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hollyethecurious · 5 years

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CS AU: May the Lord Open - Part Four

Summary: Emma Swan, renamed Ofarthur when she was assigned to the Pendragon household as their Handmaid four months prior, is approached by her mistress, Mrs. Pendragon, to take part in a scheme the woman hopes will produce her the child her husband cannot. During her encounter with the family’s loyal Guardian, Emma gets more than she bargained for… in more ways than one.

A/N: This fic includes themes, scenes, and dialogue taken from the Hulu series The Handmaid’s Tale. Content warnings include: mentions of rape/sexual assault, threats of rape/sexual assault, dubious consent, lady whump, infertility, pregnancy complications, underage marriage, and more.

I am starting from scratch with my tag list. If you’d like to receive a notification when I post updates or new works, please let me know.

Rated E for themes and sexy times / beta’d by the fabulous @ilovemesomekillianjones / available of ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Part Four

Killian entered his small apartment above the garage, thankful that Wendy, his wife, was occupied in the main house with preparations for the next day’s arrival.

They were coming home.

Emma and their daughter were returning from the hospital the next morning, and Killian was beside himself.

He hadn’t seen either of them since that terrible night five days prior when he’d found Emma bleeding from labor complications in the back garden. Had yet to clap eyes on his daughter, and had to learn the news that Emma had delivered them a little girl in a room full of Commanders and their wives who’d come to offer support to the Pendragons in their time of crisis. A crisis that had turned into a celebration when it was announced the baby had been delivered alive and healthy.

Killian had been relieved to hear that news, but was also desperate to know how Emma had fared. It seemed he’d been alone in that concern as it was another hour before he finally caught sight of Aunt Cora and took the risk of approaching her about Ofarthur’s condition. His knees had nearly given out when he’d been told she still hadn’t regained consciousness from the emergency cesarean hours before, and had received two blood transfusions. Aunt Cora had assured him that should she pull through, Ofarthur would still be able to conceive, therefore able to fulfill her purpose as a Handmaid, and wasn’t that a blessing.

Killian had never been tempted to strike a woman before, but he nearly made an exception for the Aunt.

Mrs. Pendragon had insisted on staying at the hospital with her baby, so he’d been forced to leave in order to drive the Commander back to the house. Greeted by the brand new wife he’d completely forgotten about, he’d made up some excuse for returning to the main house and had slept in Emma’s room, wanting to be close to her in some way as he wept and prayed for her to recover.

The next morning, he’d taken the Commander back to the hospital and learned Emma had awoken overnight. He wasn’t permitted in the Maternity Ward, and had to bribe a number of hospital staff to get information about Emma and his baby girl. It had been decided that Handmaid and child would remain in the hospital together until the former was well enough to be discharged back into the Pendragon’s care. Commander Oz had made an appearance on day three, requesting she be released to his household when the time came, since it was to be her next posting, but Aunt Cora had flat refused him. Citing the fact that the Handmaid would not be fit for service for several weeks, if not a few months, and that time was better spent as wet nurse for the child she’d just delivered.

Killian was thankful he’d refrained from hitting her.

Now he’d just learned that mother and child - or rather, Mrs. Pendragon and his daughter - would be arriving back home the next morning, with Ofarthur. Wendy had been enlisted by Granny to make sure everything was perfect for their homecoming, and Killian had excused himself for some much needed solitude to get his emotions in check. Emotions he wasn’t even sure he could catalog, much less command, given the vast spectrum they stretched over his soul.

He paced the length of the room while thoughts and harsh reminders bombarded him. You can’t react when you see them. Do what you must to keep your expression neutral. They won’t permit you to hold her, so don’t bother asking. They’ll probably let Wendy, though. Wendy. Bloody hell, what am I going to do about Wendy?

Killian had managed to avoid sharing a bed with his wife since their wedding by insisting on staying at the main house in case the Commander needed to be driven to the hospital in the middle of the night. Wendy had seemed to understand and accept that excuse, but once the baby was home he’d no longer have a way to circumvent his duties as a husband.

Casting a quick look towards his bed caused revulsion to roll in his gut, forcing him to seek a brisk, cleansing breath from outside. Bent over the handrail of the small landing, Killian forced several breaths into his lungs with his hands braced against the cold iron. A soft rustle off to the right of the drive drew his attention and it took his mind a moment to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

Wendy. His wife. In the embrace of another, whose identity was shrouded by the shadows of the hedges they found themselves cloistered in.

A shocked but gladdened noise escaped him and the two lovers broke apart from the sound that carried across the driveway. Wendy’s eyes turned up towards the apartment and went wide with fear when she saw him standing there looking on. She hastily said something to her beau before frantically following after Killian who had already turned to go back inside. He had only a moment to reconcile the answer to prayer he’d witnessed when Wendy burst into the apartment and knelt before him.

“Please, forgive me, for I know not what I do. I’ve sinned against you and God, and I beg for mercy.”

Killian waved her off and tried to get her to stand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us,” she continued on, undeterred by his insistence her words were not necessary, “and to cleanse us of all unrighteousness.”

She turned her eyes up to his, which were peering down at her with an expression of ‘are you finished?’ on his brow. Her own brows pinched together. “Don’t you care? Why don’t you care?”

“Wendy, love,” Killian consoled. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

“But… I’m your wife. You just caught me cheating on you. You should care.”

Killian let out an exasperated sigh and sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you want me to report you?” She vigorously shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes at the thought of what it would mean. “Then what do you want?”

“I…”

It pained him to watch her parse through her thoughts. Weighing each one against the consequences it could bring.

“Wendy,” Killian soothed once more, patting the spot next to him on the bed as invitation for her to join him. “You can be honest with me. Do you… Do you want to be my wife?”

The young girl’s gaze fell to the floor and her head tentatively moved from side to side. “No,” she confessed almost inaudibly, her words catching on the sob stuck in the back of her throat. “I don’t want to be married to you or lie with you. I don’t want to have your children. I’m sorry.”

“Bloody hell, lass. You don’t have to be sorry.”

The floodgates opened and Killian found himself with his young bride in his arms, releasing tears she must have been holding back for days into his shirt. Rubbing circles over her back, he did his best to comfort her until the last of her emotions were spent. She gave him a small, shy smile when she pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of her outpouring from her face.

“So, what do we do?” she asked.

“For now, we keep up appearances,” he told her. “But I assure you, I won’t touch you. I have no more desire for you than you do for me.” Her cheeks flamed at his words and relief bloomed within her eyes. “You have to be more careful with your gentleman friend, though,” he warned. “Granny and Emma will turn a blind eye to him, but you’re not likely to get the same response from Felix, the Pendragons, or anyone else in Camelot.”

“Emma?”

“Uh, I mean… Ofarthur,” he corrected, instinctively bringing his hand up to scratch behind his ear.

“The Handmaid?” Wendy clarified, then tilted her head to take in the fresh heat flaring from his neck to the tips of his ears. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he deflected, standing from the bed and making his way to the kitchenette.

“You do!” She stood and chased him into the small space, a knowing smile pulling at her lips.

