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elizabeethan · 3 years

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The Days We Defend (Will Turn To Gold)- Chapter 5

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4

Read on Ao3

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for beta-ing for me!!!!!! You’ve been such a great help bringing this story to where it needs to be 🥲💗

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Killian didn’t plan on staying here long. He’d hoped to find the book, find Emma, and break the curse.

It hasn’t worked out that way.

Each day he does the same mundane things: he wakes with a start alone in one of Granny’s rooms, realizes where the hell he is, has some form of tantrum that could likely rival his toddler’s, then goes about his cursed life. He eats breakfast at Granny’s, sometimes alone, and sometimes with Henry in secret, hashing out their plans. He works second shift at the docks, rolling his eyes inwardly each time Mr. Smee shouts an order at him. He visits with his daughter, but is never allowed to take her away from the dreadful place. He’s forced to call her Talia in front of the women who care for her.

It’s been three weeks of torture. Henry continues to insist that they need a plan to break the curse, and Killian insists that he already has one. He knows that during the first curse, Emma needed to believe in magic before True Love’s Kiss could break it, so that’s what he’ll ensure. He just isn’t sure how.

As it turns out, his non-plan hasn’t gotten them anywhere, so Henry has initiated Operation Rattlesnake. “I know who we have to find,” Henry says from across the booth, barely paying any mind to his breakfast.

“Aye?” Killian asks, stabbing his fork into his eggs. “Who's that?”

“The Sorcerer. There’s a few pages in here about Snow White and Prince Charming finding the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, and he removed any chance of darkness from their unborn child. If the Apprentice can do that, then the Sorcerer should be able to get rid of the Dark One, right?”

Killian drops his fork, cocking his head as he looks up at Henry and considers his words. He looks back down at the pages and sees an illustration Snow and Charming talking with a bearded old man. “Where did these pages come from?”

“What do you mean?”

He raises a brow and scratches behind his ear. “Were these pages in the book all along?”

Henry shrugs nonchalantly and says, “I don’t know. I’ve learned not to question when weird things happen to this book.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning, there are missing pages, too. Here,” he says, turning a few pages and then rotating the book to face Killian. He points at the seam at the center and says, “see? These were torn out. The story after my grandpa died. What happened there?”

Killian nods, noting the very real depiction of the death of the Dark One in the room behind his shop, followed conveniently by absolutely nothing. “And what of this story about Snow and Charming?”

“You mean my grandparents?” he asks with a smirk. “Seriously, who are they here?”

“Seriously, not telling,” Killian mumbles, stabbing into his sausage link. “Show me that one.”

He flips through the book some more until he turns back to the story of the King and Queen, then explains its premise. It had been prophesied that their child had the potential for great darkness, so they used the Apprentice’s powers to remove the darkness altogether, thus likely making Emma the great proprietor of light magic, as Regina calls her. “Interesting.”

“Maybe that’s why my mom is the Savior,” he suggests.

The lad may have a point; eradicating any chance of darkness from Emma would certainly bode well for her becoming the Savior. “Perhaps,” he agrees.

“You’re weird,” Henry says suddenly, and Killian looks at him in shock.

“You’re weird,” he argues childishly.

“I’m serious! Some things you’ll tell me about before the curse, but other things are off limits? How come?” He shrugs. “Who are my grandparents? Who’s the Dark One?”

“I’m not telling you who the Dark One is, Henry. You don’t need to know right now.”

“What about my grandparents?”

“They’re lovely,” he says, looking up and smirking at him.

“So you do know them!” he says too loudly. “Can I tell you who I think my grandma is?”

He sighs, turning his head back down and taking another bite of his breakfast before saying, “you can tell me, but I’m not going to confirm or deny it.”

“My teacher, Miss Blanchard.”

He chuckles at Henry’s determination and wit, having to do his best to not give away that he’s completely right. He wonders if he knew during the first curse. He thinks he must’ve. “Can I ask you something, lad?”

“Sure,” he strugs, taking another gargantuan bite of french toast.

“Why is it so important to you that you know these things? What would it change if you knew?”

He purses his lips and narrows his eyes, the same way Emma does when she’s thinking, then shrugs again. “I don't know. I guess I’ve just always been thinking about it and now that you’re telling me it’s real…” another shrug. “And plus, maybe if I knew, I could help more.”

‘You’ve been plenty help, Henry. Truly. I would likely be in much lower spirits if not for your being here.”

He snorts and looks down, refusing to make eye contact as any almost-14-year-old would. “I thought you were supposed to be fearsome. Are you this gross and sappy without curses?”

“Worse.”

They continue eating in silence, Henry clearly over the sappy moments with the man he doesn’t know is his step-father, until he decides to speak again, bringing the conversation back to his original goal to gain more information.

“Did Regina cast the curse?”

Killian sighs, telling him, “I don't know,” instead of answering clearly. It’s not entirely a lie— it could have realistically been Bae who cast this curse, although he doubts it. He does wonder how they would have managed to cast it, what with the need to sacrifice the heart of the thing they love most, but he’s sure he’ll get that answer once it’s broken.

“Is it the Dark Curse? Like the one in the book?”

“I suppose so.”

“What about my mom? I know you know her somehow. It’s pretty obvious that you’re obsessed with her.” He blushes fiercely, shrugging. “And then there’s Tal- I mean, Corrine. You said she’s your daughter, but who the hell is having babies with Captain Hook?”

He snorts slightly, looking up at the lad through his lashes and then reaching for his mug of coffee. “I can assure you, her conception was not planned,” he mumbles.

“Ew.”

“Once the curse is broken, lad, things will make sense. I’ve no desire to destroy your concept of reality any further.”

“What does that mean?” Killian shrugs. “Is it about my mom?” He shrugs again. He’s never felt so childish around an actual child. “Oh my god,” he starts. “Is she… no way. You didn’t… with my mom, did you? Is Corrine my… my sister?”

He’s silent for a moment, unwilling to make eye contact with the lad as the pieces begin to fall into place in his mind. “Henry…”

“You kissed my mom?!”

He clears his throat, scratching behind his ear, desperately trying to stop himself from informing the boy that he’d done far more than kiss his mom. He considers how much it would destroy Henry to learn that they actually happily live together. “It’s not exactly what you think, lad.”

“I think I have a secret, cursed sister and my mom kissed Captain Hook!” he says a bit too loudly. Killian’s eyes bug out of his head and he holds up his hand, waving it in front of Henry’s face.

“You sound like a madman, Henry!” Killian hisses. He can understand the lad being outraged by the idea of his mother being with anyone, but he’s going to get them thrown into the asylum if he keeps up his shouting.

“You had a baby with my mom!”

“Aye, I did. And we need to break this bloody curse so that I can bring my child and her mother home. Now focus and tell me what we need to do to get a hold of this Sorcerer.”

Henry looks nauseated. “You live together!?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he leans forward to get Henry’s attention. “You live with us, most of the time. Now focus.” He hopes that giving him a task, a responsibility in solving their troubles, will help him to remain in high spirits. “You need to figure out how we find the Sorcerer. That’s how you can help me break the curse.”

“Ugh,” he says, shaking himself out. “I’ll check out some stuff from the library. I live with you?”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Killian grunts out, taking another swig from his mug and wishing desperately it was rum instead of coffee. “It only serves to distract you from Operation Rattlesnake.”

“Yeah, I don't think I want to know anymore,” he says with his face still screwed up in disgust. “I’ll meet you after school, usual spot.” Killian nods, placing some money on the table as Henry stands and walks out of the diner.

Despite his odd and confounding morning, Killian’s happy to finally have some semblance of a plan. Perhaps now, with Henry’s hunch that some Sorcerer can remove the darkness from Regina, breaking the curse will be easier. At least they’ll have an idea of what steps to take once it’s broken.

He anticipates having a somewhat good day, what with his plans to bring Emma to see Corrine once again. He’s found that the only source of joy over the last few weeks have been spending time with Henry, who allows him to speak freely about the curse (mostly), and seeing his daughter and her mother playing together as if they aren’t strangers to one another.

Each day that he spends time with Emma, he gets more information about her cursed life. She’s opened up to him quite easily and he continues to insist that she’s easy to read. It’s true that he has a lot of background knowledge on her already, but it’s also true that she’s always been an open book. He hopes that the more he talks to her, the more likely she is to remember her old life and perhaps long for it. Maybe that would be enough to make her believe Henry’s hunch.

Emma specified several times that, on the days that they go together to see Corrine, she’s only available during the afternoon, and she must always be home prior to dinner. Killian likes to see Corrine for lunch time so he can eat with her, then enjoy some playtime, so the schedule she insists upon works well. Several times a week, she meets him outside of Granny’s and they walk to the convent together, talking casually along the way.

In the days before this curse struck, Emma was distant. She struggled to open up to Killian unless they were in bed together, she was constantly on edge, anxious and angry, and she started to build her walls higher and higher each day. Walking along the streets with her now, it’s as if she’s a different person, and a part of him hates it. She's still closed off, but it’s in a different way. She trusts him, as she often tells him, but her made up experiences have vexed her. She’s not allowed to see her son without permission from Regina and Neal, the two people who should absolutely not have a say in when Emma sees her child.

She told him that she gave up Henry when the lad was born, but the reason she did it was because his father was sent to jail, and she didn’t think she could raise a baby alone. Neal found out about the adoption upon his release and reached out to Regina, then turned his life around and became the sheriff of the small coastal town. According to Baelfire and Regina’s reality, he made the noble choice and didn’t actually make Emma take the fall for his own crimes, then leave her pregnant in prison at seventeen years old. Rather, he found his son while Emma traipsed around Boston irresponsibly until Henry came to get her.

The Mayor is also beloved by all, apparently. Henry lives with her and visits his father frequently, so it would seem that their scheme worked. It also seems that Bae’s ploy to make everyone forget Killian worked based on his need to introduce himself to everyone he already knows, as if he truly is new in town. The only thing that makes no sense to Killian is the fact that Bae and Emma aren't together, at least it doesn't seem it. The entire situation makes him nauseous.

“Hello,” she greets as he walks out of the diner to meet her. She looks as beautiful as ever, in spite of the messiness to her hair and the shallowness in her face. She looks so stressed and tired, even though she seems happy enough, and he isn't sure what to make of that.

“Afternoon, love,” he says in return, stepping in time with her as they make stride towards the convent.

“So, tell me something,” she insists, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket and bumping her shoulder into his. “I feel like we’re always talking about my screwed up life.”

He chuckles. “And what would you like to know?”

“Why Talia?”

He rolls his eyes at her foolish made up name and says, “I had no say in naming her.”

She laughs. “No, I mean why her?”

Killian nods. He can't exactly tell her that he’s the child’s father and that Emma is her mother and Killian’s lover, so he thinks fast. “I believe I told you I knew her mother. I feel close to her, to both of them, when I see her.”

“Is that why you came to Storybrooke in the first place?”

“Uh,” he starts, clearing his throat. “I suppose so, yeah.”

“Is… um, is her mother coming back?”

He considers his answer carefully. He doesn't want to lie to her, but he also doesn't want to give her the impression that he’s unavailable or waiting around for someone who isn't her. Not that he suspects her to be anywhere near looking at him in that way, but he’d rather not chance in. “Not in this lifetime,” he settles upon, drawing a thoughtful hum from her.

“Well, I'm sorry she lost her mother,” she consoles, “and that you lost her, too. I’m sure she must've been important to you.”

He clears his throat again, scratching behind his ear as he considers how carefully he has to answer. How carefully he has to talk to her at all times. “Thank you. She is.”

When they arrive, the fairy escorts both him and Emma down to the communal room where Corrine is eating her lunch, and she smiles at him happily and tosses her cup down to the floor to reach for him excitedly. Before he can reach her, she’s starting to climb out of her seat just like she’d do at home, and she’s almost jumping by the time he catches her. It pains him to see her react so happily to him despite her not truly knowing who he is, though he wonders if a part of her remembers, just as it seems that a part of Emma trusts him inherently. He wonders if him being awake through the curse has anything to do with that. “Hello, darling,” he says as he lifts her into his arms and wipes her face with a damp disposable cloth.

“You're so good with her,” Emma points out as she takes a seat at the table, smiling at the lass joyously.

He smiles back, sitting across from Emma with Corrine in his lap. “She makes it easy, I suppose.” He doesn't miss the fact that the fairy hasn't left the room, continuing to watch him distrustfully.

“Hi!” she shouts to Emma, causing her to grin and blush as she leans towards the baby.

“Hello!”

Corrine reaches for her mother, making grabbing motions with her fat little fingers and grinning at her, and the sight squeezes his heart firmly. It took a few times meeting Emma for Corrine to fully warm up to her, confirming his thoughts that she’s under the curse as well, but now she’s comfortable with her. Part of him beams seeing the two of them sitting together once Emma stands to pick the babe up from his hold, but much of him tingles with pain and anger. It shouldn't be like this. Corrine shouldn't be spending any of her formative years not knowing that the woman she’s with is her mother.

They play with her after she’s finished her sandwich, filled with a strange mixture of fruity jam and peanut spread, and she looks so cute happily playing away with Emma. The fairy leaves the room eventually, which settles his nerves. He’s been here under this curse far longer than he thought he would be, so he knows he must stay in her good graces so that he can continue to see his daughter each day.

“Killian,” Emma starts, covering her eyes with her hands and then opening them up to shout boo! at Corrine.

“Boo!” Corrine says back, giggling as Emma tickles her belly.

“Aye?”

“Are you going to adopt her?”

He falters at her question, considering the meaning behind her words. What she means is that Killian isn’t her father here, and he would have to go through a tormenting legal system in order to officially claim a title that is already his.

He’s got to break this bloody curse.

“Dop!” Corrine says, grinning at Killian and pointing commandingly. “You, dop!”

“Yeah!” Emma agrees with a smile.

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “Perhaps I would.”

Blue summons them after two hours, coming to collect Corrine and see them off. Once she’s picked up by the fairy, she begins crying, reaching for Killian and Emma pathetically. He feels his own eyes filling with tears as he says goodbye and assures her that they’ll see her soon, although he knows she can’t fully understand.

He rushes from the area, desperate to remove himself and hopefully not drag out her tortured response to them leaving, and when they step towards the waiting area, they’re greeted by Henry. “Hey,” he says casually.

“Henry, you should be in school for another half hour, what are you doing here?” Emma asks frantically, guiding him out of the building towards the sidewalk and starting in the direction of the school.

“I actually came to see Killian, but I guess I should’ve known you guys would be here together,” he says with a repulsed look on his face.

“Lad, you can’t be here. You need to get back to school.”

“I didn’t—”

“Henry!”

The three of them turn towards the sound of a car door closing and are met with Bae stepping out of a patrol car and hurrying to them.

Emma groans beside her son and glances nervously towards Killian. “Neal,” she starts.

“Emma, what the hell? What are you doing? He has to be in school!”

