow’s birds started bringing her items to indicate a new, growing resistance in the name of Regina. They’ve all come to the conclusion that they found themselves a new leader to organize them into action, gaining numbers by the day.
“Can we get back to Killian and Emma?” David questions after a moment of silence.
“Nope,” Emma says, backing up with her hands in the air. “No way. I am out of here.”
*
The next time she sees Killian, she’s halfway through her third year in her twenties and it’s at a ball held in his honor. Sort of.
As a way to keep morale high amongst their troops as well as show their appreciation for all their sacrifices, her parents hold a ball to honor their servicemen who have been promoted. Liam attended a ball three years ago when he became captain and Emma faked sick, worried on the off-chance he’d remember her as the servant girl from that one night years ago. It was a risk she couldn’t take so she begged off and stayed in bed for the night. Sneaking out had been out of the question as the castle had been crawling with military officials. Now that she’s become more of a public figure, there were too many chances she could be noticed.
In all honesty, she considered contracting the same fake illness the night of this ball as well until her mother came into her room holding a beautiful red gown and a teasing smile on her face.
“I think Killian will be left speechless to see you in this.”
“That’d be a first,” Emma mutters to herself as fingers the silky material of the dress. It’s soft and smooth against her fingers, sliding off her skin like water. The red is a particularly eye-catching color, familiar too. Almost the same color as the vest Killian wore as an apprentice blacksmith.
Wait.
“What do you mean ‘Killian’?”
Snow grins, barely contained joy hidden beneath it. “Yes, I must have forgotten to mention it to you. Both Killian and Liam have been promoted for their efforts on the Jewel of the Realm and we’ll be honoring them tonight.”
The rush of blood through her system drowns out anything else her mother might have said and blocks her from noticing the servants who’ve come in to help her prepare. Emma moves with them out of habit rather than any real thought, her mind anywhere but in her room.
Killian and Liam were the ones on the Jewel, conquering both sea and land. Not that that should surprise Emma. Killian’s always been incredibly intelligent and strategic in the time she’s known him. He works hard to stay one step ahead of his enemy and it had clearly been paying off. Still, her heart lurches when she recalls how many close scrapes the Jewel has been through over the last few years.
Her mind races over the possible scenarios in which they see each other again for the first time in years. Would she trip? Would he still be excited to see her? Would this be another time that evil descends upon their castle and ruins everything?
Her palms are sweaty by the time she sits besides her parents on their thrones in the ballroom. She fiddles with her fingers constantly as allied dignitaries greet them and she half expects her mother to slap her hands away as if she were a child. Once the ball officially starts, Emma is immediately surrendered to the dance floor. She spends over two hours dancing with nearly every military officer there and considers her plan to contract a fake illness once again. Clearly Killian isn’t here tonight, nor is his brother. Her mother simply played a cruel joke to get her to join them at the ball.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Killian speaks from behind her, a gasp of surprise leaving her lips before she turns around. “You know,” he starts in a low voice. “You must have done something bad for your parents to torture you with these dances. I don’t think I’ve seen your toes stepped on so much.”
Emma huffs, barely able to keep the laughter out of her voice though she suspects her glee at his appearance is as obvious as his own. “Are you saying you won’t be one to step on my toes?”
“There’s only one rule, Swan,” he starts, coming closer and wrapping one arm around her waist as he grabs her hand with his free one. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
Music starts and the rest of the ballroom fades away as they let the music move them. Their eyes immediately lock onto each other and Emma can’t help the upwards twitch of her lips. “Who taught you to dance?”
“Liam, believe it or not,” he confesses, his shoulders hunching up for a moment before he settles them down for the dance. “He said I’d need to know how to dance if I ever wanted to impress a princess.”
“Oh, just any old princess?”
“Aye. Your lot are a dime a dozen, love.” She only lets enough of a laugh escape for him to notice, their eyes twinkling as they bask in the moment alone together. “But are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Impressed?”