“Wendy, listen to me very carefully,” he urged, his tone sobering her jovial mood. “I would never get involved with a Handmaid any more than you would with another man. It would be suicide. Do you understand?”

Her eyes flickered between his, reading everything he was silently trying to communicate to her until she gave him a brusque nod. “I understand.”

“Good, lass,” he said, giving her a tender smile. “Now, you best get back to helping Granny. I want everything perfect for my daughter’s arrival tomorrow,” he threw out with a wink.

~/~

Emma winced as she climbed the stairs at the front of the house, assisted by Aunt Cora. Mrs. Pendragon had brought the baby home in the family’s private car, while Emma was transported in the red van. She hadn’t seen her daughter in two days, had missed seeing Killian’s expression in finally being able to lay eyes on her (since he was the one most likely driving her back to the Pendragon house), and she didn’t think it likely she’d get to spend any sort of quality time with either of them now that she was back.

“Here we are, dear,” Aunt Cora said as she helped ease Emma down onto her bed once they reached her room. “I see the breast pump has already been delivered and set up. I’ll check in with your Martha about its upkeep before I leave.”

Not being one to get overly fussy about her girls, Aunt Cora didn’t linger too much longer before leaving Emma to her own devices. She had no idea how long she’d sat there on the edge of her bed before a telltale creak in the hallway pulled her attention. Gingerly, she stood to her feet and started taking tentative steps towards the man who was approaching her with the same trepidation. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pulling her tightly against him while being mindful of her still healing condition.

“You scared the bloody hell out of me,” he murmured into her hair.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

The two held one another for long moments. Their heartbeats synchronized, their breaths flowed in equal cadence, both sets of eyes fluttered closed as they focused on the feel of the other in their arms. Emma knew it wouldn’t be long before Granny made her way up to check on her and remind her to pump. As if the increasing pressure in her breasts wasn’t reminder enough. Reluctantly, she pulled back, but not entirely out of his embrace.

“Have you… did you get to see her?”

“Aye,” Killian replied with awe filling his voice and shining from his forget-me-not eyes. “She’s beautiful, Emma. So beautiful. I wish…” his jaw tightened and eyes flicked to the side before meeting hers once more. “I wish I could hold her.”

“Me, too,” Emma replied with a pained whisper that had Killian cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Mrs. Pendragon removed her from my room two days ago,” she explained. “After she insisted on having a room of her own, so she could be nearer to her child. I haven’t been allowed to nurse her. They’re forcing me to pump, saying it’ll be better that she becomes accustomed to a bottle since I won’t be staying until she’s weaned.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian lamented. “But at least they let you come back here for now.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as a stricken look passed over his face. “I hated to think those things we said the other night would be the last words we ever spoke to one another.”

Emma reached up and caressed his face, a soft but sad smile pulling at her lips at the way he naturally nuzzled into her palm. “I’m sorry for the things I said.” Her eyes flicked downward then briefly closed while she fortified herself to admit, “But mostly I’m sorry about the thing I didn’t say.” Her gaze returned to his, a hopeful expectation swirling in the blues of his irises. “I love you, too.”

Killian beamed before he leaned down to capture her lips, drawing her back into his arms as they each poured out all the love they’d been holding back.

“I love you,” he murmured into her skin, when his kisses drifted to her jaw and down to her neck. “I love you so much, Emma. You and our daughter. So bloody much, I can hardly breathe.”

“Hope,” Emma exhaled, grabbing his face and coaxing him to look at her. “I want to name her Hope. As a promise. A promise that we’ll never stop trying to free her from this place.”

“Hope,” Killian echoed. “Aye, love. It sounds right.” He nodded, his eyes crinkling at their corners from the smile the name put on his face. “Hope Jones.”

“Speaking of Jones,” Emma began before pulling her lip between her teeth. She didn’t want to spoil the moment, but the wondering had been eating her up inside. “How is Mrs. Jones?”

“As pure and untouched as the day I married her,” he assured her with an understanding look in his eyes. “At least by me.”

“What does that mean?”

“It seems my darling wife already had a fellow. I caught them together, snogging in the bushes by the drive last night.” Emma’s mouth fell open at the news. “I’ve spent every night of my marriage here, in your room, and now that you’re back I’ll either keep coming here to be with you or sleep on my sofa.”

“So, she knows about us?”

“Aye. But I believe her to be an ally, like Granny. She won’t say anything.”

“And even if she did, you have her adultery to use against her,” Emma said, supplying the threat they both knew he could hold over her. “But I know you’d never actually blackmail her like that, or make good on it.”

“No,” he agreed with her, shaking his head. “I could never live with myself if I did.”

Emma brushed her thumb over his cheek and smiled lovingly up at his face. “I know. That’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

~/~

Killian practically sprinted up the back steps to the main house, eagerness thrumming through every nerve ending in his body. The Commander and Mrs. Pendragon were attending an official Republic Dinner, one he assumed he’d have to stay for, in order to guard over the assembly of District Commanders and their wives. When the Guardian in charge had finished assigning duties and realized he had a surplus, he’d dismissed those who’d remained to go back to their normal posts and await the call to come back and collect their Commanders. With the Commander, Mrs. Pendragon, and Felix (who had been tasked to stay) away for the entirety of the evening, this would be Killian’s first chance to spend time with his daughter. To hold his little girl in his arms and introduce himself to her as her father.

When he reached the nursery, he was not at all surprised to see Emma already inside with a pink blanketed bundle in her arms. Her gaze lifted from their daughter’s face to his; a question resided between her brows even as a smile spread over her lips.

“They didn’t need me,” he explained softly, rooted where he stood just inside the doorway, wanting to cement this moment into his memory.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Granny’s gruff voice admonished from where she appeared next to him. “Go meet your daughter.”

Killian shot the woman a half-hearted and teasing scowl, before winking his thanks to her and making his way fully into the room. The nursery doors closed softly behind him, and Killian held his breath in anticipation as his steps brought him closer to his family. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his daughter’s angelic face, and the caught breath released itself in a series of awestruck stutters.

“Here.” Emma gently held out their daughter to him and helped secure her in his arms. “Hope,” she whispered softly, placing her hand over the babe’s chest, “this is your daddy.”

She was a wisp of a thing, weighing practically nothing in his arms, yet the magnitude that settled over him in that moment was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

“Hello there, my little love,” he cooed softly.

Hope wiggled and squeaked out a small noise, scrunching her face in the same manner her mother did whenever Killian tried to rouse her before she was truly ready to wake. Emma’s lips grazed against his cheek, then he felt her breath on his ear.

“Look at what we made, Killian.”

His heart was fit to burst from looking. “Aye, love. I’d say we make quite the team.”

Emma released a light laugh and steered him towards the small settee in the middle of the room so they could both sit. He laid Hope in his lap with her head at his knees and her feet tucked against his abdomen, then he wrapped an arm around Emma as she snuggled into his side. They sat in contented silence for the majority of the evening, watching their daughter sleep until she started to fuss, alerting all those within earshot of her discomfort and hunger.

“I’ll change her while you go get a bottle from Granny,” Emma suggested, reaching out to pick Hope up.