“I know, I was just—”

“This is exactly the kind of decision that makes me not want to let you see him!”

“Mate,” Killian tries, but he’s cut off.

“Stay out of this, Jones.” He turns towards Emma and continues. “So, now you're spending all your time with the town drunk, is that it?”

“Neal, that isn’t fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you choosing a guy over your kid’s best interest, again. Come on, Henry.”

“Dad—”

“I said come on.”

“Neal— Henry!”

“I’ll see you at home, Emma, if you even decide to bother.” Neal says with disappointment dripping from his voice. Home.

As she watches Henry walk away, turning back once to stare at her apologetically, he feels her tensing beside him despite the fact that they aren’t even touching. Her bottom lip quivers and she bites down on it hard to prevent it from wobbling too obviously, turning to him and looking into his eyes with her sad and tearful ones.

“Sorry about what he said,” she tells him dejectedly.

He shakes his head. “Do you… do you live with him, love?”

She nods, the face she gives him telling him he should have known. “Yeah, he took me in when I moved to Storybrooke.”

“Ah,” he nods. His anger hasn’t dissipated. The more he learns of her life here, the more he sees how much Bae and Regina have manipulated all of them, especially Henry and Emma. Emma, who has a lucrative career in her non-cursed life, is jobless and forced to live with her ex while he does her job. Emma, who is perhaps Henry's only fit parent, is being told that she needs permission to see her own son. Emma, the strongest person he’s ever known, has been reduced to some pathetic thing who needs saving. It’s cracking his resolve, but he knows he must pull himself back together for her sake. “I hadn’t realized.”

She sniffles, taking a few steps away from him and starting down the sidewalk as he swiftly follows. “After Henry found me, Neal took me in. But he found out about my past… I mean, I have a bit of a record. Not a big deal, but he sees it as an example of me making bad decisions.”

“What happened in your past?”

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “There was this guy, and he was just a bad influence. I was having trouble focusing on what’s important.”

“What, so he keeps an eye on you?” he scoffs. “Is that why you can only be out in the afternoon? Is that when he’s at the station?”

“It’s— no, it’s not like that.”

“Sorry. I realize that I’m overstepping, I apologize.” His voice was becoming vapid and he knew he needed to calm down. She shakes her head.

“No, it’s—” she stops herself from continuing, taking a deep breath and wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she walks. He wants to wrap his arms tightly around her. “It’s okay. I don't know why, but you're really easy to talk to. I mean, it’s easy to tell you stuff, even if it sucks.”

“You know you can, aye? Talk to me?”

She hums out a soft laugh and says, “yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

She stops walking to turn to him and smile, and he has a thought. He thinks she could kiss him right now— he would love to kiss her right now. But he wonders what implications that would have on the curse. Is he naive to think that what they have could be True Love? Does her cursed self have enough love for him to break the curse?

He doesn’t get the chance to test his theory. As her eyes start fluttering and she leans towards him, he reaches his prosthetic hand up towards her cheek and leans in but is interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” Emma asks into the phone, and he groans, wanting to press his forehead to hers but resisting the urge.

“Miss Swan,” Regina says, cluing Killian in to exactly who’s on the other end.

She groans quietly as well, separating herself from him and rolling her eyes in his direction, “madam mayor, hello.”

“What’s going on with Henry?” she asks, completely ignoring the greeting. “His father said he was with you rather than in school?”

“News travels fast,” Killian remarks under his breath.

“Miss Swan,” she says pointedly before Emma could answer her. “Need I remind you that your poor choices reflect poorly on any consideration we have for you seeing my son?”

“No, Regina, it wasn’t—”

“I really must insist that you take Henry into account when you choose who you surround yourself with.”

“I do! I always take Henry into account—”

“I hate to say this, Miss Swan, but you’re not doing a very good job at proving that. I suggest you consider your actions further, or this unsanctioned visit with Henry will be your last.”

She hangs up the phone before Emma even has a chance to argue with her.

Her bottom lip starts to wobble again and her eyes bug out twice their size and glass over in response to Regina’s abusive words. “Love,” he tries, but she pulls away, walls up, and starts walking again.

“Swan!” he calls after her as he runs to catch up.

“I can’t do this!” she shouts. “I can’t keep putting up with this! All I want is to see my son.”

“Swan,” he says again, softly as he takes her hand in his boldly.

“Everyone says I should just give up. Maybe they’re right.”

“No, love, that isn’t true.”

“All I want is for him to have a good life,” she says through her tears. “That obviously isn’t with me. It feels like everything I do is a strike against me, no matter what my intentions are. I think I might have to just go back to Boston.”

He pulls her hand until she stops walking and turns towards him. “You can’t, Emma.”

“Why?”

“Don’t let them dictate what you do. You’re Henry’s mother, no matter what anyone says.”

“Everyone says it. No one gets why I’m even here; Henry already has a mom. He doesn't need two.”

It’s crushing him to hear his Swan talk this way. She’s so defeated and he doesn't think he’s ever seen her so wilted and weak. Part of Regina’s curse must have been to punish Emma for not letting her see Henry, and if that were the case, he would say she’s succeeding. “Emma Swan, we will find a way to beat this,” he promises her.

She sniffles, her breath catching, and she looks up at him with watery eyes and rosy cheeks. “You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She narrows her eyes again, cocking her head in thought as she considers his words. He wonders if she’s thinking back to three years ago when he said the exact same thing while she was searching for her son in Neverland, but he doubts it.

“I just… ” she sighs.

“Let me get you a hot chocolate.”

She draws her brows together and sighs, clearly downtrodden as she nods weakly and draws herself away from him. If this was really his Emma, he would take her in his arms and hug her close to him, but he doesn't dare do that now. “Okay,” she says softly, turning away and walking towards Granny’s.

When they arrive, she sits herself so heavily on the booth that he thinks she may break it. He orders a hot chocolate for her and a donut for himself, wishing he could rip a few pieces off and share them with Corrine, and hands her the mug as he sits down.

“I just…” she sighs heavily. “Henry keeps telling me something’s wrong, you know? And a part of me believes him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, every time I talk to him it’s like he’s trying to convince me that something is… off. He’s always talking about his book and showing me stories in it, but it’s like he’s trying to convince me to believe that the stories are… like…”

“Real?”

She sighs, shrugging. “Can I tell you something?” Her voice is so timid that he can barely hear her in the bustling diner.

“Of course, darling.”

“Sometimes… sometimes when Henry talks about his curse and how we’re all fairytale characters…” she shrugs once again, “I don't know. It just feels like it could be real sometimes. I almost want it to be real.”

His heart starts racing and his palms begin to sweat at her words. “How do you mean?” he asks, hoping to encourage her to say more and perhaps stir up some memories.

“Just that I think life would be a lot easier if… if I was a character in a fairytale.”

“Aye, perhaps it would.”

She nods, not looking up from her mug as she continues. “It just feels like anything I do is the wrong thing. I have the worst luck. And, just… my life sucks,” she laughs. “This can’t be all there is.”

Rather than argue with her, as he so desperately wants to, he tries to lighten the mood just a bit. “You know, if the curse were true, that would mean that you would be the person to break it,” he points out.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and smiling falsely. “There's no possible reality where I am a Savior. How the hell would I even break it?”

It becomes clear that, while she may not have lost her belief in the possibility of magic, she’s lost her belief in herself. “Why, True Love’s Kiss, of course,” he says triumphantly with a grin shot her way. It doesn’t go over quite as he wanted it to.

She rolls her eyes once more. “No one loves me, Killian. It doesn't matter who I love or how hard I try; no one can ever love me back.”

“That isn’t true,” he shakes his head, taking her hands in his and pulling them off of her mug until she finally looks up into his eyes. He can’t tell her that he loves her so he says, “it isn’t true, Emma.”

He’s never seen her like this. She’s completely defeated and overcome with a sense of failure that he thinks he might burst if this damn curse doesn’t get broken soon. He can tell that he’s close, but every second spent is a second too long.

“You’re…” she starts, glancing down but then right back up into his eyes. “You’re something else. Very intense,” she laughs awkwardly.

“Aye, I suppose I am.”

“I’m not really used to,” she waves her fingers around in front of his face, “all that.”

He smiles sadly at her, boldly taking her hand in his a squeezing, and says, “I think you may get used to it, love.”

She nods slowly and doesn’t pull her hand away. “Yeah.”

#the days we defend #walk with me #sequel #days we defend ff #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan

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themattress · 3 years

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OUAT AND ME: FINAL ANALYSIS

"That is indeed a complicated story. The timelines alone would make one’s head spin. Only a true Author could weave such a tale." - The Sorcerer's Apprentice, 7x21: "Homecoming"

So, the question still stands: how am I supposed to make my peace with Once Upon a Time? How am I supposed to fully love it again and hold on to that love when it made such a tragic downward spiral in quality? It seemed like an impossibility, but in keeping with the spirit of the show back when it was true to its message, I held firmly onto hope that I could do it.

And as frustrating as having to re-experience the show's decline was....I have!

Because you see, I came to remember something important. In the end, OUAT isn't about hope, or morality, or redemption, or what it is to be a hero or a villain, or happy endings, etc.

OUAT is about stories. And regardless of whether a story is told well or told poorly, it is a story nonetheless. This commitment to being all about stories remained true from start to finish for OUAT, as it went balls to the wall telling stories within stories within stories. While the creative staff behind the show seemed to have differing agendas in many aspects, this was the one aspect they were firmly united behind, and in the end that's what makes OUAT special.

And in the spirit of that storytelling focus, and in the spirit of the show's own tendency to stand on wobbly logic in order to tell its stories, I have decided that the story of OUAT is actually a timestream; one that branches into several different versions (or tellings, if you will) of the story, all of them with differences in their timelines, plotlines, and end points.

The "Snow Falls" Timeline - This is the original telling of the story, spanning from the Dark Curse Saga of Season 1 to the Neverland Saga of Season 3. It begins with Henry Mills seeking out his birth mother Emma Swan and bringing her to Storybrooke so that she can break the Dark Curse, and concludes with Emma and Henry driving across the town line as Storybrooke and all its inhabitants are sent back to where they came from, the Dark Curse fully undone and Henry's "Once Upon a Time" storybook disappearing within the cloud of purple smoke. And in this timeline, the Wonderland Saga happens in the timeframe of the early events of the Price of Magic Saga, as it was originally intended to in the initially filmed pilot episode. Anything that happens beyond "Going Home" is left up to the imagination.

The "Snow Drifts" Timeline - This telling of the story spans from the Dark Curse Saga of Season 1 to the Operation Mongoose Saga of Season 4, with the Wonderland Saga transpiring directly afterward. It begins with Henry Mills seeking out his birth mother Emma Swan and bringing her to Storybrooke so that she can break the Dark Curse, and concludes with Henry becoming the new Author, freeing everyone from Isaac Heller's illusionary reality, followed by the rest of the heroes looking to find a way to contain the Darkness after it is removed from Rumple. Afterward, this hypothetical Season 5 of mine is able to transpire.

The "Heroes and Villains" Timeline - This telling of the story spans from the Dark Curse Saga of Season 1 to the Underworld Saga of Season 5, with the Wonderland Saga transpiring after Season 4's Operation Mongoose Saga. It begins with Henry Mills seeking out his birth mother Emma Swan and bringing her to Storybrooke so that she can break the Dark Curse, and concludes with a finale like this one, except that Robin sadly is dead.

The "Final Battle" Timeline - This telling of the story spans from the Dark Curse Saga of Season 1 to the Savior's Fate Saga of Season 6, with the Wonderland Saga transpiring after Season 4's Operation Mongoose Saga. It begins with Henry Mills seeking out his birth mother Emma Swan and bringing her to Storybrooke so that she can break the Dark Curse, and concludes with Emma triumphing in the Final Battle, saving all the realms and light magic from destruction. There are two versions of this telling, one where Rumple dies sacrificing his heart for Gideon, and another where he lives and is given a second chance at a family.

The "Coven of Eight" Timeline - This telling of the story spans from the Dark Curse Saga of Season 1 to the Hyperion Heights Saga of Season 7, with the Wonderland Saga transpiring after Season 4's Operation Mongoose Saga. It begins with Henry Mills seeking out his birth mother Emma Swan and bringing her to Storybrooke so that she can break the Dark Curse, and concludes with Regina being crowned Good Queen of all the realms.

So now you must be wondering, how did these branches of the timestream come to be? Well, each but one holds two possible options for their creation, both equally valid: they are either the result of a new Dark Curse being cast or of the fabric of time being messed with.

The "Snow Falls" Timeline was created by either Snow and Charming casting a new Dark Curse or by Emma and Hook traveling through time and altering the past. The result caused the events of "Snow Drifts" to supplant those of "Snow Falls", which meant that the now-alternate timeline in which "Snow Falls" was canon had to be branched off at the exact point before the events leading to "Snow Drifts" (in other words, the Wicked Saga) happened.

The "Snow Drifts" Timeline was created by either Nimue casting a new Dark Curse through Dark Hook or by Isaac Heller temporarily rewriting reality. This means that the timeline that was currently in effect was rendered alternate at the exact point before the events leading to Nimue's Dark Curse (in other words, the Dark Swan Saga) happened, or at the point when Isaac messed with reality (in other words, the Operation Mongoose Saga).

The "Heroes and Villains" Timeline was created by either Fiona casting a new Dark Curse or by the Evil Queen creating the Wish Realm to trap Emma in. This means that the timeline that was currently in effect was rendered alternate at the exact point before the events leading to either of these causes (in other words, the Savior's Fate Saga) happened.

The "Final Battle" Timeline was the only one created by a single possibility: Drizella leading the Coven of Eight in casting a new Dark Curse, since it was both the casting of a Dark Curse and screwing with the fabric of time by sending everyone back several years into the past. This means that the timeline that was currently in effect was rendered alternate at the exact point before the events leading to this (in other words, the Hyperion Heights Saga) happened and that the "Coven of Eight" Timeline is now the "official" timeline, aka the show.

While I technically can conceive of ways in which the story could stop at either the Wicked Saga and even the Frozen Saga, they can't realistically be made into branches of a timestream because they rely too much on cutting out things that are present in the show, which is a leap too far and I'd feel like a real Isaac Heller if I did that. And it goes without saying that (even though it's satisfying in of itself) the story can't really end at the Dark Curse Saga since there's way too much still up in the air, least of all the big "magic is coming" cliffhanger; the Price of Magic Saga since its ending is a direct lead-in to the Neverland Saga; or the Dark Swan Saga because its ending is a direct lead-in to the Underworld Saga (it can end with the Underworld Saga as it does in the Heroes and Villains Timeline because the "Only You" / "An Untold Story" Season 5 finale is it's own thing apart from that arc, so its removal and replacement isn't affecting anything.) So I’m left with just these five options.