He passes his inquiry off as a joke but the earnest pinch of his eyebrows give him away. Anyone else could have looked at him and missed it but they know each other like their favorite books. So she smiles, the hand on his shoulder sliding over to the back of his neck and starting to play with the hair that rests at his collar.
“Eh,” she starts. He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes until she whispers his name softly. “You’ve always impressed me.”
He swallows hard, the action audible to her in their close proximity. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
“I missed you too.” She blinks quickly and offers a reassuring smile at his concerned expression. His hand that had tightened against her back relaxes as they continue to move without thought. “Even if you are constantly putting yourselves in danger.”
“Anything to keep you safe,” he says even quieter than the last.
“When do you ship out again?”
“Not for a few weeks.” She tries her best to keep up her smile for him but it wobbles. It seems like she is only destined to get him for blips of time, never granted more than that. “But it seems that, as her new captain, the king and queen have requested that Misthaven’s capital be the Jewel’s homeport.”
Emma pulls back just enough to get a full look at his face, her eyes roaming over every inch to see if there’s any hint of a joke there. Not that he’d joke about that but she couldn’t let herself accept it until she knew it was completely true. The hopeful grin he gives her and the small nod he adds has a wide smile breaking onto her face.
“Really?” she asks in disbelief. His homeport is now the capital. She could keep an eye on the Jewel from her bedroom window.
“Aye.” His eyes finally broke free of hers as he glanced over her shoulder towards where the thrones sat on a dais. “Had a personal visit from Her Majesty to let me know the news.”
“Wait, seriously?” Killian nods again and Emma doesn’t hold back her laugh this time. There is no bigger meddler in the realm than her mother. Her father comes as a close second but her mother’s brilliant plans and determination keep her in the top spot.
It’ll be easier on her heart to have him so close, she decides in that moment. She knows Killian has no intention of courting her, regardless of what she thinks his feelings are. He’s grown up accustomed to the fact that princesses don’t marry commoners, even military officials. Nothing she says will convince him of it otherwise and part of her wants to hate him for denying them a happiness they most likely won’t find with anyone else. At least not in this way. But she understands too.
Her duties, her role as princess to her people, heir to the throne, must come first, same as his duties to the crown. Just like her, he acts in what he thinks is in the best interest of Misthaven. But her parents refuse to allow her to sacrifice love just to keep their kingdom. She knows that if she were to abdicate the throne for any reason, especially love, they’d understand and support her.
Killian would never forgive himself if she abdicated for him though, not that she ever thought of actually doing it. Since birth, Misthaven’s well-being has been her top priority. She loves her kingdom and her people and she wants them to thrive. She never thought she’d give it up for anything. But if it came to a choice, her kingdom or her… Killian, Misthaven stands no chance.
They may never be what she wants them to be, and she’s accepted that. At the very least, she will be able to keep him in her life, close to her heart even if he won’t accept her offering of it.
But their connection will not break. It’s too strong, taunt with tension that reinforces its binding, to ever break. She knows it will continue to tempt them and she knows they’ll fall for it every time. She’ll take what she can get, she decides. From the looks he gives her as they dance, she assumes the same to be true for him.
A respite among duties.
It’s not until they hear roaring applause that they stop dancing. The musicians who have been performing throughout the night are taking their bow and her parents are offering their thanks for their services. Heat seeps into her cheeks as she realizes she spent four songs dancing with Killian, none the wiser.
A flush dances on Killian’s neck beneath his collar as he clears his throat. “Liam will be disappointed.”
“Why?”
“He hoped to dance with you tonight,” Killian says, embarrassed. “He believes you were masquerading as a servant girl a few years ago and wanted confirmation on if he was right.”
Emma smirks. “Me? Pretending to be a servant girl? Why would I ever do that?”
He chuckles quietly, looking around the room as he licks his lips. Satisfied that the coast is clear, he leans down and whispers, “Meet me tonight?”
She nods before he can even pull away and they share a smile before Killian disappears into the night.