“Or,” Killian proposed, “you could show me how to change her and then nurse her yourself.” Emma froze, the emotional turmoil he could see storming in her eyes paralyzing her momentarily. “It might be your only chance until we escape.” Or until you’re forced to leave us. He tried to squash such thoughts, but with each passing week it was harder and harder to stay positive. Especially when all of his attempts to reach out to the resistance, or find a way to contact David Nolan had led to dead ends.

Emma nodded, her silence and shimmering eyes tipping him off to the fact she’d had the exact same thought. They both shrugged off the threatening melancholy and focused on the embodiment of their joy. After a quick diaper change lesson, they found themselves back on the settee. Killian’s arm was once again wrapped around his Emma who was bringing a wide awake Hope to her breast.

It was an ineffable moment for Killian. Words would never be able to capture the depth of feelings he experienced in witnessing such a natural, yet profound act. The way his loves stared at one another, Emma with her viridian gaze and Hope with his blue, sent an ache of pure bliss through his soul. Granny had told him that most caucasian babies were born with blue eyes, but many changed over the course of time. That fact didn’t keep him from believing his daughter would retain her signature Jones’ blues, though.

When Emma finished nursing, she passed Hope to Killian so he could burp her while she put herself back to rights. Comfortable and sated once more, Hope relaxed against her father’s shoulder and fell back to sleep while Killian softly crooned her the lullaby he remembered his mother singing to him and Liam. Assured his little Hope was out for the count, he looked over to find Emma also fast asleep against his side.

The ache in his heart swelled and he murmured out a fervent prayer. “May the Lord open the way of our escape.” Squeezing the loves of his life a little closer, he added, “Please, God. Help me get them out.”

~/~

Emma stared up at the bright white ceiling of the hospital exam room, her feet in stirrups and an equally bright white curtain separating her from the doctor examining her. In the time before, gynecological visits weren’t exactly the highlight of her year, but they were a joyous walk through a sunlit garden in comparison to those she’d experienced in Camelot.

Aunt Cora stood dutifully beside her, awaiting the physician’s assessment of Emma’s progress six weeks after her c-section. The occasional huffs and clearings of her throat expressed her impatience at the doctor’s thoroughness.

“Well?” the woman said, breaking the sterile silence. “How is our girl doing? Is she ready to go back into service?”

Emma balled her hands into the sheet draped over her midsection where it pooled on either side of her thighs. Her teeth ground together at the woman’s words as her stomach churned at their meaning.

“She’s healed well enough for intercourse,” the doctor replied, removing the instruments he’d used to examine her and pulling the sheet back down to cover her lower extremities. “But until she resumes her normal period, I see no point in moving her to a new posting. You haven’t had one yet, have you honey?” The doctor’s head poked around the curtain, startling her.

“Um… no.”

“Then my recommendation would be to let her stay where she is until her cycle starts back up. No need to inconvenience a new Commander’s household until she’s ready for the Ceremony.” Emma heard the snap of latex as the man removed his gloves, then the swing of a metal lid when he deposited them in the trash can.

“Very well. I’ll just have to tell Commander Oz to be a bit more patient,” Aunt Cora groused. The doctor assisted Emma in removing her feet from the stirrups, but she remained prone on the examination table. “Get dressed, dear. I’ll have the van brought around.”

Cora left while the doctor finished typing his notes into the computer. Emma sat up and waited for him to leave so she could remove the hospital gown and put her red dress back on. The clacking of the keyboard resonated loudly in the room, competing with the calm relief Emma was trying to focus on after learning she wouldn’t be shuttled off to the Oz household for at least a few more weeks.

“Under His eye,” the doctor said.

“Under His eye,” Emma reciprocated, only vaguely aware of him as he made his way to the exit.

“Oh, and,” he paused before swinging the door open and waited until he had her attention before shocking her with, “Blessed day to you… Emma.”

~/~

Killian made his way up to Emma’s room after receiving her message from Wendy that she needed to see him immediately. Knowing she’d been at her six week postnatal appointment, Killian feared he already knew the urgency behind her missive. Most likely she’d been given the all clear to report to a new posting, tearing her away from him and their daughter and depositing her under the control of the vile Commander Oz. Killian steeled himself outside her door, taking in a deep breath and schooling his features. She would need him to be strong for her, for them.

Opening the door, his heart sank as he watched her pace the width of the room, hands wringing in proof of his worst fear.

“Well, my love? Why did you summon me?” He tried to keep his tone light and jovial, offering her a small smile when her head snapped towards him.

“He called me by my name,” she blurted out, rushing up to him.

Killian’s brows pinched together. “Who?”

“The doctor,” Emma clarified animatedly. “He was leaving the room and he said, Blessed day to you… Emma. He called me Emma. How would he know my real name? Why would he use it like that?”

Stunned, Killian thought for a moment. “I’ve heard whispers of a doctor within the resistance,” he told her. “What was his name?”

“Whale, I think?” she said with raised, uncertain brows. “Dr. Whale.”

“I’ll see what I can find out about him. If he is a part of the resistance, then it could have been a message.”

“A message? What kind of message is just knowing and saying my name?”

“Did he say anything else,” Killian pressed, bringing his hands up to gently grab the tops of her arms. “Anything that struck you as odd or unexpected?”

Emma drew her lip between her teeth, worrying it for a moment before her eyes flicked back up to his. “He recommended that I not be sent to my next posting until my cycle resumes.”

“Ensuring you’d remain here for at least a few more weeks,” Killian supplied with a soaring spirit.

“But why?”

“Nolan,” Killian murmured, lost in a moment of thought.

“What?”

“David Nolan. The man I met in Canada,” Killian reminded. “He knows your real name and that you are the Pendragon’s handmaid. There very well might be a plan to get us out, after all. Perhaps they just need a few more weeks to pull it all together!”

“But…” Emma cautioned. “It’s been months since you met him.”

“Aye. But we mustn’t lose hope,” he encouraged her. “We made a promise.”

She exhaled in response to his words and nodded, a light smile pulling at her lips from the reminder of their daughter’s name.

“Now,” he added intently, “tell me what else the doctor said.”

Her demeanor shifted from one fraught with the tension of worry to a tension of a different sort.

“Well,” she drawled coquettishly, running her hands up his chest. “He did say I’ve healed well enough for intercourse, and I was thinking,” her hands skimmed along his neck until her fingers could reach the wisps of hair curling out from where it had begun to grow too long across his hairline, “with Mrs. Pendragon and baby out with the other wives, and you not having to pick up the Commander for several more hours, perhaps,” she flicked her eyes up through her lashes and bit down on her lip before proposing, “we might spend the afternoon confirming his diagnosis?”

Killian hummed, as if giving her words thoughtful consideration. “For purely scientific reasons, aye love?”

“You know how much I love science,” she teased. A giggle briefly escaped her lips before being quickly cut off by his mouth descending upon hers.

Her arms tightened around his neck when he wrapped his around her waist, steering them towards her bed while trying to not land them on the floor in a hurried tangle of legs. When they reached the foot of her mattress they both worked in tandem to strip the other of their garments. Once bared before the other, Killian noted a shy and reserved posture he was unaccustomed to seeing from his Emma.

“What is it, love?”