And with the variety presented here, I find myself kind of loving Once Upon a Time again! The quality of the story may fluctuate wildly depending on which timeline / telling it is, but regardless of which one it is, it’s something that - for better or worse - you’re going to find quite unlike anything else out there. And so at least I have made peace with it, realized that it is bigger than its awful creators, and have accepted that regardless of my personal feelings towards all of the less than desirable parts of it....I’m a ONCEr. And I always will be.

“And you may think this is just a story. But that's the thing about stories. They're more than words. They live inside of us. They make us who we are. And as long as someone believes that......there will always be magic.” - (Teenage) Henry Mills, 7x20: “Is This Henry Mills?”

#Once Upon a Time #ABC #OUAT and Me #Opinion #Analysis

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years

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our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 12

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter twelve [12/12] AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she’s been thinking that maybe it should say “Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck.”

Her partner’s been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

this is it, guys. THE END.

i need to take a moment and thank everyone who’s been here following along with me, especially @carpedzem, @stahlop, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @kmomof4. i would have been lost without @thisonesatellite, @profdanglaisstuff and @katie-dub

to the fam in the @captainswanbigbang discord: truly, without you, none of this would have been happened. i am so honored to have spent time with you while we all embarked on these journeys together: @shireness-says, @spartanguard, @optomisticgirl, @justanotherwannabeclassic, @distant-rose, @eirabach, @winterbythesea, @scientificapricot, @phiralovesloki, @thejollyroger-writer. thank you again to mods B, kait, phira and @shippingtheswann for running such a tight ship. i was thrilled to be part of the crew.

this chapter is dedicated to robbie, a true hero with a happy ending.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

The Tempest Act IV, Scene 1

Emma exhaled a strangled gasp. She felt like she had been through a wringer--literally flattened and squeezed out until there was nothing left inside of her--and then a pulse of warmth and light had traveled through every part of her, like lightning pulling at her cells. The room around her seemed brighter and there was a quiet in Emma’s mind, peaceful and happy.

read the rest on AO3 (full chapter below the break)

chapter twelve

“What’s going on?” Regina asked. She sounded far away, her voice somewhere on the edge between suspicious and--what else--angry.

“That, Your Majesty,” Gold said, “was True Love’s Kiss.” He was all crocodile as he said it, his voice smooth and smug. When he smiled, it was not a pleasant expression.

“The curse,” Henry said. “Emma broke it.” He was smiling, and Emma grabbed him, squeezing him so tightly that he grunted, and there was a commotion all around them--

“Snow?”

“Charming?”

“EMMA!”

“She found us--”

“Did you ever doubt that she would?”

--and Emma found herself wrapped up in an embrace that squeezed her so tightly that she yelped in pain, being held by her mother and her father, her father’s hand cupped against the back of her head as he cradled her body in a group hug straight out of--well, a storybook.

“She saved everyone,” Henry said.

Mary Margaret’s--Snow White’s--hands cupped Emma’s cheeks. “I knew you would,” she said.

“Me?” Emma said. The peaceful feeling in her mind faded, just a bit. “I didn’t--”

“You did,” Snow insisted. David’s--Charming’s--hand was on her shoulder, rubbing the back of her neck. He couldn’t seem to move himself away from her, or from them.

“True Love’s Kiss only works,” he said, “if there is love and belief on both sides. And, Emma--I love you. We love you so much.”

“I just hope that now we can show you,” Snow said. She faltered for the first time as she said it, as though the weight of the better part of three decades was suddenly heavy on her mind.

“You believed,” Henry said. He was still smiling. “That’s what a hero does, Mom.”

“Henry,” Emma said, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” he said. Emma kissed him, hitting the crown of his head just like her mother had done--and she swore that, just for a second, she could feel that warmth pass through her again. The magic.

“Rumplestiltskin?” Lacey--Belle--dropped her bag and walked to him, nearly hurling herself at him instead of taking the last step, stopping herself and reaching instead for his arm. Her hand found his on top of his walking stick as she said, “I remember.”

Emma tried to extricate herself from her family--her family--waiting for his voice and the way it would say something stupid like “Hey, beautiful.”

Belle repeated herself. “I remember.” She said the syllables slowly, as if she was feeling each one in her brain and in her mouth before she spoke them. “I love you.”

Gold was very nearly in tears as he hugged her small frame. “Yes,” he said. His voice almost broke. “Yes, and I love you too.”

Where was Killian?

“Mom,” Henry said--

“What’s wrong with my brother?” Liam said.

“There will be time for that, Belle,” Gold said, and the way he articulated the words reminded Emma of that first meeting in her office--the way he sounded as though he was tasting them--his voice full of relish. It was creepy, and it meant nothing good. “There will be time for everything.”

The “later” was implied, but Belle heard it all the same, because she backed away, and that’s when Emma realized: Killian was still unconscious, comatose--cursed--on the cell mattress. Unmoving and even paler than he had been.

Emma went back into the cell and winced as her knee hit the floor, wanting to trace her finger along his jawline and settling for rubbing her thumb against his wrist.

Gold clicked his tongue and smiled, clearly unsurprised. “Why,” he drawled, “Hook is still under the effects of the sleeping curse. Naturally.”

Emma’s fingers reflexively curled around the dagger she still held as she reacted to his voice. Naturally. But there was no way, no fucking way this had been part of his grand plan--

Liam went at Gold, a fist already raised, and Emma grabbed his arm just as he tried to strike. She came up behind him and pulled him back. “Liam, no,” she said. “Not that I don’t applaud your initiative or anything, but--”

Liam glanced back at his brother. “He wouldn’t want this, would he?” He seemed to deflate slightly as he said it.

“No, kid,” Emma said. “He wouldn’t.”

Regina laughed. It was, truly, more of a snarl. “How do you feel about your brother now, Mr. Jones?”

And--dammit--Regina had read him correctly, because Liam flushed.

“I love him,” Liam said--insisted. “He has raised me as his brother with love and kindness for almost thirty years. He is my family, and I love him.”

“Perhaps,” Gold said. “But that anger and betrayal you still carry means that you cannot wake him. It must be her.” He lifted the tip of his cane two inches off the ground and used it to indicate Emma.

“Wait,” David--Charming--said. “Wait, is that Captain Hook?” His mouth opened to say more and--

“Charming,” Snow said, “now is not the time.”

Charming gave her a look that was fond but somehow grudging at the same time and Emma’s heart clenched at the affection there.

“I still have the bottle, Miss Swan,” Gold said. “I can offer you a deal.” The cane moved again, this time pointing at the dagger still in her hand.

He was calm, and he was composed.

But Emma could sense something beneath the layers. Liar. He was scrambling, Emma realized. His plan had failed, his grand big plan of several centuries was over, and there was still something he needed--something he wanted her to do, in exchange for the dagger.

Emma was not going to fall into his trap, or be ensnared in any more of his deals.

They would find another way.

They had to.

“No,” Emma said. “No, I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Gold, and don’t think for one minute that just because your magic curse grand plan didn’t work out I am not throwing your ass in jail for murdering Graham. You still killed someone, buddy, and in this world, that has consequences.”

Graham had died for this blade; Killian had crossed realms and time and still balked at using it. No way in hell was she giving it back to the Dark One.

Belle gasped. “You killed Graham?” She looked from Gold to Killian and back again. “This was all part of one of your plans? You knew this--” she gestured at Killian, dropping Gold’s arm “--was going to happen? Because Hook came for me in the asylum. He gave me a home. He was my friend.”

“He also tried to kill you,” Regina said. Gold growled.

“You locked me up and took away thirty years of my life,” Belle said, all five-foot-nothing of her with hackles up as she faced the queen. “He gave it back to me. I think--I think he changed.”

“Only I was given a gift: To wake up, for twenty-eight years, and not dread the day before it began" "...a life, and friends, and lovers, and none of it was real.”

“He did,” Emma said. She caught Belle’s gaze and held it as she said it again. “He did change, Belle. He is your friend.”

Belle’s expression looked suddenly very far away again, but not cursed; it was as if she was concentrating, searching through a mental catalogue of something until she found the answer.

“This is about the magic,” she said. She looked up at Gold. “Isn’t it? That’s what you meant when you said there would be time for everything later.”

Belle reached for Gold’s arm again. “Swear to me on your son’s life that this isn’t about the magic and I will believe you.”

Gold said nothing.

“Rumple,” Belle said, and she was pleading. “Swear to me. I will believe you. I still love you.”

Gold looked away.

Belle looked at Emma. “You said this was about Bae, and you weren’t wrong,” she said. “But in order to find Bae, he must need a tracking spell. And that means magic. That’s what he wants.”

“How would he bring magic to this world?” Snow White asked.

“There’s a lake,” she said. “In our land, we called it Lake Nostos. It has the power to restore--”

“What’s been lost,” David said. Charming. Whatever. “I’ve seen it. I’ve been there.”

“Assuming that everything in our land has a corollary here, there must be a well nearby that connects to the lake.”

“The wishing well,” Henry said. “It’s in the park just on the edge of Storybrooke.”

“That’s what he wants,” Belle said. “The potion must allow the waters of Lake Nostos to have power here. That’s how he planned to do it. Emma--you can’t let him. It’s wrong. And--”

“Hook wouldn’t want this,” Emma said. “I know. I won’t.”

She repeated to herself, almost like a mantra: they would find another way. They had to.

Emma stood beside her parents, her arms crossed over her chest, the dagger still in one hand.

David looked like he suddenly remembered something as he reached for his belt--the cuff clip he wore there. He handed the cuffs and the keys to Liam and said, “Cuff him.”

“Try it, dearie,” he said. “I’ve been imprisoned before.”

“There’s no magic here, Dark One,” David said. “And there won’t be. I think we’ll be able to hold you this time.”

“No deals,” Snow said firmly.

“Emma can do this,” Henry said.

“I--” Emma said.

“Emma,” Snow said. “We believe in you. So did Hook. That curse only works if you take it willingly. He wanted to save you, and to save Henry. He believed in you.” Her eyes were only on Emma, and on Killian. Her eyes with nothing but warmth and compassion and understanding and Emma had no idea what she was meant to do, or how she was meant to do it. “You know what you need to do, Emma.”

She didn’t. She fingered the ring around her neck and felt hopeless.

“I’m not okay with this,” her father grumbled, then grunted when her mother elbowed him.

“Mom,” Henry said in a loud stage whisper. “You have to kiss him. That’s how the curse works.”

Snow smothered a laugh.

“But--” Emma said. “He has--had--I’m not--”

My Milah. My dead lover. She knew I was motivated. Any port in a storm.

Emma stood motionless.

“Oh, dear,” Gold giggled. “Has the good captain infected you with his ghosts?”

Emma stiffened.

“Milah wouldn’t have wanted this. I would have done anything for her, but she wouldn’t have wanted this.” Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.

“He always did favor brunettes,” Gold said. He was taunting her, he wanted to make her doubt, and it should have worked--hell, five minutes ago, it would have worked; five days ago, it felt like, she hadn’t even met him yet, or Killian, and yet--

Emma closed her eyes and could feel it, the way his breath warmed her skin when they were close together, when he had been so close to her; she could feel it, the way it had been in his office, in Jefferson’s house--that moment between ‘what was’ and ‘what’s next’--and she wondered.

He had loved Milah. But--”It’s you. Don’t you know, Emma? It’s all for you”--and in her dream, it had been an inferno, the magic pushing everywhere in her body, the silver strands of light burning through her.

They’d known each other for five days.

But those moments still felt worth fighting for. She couldn’t lose him before she’d even had the chance to know him, or to know what it was that tied them together.

She already wasn’t the same person she had been before they’d met.

You should know better than anyone that Lost Ones recognize their own.

And she wondered.

“There’s hope, Swan. All you have to do is believe.”

What would it be like, to finally give in, to feel something instead of nothing?

“Just look at me, and believe.”

His lips were cold. Smooth, and cold, and Emma held her breath, waiting--

Waiting--

Come back to me, Killian.

And then she felt it, felt the moment he woke up even before he gasped.

(an inferno, burning everything in its wake as the energy rushed through her. It was raw and unfettered as it pushed every molecule in her body, electrifying her senses until she couldn’t feel anything but him)

“Swan,” he said, his fingers brushing against his mouth and his eyes wide open and so very fucking blue, “what did you do?”

Snow squeaked. Liam and Henry rushed for the cell door and Charming held them back.

But Emma wouldn’t know any of that until later.

She smiled. A real smile, the kind that lit up her face and her eyes and showed all of her teeth. “I’ve been wondering if I would like it,” she said.

His eyebrows went up, and he smiled back at her--a real smile, that softened his entire face. “So what’s the decision?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, closing the infinitesimal distance between them, and there was the metal of his rings, cool as his finger traced the line of her cheekbone, and when his mouth opened and a sound escaped Emma wasn’t sure if it was him or her. She felt like she was being devoured, if the gentlest touch she’d ever felt in her life could eat her whole and make her crave it. It was everything--his fingers, the metal, his lips and tongue and the way he opened for her--

And it felt like magic.

Killian was breathing heavily, brushing his fingers against his mouth again, and she said: “It’s even better when you help.”

There were a thousand emotions flickering through his eyes, and Emma saw all of them: sorrow, remorse, understanding, desire, longing.

Love.

He was an open book.

Emma blinked. There was no way for her to look at him, to see him when he was like that, and pretend that she didn’t feel--all of it. Anything. Everything.

He smiled--a shy smile--and Emma realized that he saw all of those things in her, too. She leaned forward, feeling his forehead against hers when he met her halfway, his eyelashes fluttering across her cheek.

“What I wouldn’t give,” Regina said, “for another sleeping curse.” She sat on the cell mattress as if it was a throne. Her face was a mask of icy indifference.

Snow White stood in front of her, regarding her through the cell bars.

Emma tried to stand, but--

“Worry not, Swan,” Killian whispered, and she stayed with him, enjoying the weight of his hand on her arm.

“I agree with the pirate,” Charming said.

“Ah,” Gold sneered. “Twoo Wuv.”

“The curse is broken,” Charming said, ignoring him. “Neither of them can hurt us any more.”

There was a knock on the station door, a heavy object of some kind being battered against it.

“Open up,” Leroy’s voice called.

Snow walked to the door, slowly and with deliberation. “The curse is broken,” she agreed. She reached for the doorknob. “And now--we have a lot to figure out.”

“Together,” Killian muttered into her ear, and Emma nodded.

“Together,” she said, feeling the magic inside of her settle at the word; the inferno banked down to something warm and comforting and tied up between both of them, inextricable. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had long, blonde hair that curled just so at the edges of her face with skin as fair as snow. Her eyes glinted green, like emeralds in the sunlight, and the fall of her lashes was thick and dark.

Her name was Emma Swan.

Sheriff Emma Swan stood up, remembering at the last minute to turn off her oversized CRT monitor before she hit the light switch. On her desk there was a picture of her son; it was hand-drawn, in pen and ink. There was a pair of boots on the shelf behind her. One of them was missing a shoelace.