*
He wants measurements. At least, that’s how their visit starts. His hands trailed over her, his touch sending a burning sensation through the cloth of her riding blouse down to her skin.
“Bloody hell, love,” he grumbles. “Stay still.”
“I can’t,” she whines, hip lifting and her hand slapping his away. “I’m ticklish.”
“I’m never going to get this done if you don’t stop moving.”
“What is this even for?”
“Come on, Swan. It’s not a present if I tell you beforehand.”
“What? You gonna sew me a dress?”
“As much as I’d love to see you cut quite the figure in a few more dresses like earlier tonight,” he begins, a heated look making its way towards her before he attempts to get a measurement of her hips again. “I was a blacksmith’s apprentice, love, not a seamstress’.”
Her breath is lofty as she watches his deft fingers move across her then pencil notes on the parchment beside her body. “Is that what you prefer?”
“Hm?” he asks, distracted.
She licks her lips, watching as the fringe of his black hair falls into his eyes as he writes. She just barely keeps her hands gripping the table’s edge to not push it out of the way. No, she wanted his reaction to her next statement.
“Me in dresses and corsets. Is that what you prefer?” she asks and his head shoots up to her in an instant, writing paused. “Or is there another state of dress or… undress… you prefer?”
It takes him all of a moment – the parchment and pencil swiped to the side to clear the table – before he reacts, coming into her space, cradling her head, and crashing his lips onto hers.
The measures wait until another night.
---
five and twenty. early winter.
Isaac Heller could, well, go to hell, for lack of a better phrase.
Killian and Liam’s conditions are partially his fault, after all.
The first time she sees Killian after Neverland, he’s hiding away in the blacksmith’s shop with a bottle of rum that’s nearing empty, bloodied bandages wrapped around his empty wrist. Dark circles have found a home beneath his eyes and his face is gaunt.
“You sent them where?!” Emma roars, turning on her father in anger.
“They know the risks and they accepted them.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to send them!”
“They’re the best equipped, Emma. Liam and Killian are the only ones I trust with this.”
“It’s Neverland!” she shouts back. Frustrated tears well in her eyes and no matter how much she tries to blink them away, they simply multiple.
She knows that the trip is necessary. Regina loyalists have poisoned all their weapons with dreamshade and that, topped with the poor quality of armor and weapons that Isaac is overseeing, Misthaven’s armies are being wiped off the map. The advantages that they’ve worked hard to take back, all the effort Killian has put in as the Jewel’s captain the last two years, are gone.
“We need a cure. With it, we still stand a chance,” David says. He approaches Emma slowly, cautiously. “They know dreamshade is dangerous. They know Pan might still be around. But this is a risk we have to take. We have one chance at this.”
Emma sniffles. “They know you’re just trying to get the cure, right? That you’re not like King George or Regina’s loyalists and going to use it as a weapons?”
“Of course they do.”
“And – and they’re together, right? You sent them together.”
“I wouldn’t have done it any other way.”
Emma nods her head, trying to reassure herself the best way she can. David sighs sadly and pulls Emma into his arms, cradling her head to his chest as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Liam won’t let anything happen to Killian. And Killian’s a survivor.”
“He better be,” Emma mumbles. “Or I’ll kill him.”
According to the reports of Smee, Killian’s first mate, the Jewel of the Realm landed in Neverland’s waters without issue. Mermaid seas were quiet and the pixies left the crew alone. Pan led them right to the dreamshade with no issue, though not without attempts at manipulation. It wasn’t until Liam plucked enough of the plant to bring back and Killian raised a torch to light the rest on fire that Pan raised issue.
Sending the Lost Boys after the Jewel’s crew was a cruel decision. They were just kids, Your Majesty, Smee stuttered in his explanation as he cradled his red hat to his chest. We didn’t know what to do. But they were savages too.
She’s not sure how he did it but Killian led the crew through the ambush with no casualties on their side. Injuries, plenty, but miraculously no casualties. Most of the injuries came from fractured armor, simple strikes breaking the metal protection and leaving the men vulnerable. The worst of it happened to Killian and Liam.