“It's just… you haven’t seen me naked since…” her voice trailed off and that’s when Killian noticed how she was hiding parts of herself from him. Covering her stomach with her arms crossed low over her body.

“Oh, Emma,” he soothed tenderly, drawing her in close until she was flush against him. “You are stunning, love. Never think for a moment that anything could mar your beauty in my eyes.”

He pulled back and gently encouraged her to allow him to look upon her. His eyes grazed over the fresh scar, low on her abdomen, and took in the various stretch marks, now added to those that had already littered her body from her first pregnancy. She inhaled sharply when his fingers skimmed over her stomach, the excess flesh that hadn’t quite firmed up yet pulling away from his touch.

“Everything different about your body is a testament to the gift you’ve given me, Emma. All I see when I look at you is the woman I love and the mother of my child,” he assured her, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. “You’re bloody gorgeous, and I’ve never wanted you more.”

Emma raised herself up and fused her lips to his. A desperate urgency swirled around them, mingling in their kiss and prompting the frenzied pursuit of their hands. When Emma began to lay back onto the bed she pulled at him to join her, but he kept the presence of mind to slow down the proceedings a bit. Dropping to his knees he grabbed behind her calves, which were hanging off the bed, and dragged her back towards him. She lifted her head to gaze down at him, but he cut off the expected protest before she could open her mouth to voice it.

“We’re going to take this slow, love,” he asserted. “I want to know you are as ready for me as you can be. I’ll not risk hurting you. So, be a good girl and lie back.” He gave her a devilish wink, and chuckled at the eye roll she gave him before complying.

Encouraging her legs a bit wider, Killian inhaled the scent of her which never failed to make his blood sing and groin throb. His mouth watered at the already glistening folds awaiting him, but he was determined to take his time. To savor her slowly and thoroughly, making her ready for him with as little risk of pain or discomfort as possible.

Her flavor soaked into his tongue as he dragged it through her sex, parted wide by his fingers. He moaned against her clit, swirling and flicking against it while his fingers gradually tested the reception of her entrance. Emma’s hips bucked when he slid a finger inside her, but she quickly relaxed around him, releasing her own set of moans as his hand and mouth worked together to bring her ever closer to the edge of abandon.

“Oh God, Killian,” Emma mewled, reaching down to take a handful of his hair. “Fuck, yes!”

The rolling of her hips against his mouth prompted him to slip in another finger and he was gratified when it didn’t seem to cause her any distress. By the time she came, her orgasm washing over his tongue and making his eyes roll back with his own measure of euphoria, he had succeeded in stretching her three fingers wide.

Sucking his fingers clean, he crawled atop the bed and observed the love of his life as she came down from her, hopefully, first high. Her flushed skin and heaving chest made his member ache to the point of discomfort, but he’d gladly take that upon himself in order to minimize hers.

Hazy, green eyes peered up at him, and she silently beckoned him to her as she scooted back up the bed. His gaze never wavered from hers as he settled between her thighs and gently coated himself in her arousal with gentle thrusts of his hips.

“You’ll tell me if anything hurts, and I’ll stop,” he told her with a hint of demand in his tone.

With her reassuring nod, he slowly pushed inside, stalling halfway when he heard her gasp and felt her walls clench around him like a vice.

“Emma?”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I’m okay. You just… Fuck, you feel so good.”

Killian exhaled and rested his forehead against hers. “So do you, love. So do you.”

Their pace was slow, his strokes long and languid as he plundered her mouth then pillaged the valley between her breasts with hot, wet kisses. She’d hissed slightly when he captured a nipple between his teeth, the bud too tender and sore from her persistent pumping and the occasional opportunity to secretly nurse, so he made sure to avoid them… with his mouth anyway. The way they fit in his hand, a little larger, fuller, warmer than before made it so he could hardly keep his hands off of them, though he knew he had to be mindful of their increased tenderness.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away and braced himself against the mattress, maneuvering his hips in order to find greater purchase within her. She arched off the bed and her hands clawed at his backside, pulling him deeper inside of herself as she wrapped her legs around his middle. His breaths were mere pants at this point, the tightening in his balls alerting him to the fact he wasn’t going to last much longer. Perhaps it was hubris to think he could get her to come a second time when so much about her body had changed, but he wasn’t going to concede defeat just yet.

Drawing up onto his knees, he lifted her legs and draped them over his shoulders. While his hips snapped furiously into hers, he sucked his thumb into his mouth then reached down to rub the slickened digit over her clit. Incomprehensible noises fell from her lips, spurring him into a faster rhythm. She had to grab onto her breasts, stilling them from being violently shaken by this rougher pace he’d set. Just as he began to worry it might be too much for her, Emma’s legs began to shake and a long drawn out moan of pure decadence echoed through the room. Her walls clamped down around him, extracting every ounce of pleasure and satisfaction from him as he thoroughly spilled himself within her. Sated and out of breath, Killian collapsed beside an equally spent Emma who didn’t hesitate to snuggle into his side.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I love?”

Emma gave him a noncommittal and sleepy hum before admitting, “I’m going to be sore and walking funny later, but it was totally worth it.”

He responded with an amused huff and tried to ward off the creeping guilt rising in his chest for being too rough with her.

“Seriously, Killian.” She rolled onto her side and propped her head up so she could look him knowingly in the eye. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Promise.”

She sealed that promise with a soft kiss then plopped back down at his side, clearly exhausted.

“Stay here and get some rest, love,” he encouraged, brushing his lips against her temple before rolling his way off the side of the bed.

He crossed to her bathroom and got a washrag to clean up with, then returned to tend to her before tucking her in for a nap. After dressing he made his way back downstairs with plans to do some work in the garage, but hushed, angry voices just outside the back door had him hovering back.

“Are you insane?” he heard Felix exclaim in a low, gruff tone. “You’re married! Peter is my best friend, and I don’t want to see him up on the wall!”

“We’re being careful,” Wendy countered back. “Nothing is going to happen. Stop worrying.”

“Stop worrying? You’re having an affair right under your husband’s, who happens to be an Eye, by the way, nose!”

“Killian already knows about Peter and me.”

Killian swore softly under his breath. He really wished she’d hadn’t told Felix that.

“What? He knows?”

“Yes. He knows, and he’s fine with it as long as Peter and I are discreet. Neither of us actually wants to be married to the other, you know.”

“I still think you’re playing with fire,” Felix warned her. “And you know my loyalty lies with Peter if it ever comes down to taking a side.”

“I know,” Wendy sighed exasperatedly, clearly done with the conversation.

Killian moved to conceal himself, so as not to be discovered eavesdropping when Wendy came back into the house. He then watched as Felix resumed his post of guarding the front gate, his expression controlled and neutral, as if nothing had happened.

“So, Felix knows about Wendy’s lover, and considers him a mate,” Killian mused deviously. “That’s very interesting indeed.”