“I’m heading out, Red,” she called.

“Mmmm?” Ruby murmured, not looking up from her makeup mirror as she fluffed her waist-length, red-streaked black curls until she was satisfied with their volume. “You coming by later? I think Ursula’s got something new she wanted to try with the music tonight.”

“Tempting,” Emma said, “but no.”

“Belle’s gonna be there,” Ruby said, her dark eyes glittering. “And Will.”

“Poor Victor,” Emma sighed.

“Who said he wasn’t invited?” Ruby asked. She smacked her lips and blew a kiss.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “That’s my cue. Besides, I gotta go home first.”

Emma was very, very good at her job, even though there was one mystery she couldn’t solve: how to mend a broken heart. She had once believed in love--in True Love--but now she wasn’t sure if it even existed. She had been given up by her parents, Snow White and Prince Charming, minutes after she was born, sent through a magical wardrobe so that she would have her best chance--so that some day, she would find them again. She would break a curse, and bring back the happy endings.

But Emma Swan didn’t know any of that. All she knew was that she grew up alone, moving from city to city with no one on her side, and no one who knew her.

The logistics were the easy part.

Well--the logistics were the part that was less hard, because magic, it turned out, was a very funny thing. It had no rules but its own, and the more questions Emma had, the more she had to shake her head and move on.

You really could handwave away anything in Storybrooke by the simple expedient of magic being involved.

Cursed neighborhood in a thriving city? Magic.

Mary Margaret Blanhard as the only living heir of Regina Mills? Magic.

“Not really,” Mary Maragaret--Snow White--had said. “She is, after all, my stepmother.”

More surprising was the fact that Henry Mills turned up as the legal heir to Robert Gold.

“How,” Emma wanted to know, “did the curse know that Henry was his grandson?’

And the Blue Fairy just leveled a glare at Emma, a superior air about her--a Mother Superior air--and said, as if it should have been obvious, “Magic.” She still wore her religious habit, the one Emma had noticed at Graham’s funeral, and it clung to her curves in a way that suggested “magic” had a sick sense of humor.

She didn’t know it, sent away from her family to live in a land without magic, but Princess Emma was going to grow up to be the savior.

There was no justice system in the city equipped to handle the murder committed by Robert Gold or the Dark Curse committed by Regina Mills. Storybrooke was its own jurisdiction; a mysteriously unincorporated neighborhood with no relevant law enforcement agency except a small, understaffed sheriff’s department. Then again, the former residents of the Enchanted Forest--two words Emma still struggled to say with a straight face--

“If it helps,” Killian had said with a wry grin, “we always called it ‘Misthaven’ on our navigational charts.”

Of Misthaven, then, were perfectly prepared to administer mob justice against the two people most responsible for their current predicament. Turns out, a ride with a Dark Curse was a one-way trip.

“When someone casts the curse, it’s a sacrifice of one world for another,” Blue said. “That’s simply how the magic works.”

Of course.

Nurse Ratched was perfectly happy to keep them in her asylum for a continuation of her current pay--plus dental. Emma agreed immediately. Anything to make the goddamn dwarves subside and leave her the hell alone.

Snow White looked on serenely. Prince Charming regarded her with pride.

Emma Swan was no stranger to tragedy, but she eventually made her way to Storybrooke, and found herself a home there. She had a home, and friends, and a job that she loved, until, on her twenty-eighth birthday, the curse struck her. It was a day like any other: she got up, went to her office, took on a new case.

But then her best friend--her partner--was murdered.

It wasn’t like the salty, half-assed dinners she’d had in so many foster homes--instant soup, just add water.

“Instant family--just add magic!”

It wasn’t easy. (That’s not how the magic worked.)

But heroes, Emma had learned, didn’t do what was easy. They did what was right.

Emma knew that she had no choice but to pursue justice for her friend, and to punish the person who had committed the crime. But when Emma tracked down a possible lead to a bar on the outskirts of town, she didn’t find a suspect. She found an ally.

And she found out how deep the rabbit hole really went.

“Wait,” Emma said to her mother one night at dinner. “Let me get this straight: you’re the head of the Mills Organization.”

Family dinner.

“You’re a teacher,” Emma said. “And you’re just going to--”

“She was raised to be a queen,” David--Prince Charming--reminded her with a smile, and Emma scowled. She had really, really wanted to hit him in that moment.

It must have shown on her face, because her father laughed. “God,” he said, “you’re so much like her.” He said it with wonder and pride and a lot of other emotions Emma was still learning how to deal with.

The emotions were the hard part.

Well--the emotions were the part that was less easy, because Emma.

Family dinners and Killian sitting next to her, squeezing her knee under the table to let her know that he was there.

“So,” Emma said, “how rich are we, then? Like, King Midas rich?”

Snow looked at Charming.

Charming looked at Snow.

Something passed between them.

“It’s kind of a funny story,” David said.

The night that Emma Swan met Killian Jones, she didn’t know his real name, or who he was, or where he was from.

She didn’t know how much she didn’t know, or how all of it would change her life. All she knew was that her partner was killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him.

All she knew was that something inside of her recognized him, like she had known him in another time and place; as if she had known him from her dreams. From her future.

Nights were the hardest, the part where the logistics and the emotions all bound up in each other; the part where she wanted, needed, desired Killian, to have him with her and to be with him. It was overwhelming, but the only part of it that terrified Emma was the part where it didn’t terrify her at all.

That first night--that first time--it was hot and raw and unchecked, all of those feelings, all of those emotions, that Emma had been denying herself coming up to the surface. She could feel it in her breathing, in her heartbeat, in the way that he laid hands on her and in the way the magic flowed through her, and it shouldn’t have been possible.

That’s not how the magic was supposed to work.

He was reverent and it left her trembling. It was too soon, too fast, too much.

But she slept, sated and spent in the arms of her True Love, and she dreamed.

She walked along the rocky shoreline, tilting her head toward the sky and feeling the sunlight on her face, and she looked for him. The sky was a perfect shade of blue and the air was crisp and clean and it was a perfect quiet moment; there was no sign of him.

Emma closed her eyes and took a breath, counting three before exhaling, and she was in Granny’s. It was empty: a glittering jukebox lit up in the corner, the wall clock set at 8:16.

Another breath and another three count and Emma opened her eyes, feeling something inside of her. A point of warmth that was getting warmer and the asylum laid out in front of her. The blind janitor watched her as he mopped the floor.

“That’s not how the magic works.” Regina’s voice, disembodied and hollow, drifted down the corridor. “Magic here is...unpredictable.”

“You know this isn’t right, Swan.” The whisper felt like it came out of the warmth, the warm spot that was still getting warmer. “Trust your gut. It will tell you what to do.”

The sheriff’s office looked like a dungeon, the bars made of fire, and Emma exhaled; Killian sat in the corner. She called his name.

“Swan,” he said, gasping, his fingers going straight to his mouth, “what did you do?” He didn’t look at her. “Why did you do it? Why did you not take the deal for the potion?”

The fire began to spread. He didn’t see her--he couldn’t see her.

“Killian,” Emma said, “come back to me, Killian--”

Emma turned, concentrating on the warmth inside of her, and pulled.

She held him against her, their backs toward the water as a wave crashed and bubbled up along the rocky shoreline.

He blinked. “Emma,” he said. His hand came up toward her face, and she leaned toward him. Their foreheads touched and his fingers were in her hair and he said her name again. “Emma,” he breathed. “What did you do?”

“I kissed you, Killian,” Emma said. “I kissed you, because you’re my happy ending.”

Emma closed her eyes. One, two, three--

And woke, Killian sweating and shivering in her arms.

Killian Jones was a complicated man. He had wandered, and traveled, and suffered many hardships. He had been a slave, and a naval lieutenant. He had been a brother and a pirate and, some would say, a villain. He had given himself to vengeance and turned himself toward the darkness after his first love was murdered. He had willingly subjected himself to the Evil Queen’s plan, to the Dark Curse, in the hope that he might finally see his vengeance delivered.

For the first time in her life, Emma asked her mother for advice.

She’d always wondered what it would be like, to ask her mom about clothes or makeup or boys or--life. It never occurred to her that she’d need to ask about a sleeping curse.

“What was it like for you,” Emma said, “after dad woke you? From the--from the thing?”

“Oh, Emma,” Snow said. There was so much understanding, so much sympathy, so much empathy in the single word. It shocked Emma how much her mother immediately understood, and how much of a comfort that was. “Is he having the nightmares?”

Killian Jones--Captain Hook--had spent many years in Neverland, the home of the Lost Ones, and still had not realized that he, himself, had been Lost. Until he met Emma Swan, and found himself again.

They found themselves in each other.

It wasn’t easy.

She had a kid who believed everything was going to be okay. He had a brother with a lot of justifiable anger issues.

Emma had literally never in her life lived under the same roof as her parents.

“You never even got to spend a single night in the nursery,” her father said, and Emma remembered the page in the storybook, of Prince Charming fighting off a horde of Black Knights and nearly dying in the process, all while protecting the daughter in his arms.

“There were unicorns on the mobile over your crib,” her mother said, and Emma could picture it, the colors and the crib and the toys, the hopes and the dreams manifest in a single room.

Emma had never gotten to spend the night with her kid, either.

The loft, Mary Margaret’s loft, was barely big enough for two. It had not been designed for six.

Fuck logistics.

But the nights were the hardest.

Because when Emma and Killian were apart, that’s when he was afraid to close his eyes.

That’s when the nightmares were the worst.

The night they met, Killian told Emma about the Dark Curse, and her parents, and about a creature known as the Dark One, who had killed both his first love and Emma’s partner. The Dark One had lived for centuries, immortal, his powers seemingly limitless. But here, in Emma’s home, in Storybrooke and the Land Without Magic, the Dark One had no power. He only had plans. It was his curse that had brought Storybrooke into existence, and forced Emma from her parents.

It was his curse that, unbeknownst to him, would bring the savior and the pirate together.

It wasn’t the same, every night--every time.

But Killian had so many regrets; when he slept, it was as if his body became, again, that prison--until she found him.

She always found him. She found him, and pulled with her magic, and they would stare at the ocean.

Peaceful, quiet moments. Together.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he always said.

“Killian,” she always said. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re a survivor.”

“The only one who’s ever saved me is you, Swan,” he said.

It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.

“Any port in a storm,” she said.

“That’s just it, love,” he said. “I’m not in the storm, not any more. Not since I met you.”

And when they were together, she could feel it, the way that her magic would settle around them.

No one knew why--that wasn’t how the magic was supposed to work.

Twoo Wuv, Emma thought, and held him tighter.

The nights were the hardest, with the emotions. And the logistics. And the fact that there was no goddamn space in the loft--no doors, even. Four adults--two couples--and two adolescent boys, or near enough, and Emma learned very quickly that when her mother sent her on a grocery run in the middle of the afternoon to take her time and knock very loudly before she used her key.

Not that Emma didn’t find her own ways--The Rabbit Hole had doors that locked and a bedroom and an office with a large desk and that one time up against the hallway wall, in between the kitchen and the restrooms--Killian did, after all, still work most nights. But they always came home, after. They always spent the nights together, all under one roof. It was a family rule.

And then one night, as Emma kicked off her boots, as Killian helped her off with her coat, the door barely shut behind them, there was Snow White sitting at the table with cocoa and cinnamon and Scotch and rum. “We should talk,” Snow said.

“Pleasant conversation then, innit?” Killian muttered in her ear.

Henry was already using his cinnamon stick in lieu of a spoon but Liam looked suspicious. He was quiet and reserved and holding himself back, like he was afraid everything would shatter around him. He had seen everything he thought he’d known change twice in the space of mere days, but Emma was determined to do what she could to erase the haunted lost look from his eyes in the way that it never had been in hers, or in his brother’s.

“Everything okay, Mom?” Emma said, sitting down.

“Your father and I--” Snow paused and smiled. For an instant, her parents were the only two people in the universe.

Ruby had only fifteen minutes ago been throwing French fries at her in an attempt to divert Emma’s attention from Killian--but, gross. Emma didn’t need to see her parents like that.

“We think it’s time to make a few changes,” her father said.

Emma stiffened. It was an instinct, and the habits of a lifetime were not going to be broken by a few weeks of relative peace, but--her breathing hitched and her heart rate sped up and then she felt Killian’s hand on her knee, squeezing gently.

“Like what?” Henry asked, slurping his whipped cream. Henry had nothing but glee at his suddenly expanded family. It would shock her ten-year-old son to know that in that respect, Emma wanted nothing more than to be like him, her amazing, empathetic, achingly open kid who wanted all of them to have their happy endings.

One roof, three floors; the Mills Organization, and therefore Mary Margaret Blanchard, owned the building and all three apartments tucked into it.

“Okay,” Emma said. “But seriously, how rich are we? You sure it’s not, like, Midas rich?”

Her father laughed. “I’ll leave that to Kathryn,” he said.

“Kathryn really did go to Boston, though,” Emma said. “So that’s relevant how, exactly?”

“She was Princess Abigail in our world,” David said. “Abigail, daughter of Midas.”

Killian’s eyes lit up and his eyebrow went up and the corner of his mouth went up and Emma knew it was going to be trouble before he uttered a single word. “And why,” he said, “would you want to give up an opportunity like that?”

Snow let out an indignant sputter as she choked on her cocoa, but Charming laughed again.

“You of all people know why,” he said.

Killian’s arm snaked around Emma’s waist and he pulled them closer together. “Aye,” he said. “That I do.”

It wasn’t easy. It was too soon, too fast, too much.

But they found a way; that’s what this family did.

Killian wasn’t someone who trusted easily. Emma wasn’t someone who trusted at all. But they quickly realized that together was the best way to get through, to get justice for Emma’s friend and partner--and to break the curse. When Emma’s life was threatened by the evil Queen of Hearts, it was Killian who was able to defend her. And when Killian put himself in the way of a sleeping curse to protect Emma’s family, Emma was able to awaken him.

It was True Love’s Kiss, and it sent a pulse of magic through Storybrooke. Emma realized that her feelings gave her strength. She broke the Dark Curse. She found her family. She brought back the happy endings.

Including for Killian Jones.

Once upon a time, after a long day at her new job with her best friend, Emma Swan came home to the apartment she shared with her family. She pulled off her boots, stepping over them into the apartment, and hung her red leather jacket on the hook by the door.

Killian Jones--Captain freaking Hook--was sprawled out on the couch, his hand over his eyes. In his lap was a black-and-white speckled composition notebook; there was no sign of the work crew that had left a small pile of equipment in what was slowly becoming her--their--kitchen.

In the apartment she shared with her family--the second-floor apartment. The one that was currently being fixed up with extra bedrooms and talk of breaking through the floor to the flat below, to make a duplex.

“‘Ello, love,” Killian called softly, and Emma smiled.