With the rest of their crew being overwhelmed by injuries from the armor’s lack of protection, the two of them took on most of the battle themselves. It came to an when they fought Pan side by side, according to Smee, and the boy who never grew up didn’t want to give up. He used his magic to play dirty tricks and took delight in making the brothers suffer. He sliced Killian’s left hand off with his own sword, broke Liam’s back with a sliding boulder as he checked on his younger brother.
Pan was only stopped from finishing the job by the call of a strange bird none of them could see. Possibly the only thing that frightened him as he flew from the area in an instant. The crew rounded up the remaining Lost Boys to put in the ship’s cells and brought Killian and Liam straight to the healers once returning to Misthaven.
I’m a survivor.
He’s alive, yes, that much Emma can see from the entrance of the blacksmith’s shop, but did he survive?
“Killian?” she asks quietly into the still air of the shop. His head jerks up at the sound of her voice and he immediately hides his left arm behind him. “Oh, Killian,” she whimpers, striding up to his side and pulling him into a hug.
A sob cracks against her shoulder and Emma feels Killian drop his weight onto her, his tears wetting through the fabric of her cloak. They stay in their embrace for longer than she cares to count. Her focus remains solely on him and his hurt, her heart aching through his pain.
“I can’t go back,” he whispers as his tears dry.
“You will never have to go anywhere you don’t want to,” she reassures him.
“No,” he says with more strength. He pulls away from her, wipes his sleeve along his nose and cheeks. “I can’t go back into service.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. “You’re an asset to our navy. You’ll always be wanted. You’re brilliant and –”
“No,” he says more forcefully. “I won’t go back into service.” He glares at his left arm and she knows that’s not really the issue. Misthaven will take him in whatever shape he’s in, if he wants it. But there’s a darkness to his gaze now and a self-hatred that hadn’t been there before Neverland. Rage curls around her chest as she wonders what horrors Pan must have twisted and made Killian believe.
“Killian, you don’t have to go back into service if you don’t want to. That’s fine. We –”
“I have to take care of my brother. He’s spent his life taking care of me so I must attempt the same for him.”
“I can hel–”
“Leave, Princess.”
Emma stares, dumbfounded at his abrupt change of tone.
“Now.”
He doesn’t look at her as he speaks, anger and disgust in his voice as tells her to go. She doesn’t know if it’s directed at her or not but it hurts, nonetheless. She turns and walks to the door in a fog, stopping briefly before she goes.
She turns her head only slightly, just enough that she can’t see him but her words will still carry his way. “Thank you for making it back,” she says and it isn’t until she closes the door behind her that she hears his agonizing cries.
It takes all of her willpower to not march right back inside and wrap him in her arms for the rest of the night. But there are some things he doesn’t need or want her for.
Instead, she throws her focus into the young apprentices that had continued to study under the visiting blacksmiths. The next time she enters the shop, there’s no sign that Killian had been there aside from some scoffed hay. It pains her to see how easily he leaves no trace of himself.
Isaac only continues to oversee a dwindling quality of the armor every day, claiming the old materials they used to use are inaccessible due to the enemy’s bases. Sneaking into the bases and stealing anything is a no-go as someone in the loyalists’ camp is using magic to protect them. He says there’s no other areas they could mine for it but her gut tells her that’s a lie and she sets to work trying to find something.
In the meantime, she continues to encourage the workshops as a royal ambassador and hopes that one of the students will get skilled enough in time to save them from a suddenly losing war.
The second time she sees Killian post-Neverland is at one of the workshops. He comes into the blacksmith’s shop with an apron on and a hook where his left hand used to be. He seems startled to see other people in there and Emma takes pity on him, grabbing his elbow and bringing him aside. As much as their last moments together hurt her, she hates to make him feel anything other than wanted.
“It’s a workshop to train potential apprentices,” she offers.