Chapter Five

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #the handmaid's tale au #content warnings #killian jones #emma swan #may the lord open #mtlo #words by hollye

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hollyethecurious · 5 years

Text

CS AU: May the Lord Open - Part Two

Rated E for themes and sexy times / beta’d by the fabulous @ilovemesomekillianjones / available of ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / Part One

Part Two

Killian stood at attention just inside the Commander’s office door, keeping watch over the man his child would someday call father. While the wives gathered in the main living area to celebrate the impending arrival, still many months off, of the Pendragon’s miracle, the husband’s cordoned themselves off with whiskey and cigars to congratulate their fellow Commander on his ability to procreate.

If they only knew.

Over the past several months, Killian had been forced to stand by and silently look on as another man and woman shared the excitement and bright prospects of a future that should be his and Emma’s. He could only imagine how Emma felt. All he could do was imagine, for ever since she’d insisted they stop their secret interludes, they’d scarcely been in the same room with one another. When duty or expectation called the entire household together to afford him the chance to at least see her, it was always without the opportunity to converse openly outside the expected greetings and pleasantries. It didn’t stop him from attempting to glean how she was faring, though.

Whenever she passed by him in the drive on her way to do the day’s shopping, or in those moments where he caught glimpses of her in the house, he was always intently studying her form and countenance. He remembered vividly a morning not long ago when he first caught sight of the evidence of their child from the gentle swell that bumped out from her abdomen under her red handmaid’s dress. His hands had itched with the desire to run themselves over her stomach, to bear witness to the testimony of the life they’d created first hand, but it would have been reckless to do so in that moment. And every moment since then.

“Praise be, Pendragon,” the newest arriving Commander greeted, approaching Killian’s Commander with open arms.

“Praise be, Commander Oz,” Commander Pendragon responded as the two men hugged before Pendragon offered Oz a cigar.

“You are fortunate, indeed,” Oz commented. “My handmaid is about to reach her expiration date, but she wasn’t that much fun to begin with,” he shared with the other Commander in a low tone, so as to not be overheard. “How’s yours?”

“Oh, she’s… proven fruitful,” Pendragon offered, clearly caught off guard by the question.

“And not bad looking, either,” Oz mused whilst lighting his cigar. “How long do you plan for her to stay on after the birth,” he asked, releasing a puff of acrid smoke out the side of his mouth which wafted right into Killian’s face.

Suppressing a cough, he heard Pendragon state his assumption that Ofarthur would remain at her current post until the baby was weaned, as was customary.

“Any chance you could be persuaded to let her go before then?” When Pendragon did not immediately reply, Oz stepped closer and murmured, “I would be more inclined to back the proposal you brought to me last week if I knew I had such a lovely and fruitful Handmaid coming my way soon.”

Killian’s stomach turned. He clenched his jaw and balled his hands, thankful they were clasped firmly behind his back so the surge of hostility roaring to life within him might go unnoticed. When his Commander’s eyes flicked towards him, Killian knew the hard expression and stiff posture attributed to his Guardian status was probably now more intense than strictly necessary.

“Even if we did decide to return Ofarthur to the Red Center early, there is no guarantee as to whose household she’d be posted to next.”

“Come now, Arthur,” Oz schmoozed, “surely a man of your stature and position would have some influence over the decision.”

“I suppose I could talk with the Commander that oversees the Red Center,” Pendragon relented. “He does owe me a favor.”

“Excellent!” Oz puffed triumphantly on his cigar, and Killian’s hands itched with a new desire. A desire to choke the life out of Commander Walsh Oz, so he could never lay a hand on his Emma.

~/~

Emma leaned against the kitchen counter, idly running her hand across her abdomen which had only begun to grow outward. She thought it ridiculous to hold a baby shower so early, but Camelot tradition dictated that once the Handmaid made it through the first trimester, a shower for the expectant mother could be held. So many of the women waited years for the hope of a child, so she supposed it made sense that they were unwilling to wait a moment longer to experience every blessing and activity that accompanied a pregnancy.

Especially when they could not experience the pregnancy themselves.

In the life before, Emma might have been able to drum up sympathy for them. To weep alongside them each month when the proof that their womb might always be barren solidified itself in the soiled rags of womanhood. In Camelot, though, it was difficult to muster up anything short of disdain and revulsion for the women who held down a Handmaid each month so their husband could force themselves upon them during the ritualistic rape of the Ceremony. Even if such an atrocity had not befallen her, yet.

“Ah, you must be the esteemed Ofarthur,” a voice oiled from the entryway leading into the kitchens.

“Blessed day,” she greeted with her head bowed and eyes cast downward, as was proper according the customs beaten into her at the Red Center.

“Blessed be the fruit.”

“May the Lord open.”

“Indeed,” the man replied, his shoes coming into view from where her eyes remained affixed at the floor. “With luck He’ll open things for me… with you.”

Emma couldn’t help the jerk of her head as it snapped up to meet his gaze. A look swirled in his eyes, which were raking over her, that made her skin crawl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s all been arranged,” he continued, either oblivious or unconcerned by the distress in her tone. “Pendragon doesn’t think they’ll need you long past the birth of the child. Neither he, nor the Commander of the Red Center, see any point in delaying an opportunity for you to bless another Commander’s household.” He stepped closer to her, trapping her where she was pressed against the counter. “My household.”

Emma swallowed back the bile that had started to rise from her churning stomach.

“Would you like that?” he asked, though Emma knew it wasn’t a real question with an expectation of an honest answer.

“It is always an honor to do one’s duty,” she choked out softly.

“I’m sure you and I can engage in more than what only honor and duty require. Though, I do expect you to fulfill your duty.”

He placed his hand over the slight swell of her stomach and it took everything within her not to punch him in the face. Tightly, she gripped the counter to keep her hands from swatting his away, but she couldn’t stop her body from physically recoiling when his hand moved up, brushing the underside of her breast.

He must have taken the shudder that passed over her as a sign of desire. A disgustingly wicked grin broke across his face and he leaned in closer. “We will have so much fun together, you and I.”

Emma wanted to scream, to call out for help, for she was sure the man intended to kiss her. It would be her word against his, though, and while she had some protection against harsh punishments while in her condition, there were still a number of torments the Aunts, the matrons in charge of the Handmaids and the Red Centers, could inflict that would pose no threat to the baby. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away, hoping the small rebuff would be enough to hold him off without causing him extreme offense. Loathsome as he was, she couldn’t risk his ire if she did happen to get posted to his household.

“Commander Oz,” Killian’s voice barked with authoritative tone. “Your car is out front, and your wife is waiting for you in the foyer, sir.”

The Commander pulled back, his hand still placed high on her abdomen, and Emma noted the tick in Killian’s jaw when his eyes flicked to her waist and back up again, giving the back of the man’s head a hard stare.

“Thank you, Guardian Jones,” the man answered without taking his eyes off Emma. “Until we meet again… Ofwalsh.”

The man departed and Emma felt as though her legs might give out. Killian watched him go, making certain he and his wife were out the front door before making his way towards her.

“Killian,” their mistress interrupted, appearing in the doorway just steps behind him. “Mrs. Gold needs a ride home. Her husband has to go back to the office and it’s in the opposite direction. Would you bring the car around please?”

“Aye, ma’am,” he replied dutifully, his stance and tone every bit the respectable Guardian.