She did that a lot more often now--the real kind, that made her eyes light up and showed all of her teeth--and her smile didn’t fade as she stepped into the living room and took the notebook out of his lap.

“He told you the story again,” Emma said, gesturing at the sleeping form curled up in the oversized chair and the goddamn domesticity of it--

“Aye,” Killian nodded, scrubbing his hand down his face as he sat up, and she still wasn’t used to it, what happened with his face when he got all soft like that talking about her kid. “Your boy spent the entire day working on it with Belle, and he was quite insistent. Seems to think hearing it will--”

“He worries,” Emma said. The lack of walls when sleeping upstairs left no room for secrets, and Henry did worry. He’d come up with the idea, to write down their story like a fairy tale, about Emma and Killian and Liam and their family and it made Emma’s heart hurt, sometimes, when she thought about all that Henry had brought into her life. “He just wants to help.” She paused, then: “Does it? Help?”

Emma Swan hadn’t been looking for someone who would give his heart to the world, or some True Love riding to her rescue. The only one who saved her was her. But she had always hoped that somewhere in the universe, there might be someone who would keep her warm when she was cold, feed her when she was hungry, and maybe--on occasion--take her dancing.

No one was more surprised than Emma when she found her True Love in the Storybrooke Sheriff’s station, when she kissed Killian Jones and saved him from eternal sleep.

No one was more surprised when she found her family that night.

“Hearing a story where I’m not the villain? Yeah,” he said. “It helps.”

“You’re more than that,” Emma protested. “You’ve got a mark in the hero column, at least.”

“I’m not so sure about that, love,” he said. “I don’t believe I ever--to use your phrase--rode to the rescue, or gave my heart to the world.” Killian’s words were teasing, but his eyes were serious.

“You gave your heart,” Emma said. “You gave it to me.”

“I did,” he said. “But you have given me use for it: a double heart for my single one.”

Emma grinned. She could always tell when he was quoting something.

“Shakespeare?” she asked.

“Aye.” He smirked. "I'm getting a mite predictable, then?"

"Maybe you should try something new, darling," Emma said, her voice a terrible imitation of his accent, and he laughed and stood up and pulled the notebook from her hands, placing it with some care on the couch cushion.

Killian's voice was low and sleepy as he began to speak.

"'i fear / no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want / no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) / and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant / and whatever a sun will always sing is you'," he said. He pulled her until she was flush against him. His finger traced the chain around her neck.

'"and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart,'" he said. 'i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)'." He kissed her, starting at her forehead, trailing down to her mouth, and whispered against her lips.

“Dance with me, Swan,” he said.

And they all lived happily ever after. The End.

The Tempest Act IV, Scene 1

-30-

#cs fic #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #our little life (rounded with a sleep)#canon divergence #s1 divergence #cursed!Killian #an alternate theory of the curse

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treatian · 3 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 30: His Real Name

He was waiting for his arraignment. Or at least that's what Emma thought he was waiting for. In reality, he was waiting for Dove to get him out of this mess, for Moe French to wake and say he wouldn't be pressing charges, for him to give whatever story Dove forced him to give so that he could get out of this place. He was waiting to go after Regina and find Belle's cup, which was still out there in the world somewhere. This wouldn't be done until he had it back. He'd burn down the whole fucking town to find it if he had to. And he knew who he was going to start with this time.

Regina. It was always Regina. He'd been stupid in trying to go through Moe French, in trying to deny what was obviously happening. He was paying for it now. But in a few hours, when Dove finished his work, he'd go to Regina. He'd get his property back. He'd find a way to make this work in his favor. He always did. And if it didn't? Well, the Curse was cast. He was in the World Without Magic. He didn't technically need Regina anymore. She could be dealt with any way that he needed to deal with her; any way that got him his cup back…

"Pastrami…you want half?"

He glanced through the bars to Emma, who sat eating her lunch in her office. This wasn't the first time she'd tried to engage him in conversation. She tried the first half of the night before finally leaving him alone to rest for a few hours and then tried again this morning when she gave him some childish pastry as a "breakfast." She'd tried to talk to him…she'd failed. She forgot, he was a lawyer. He knew better than to talk to her, no matter how tired or angry or hungry for real food he was.

"You know, I still owe you that favor. Nice, fatty pastrami; delicious way to clear the books."

"Well, I don't need a reminder that you owe me a favor," he answered. "And when the day comes that I make my request, it'll be for more than half a sandwich." It would be for his son. The last person on this earth who might still care about him. If he didn't have Belle's love or her cup, that was something to hold on to at least.

But suddenly, Emma didn't seem to care about his ominous threat. Suddenly her attention was no longer on him or her sandwich but someone else.

Regina Mills. She stood there as if by magic like his thoughts had summoned her.

And Henry, the real person Emma was interested in.

"Sheriff Swan? I'm letting you have thirty minutes with Henry. Take him out, buy him ice cream."

Oh…this was an interesting twist, one of great desperation. He knew from Dove's accounts that Emma hadn't spent time with her son in weeks; she hadn't been permitted to, not since the council meeting. Regina wouldn't offer up Henry, not unless she wanted to talk about something important. More important than Emma Swan's upcoming review and potential firing.

As she turned her gaze to him, sitting behind bars, he had a terrible feeling about what was about to happen. If he was right, the Evil Queen had just played her game well, even better than she had been before. If he was wrong…well…he couldn't think of a scenario where he was wrong. Fuck, what had he done?

"You want me to leave you alone with a prisoner?" Emma countered in disbelief.

Regina closed her eyes in irritation. "Twenty-nine and a half minutes," she snapped without looking at her. She couldn't. She was too busy staring at him like a mouse caught in a trap. Shit.

"Hi, Emma," the boy smiled. It was one that he, as a parent knew another parent would find tantalizing.

"Hey," Emma smiled back. He was fucked. By Regina of all people! Not exactly something he wanted the Swan to see. And if she knew, well…The Savior didn't "know" anything yet. She wasn't ready.

"Bring me back a cone?" he remarked calmly.

Control. He needed to regain his control. This wasn't the first deal he'd ever made, and he'd be damned if it was going to be his last. He just needed to start thinking like the Dark One and not like Mr. Gold.

As Emma exclaimed, "Just this once. Come on, let's go!" and ushered Henry out the door, leaving him alone with the former Evil Queen, he tried to remember his old tricks. He tried to remember how to regain control when he had so little of it. Unfortunately, the last time he'd had little control was when he was human, and he'd never negotiated his way out of that, not without fucking magic that he still didn't possess! But the stakes were as high. If this was about what he suddenly feared it was, then he couldn't afford to slip this up or be nervous. Control. He had to take it back. How?!

"Well, you really wanted that little chat, didn't you?"

"Apparently, this is the only way I could do it," she smiled, a wicked, evil smile that made his palms sweat. Her inner queen was showing, in a way that it hadn't been before, not in twenty-eight years. She was confident, sure of herself. And why shouldn't she be? She'd played him, just like he might have in the good ole days. And if she was so comfortable showing this side of herself…it was because she knew. This conversation, as far as she was concerned, was only a formality. She had him cornered. But he wasn't without tricks here; one, in particular, could come in handy, and without anything else at his disposal…

"Please – sit," he commanded, pointing at the sofa by his cell.

She obeyed. Power. Control. Though she'd initially grimaced when he'd given the order now that she was sitting again, she was smiling again too, grinning that same sinister grin she'd just had. If they were bound to have this conversation, then there was no possible way he was going to let her think she was running it, even if he knew she was. Dammit. When he'd pictured confronting her, it hadn't been like this.

"Now, when two people both want something the other has, a deal can always be struck. Do you have what I want?"

Her smile broadened so that she beamed. "Yes."

Fuck.

He let himself breathe deep, first with relief. Upsetting as that answer was, at least now he knew where Belle's treasure was. And now he knew it was safe. Regina wasn't stupid. She wouldn't hurt it; she'd use it as a bargaining chip. Bargaining for something unknown was the part that worried him after the relief wore off.

"So, you did put him up to it, then," he stated, revealing he wasn't ignorant to the way she worked.

"I merely suggested that strong men take what they need."

"Oh, yeah…and you told him just exactly what to take, didn't you?"

"We used to know each other so well, Mr. Gold. Has it really come down to this?"

"It seems it has, yeah," he nodded. So much pretense…if they were going to do this, then they may as well get to it. "But you know what I want, what is it you want?"

"I want you to answer one question," she hissed. "And answer it simply: what's your name?"

He smirked. She'd made an error, one that most amateurs in deal-making made. She hadn't been specific enough. "Answer one question simply" was not answer one question truthfully or honestly. "Simply"…simply gave him options.

"It's Mr. Gold."

Regina lowered her gaze and glared at him, the glare of an angry Queen who was sick of being lied to. "Your real name," she growled.

He felt no pressure. The deal had been to answer one question simply. Asking him his real name wasn't a requirement of the deal they'd struck, which meant he was free to respond as he saw fit. Even if he knew that there was no way this would work in his favor in the end. She held all the cards.

"Every moment I've spent on this earth, that's been my name."

"But what about moments spent elsewhere?" she questioned, finally realizing her own mistakes.

It was going to end the way it was going to end, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun with it until it did, or at least attempt to evade her. He drew a look of confusion over his face and shook his head.

"What are you asking me?"

"I think you know," she stated, a reply full of double meaning. "If you want me to return what's yours, tell me your name."

And there it was. Her ace in the hole. He could sit here and use loophole after loophole, but there was no magic here. He could lie to her, adamantly refuse, but then what of Belle's teacup. If she walked out of here angry, then he risked its safety. That would seem a proper punishment to Regina. And he could say "please," ask her to "please" return his property…but another "please" at a time like this would damn near confirm it anyway. Pretend all he could, but she had the advantage. She had him in a corner, his back to the wall.

Dammit, Regina had won.

She was going to get the answer she wanted or leave him with nothing. At least this way, he'd get his ace back.

He felt his lips curl into a sneer as he let out a breath of defeat and finally whispered the truth Emma wasn't ready to believe.

"Rumpelstiltskin…"

The moment he said the words, Regina's grin vanished and fear overshadowed her. Odd reaction. For someone who had seemed so sure of herself, she suddenly looked like she'd been hoping she was wrong. Pity. One should never make a deal they weren't prepared for. Finally, he clawed at the bars and pulled himself up to his feet before she could go back on her deal in a Land Without Magic where revenge would be twice as hard. She would keep this deal!

"Now give me what I want."

"Such hostility?" Her Majesty mocked.

"Oh, yeah!"

Finally, she turned to the bag she'd brought, reached inside, and produced…Belle's chipped cup.

Safe.

Sound.

In one piece, save for the chip that made it so special.

The sight of it, the knowledge that it was safe and back in his presence, nearly made his heart stop.

"Over this?" she questioned, dangling it in front of him, forcing him to reach through the bars to try and grasp it. "Such a sentimental little keepsake."

Finally, his fingers closed over it and he pulled it through the bars. "Thank you…Your Majesty," he mocked, holding it tight in his hands.

Safe and sound. He inspected it, checking for further damage but found none. That was something, at least. Ironic…he'd wanted to spend Valentine's Day alone with this cup…he might get his wish after all. So long as he could get rid of Regina.

"So. Now that we're being honest with each other, let's remember how things used to be, shall we? And don't let these bars fool you, dear. I'm the one with the power around here. I'm going to be out of here in no time, and nothing between us will change."

Suddenly Regina got to her feet. She gripped the bars and pressed her face close to the bars. "We shall see," she hissed before taking her leave.

He was afraid. Things were bad already, at risk. And now Regina had won, forced him to reveal his hand too early. This was bad. But as he looked down and beheld the cup in his hand, no sooner had a small voice in the back of his head whispered "was it worth it" than a louder voice proclaimed, without question, "yes, Belle was always worth it."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #dark one #mr gold #Regina Mills #Evil Queen #Emma Swan #Henry Mills #Belle #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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oh-phineas · 3 years

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Emma’s 2021 BDRP Resolutions!

Write your RPer Resolutions for 2021! (What are some goals for yourself as a writer? Improve descriptions? Plot with more members? Etc.)

I’d like to get better at planning long-term and having arcs supported by different mini-stories. I started doing this with Tiana and her restaurant which was a good exercise, but I want to challenge myself to take on less tangible goals as well if that makes sense and finding ways for different characters to get involved in that journey. I think throwing characters together just to see what happens can be a lot of fun and lead to really great interactions, but I’d also like to think more about all the development potential an interaction can have and really jump on that.

I’m also always saying this, but I want to get more comfortable/confident with plotting. Sometimes I feel like I really need to have a fully fleshed-out idea before I approach someone which can lead to me just giving up before I even try because I haven’t fully developed the idea. I want to find a balance where I’m bringing something to the table with plotting but I’m not psyching myself out just because I don’t have a full-blown idea. Because sometimes I think it’s okay to say here’s a vague goal I have, here’s how I think it could work with our characters, let’s see what happens! And overall I just wanna get better at approaching people I don’t write with as often.

Write at least one resolution, or “goal,” that you have as an RPer for your character(s)

Phineas: Be less freaking selfish! Lol I feel like Phineas’s problems tend to stem from his Main Character Syndrome. Like the kid seriously thinks everything is about him. Honestly, I don’t want to delete that trait from Phineas because I think it is a very important part of his personality. But I want him to seriously reckon with it, see the damage it can cause sometimes and understand that even with the best of intentions, some things just aren’t about him.

Tiana: Learn to rely on other people more! I think the knights can offer this opportunity which is why I wanted to get her involved with them, and I’d also like to see her learn to lean on her staff and the Princess House :) She’s pushed a lot of people away over the years working toward her goal, and now that she’s achieved it, I want to see her navigating relationships and all the messiness that comes with them. Because opening yourself back up is rewarding but it is not uncomplicated!

Aquata: Find a purpose in life other than swimming! That dream is dead! It’s gone! Rest in peace, she is never going to be on the national team and she’s gotta learn to live with it! I’ve spoken to a few people about this but I wanna see her really get involved with Magick rights and dig into her mer-heritage a little bit. Because it’s such a big part of her identity that she’s always sublimated into swimming and I’d love to see her explore it separate from her world as a swimmer.

Henry: I want to do more Order stuff with him. I’d like to set him on a wild goose chase where he totally pursues the wrong person, I think that would be a really fun plot because the exact person he’s trying to stop is RIGHT in front of him!! And he doesn’t even realize and I love some good dramatic irony.

Ev: I really wanna get some bigger plots moving with her and really shake things up because that was my goal with picking her up initially. I have some stuff in the works but I think I can do more with reaching out to people and planning long-term stuff. And I want her to face the aftermath of her plans: the excitement at seeing it all come together and the guilt of knowing it hurt people, even if she thinks it’s for a greater purpose.