“Oh.” Killian’s eyes studied the pack of students, only a small number of four. “Why?”
Emma sighs, crossing her arms with a roll of her eyes. “We need to get rid of Isaac and… this is all we have right now.”
“You have me.”
She turns sharply at his words, eyes narrow and her breath caught in her throat.
“I – I know I mucked things up when you saw me last,” he says, raising his hand to scratch at his ear. “And I’m sorry. I never should have taken my turmoil out on you. It had nothing to do with you. I promise.” He stares, waiting for an acknowledgement and only when she nods does he continue. “I’m not returning to the navy; I need to take care of Liam as he heals. But I can help with the workshops. Get these kids trained and ready.”
“You’d trade your free time to help with the workshops?”
“Aye.” A single simple nod to accompany his one-word affirmation. She reaches over and grabs his wrist, squeezing gently.
“Thank you.”
*
“There are a few places near Segovia that should still have available mines for the materials. Granted, it’s been a few centuries, according to the records, but hopefully that means that the stores have come back.”
Emma watches as Killian pours over the map on the council table, her parents on one side of him and Liam in a wheeled chair on the other, Graham, Red, and Blue behind them. He doles out strategies like he’s on his ship captaining her off to battle and the rest of the room listens like loyal crew. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and she’s fascinated by the way the leather brace for his hook contrasts with the color of is skin, and how the new addition to his body only accentuates the rest of him.
That’s not even to mention how attractive she finds him waving the hook around as he talks, like he’s already accustomed to having it instead of his hand.
She knows he still struggles. That he’ll still poke himself and accidentally bleed or create rips in his shirts and trousers. But he works hard to figure out ways to treat it like his left hand. It helps him in the blacksmith’s shop, he told her once. He’s able to change the way he handles his work and it actually works better for him than two hands ever did. It also helps him more on the few times he went sailing, borrowing a boat from the docks to get Liam back on the water for an afternoon of fishing.
His proud smile and the twinkle that’s starting to come back to life in his eyes only makes her grin.
God, she loves every part of him.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, little brother,” Liam starts, sharing a teasing look with Emma as Killian mumbles a correction under his breath. “But this route skirts their main camp. It runs the highest risk of discovery.”
“Aye,” Killian heaves with a heavy sigh. “It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
“No.”
All eyes turn to Emma before she even registers that it was her who shot out a clear rejection of his plan.
“It’s a good plan, Emma,” Snow says gently. “It’s also the only hope we’ve got.”
“That’s why I’m going,” she replies. Her statement gets a round of denials and outrage from everyone but Killian, who stares her down. His hand and hook press hard into the table and she’s sure she’s the only one to notice the tear he put in the map.
“I’m going and you’re not, end of story,” Killian finally interjects.
“Absolutely not,” she fights back.
“Give me a good reason.”
“Oh, you just want one? Because I have several.”
“Go ahead, list them. I’m all ears, love.”
“Fine,” she scoffs. “My parents are out for the obvious reasons of not escalating the conflict further and not losing the rulers of the kingdom at the same time. Liam’s out because he’s still healing. Graham, Red, and Blue are our trackers and keeping eyes on the front line. And you’re out because we need you training the apprentices.”
“They can go a few weeks without me.”
“Well I won’t allow it.”
Killian shakes his head. “You can’t stop me.”
“I will have you arrested.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Do you like seeing me hurting?” she blurts out suddenly. The room falls silent and Killian stares at her with wide eyes. Varying degrees of shock play across the faces of the rest of the room’s occupants and Emma swallows hard. “Because I cannot go through again what happened with Neverland, and what happened with the battles before it, and the many, many close calls you’ve had. You might not give a shit but I do, okay?! And I’m not going to sit by and let you put yourself in a situation where you might die, especially when you clearly have no regard for your life, because I cannot go through it. I – I,” she stops herself, inhaling shakily before she regains her bearings and continues. “It’s out of the question. I’m not needed anywhere specific so I can be spared. It’s the most logical reason but it’s also the one I’m deciding on no matter what. I’m going. Ready a few horses and the best skilled knights we can afford to take from the castle. I leave in two hours.”