“Ofarthur, you must be exhausted,” she said, turning her attention to Emma who was still clutching the counter for support. “Head up to bed. The baby needs rest.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pendragon.” Emma retreated on shaky legs, brushing past Killian without a glance or a word, seeing as their mistress remained to make sure her orders were carried out.

There was no way she’d be able to rest. Pacing the length of her room, the fear and panic she’d experienced in the kitchen quickly turned to rage. Enraged that she’d been fearful, and had cause to panic in the first place. It wasn’t so long ago, she would have never cowered before a man like that. Would never have allowed him to get close to her, much less touch her. She wouldn’t have needed someone to step in and save her.

“No one saves me, but me,” she muttered indignantly, shaking out her hands in an attempt to expel the tension and contempt coiling tighter in every nerve ending.

This place had done everything it could to strip away all that had made her Emma. All that had made her strong and capable, a woman who’d survived being abandoned and betrayed, now reduced to being a broodmare for a society that saw her as nothing more than of a man’s, to do with as he pleased. She supposed it wasn’t the first time in history that women had been treated this way, seen as nothing more than mere objects. Property.

Camelot could ban women from reading and deny literacy to the next generation of girls, but it couldn’t take away the knowledge Emma already possessed. The knowledge of women throughout the centuries who’d demanded to be seen in a different way. To punch back and say, no, this is who and what I am.

She would really love to punch something right about now.

~/~

The soft glow seeping out from under the Commander’s office door told Killian that Pendragon had not yet retired for the night. Given the amount he’d witnessed the man drink during the events of the evening, it was quite possible the man was simply passed out in his chair. Killian knew that his mistress would already be abed, aided by a pill that had to be the only way her conscience could allow her a night’s rest.

Anger still coursed through Killian’s veins as he treaded lightly up the servant’s stairs towards Emma’s room. The tingling in his fingertips caused his hands to flex at his sides, and he was unsure which of the myriad of emotions that had triggered the response over the span of the past few hours and days was lingering behind his nail beds. The longing to touch the woman who carried his child, the rage at another man who’d dared do such a thing, or the insult of knowing that the vile man had felt what should have been Killian’s right and privilege to experience before even he could.

A wash of red invaded his vision once more at the memory of seeing the man’s hand over Emma’s stomach, over his child. Hearing the man address her as his own, as if it were a foregone conclusion she’d end up in his bed, had his hand twitching towards the gun holstered at his side. The panic and fear that had been evident in his fiery lass’ emerald eyes had compelled him to comfort her, to gather her in his arms and declare promises he wasn’t sure how he would keep. The compulsion had stayed with him as he’d driven Mistress Gold home, and propelled him forward with each step he took towards the handmaid’s bedroom.

Pressing an ear to her door, he could hear movement on the other side. He opened the door and stepped in quickly, closing it as softly as he could behind him and startling Emma mid-pace across the room.

“What are you doing here,” she whisper shouted at him. “You know what’ll happen if they catch you up here.”

“Aye, I just,” he willed his mind to focus. Now that he was there, alone with her for the first time in months, more than mere comfort and concern began to swirl in his gut, and a bit lower. The thin cotton of her nightdress, which left her legs bare and exposed from mid-thigh down wasn’t helping the tension that had migrated from his shoulders to his trousers. “I just needed to see you,” he finally admitted on a strained breath. “I wanted to make sure you were okay after your encounter with Commander Oz.”

“You needn’t have bothered,” she asserted as she resumed her pacing. “I’m fine.”

“Aye… I can see that.” He watched her for a few more seconds before confessing, “But I’m not.” She stopped and faced him, her expression telling him she hadn’t been expecting that revelation. “I almost shot the bastard when I saw his hands on you.”

“Shooting him wouldn’t do any good, you know that.”

“It would have felt good, though,” he said, taking involuntary steps towards her as though some invisible force were pulling him into her orbit. “A reminder to these fucks that they should never have put their hands on that which does not belong to them.”

“What doesn’t belong to them?” Emma parroted back to him.

She’d always been something of an open book to him, so he knew, even as hollow as her voice had sounded, that something deeper was churning beneath her surface. Something that threatened to erupt. Question was, would it be a violent explosion, or a quiet detonation of destruction? Either way, Killian knew she couldn’t keep burying her feelings behind the facade of compliance and defeatism.

“Are you saying that Walsh was wrong to put his hands on me, because it should only be your right to do so? That because it’s your child I carry, I somehow belong to you?”

“You belong to no one but yourself,” he stated. “I won’t pretend that I haven’t felt that way, though. That when I saw the swell of your stomach for the first time, the proof of our babe growing within you, that I didn’t feel a sense of pride over the knowledge that I was the one who’d put it there.”

“As well as the sense that it’s your duty to protect me?” she scorned, stepping closer to where he’d paused his steps just a few paces away from her. “I don’t need you to protect me, Killian. We both know there’s nothing you can do anyway. There’s nothing either of us can do. I can’t stop the Pendragons from taking my baby, from sending me away, knowing that my child will never know who I am.”

“You think you’re alone in this, Emma?” Killian questioned softly. “You think it doesn’t gut me to know that the first time I hear our child utter the word daddy, it won’t be addressed to me? That I’ll have to look upon its golden curls or green eyes every day, haunted by the memory of you while another man…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Couldn’t bring himself to think it. His hands began to shake and all he could do was reach out for her. She came to him willingly, drawn into his embrace with her arms circling his neck while he buried his face in her hair. The scent of lavender filled his sinuses, sending a ripple of calm over him even as the need for her increased with each beat of his pulse.

Emma pulled back to look up at him, and he met her gaze, blazing with her own need for him. Her hand slipped into his hair as he leaned in, their breath teasing one another while their mouths hovered over the other’s in bated anticipation. His lips and tongue had just skimmed hers when he felt her grip tighten against his locks. She wrenched his head back, pulling his neck taut and forcing his eyes shut from the sting in his scalp.

With some difficulty, he forced a swallow past his Adam’s apple then opened his eyes. A war of need was waging in Emma’s stare; a need for comfort versus a need for control. Written within her gaze was the desire to surrender to the solace they might temporarily find in the soothing embrace of the other’s arms, battling with the demand in her spirit to take back some of the power Camelot had stolen from her. Having been left without the ability to make her own choices for so long, Killian’s heart broke at the struggle that seemed to paralyze her in that moment. The struggle to choose.

Her heart’s desire. He’d promised that was all he ever wanted for her. He’d said she belonged to no one but herself, and that was true. He had no claim on her, but whether she knew it or not, she’d claimed his heart for her own long ago. He was hers, to comfort or control for as long as fate allowed them to remain together.

His hands fell back to his sides and he stood before her in submission, his expression open and yielding to whatever she would command of him. Her eyes flickered between his, and the conflict within her green depths resolved itself with another firm tug on his hair, forcing a grunt to resonate in the back of his throat. While her gaze traced over the chords of his neck, her other hand brushed the front of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she yanked down his zipper then released it on a soft groan when she slid her hand inside. Maneuvering her way past his boxers, she wrapped her hand around his length and guided it out. A strangled sound caught in the roof of his mouth when she jerked his head back once more as she began to pump him.