Anna: This is weird because I JUST got her but yeah I’m just excited for college plots! Finding herself! I’ve been thinking about doing some kind of mean girls thing with her bc I think she has Cady Heron parallels lol and I’d love to put her in a situation where she has her loyalty tested. And I also want her to learn to EXPRESS her ANGER. She can get pissed off sometimes but he has this tendency to censor herself when it’s people she cares about. I want her to FIGHT.

Write at least one resolution IN CHARACTER for your characters. What do THEY want to accomplish or change in the New Year?

Phineas: Launch Something Big. It’s the last year before he starts college and he’s running out of time to be a child prodigy!!! Oh no!!! What will he ever do!!! Maybe it’s his first business. His first podcast. His first Ponzi scheme, who knows?? (That is a joke Phineas is not starting a Ponzi scheme). But give him something to try at and fail at!

Tiana: Get situated with the knights, keep making Tiana’s Place a success.....maybe find love?

Aquata: Improve Swynlake. Make it a better place for people to be out Magicks. Improve the environment. Get shit done on Board!!! And stop being weird around Vidia lol

Henry: Figure out what the hell happened on December 21 2020. Hunt down the Unseelie Creatures that Plague the Night. Keep Ashleigh happy <3 Mostly, though, Henry feels like he’s been slacking in his mission and he wants to get back on track.

Ev: Organize a big disaster, preferably taking advantage of cursed people. Gather as much intel about Swynlake as possible. Stop dragging my feet and make it happen!!

Anna: MAKE NEW FRIENDS!! She is so desperate. Fall in love <3 Figure out what the hell actually happened between Elsa and her father and why Elsa never talked to her before now. Make the most of uni :)

List one or more characters you have never interacted with that you would like to do so

Reza!!! He’s on Board with Aquata and has a similar platform. I think they could really work together and I would love to find a way for them to interact.

Ting Ting!!! How am I a Ting Ting stan and I’ve never interacted with her. Tragic. Obv she probably deserves some space rn with all the drama but at some point I would really love to work with her unique form of magic

Tink!!! She’s got such an interesting story and I want to interact with more fairies in general.

ROBBIE. Swynlake’s currently only known vampire!! I think he and Henry could be really interesting.

Plotting Exercise! Pick one of the resolutions/goals in #2 and plan a rough guideline to how you could accomplish it. Here’s an example. EXAMPLE OF A MOCK PLOT: HENRY’S WILD GOOSE CHASE

Self Para: Before going back to school, Henry has a talk with his father who tells him that while he knows he is capable, if another widespread Unseelie attack occurs, it’s going to look very bad for him and he needs to figure out what happened.

therefore...

Para: Henry hears loud screeching that keeps him up at night that he concludes must be a banshee. He goes to investigate and runs into KOVU, who is coming back from a “late night walk” and ropes him into helping him search. They don’t find anything, but they are able to trace the sound to DEVYN’s room.

therefore...

Para: Henry ropes ROSE into helping him do research in the library, despite the fact that they are on... not great terms following Rose and Tom’s breakup, by convincing her that there is dark magic afoot in the dorms. Upon some research, Henry starts to doubt that the sound he is hearing is really a banshee, but his options are either admit he is wrong or double down.

therefore...

Para: Henry corners DEVYN at a Student Union outing and tries to ask him if anything weird has been going on, if they are hearing any weird noises or seeing strange omens. DEVYN is understandably confused, setting off some confusion magic. Henry, not understanding the confusion magic (and affected by it) becomes absolutely convinced that Devyn’s death is being foretold by a banshee.

therefore...

Para: Henry and ROSE camp out all night and discover nothing, but sometime late into the night, they the sound again. They break into DEVYN’s room only to discover it’s no banshee, but just the music he’s listening to while studying late into the night. Henry is embarrassed.

#bdrptask #the mock plot is silly but i think ppl should read it i think it's funny

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salvatoreschool · 4 years

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Legacies Review – Dark Josie Rises Ahead of the Merge (2×14)

Forget virtual reality, students at the Salvatore School entered a simulation to process their trauma.

Emma transported them into a shared reality aka a film noir-themed chambre de chasse, an invention from the real Professor Vardemus, that would allow them to face their inner demons.

The rules were simple — upon completing their task and learning their lesson, they would get a safe word that would pull them out of the game.

Once in the game, it initially became a classic whodunnit with MG as the key detective working to crack a murder.

But when Emma got killed and pulled out of the game despite being the gamekeeper, she knew something was terribly wrong.

One-by-one, the players began getting killed off. After Emma, the real Vardemus (who comically believed he was Sherlock Holmes in the simulation) was gunned down before Jade succumbed to cyanide poisoning.

After gaining his consciousness, Vardemus rightfully declared that someone was harnessing black magic and had rewritten the rules.

Vardemus wrote down “Josie” before he got killed, but Josie was gunned down in front of MG. And while it wasn’t her, it was a part of her. It wasn’t long before we figured out that Dark Josie was running rampant in the simulation.

Her goal was to eliminate everyone so that only she and Lizzie we left behind to face each other. While the Josie we all know and love would never hurt her sister and proved it by protecting her in the simulation, Dark Josie was ready to end her so that she could win the merge and put this all behind her.

I’ve always wondered how the merge would play out between the Saltzman sisters because they are such forces of nature, but introducing Dark Josie was the only way to keep the balance. Josie may be the stronger sister in theory, but her love for Lizzie and her insecurities would never allow her to prevail without a darker side of her being forced out.

Dark Josie’s plan didn’t work in the simulation because Hope thwarted it and shot Josie while saving Lizzie, which speaks to their blossoming and pure friendship. Even without her memory, Hope came through for Lizzie.

While Emma’s little therapy game didn’t go as planned, some good definitely came out of it.

MG realized he needs to stop viewing himself as a side-kick and become more confident while Lizzie learned she’s too self-centered and uses people when it benefits her. And in those growing pains, the two cemented a friendship that’s stronger than any feelings MG might have for her. We’d love MG to get his happy ending, but this dynamic between them is easily one of the best parts of the series.

Another major revelation was that Dark Josie isn’t going anywhere. Josie and her alter-ego were both gunned down in the simulation, but Dark Josie was the only one that returned to the real world and she was more powerful than anyone expected.

She put Hope to sleep with the twist of a neck, levitated out of the little mystical prison, and burnt down the school (thanks to some meh CGI effects) leaving it in flames as she walked away.

Josie, out. She’s the newest supervillain and far more interesting than the monster-of-the-week, plus, her actions will likely impact the storyline in a greater way especially as we near the dreaded merge.

How will the super squad deal with this one? I can’t even blame Emma and Dorian for packing their bags and leaving the school in their rearview mirror because she’s right, it’s always going to be dangerous.

Hope and Raf’s lessons weren’t as positive as MG and Lizzie’s. With Hope choosing to save a stranger over catching her bus to visit Landon in California in the simulation, she deduced that her relationship would forever be doomed. There would always be some obstacle that came between her and Landon, and she’d have to make a choice that wasn’t him.

We all wish we could console Hope and tell her that everything will be just fine, but you have to admit, it’s a pretty accurate description of what’s been happening lately. Maybe the lesson is that Landon can take care of himself and doesn’t need Hope to constantly worry about him.

But I fear that the very fact that she was talking to Raf about this means that there are some emotions brewing there under the surface that they’ll explore sooner rather than later.

Raf, on the other hand, got some insight into what happened to him when he was found after being “kidnapped.” In the photos he developed in the simulation, he saw the Necromancer, which he needs to take as a dark omen. Don’t keep that to yourself, Raf! Warn the others!

It’s safe to say that after exiting a black and white world, everyone found themselves looming in the gray areas unsure of what their revelations meant or how to proceed.

Unable to help his daughter from being overcome by the dark magic inside, Alaric found himself in the grayest area of all.

Does this mean it’s time to call in Caroline with reinforcements? The merge cannot happen without a guest-appearance from Candace Accola!

What did you think of the film noir theme?

Are you glad we circled back to Dark Josie? What kind of havoc will she wreak on the Salvatore School and the people that love her?

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

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All Was Golden in the Sky (6/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: Hey, thanks for reading, internet. It’s real nice. This is one of my favorite chapters. Lots happens. Like. Lots. Also, casual suggestion, but if you’re looking for music to listen to while reading this, I played Movement by Hozier and Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance on, like, loop while I wrote it. I also almost used lyrics from Bulletproof Heart to name this story! It’ll make sense why I didn’t soon’ish. As always @resident-of-storybrooke @distant-rose and @bmbbcs4evr continue to be the best.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

The air is cooler as soon as she sits down, but it’s far from silent.

Still. This stupid city feels like it’s alive, even at whatever time it might happen to be, and Emma’s eyes aren’t particularly pleased with all the light she suddenly has to contend with. It’s everywhere – in windows on the other side of the block and from lamps that hang over a mostly empty street. It flickers from red to yellow to green, little pinpricks from a phone in someone’s hand just underneath Emma’s right foot.

It flashes from a plane far above her, people going about their lives without any knowledge of the rest of it, a story Emma isn’t sure she understands anymore, but knows she’s at the very center of. It’s everywhere she looks, bits of white and dots of warmth, energy and electricity and a sign of home in a darkness that feels a little manufactured.

As if it’s not actually real.

As if it’s not actually a threat.

As if she can do something about it.

Emma takes a deep breath, slow and measured and it’s awful because she’s come to realize that the air in this city doesn’t smell like salt, but like garbage and sweat and far too many people, but she needs something to center herself, particularly when she can feel the rush of everything moving down both her arms.

She shakes them at her side, flipping both her wrists and the light that appears in either one of her palms isn’t particularly bright. It hums, though, its own pulse that makes Emma laugh softly because it’s not desperate. There’s no spark, no flare, nothing that isn’t the absolute control she knows she needs for this to work.

“That’s impressive.”

Emma’s teeth find her lip – but it’s not nerves, so much as it is butterflies. She glances over her shoulder to find Killian smiling at her, mussed hair and that same look she’s starting to covet just a bit because she’s starting to realize, just a bit, that he only ever uses it when he’s looking her direction.

“You were asleep two seconds ago.” He hums, moving through the window with far more grace than he should be allowed to have. The entire fire escape wobbles precariously when he sits down. “Fuck,” he breathes, working another laugh out of her. “Don’t do that, Swan. This is--God, what would possess you to come out here? This is a death trap.” “What, are you scared?” “Of falling to my doom before we can even try to save the world? Yes, obviously.” “You’re very dramatic, you know that?” “I think I’m pointing out some precarious parts of your escape plan, that’s all.”

The butterflies disappear. Immediately. Oh. Oh. “I’m not running,” Emma whispers, eyes falling to hands that are suddenly absent of any magic.

“No?” “No. Just...thinking.” “Well, I’ll give you a penny for them.” “I promise, they’re not worth that much.” “I don’t know about that, love,” Killian says, tugging her hand back to his side and the plastic there is cool under her fingers. It’s been happening more, she’s noticed, the willingness to let her touch his hand and the realization leaves her a little light-headed, like he’s trusting her with this part of him, letting her in and giving her more than a few pillows for her head.

It’s an admittedly jumbled metaphor.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Emma asks. “Another realm? People we can’t remember.” “Pirates and princesses, you mean?” She nods, not sure she what to do with the catch in his voice, but Killian doesn’t object when she lets her head fall on his shoulder and she hadn’t expected him to. “Maybe. I...I don’t know, Swan. I can remember things and I can’t. Moments that make no sense at all, but feel like they have to be true because I don’t know what I’ll do if they’re not.” “But?” “How do you know there was a but?” “How did you know I was out here?” “Fair,” he chuckles. “But. If it is true, then there has to be some truth to what that sea witch says and I can’t--I don’t want to be that person. No matter how much you might be willing to forgive.” “Again, she was trying to drown us with a soda gun,” Emma reasons. “Maybe she was just an asshole and a villain. Plus, I don’t...I’m certainly not a princess. That’s…” She’s rambling, it can’t possibly be attractive. Killian’s still smiling. “Well, you remember being in the Navy, right? That could work. Whatever I am and...the naval officer.” “Doesn’t have quite the same ring as pirate and princess, does it?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re blowing holes in my theories again.” “Not on purpose,” he promises. “Why don’t you think the princess thing makes sense?” “Are you kidding?” “Humor me.” Emma groans, but she wants to keep talking and sitting here and she knows something is happening. Something big. “I don’t know how I got to Storybrooke. I’ve been trying to remember and I...I can’t, but now I keep having these moments and it’s not--it feels real. You knew exactly how to get me to calm down when my magic freaked and you can feel my magic and--" The words don’t come, just a weird, half-noise of disappointment and being alone and he’s going to set a record for emotionally-charged hand kisses in a twenty-four hour period.

“The princess and the naval officer,” Killian murmurs, keeping his head ducked and his lips against Emma’s skin. “You think we went to many balls?” “Are you trying to get me to invite you to balls, Lieutenant?”

She blushes. It’s ridiculous. And Emma can feel the smile become a smirk, a quick twist of lips and another nip against her knuckles, but she’s barely got time to process that before they’re moving and the fire escape is creaking again and Killian’s hand falls on her waist with practiced ease.

“I believe, your highness, I’m asking you to dance.” “What?” Emma asks, and she can’t believe her voice actually has the gall to crack.

“Was that confusing?” “You were worried about the fire escape leading to a very bloody, very violent demise two seconds ago. Now you want to dance?” “I never used the word bloody.” “Oh my God.” “C’mon,” he goads, and they’re already swaying slightly. There’s no music, no rhythm except the one the city exudes and Emma’s never had a moment like this.

At least not in this realm.

Time seems to pause, lets them stay right where they are, close enough that their toes brush and their thighs press together and Emma doesn’t argue when Killian moves her hand to his shoulder. “You have to work on your form, Swan,” he murmurs, pressing the words to the side of her cheek. “Luckily for you, I’m more than adept.”

“Awfully confident too.” He hums, fingers still curled around hers and there’s a warmth there that doesn’t feel exactly natural. In a good way. The best way. A possibly magical sort of way. Killian’s hand drifts over her side, the fabric of Emma’s shirt twisting under his touch and neither one of them acknowledge how loud her quick inhale is.

That’s probably for the best.

“It’s a crime you don’t know how to do this,” he murmurs, swaying turning to rocking.

“Disappointed?” “Not in you. In whatever royal court you grew up in.”

Emma laughs – mostly because the idea of her and royal in the same sentence is so absolutely, positively absurd she can’t even begin to consider another reaction, but then she tilts her head up and she’s almost positive the lights are reflecting off the actual emotion hanging in the air and...well, maybe.

They’re still moving, slow steps that don’t shake, but move with practiced ease. Killian’s hand shifts every so often, drifting up and down her side and tracing along the ridge of her spine and Emma isn’t sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but it might be even better if that’s true. As if he’s simply trying to make sure that she’s there.

“Is there a pattern we’re following here, Lieutenant?”