Emma doesn’t bother to give Killian another glance as she storms out of the room.
Her parents meet up with her quickly and try to talk her out of it to no avail. They see the determination in their daughter’s gaze and the straight set of her shoulders. Admitting defeat, they help her get ready.
Killian waits for her by the horses, pacing back and forth until he hears her footsteps coming closer.
“Good,” he breathes out in relief, immediately stepping into her space and adjusting the holdings on the armor he made for her a few years back as a gift. “You’ve kept it.”
“Of course,” she says softly. Her anger at his disregard for his own life melts away in an instant. “I keep all the handy gifts.”
Killian holds up his hook with a gaze playfully narrowed. “You trying to make a joke, Swan?”
She rolls her eyes but fails to keep the grin off of her face. “You’re going to be the worst, aren’t you?”
“Always.”
They grin at each other for another moment before the sound of the nearby knights startle them out of it. Killian’s grin falls as a grim expression overtakes his features, the gravity of the situation falling onto them with startling clarity and he’s unhappy at the turn of the events.
“Not so fun being on the other side, huh.”
“Most definitely not,” he agrees with a frown. “Are you –”
“Killian.”
“Aye, as you wish.” He sighs, his hand coming up to brush some hair behind her ear. “Please be safe, love.”
“I will be.”
“I want you to come home alive, Swan, got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Emma,” he says warningly. There’s a heat in his gaze that she files away for later. He closes his eyes briefly and when he reopens them, he focuses on readjusting the holdings again. “Got your sword?”
She taps the sword in the scabbard he gave her years ago. “Right here.”
“Dagger?”
She taps the heel of one boot to the side of the other. “In my boot.”
They look at each other, a longing pull tugging both of them closer. “Emma…”
“I’ll be fine, promise,” she says with a small smile and shrug.
“Not a moment will go by I won’t think of you.”
“Good.”
He walks her to the horse as if he’s walking her to her execution and her chest feels tight. Despite their friendship, or whatever you could call their friendship, they’ve never seen the other off. Their schedules wouldn’t allow them the opportunity. Now she can’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse, especially when every second she spends in his presence makes her want to go less and less.
As she turns to climb atop her horse, he stops her with his hook grabbing her elbow.
“Wait,” he pleads. She turns and gives him her full attention. “No matter what, please come home.” He pauses. “To me.” It’s as close to an admission as he’ll allow himself and her heart soars. Her fingers tingle and she swears that if she had any magic left, they’d be sparking.
Emma takes a page from her parents’ book and takes a step closer to Killian, gripping the lapels of his vest and pulling him down for kiss in front of the stables. She hears a clattering of chain-link and knows her knights are giving her what little privacy they can offer. It’s a short kiss, yet still full of passion and promise. “Have another gift ready for me and you’ve got yourself a promise.”
He laughs as she climbs her horse. “Any preferences, love?”
She smirks, pretending to think about it. “Something we can match.”
The knights follow her out of the stable compound a few minutes later, the hooves of the horses pounding a rhythmic beat against the forest floor. She feels euphoric.
Her good mood lasts all of five days before everything goes to shit.
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pappelsiin · 3 months ago
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it turned into au art 💫
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reginamillls · 5 months ago
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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
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chicken-needle-soup · 2 years ago
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Red guy but he's from an AU where he's a huge beast that's trapped in a forest and has moss on his back 👀
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I spent so much time detailing the fur and the scanner took it all off :( so here's a pic showing the details :)
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Who knows, maybe i'll show Yellow's design soon 👀
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italymystery-swanqueen · 1 year ago
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Everything Will Be Alright
I Promise You
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v-chase-art · 1 year ago
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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
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princess-and-the-swan · 5 months ago
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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
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charlieactuallydiesforreal · 4 months ago
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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.
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