“I don’t need you to save me,” she whispered against his neck before grazing her teeth over his skin, sending a thrill down his spine.

“I know.”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

Her thumb swirled over and around his tip, spreading the moisture that collected there and his eyes fell shut at the sensation.

“I know.”

Her hand stilled, then fell away and his eyes fluttered open. The grip on his hair released, allowing him to look her in the face, her expression more vulnerable than he’d ever witnessed before.

“But…” she said on a shaky breath, “I don’t want to face all of this alone.” Tears pooled in her eyes, one slipping past her lashes before she could try and dispel them. “I miss you.”

Killian cupped her cheeks and brought his forehead forward to rest against hers. “I miss you, too,” he told her with all the tenderness he could muster. “You aren’t alone, Emma. I will be by your side until they force us apart, and even then… I’ll never stop fighting for us. All of us.”

Emma reached up and pulled a hand from her cheek. With a small squeeze of prompting, she guided it down to rest upon her stomach, the swell of her belly fitting perfectly within the palm of his hand. His own tears began to sting in his eyes, blurring his vision as he caressed his thumb over the sheer fabric covering her abdomen.

Lifting herself onto her toes, Emma brushed her lips against his. When he pulled her flush against him, his still exposed cock rubbed against her stomach, causing him to groan against her mouth.

“I should go,” he whispered, with no real intent on leaving as he began to press kisses along the column of her throat. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” she replied breathlessly, “but we can’t risk it. You can’t risk it. We’ve been reckless enough as it is.”

“It’s only reckless if there’s a chance of being caught,” he argued, his hands skimming over her backside to the bare expanse of her thighs. “The Commander’s likely passed out drunk, and the mistress will be out until morning, thanks to her sleep aid.” His cock twitched at the revelation that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and he began to maneuver them towards her bed. “That just leaves Granny and the other servants to concern ourselves with.”

When their legs bumped the side of her mattress, Killian pulled back to search her expression. He’d leave if she insisted, head back to his room and take himself in hand as he’d done for months in order to alleviate the ache of desire. But gods did he hope she didn’t send him away.

Eyes locked with his, her fingers began to flick open the buttons of his shirt. “I guess you’ll have to be quiet then,” she smirked, pushing his shirt off his shoulders then moving her attentions to rid him of his pants.

“I’ll have to be quiet?” he scoffed amusedly, bending down to remove his boots so he could step out of his pants. “I seem to remember eliciting some rather vocal responses from those lips, darling.”

She lifted her nightgown from her body and crawled onto her bed with him eagerly following. Before he could pull her towards him again and claim her mouth with his own, she placed her fingers over his lips.

“Yes,” she skimmed her finger tips over his slightly parted mouth then down the front of his neck and chest, “but those are going to be a little too occupied pulling those same responses from you.”

Killian swallowed as her lips followed the path her fingers were blazing over his skin. “Emma, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” she breathed along his abdomen. “Now, lie back.”

He sure as hell wasn’t going to argue with her further, not when the hot vapor of her breath reached the thick thatch of hair between his legs, making his member throb with such exquisite torment. His teeth sank into his lip when her tongue slid up the length of his shaft before circling around its head. With flared nostrils, he inhaled deeply as she took him into her mouth and released it in stuttered spurts with each bob of her head. His back arched slightly, the muscles along his shoulders rippling with fresh tension when she reached between his legs and fondled him.

The forbiddenness of their activities only heightened the pleasure. Fellatio, sodomy, cunnilingus, all acts prohibited under the new regime were now a show of defiance as much as a display of passion. While Emma fucked him with her mouth it was as though they were both declaring a loud F You to the Republic hell bent on stripping away all the pleasures and privileges of humanity. Pleasures Killian would gladly lay down his life for the privilege of sharing with the woman he so desperately wished he could call his own.

“Fuck, Emma. Please!”

“Please what?” she asked coyly after releasing him with a soft pop.

“I need you,” he panted. “Need to be inside you. Please.”

She made her way up his body and straddled his hips. Reaching up, he palmed her breasts while she lined herself up over him, impaling herself slowly, causing both their heads to fall back with a silent groan escaping parted lips.

Their movements had to remain small and controlled, lest they make the springs bounce and bed squeak. His hands moved to her waist, his thumbs brushing over the bump at her belly while her hips swiveled and rolled against his. One thumb trailed down, seeking out her clit from between her slick folds and she gasped at the gentle pressure he began to apply there.

“Come for me, love,” he enticed, increasing his ministrations to match the pacing of her movements.

The tightening in his groin was nearly at its breaking point, but he wouldn’t allow himself to find his release before her. When she did finally break apart he had to cover her mouth to keep her cries from carrying beyond the room; an action she reciprocated when he felt himself shatter a moment later. Emma collapsed against his chest, immediately enveloped in his arms, and seemed as content as he to remain there.

“Whose dumb idea was it that we stop doing this?” she said with a measure of teasing.

“I believe it was yours, love,” Killian reminded her with a kiss to her temple. “Are you saying you wish to resume our acts of treason?”

He couldn’t help the note of hope that rang through his words.

“It’s risky,” she murmured thoughtfully.

Killian pushed Emma’s hair away from her face and tilted her chin up until she was looking up into his eyes. “You’re worth the risk.” He could see the doubt in her expression and nuzzled her nose with his in an attempt to expel her disbelief. “If all we have are these precious months of the remainder of the pregnancy, then I want us to share every moment we can with each other. Risk be damned.”

“Won’t that make it harder, though?” she countered. “When the times comes that we have to say goodbye?”

“Harder than it would be to say goodbye if this were our last night spent in each other’s arms?”

The thought of that had him tightening his hold on her, and she nestled her head back against his chest.

“No,” she whispered. “I already have no idea how I’m going to say goodbye to you. Either of you.”

Then we won’t. The thought popped into Killian’s mind without warning, and with it a fresh resolve. He was going to get them out. One way or another, he’d find a way for them to escape this place.

Or die trying.

~/~

“You’re nearly done with the second trimester,” Cora, one the Red Center Aunts, commented after measuring Emma’s belly. “How are you feeling?”

“I am well enough,” Emma replied as Aunt Cora wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm.

“Wonderful.”

Words danced on the tip of Emma’s tongue, eager to express themselves and hopeful that the mercurial woman before her would today be an ally.

“Aunt Cora, may I be honest with you?” Emma asked tentatively.

“Of course, dear.” She finished her task then gave her attention to Emma, who’d been chewing her lip in contemplation.

“The truth is,” she began softly, knowing that any wrong word or inflection could be met with a harsh response. “I’m worried the Commander and Mrs. Pendragon will make me leave the house as soon as the baby comes.”

Aunt Cora attempted to disguise her expression of shock. Whether it was shock from not knowing that information herself, or the fact that Emma knew it, she could not say.

“That is their prerogative. We will honor what the parents feel is best for the welfare of their baby.” Emma tried not to bristle at the woman’s words. Their baby. “And we will act in the best interests of whichever household you are assigned to next.”

Bile started to work its way up from her stomach. “How quickly will that happen?”

“Not until you are physically able to perform your duties,” the Aunt assured her. “No matter how much pressure these Commanders apply.”