Killian’s lips twitch, a flash in his gaze that makes Emma’s eyes widen. Her gaze flickers up, tracing across his face like she’s looking for clues to a mystery she didn’t initially realize she was determined to solve. “It’s called a waltz,” he says, a soft lilt in his voice that she’s starting to notice more and more.

Usually when he’s teasing her.

He seems to like doing that.

She doesn’t mind all that much either.

And maybe is starting to feel more and more like probably. Or even hopefully.

“Right, right, right,” Emma mutters. There’s a siren somewhere. She can hear people talking on the sidewalk below them, that same hum of city-life and actual living making its way back to her ears and her soul and her magic jumps, twisting through the spaces between her ribs and wrapping around the joints in her elbows and her knees and Killian’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.

“And where, exactly, did you get such impeccable lessons?” “The Navy, obviously,” he answers, not quite smug, but still decidedly teasing. Emma rolls her eyes. His eyebrows are absurd. “Can’t have her highness embarrassed by her men, you see.”

“Are you suggesting I have more than one man? Impertinent.”

He might wink – at least tries, it’s more just a scrunch of his nose and an exaggerated blink, but it’s also kind of endearing in a way that makes Emma certain Ursula must have been lying through her teeth. “I hope not,” Killian says, no trace of anything except honesty in every single letter.

Emma’s been holding her breath. She hadn’t realized.

“No, there wasn’t,” Emma mutters. Past tense. She doesn’t realize that immediately either. And it’s idiotic to push, absurd to move out of this moment or the easy motion she and Killian have settled into, but she’s curious and worried and she wants. That’s all there is to it. “What did you see before?” she asks. “When the seeress was here and--” “--You called me babe.” “I’m serious.”

Killian’s laugh seems to fall off him, a quick nod and slight squeeze of his hand. “It was awful,” he says. “It was...like being torn and twisted and it felt like it was never going to stop. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t hear anything. It was just dark. And everything hurt.” “I’m so sorry.” “That’s not your fault, Swan.” “I don’t--” “--It’s not,” Killian cuts in sharply, and Emma nearly swallows her tongue. Her tongue is really becoming a problem for her. “None of this is your fault. And you’re going to fix it, save everyone and then some.” “I don’t know if there’s a some after everyone.” He grins – and it almost reaches his eyes, not quite perfectly blue anymore. It’s probably a trick of the light. “Touché.”

They’re not moving. They’re frozen on that rickety fire escape with hints of a past that might actually be a dream and villains and magic. Too much magic. Emma feels as if she’s going to burst with the force of it.

“What’s your favorite place here?”

Killian’s eyebrows furrow, confusion obvious in that pinch between his eyebrows. The gust of wind that moves down the block is sudden, making Emma’s knees wobble slightly and she refuses to give credence to the soft suspicion in the back of her mind – it doesn’t feel particularly natural.

“What?” “Here,” Emma repeats, jerking her head back like that will make it more obvious. “This city. You said--well, you aren’t from here, right?” His eyebrows, somehow, get even lower, a move that makes his actual eyes turn into slits and Emma does her best not to focus on whatever is happening the general region of her lungs. The wind hasn’t stopped, might be gusting even more, honestly, a sudden heaviness to the air that is even less natural.

She’s almost gotten used to the smell of this city, and it’s been warm recently, the last few hints of summer hanging on before the leaves start to change, which very likely only adds to the overall scent of most of Manhattan, but this, this, whatever smell she’s breathing in now, it’s not right.

It’s rotten. It’s decay. And disappointment. It’s loneliness. She wasn’t aware loneliness had a specific scent until that very moment, but Emma knows she’s right. She’d remember that particular emotion anywhere – is far too well acquainted with it herself, but she’s not entirely sure where it’s coming from. She can feel it though, with every breath she takes, quick inhales and slightly desperate exhales, an emptiness that fills her and makes her magic rise up in defense. The shadows at her feet extend.

Killian blinks, a quick shake of his head and slight grimace that he probably doesn’t want Emma to see. “No, I’m not,” he says, voice clipped. “And?” “And what? I told you already, Swan. I was everywhere. After my brother died, I--” He huffs, all frustration and...loneliness. Again.

The shadows look like they’re wrapping around Killian’s legs.

“Are you planning on taking in the sights and sounds of New York after saving the world, then?” Killian asks, and Emma isn’t entirely prepared for the whiplash in his tone. It’s not the harsh sound it had been a few seconds before. It’s softer, enthusiastic even, like a kid who would go outside in the snow even when he knew it would end with freezing fingers and toes. If only so he could have a few moments of fun.

Of something that was his.

Or, maybe, theirs.

Emma is clearly a sentimental weirdo when presented with the challenge of saving the world.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, which is only kind of cowardly, but the conversation suddenly seems even more than it was and they were dancing a few minutes ago. Dancing. She can’t remember the last time she danced. She can’t remember the last time she wanted to.

“But you’re curious.” “About several thousand things,” Emma grumbles. “Right now, though I’m just--I don’t know, wondering, I guess. About you and--” “--You?” “It’s confusing when you use the same word in the sentence like that.” “Fair, fair. My use of the word you was really more directed at...well, you.” He clicks his teeth when she groans, a distinct lack of frustration in the sound because the sound might actually be flirting and they should never have stopped dancing. “I guess what I’m saying is that I understand it. Wanting to know.” “You don’t think that’s weird?” Killian makes a noise in the back of his throat, not quite an agreement, but certainly not a disagreement. It’s an oddly satisfying middle point. “I think it could be, but I’m almost confident it won’t be.” “Confusing.” “Nah,” he objects. “For one thing I’m pretty sure you’re brilliant and--” “--Oh flattery is a very good look on you, Lieutenant.” His ears go red and his lips press together and Emma wouldn’t say she preens exactly, but it is very, very close.

“It’s not flattery when it’s true, Swan.” If she gets any closer to him she’s going to step on his shoes. And, not for the first time, Emma wishes there weren’t three other people in that apartment or that pesky fate of the world and magic thing hanging over their head, because she’s admittedly very curious and has more than a few thoughts regarding a lack of shirts. “And,” Killian adds, pulling her back to the present and decidedly clothed bodies, “it’s not weird because we’re on the same page.” He ducks his eyes, tongue flashing between his lips. That doesn’t help Emma’s mindset. She wonders if it’d freak him out of if she just magic'ed them out of their clothes.

Probably.

“I want to know about you,” she whispers, not quite an admission because she’d almost said exactly that before, but using the very specific words seems important and possibly life-changing and maybe that line never actually existed at all.

Maybe they’d just been on this page from the start.

Together.

“Where?” “This is what I was asking you. Favorite places, an itemized list.” Killian chuckles, head dropping forward a few inches until the few strands of hair that seem determined to ruin Emma’s entire life brush against her skin. He’s never actually moved his hand away from her back.

She’d barely noticed – as if that’s exactly where it belonged.

God.

“You did mention something about Times Square, didn’t you?” Killian mutters, expression twisting into something that looks like vaguely put-upon attraction. It’s a weird string of words. Emma hopes she sees it, at least, forty-seven more times.

“And you were very quick to point out that going to Times Square would be the worst possible thing I could do.” “Yeah, well that was admittedly before everything went to complete shit and we were trying to figure out if our lives were lies.” “Ah, that was very negative. Almost scathing.” He sighs again, a quick kiss to the crown of her head. Her magic needs to calm the fuck down. “Yeah,” Killian agrees, “it was. It’d be easier if it was all balls and bowing and courting, huh?” “You seem to be far more well versed in court etiquette than I am.” “Rebel princess.” “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not, actually,” Emma says, hooking her finger through one of the belt loops on Killian’s jeans. She nearly strains the muscles in her face smiling at whatever noise that inspires. “Although that might get me on the right track” Another kiss. She’s not counting. She’s harping, a little, but definitely not counting. There’s got to be a line somewhere.

Emma’s not sure if the line is actually in this realm or not.

“I’m sorry for the negative, love,” Killian says, dropping his head to drag the words along the side of her jaw and Emma flinches on instinct as soon as his lips ghost over that one, specific spot behind her ear.

He laughs.

And pulls her even closer to his chest so she can’t swat at his arm.

“It really isn’t your fault, Swan,” Killian continues, and Emma knows they’re rehashing and talking in circles and there’s probably a dance metaphor in there, but her mind reaches out towards the words and her magic might actually need the words and the way his voice shifts slightly when he looks at her like that makes her positive not much else matters.

“Favorite place.” He grins. “Times Square.” “Don’t lie to me.” “I’m not. And, you know, you kind of almost got there already. The library really isn’t that far out of Times Square. It’s like...maybe, two blocks.” “Ok, that was just pitiful,” Emma says, but the insult lacks much insult when she laughs the words out. Killian’s eyebrows lift. “C’mon...I’m serious. This is a legitimate attempt at--” “--Distraction? Deflection?” “Those are both incredibly negative as well.”

“Doesn’t change my answer. Times Square. It’s the best place in all five boroughs, hands down, no other choice.” “Oh my God, that was horrendous!” He widens his eyes when her voice rises, gaze darting back to the still-dark apartment and far-too-loud sound of Will’s consistent snoring. “Swan, if you keep shouting at me, I’m going to start thinking you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine what would give you that idea. Aren’t officers supposed to be honor-bound to their monarchs or whatever?” “The whatever really added to it,” Killian laughs, hand moving again and Emma shivers when the wind gusts against her skin. “And depending on which story you listen to I’m a variety of different things. I can’t imagine pirates have much honor to them.” “No honor among thieves, huh?” “Something that like.” His gaze goes distant for a moment, flitting over Emma’s shoulder like he’s looking at something she can’t see or remembering something she doesn’t entirely understand and--"Although pirates are usually pretty dashing, right? Rapscallions and all that.” “Good word.” “That’s the librarian version of me.”

“I like that one,” Emma says before she can think better of it and she doesn’t really regret the words. Particularly when they lead to that look – as if she’s the sun or the moon or possibly several different stars of the northern variety, something that would, at the very least, lead any manner of sailor home.

Back to her.

Every single time.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she repeats. “And I think it’s stupid nice that you’re picking Times Square to try and make me feel less like a tourist for picking Times Square.”

“Stupid nice is also a rather impressive string of words.”

Emma scoffs, Killian’s smile settling into something that also feels a bit like home and several facts about space that she’d need a small army of librarians to research. “That was definitely the goal.” She takes a deep breath, reluctantly pulling her hand away and flipping her palm up.

Killian tilts his head. “You don’t want to walk, huh?” “What’s the fun in that?” “Yeah, an absolute joy.” She flutters her fingers. And Killian doesn’t sigh, but he makes that face again and Emma smiles as soon as his hand lands on top of hers. “For what it’s worth, I never really thought you were a tourist.” “What a compliment.” “A natural New Yorker.” “Oh even better,” Emma laughs, lacing her fingers through Killian’s and his thumb finds the back of her wrist almost immediately. “Don’t let go, ok?” The rushing in her ears makes it difficult to hear whatever he says, but Emma would swear he mutters never and the surge of her magic is as strong as it’s ever been.

They land with a soft thump, sneakers dragging across not-quite empty sidewalks because it’s late, but New York is, well, New York and she’s come to learn that there are always people everywhere. A man in a fur-suit and costumed head balanced against his hip gapes at them.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and Killian’s head falls to Emma’s shoulder when he starts laughing. Emma’s eyes bug, yanking her lips behind her teeth. And it only takes a few moments of prolonged staring and increasingly loud laughter before the guy in the fur-suit starts glaring at them, taking a step forward that’s obviously some kind of challenge.

Killian moves in front of Emma.

“Oh my God,” she mumbles, knowing it won’t do much because Killian’s fingers are shifting at his side and the fur-suit guy is already talking about how this is my corner and that apparently means something in Times Square.

“No one is trying to take your corner,” Killian seethes. “Back up.”

“I’ve been here for years--” “--I do not care.” “Killian,” Emma sighs, tugging on the side of his shirt, but that doesn’t do much to help and it really is off-putting that this guy won’t put his costumed head back on.

“The magic shows are down by Herald Square anyway,” the guy continues, “or in the Village. We’ve got rules here man, you can’t just show up and--”

He snaps his jaw shut whenever he sees whatever expression Emma assumes has appeared on Killian’s face, and she can’t mask her sigh again. So she does what she does best. She breaks the rules and ignores the protocol of Times Square street performers, twisting her wrist and feeling the push of warmth that rushes down her right arm and the man freezes.

Immediately.

With his goddamn head in his hand.

Killian spins on the spot, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Emma scrunches her nose. “He won’t stay like that forever,” she reasons. “Just...you know, maybe forty-five minutes. Like an hour, tops.”

“Did I mention the brilliant part before? “Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere.”

“Good,” he says, moving back into her space and it’s a little weird to kiss in front of a frozen guy because the head thing really is weird, but Emma is also pretty interested in kissing and she pushes up on her toes before she thinks about it for too long.

They’re both more than content to stay right there for a moment, rocking back and forth without much concern for the footsteps that move around them and the soft murmurs about their potentially inappropriate public displays of affection, but Emma’s mind can’t slow down, despite her best efforts, and the smell is even worse wherever they are. “Uh, actually 42nd,” Killian says, answering a question she hadn’t even begun to formulate yet. “That’s also impressive because, I think, technically, Times Square stops after 47th Street, so you literally brought us right to the beginning.” “Do you think you’re getting some kind of bonus points for the mind reading thing?” He shakes his head. “Nah, but it’s almost a personal challenge now. Was I right?” “It’s weird.” “Not an answer.” “Why do you not actually like Times Square?” “Are you looking at it?” Emma scowls, but she supposes he’s got a point and it all feels decidedly manufactured. She’s got no idea whatsoever what time it is, but she wouldn’t argue if someone told her it was the middle of the afternoon. The lights around her are that bright. And there are so many of them, varying sizes and colors and flashing patterns.

It’s a lot to take in.

There are a few more costumed street performers shuffling around them, approaching people who are probably, actual, tourists, more than a dozen police officers Emma notices on just her first glance around and the trash can at the corner of the sidewalk does not appear to have been emptied in a hundred years.

At least.

It’s kind of disappointing. It’s been a very strange night.

“I’m sorry,” Killian whispers. Emma hears him. Over the din and the cars and there are so many cars and she can’t understand why anyone in their right mind would ever want to drive through this place that is shockingly similar to the picture of the Underworld she’s devised in her mind.

“For?” “Throw a dart, honestly,” Killian mutters, hand reaching back to tug on the few strands of hair that curl behind his ears. “Everything. You having to be here, getting tugged here because some weird, creepy lady declared your magic was looking for me. That none of it makes sense. That I--” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and Emma seriously needs to stop worrying so much about the seemingly never-ending issues she’s having with her tongue.

It feels too big for her mouth.

Killian’s eyes open. “I’m sorry it’s not what you were hoping for, Swan.”