“Pressure?”

“You are a popular girl.” Cora glanced down at her with a simpering smile. “Several households have already made overtures in the hopes of having you assigned to them. Commander and Mrs. Oz even sent over baked goods as a bit of bribery. I’ve left them in the kitchen for when your mistress feels you are entitled to a special treat.”

“Does that work?” Emma inquired, balling her hands in her lap and allowing the crescent shaped divots her nails were pressing into her palms to help keep her voice steady. “Bribery?”

“Perhaps bribery isn’t the proper term,” she backpedaled. “It isn’t as if the Handmaid has any say in the matter, but treats are sometimes sent to help endear a Handmaid to a family before they arrive. Help break the ice, so to speak.”

“So, this Commander Oz and his wife feel rather confident that I’ll be assigned to them?”

“It would seem so.” Aunt Cora shook her head and began packing up her midwifery bag. “But you are getting ahead of yourself, my dear. You still have a duty and obligation to the Pendragons to perform before you need to consider your next posting.”

“Ofarthur,” Granny called out from the doorway of the sitting room. “If you’ve finished with your examination, the Commander has summoned us to the living room.”

Emma looked up at Cora who nodded, dismissing her from the woman’s presence. “I will see you next week, dear.”

Following Granny out of the room, Emma whispered, “What’s going on?”

“They tell me?” Granny muttered under her breath, causing the edges of Emma’s mouth to twitch upward.

When they entered the room, Commander Pendragon was seated on the settee looking over documents with Killian positioned behind him over one shoulder. A young man, decked out in Guardian garb, stood at attention in the middle of the room.

“Ah, there you are,” the Commander said, glancing at his watch after handing a folder of papers off to Killian.

The young Guardian looked over at her with a hard stare, silently berating her as if she’d intentionally been late to this meeting, of which she knew nothing about.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Emma replied to the Commander in a deferential tone.

“Don’t worry yourself over it,” the Commander waved off. “I understand you had an appointment with one of the Aunts.”

“Yes.”

“And is everything okay? With the baby?”

“Yes, Commander.” Emma couldn’t keep her eyes from flicking up to Killian’s. “Aunt Cora says the baby is progressing very well.”

“Good.” He tucked his pen in the inside pocket of his jacket and stood. “I’m taking a short trip for work. Mrs. Pendragon will be joining me, and Killian will of course be coming along to act as our security. While we are gone, Felix,” he nodded towards the young Guardian, “will watch over the house and the baby.”

“Blessed be the fruit,” Felix recited dutifully.

“May the Lord open.” A way of escape, she finished in her head. It had become her new mantra of late, given how desperate she was to not have her baby born within Camelot.

“Felix has been graciously loaned to us by Commander Oz,” Pendragon continued. “I know you all will be on your best behavior.”

“Yes, sir,” she and Granny replied, eyeing one another with equal hesitancy.

“Where are you going?” Emma chanced with playful curiosity, catching Killian’s eyes before they turned down towards his feet.

“Canada.”

The Commander’s answer rang out in her head. Canada. The only source of salvation for those hoping to flee Camelot’s regime. Their borders had remained open during the war, welcoming refugees upon the tens of thousands and granting U.S. citizens a place of sanctuary. Emma had only been about two miles from the border when she’d been caught by Camelot Guardians and transported to the nearest Red Center. She’d been flagged by the regime early on as a desirable due to her history of fertility and having had experienced a live birth once before. Once she’d been tagged with the red indicator pierced through the top of her ear and forced to don the red dress, all hope of escape had drained out of her.

Until now.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must finish packing.” The Commander began to exit the room, pausing only long enough to issue a few final commands. “Killian you may collect our luggage shortly. Felix, I’m putting my trust in you. Keep them safe.”

“Yes, sir. I will,” the young man replied.

The four of them remained, awkwardly looking around at one another until Granny thankfully broke the tension.

“Come along, Felix. I’ll show you to the servant’s quarters and get you set up.”

For a moment the Guardian seemed leary in leaving the two of them alone together, but eventually gave a brusque nod before following Granny out the door. Emma was in Killian’s embrace only seconds later, savoring the feel of his arms around her and his heart beating gently against her ear through his chest. She knew they didn’t have long, but neither of them wanted to waste any opportunity for a quiet moment together.

“Everything is well with the babe, you said?”

“Yes,” Emma assured him. “Cora said everything is perfect.” Reluctantly, she pulled away, but then grabbed his hand and led him over to the nook next to the fireplace which would afford them a bit more privacy. “When did you find out about the trip?”

“This morning. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but the Aunt arrived just as I was leaving Pendragon’s office.”

“It’s okay. How long will you be gone?”

“A few days.” Killian placed a hand over her belly and she covered it with her own. “But not a day will go by I won’t think of you both.”

“Good,” she breathed as her heart fluttered in her chest.

A soft smile spread over his lips and crinkled at his eyes until they suddenly widened and flicked down to her stomach.

“Was that?”

“I think she’s going to miss you, too,” Emma said with mirth lacing her words at Killian’s awed expression. They didn’t know for sure if it was a girl, Camelot preferred to learn these things the traditional way, but Emma had a feeling. “I’d hoped you’d be the first to feel her move. I think she finds your voice soothing, because she never seems active when you’re around. Now I won’t have to hide the fact those kicks are strong enough to be felt now.”

“You mean, no one else has felt-”

Emma shook her head, cutting off his question. “Just us.”

Killian sank down to one knee and framed her belly with his hands, resting his forehead against its protrusion.

“Do you ever think about the three of us? What we could be?” He lifted his gaze back up to her, and Emma’s heart nearly stopped from the look in his too blue eyes. “Because I do. I think about it all the time.”

“I think about it, too,” she confessed past the lump in her throat. “But Cora all but confirmed that the Pendragons aren’t going to let me stay here after the birth. Which means… we don’t have much time left.”

“Aye,” Killian sighed, getting to his feet. “I know.”

Tears burned in Emma’s eyes at the notion she was about to voice, the tightening in her chest almost making it impossible to get the words out.

“Don’t come back,” she blurted out.

Killian’s brows furrowed and he cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean, don’t come back?”

“You’re going to Canada, Killian,” Emma whispered urgently. “All you have to do is get to one of the refugee centers and they’ll grant you asylum. You can escape.”

“And leave you and our child here to rot?” Killian protested. “No, Emma. I can’t do that. I won’t,” he stated vehemently with fire blazing in his eyes.

“But with you on the other side, you might be able to find a way to get us out. You’ll have all sorts of intel to offer.”

“And what if that intel proves futile? What if those in charge don’t feel it would be worth the risk? I could never forgive myself for leaving you behind.”

“And I could never forgive myself, knowing you had a chance to escape and didn’t because of me.” Her tears broke free and began streaking down her face. “Please, Killian. Promise me if you get the chance, you’ll take it.”

“Emma, I-”

“Promise!”

“Alright, love,” he conceded, pulling her back into his arms. “I promise.”

Part Three

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #handmaid's tale au #dystopian au #content warnings #killian jones #emma swan #mtlo #may the lord open #words by hollye

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