It keeps happening.

These words that aren’t just words, but might be promises and guarantees and this isn’t quite either one of those things. It feels like more. It feels like an explanation and a reason and she hadn’t been hoping for any of this.

She’d been hoping for the exact, opposite, actually.

And her magic brought her here anyway. To him. And the, technical, start of Times Square.

She reaches up, tugging his hand away from his hair and it’d probably be weird to brush her lips over the back of his palm, but she kind of wants to and he beats her to it. Figures. His mouth is soft against her skin, slow and measured movements that feel like another dance and even more rhythm, a return to something forgotten and absolutely necessary.

She seriously needs to get a goddamn grip.

“Where would you go?” Emma asks, gritting her teeth when someone honks a car horn behind her. “Anywhere.” “I think we’re a little bound by the city, love.” “You’re being difficult on purpose.” “Yeah, that might be true.” “So pick. C’mon, babe.” She does it on purpose. She knows it. Killian knows it. The costumed guy knows it and he’s frozen for, at least, the next forty-three minutes.

“Alright,” Killian nods, the grip on her hand tightening just a bit. “Let’s take a walk.”

Emma has no idea where they’re going. It’s nice. In a way that letting go of the fear and the anxiety that’s crept up her spine and lingered at the base of her skull for the last few weeks is nice. So, naturally, she doesn’t do exactly that. She lets herself stop worrying for a moment, but she holds onto Killian’s hand, twisting and turning across city blocks that all start to blur together a bit and the lights get a little dimmer and the noise gets a little softer and, eventually, she stops smelling that smell.

She smells salt.

“The water,” she mutters, an obvious string of words that probably shouldn’t sound quite as surprised as they are. Killian hums, rocking back on his heels and taking a deep breath. They’re still on the wrong side of the street, an avenue that looks almost impossible to cross, with far too many cars for whatever time it actually is, but Emma’s never been happier to be proved wrong.

He grins at her, even before the light changes, mumbling something that sounds a hell of a lot like just follow me and she’s got no reason to argue that. They twist and turn, another string of impossible movements that aren’t magic, but feel a little bit like an even more powerful teleport and Emma laughs as soon as the railing in front of her collides with her stomach.

Killian’s a little out of breath, his own smile making it seem like his eyes are the lights now and maybe she should just ask Regina if there’s some kind of spell to, like, sedate her and her sentimentality or something.

“When I first got to New York,” Killian starts, and Emma stops laughing almost immediately, “I didn’t have two cents to my name. I don’t--I haven’t really thought about it in a long time because it’s all kind of a blur, but I knew Liam was gone and I was so...angry. At everything and everyone and the whole goddamn world.” “That’s not unreasonable.”

“You’ve been incredibly understanding about this several times now, Swan, but it doesn’t change the fact that I was kind of an ass about it.” “But you came here?” He hums, soft in the back of his throat. Emma takes a step to her right, fingers curling around the bit of plastic at the end of his arm and she feels him flinch before she hears his breath catch. “Aye,” Killian breathes, another repeat that makes every bit of magic Emma’s rise up and jump and maybe do a few cartwheels just for good measure. “It was--I joined the Navy because I wanted to do something good. Wanted to...defend is an awfully hokey word isn’t it?” “Yeah,” Emma nods. “But it’s kind of nice.” “Ah, well that’s the line I’m trying to walk, for sure.”

She might giggle. There is, at the very least, a small army of butterflies in her stomach. “What’s the earliest thing you remember?” “In my life?” “Is that--”

“--Emma, I’m not sure there’s a question you could ask me that would be overstepping at this point. I...I want to know too.”

And it’s not exactly everything, still not a promise or a guarantee or a very specific string of words Emma absolutely, positively should not be thinking because it’s been a few weeks and fate is...stupid and impossible and she can’t shake that feeling in the back of her mind. She wishes Times Square hadn’t been so lame.

She takes a deep breath instead.

“So why’d you come here, then?”

Killian grits his teeth. “I don’t remember a ton,” he says. “Before Boston or even really in the Navy. Just...that I was there. It’s like, uh, looking at something through glass, you know? It all gets warped and changed and none of it makes much sense, but there’s bits and pieces.” “The space heater thing?” “Exactly. And this. The water. There’s just...it’s kind of like this tug, almost. That if I came back here and watched the waves and the surf, everything else would settle. I’d settle.” “I don’t understand that last part.” He makes another noise and Emma knows exactly what word goes with it, but she doesn’t want to use it because it makes the butterflies stop fluttering and the bile rise in the back of her throat and her magic doesn’t just surge. It roars. In something almost akin to rage.

And determination.

As if it’s desperate to protect, to wrap itself around him and utter those promises and how much she wants and hopes and Killian’s eyes widen to a size that cannot good for him because he can feel all of that.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I...for as long as I can remember, Swan. It’s always been this--” He can’t seem to hold her gaze, eyes darting anywhere that isn’t her as if he’s terrified of the reception he’ll get. And Emma ignores the growing ache in her legs from the walking and the dancing and the fighting off the butterfly army, crowding against him and resting her palm on his cheek. He kisses exactly where his lips land.

“Out of place, right?” she asks. His eyes get even wider. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I...get that, a lot, actually.” “I used to come here every night. It’d get dark and I’d been in that library all day and it always felt like I was looking for something I forgot to write down. I’d stack books and put things away and it was as if the one, last thing I was searching for was just out of reach. Like smoke or something.” “Good metaphor.” Killian chuckles, the crack of a smile on his face making the butterflies shift again. “Flattery, love,” he mutters. “So I would come here. And I’d stand and watch. It was a wonder I didn’t get arrested for loitering.” “This is probably public property, they can’t do that. That’s just basic law.” “Ah, well, good thing you’re here to tell me that now.” Emma rolls her eyes. If only because she’s so impossibly endeared she doesn’t know what else to do. “I was never really worried about that though,” Killian adds. “Mostly because I didn’t care. I was...not empty. What’s the opposite?” “Full.” “Nah, that’s not it either. I was overflowing with everything I was feeling because I wasn’t sure what it was. Too much, honestly. And none of it made sense. Like I said, flashes and memories and little moments that didn’t add up to anything. They said there might have been some symptoms of that after--” “--After,” Emma cuts in sharply. “Oh, shit did you--” The realization shakes through her, rattling down her vertebrae and it’s heavy enough that she falls back on her heels. “When Liam…” “Died? You can say it, love.” She rolls her eyes again, frustration she’s not even remotely entitled to. “Were you hurt too?” “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Killian shrugs. “I woke up in Boston with wisps of memories and hints of a past that, now, makes even less sense, but there were doctors there and I’ve got--” He holds up his hand, like that proves anything and Emma doesn’t think.

God, she’s got to stop doing that.

She jerks both her hands forward, fingers wrapping around plastic and a limb that doesn’t allow much movement and Killian is not breathing. She knows he’s not. He’s staring at her in disbelief and something very close to wonder and they both ignore how choppy the water on the other side of the railing is.

His eyes are definitely bluer than they were before. Emma licks her lips, not entirely sure what her plan is or if she even has one, but her magic refuses to settle and she refuses to let Killian think any less than exactly what he is and--”It doesn’t make a difference,” she says, hoping he hears the words for what they are and what she’s not actually saying. He clenches his jaw. “No matter what,” Emma continues, “I...what’s the first thing you remember?” “The water.” “What?” “The water,” Killian repeats. “That’s why I would come here. Because that was always what I thought about and it...was calming. Not just the water, either. The smell. Salt in the air and it was warm. I remember that perfectly. The back of my neck burned, but I never went inside.” “Seems to be a theme, huh?” He nods, ducking to catch her in a quick kiss. “There was water and a dock. And...the sun, light reflecting off the waves and--” Emma’s heart is going to explode out of her chest. “It wasn’t just the sun,” Killian mutters, sounding confused and a little scared and the clouds above them must have shifted because Emma swears his face moves into the shadow as soon as he tilts his head. “That’s insane, right?” “I don’t know.” “I hate to tell you this, Swan, but that’s not the most inspired answer.” She lets out a shaky laugh, even less confidence than usual. “Tell me something about Storybrooke, then. Something good. Something...magical.” “Is this flirting?” “It’s unfortunate that you have to ask.” Her eyes are going to get stuck mid-roll, but her mind is firing again and the memory can’t possibly be the same.

It’s insane.

It’s not.

She really hopes her heart doesn’t explode out of her chest. Emma isn’t sure there’s a spell to fix exploding hearts.

“I could probably eat, like, five grilled cheese sandwiches in one sitting. Granny makes them at the diner in town and it’s...my love of them is almost legendary. Ruby would bring me some when I’d get stuck with paperwork because David and Mary Margaret were off being somewhere disgustingly in love and--”

“--Is five your record?” “I don’t know that I’ve ever counted, but you know...they’re not super big sandwiches, so I’m going to say five is definitely a possibility.” Killian doesn’t laugh. That’s the good part. The less good part is whatever he does with his face, slightly stunned and a little overwhelmed and Emma is wholly unprepared for the movement, a shift and another shadow and her gasp is probably helpful. It makes it easier for his tongue move into her mouth.

She arches her back, trying to push herself further against him, which is either the best or worst decision she’s ever made, but they really can’t get arrested for loitering and she’s doubtful about New York’s public decency laws and she wants, wants, wants.

“God, I can’t think when you do that,” she says.

“Swan, the complaints, love.” “Was I complaining?” “Certainly sounded like it.”

Emma hums, pushing back up and the hand on her back feels like a weight and an anchor and, possibly, the only thing tethering her to reality.

And in the rest of her life that will follow, hours and days and years, Emma will never know what possesses her to say the next few words out her mouth. It’s as if she’s been switched on or something else has been switched off, a certainty that this is her best option and only option and it makes perfect sense.

“What if we left?” she asks. “Now. Right now?” “I thought you weren’t running.” “Only towards danger.”

“Oh, that was good, Swan,” Killian says. “You want to go find Excalibur at two in the morning? On our own?”

“How did you know that?” “You do this thing with your face when you’ve started to formulate a plan. It’s wonderful.” Emma does, in fact, make a face at that. Which only serves to, finally, make Killian laugh. “See,” he grins. “You’re doing it now. You twist your lips so it’s like...one side gets tugged down and your nose just defies the laws of physics.” “These are not compliments.” “They are, love, I promise.”

She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t particularly want to. She wants to go find Excalibur at two in the morning, fueled, almost solely, on the idea that Killian remembers a memory that can’t possibly exist. “Would you go?” Emma asks. “With me...I mean.” “Of course.” It’s more conviction and certainty and probably some other word that starts with ‘c’ and maybe a few other words that are far too big to be considering yet, but Emma mutters ok under her breath and pushes up on her toes to kiss him and the magic wraps around both of them almost immediately.

They land outside of Grand Central Station and they’re definitely getting better at not stumbling. Emma waves her hand at the lock in front of her, the soft sound of it snapping open satisfying and, she hopes, some kind of sign for their future success.

“Do you not ever have to say the words out loud?” Killian asks, following her into the main hall and it’s weird. The pictures they’d found online were all of a bustling transportation hub, people everywhere with briefcases and less-than-impressed expressions, trying to catch trains and there’s probably another metaphor in there somewhere.

Something about time and how it keeps passing them by or whatever.

Emma shakes her head. “Regina would kill me if she knew I wasn’t. Supposedly it helps with control to kind of...focus the magic into the words and the spell, but control’s never really been my thing and it’s just--” “--It’s just?” “It’s easier to do it when you’re around,” Emma says, rushing over the words like they’re embarrassing. Killian beams. “Oh, don’t look so smug.” “I’m not anything, Swan. I’m processing. Appreciating new information, as it were.” “Smug.” She’s going to magic his eyebrows to one, specific spot on his face. Killian laughs again, another press of his lips to her cheek. “C’mon,” he says, “Belle said the building prints had some kind of secret entrance down in the corner by the food court.” It’s even creepier down there – which is really saying something because Emma’s skin had exploded with goosebumps when they walked by that giant clock and the whole thing felt a little heavy-handed – but now they’re in some kind of basement that isn’t a basement and nothing is open and it all looks a little grey.

The chairs squeak when they move around them, trying to find a secret hatch or a hidden door knob and--”Here,” Emma says, a pull low in her stomach and she can’t ignore that kind of magic. It’s obvious. And completely foreign. “That’s...that’s weird.” “Yeah, it is.” She blinks. “Wait, what? You can feel that too?” Killian nods, eyes going distant again and Emma’s only a little worried she’s lost complete control of the situation already. “Yeah,” he mumbles, recoiling from the wall like it’s shocked him. “It’s like--” “--Music?” “That’s what it sounds like.”

Emma leans forward, like that will help her hear better. She’s pleasantly surprised when it works. Because the music grows and the sound isn’t altogether unpleasant and Killian curses under his breath as soon as the doorknob they were looking for appears.

“God, that’s so weird,” Emma muses. She reaches forward anyway, a quick turn and another loud click of a different lock and there’s a hallway in front of them, low lights and not much suggesting that it’s an obvious threat, but Emma can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right.

“Huh.” “Articulate.” “Yeah, I’m not sure I can come up with anything else,” Killian says. He takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and ignoring whatever objection Emma only half gets out before he takes a step around her and crosses the threshold into the catacomb that’s just magically opened up. He holds his hand out. “You ready?” “Loaded question.” “Yup.” “Yeah,” Emma says, not sure if she’s answering or agreeing and it’s probably both. “Let’s go.”

It’s very dusty. That’s the first thing she notices. And filled with cobwebs. There are no windows, they’re underground, just heavy air and a small cloud of dirt every time Emma and Killian’s feet move another step forward.

On Track 61.

Killian lets out a low whistle, more than one kiss pressed to the top of Emma’s hair. “It does seem rather vast, doesn’t it?” “Never-ending, even. Have you seen anything that even looks like anything?”

The words are no sooner out of her mouth than they turn another corner, Emma’s fingers still tied up with Killian’s and a ball of light in her other hand, and they both mumble several rather pointed curses.

There’s stuff everywhere. And stuff is about the best way to describe it. There’s no rhyme or reason to it – small piles of what, at first glance, appear to be various flatware sets, with far too many forks for one person, and more than a few paintings, empty candelabras and--”Is that a bust? Like...of person?”

Killian hums, moving towards it and Emma doesn’t have much choice to follow. He clicks his tongue, a quiet appraisal. “I think that’s Hans Christian Andersen.” “How would you know that?” “I know everything.” “You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

He glances over his shoulder, a flash of a smirk when his lips move. “I think that’s a defense mechanism because you’re actually so charmed by me.” “Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she argues, another lie that’s almost painfully bad. “I don’t...this is just junk, though.” “You think it’s more than one person’s stuff?” “Don’t you?” “I don’t know,” Killian shrugs. “Maybe.” “And no sword.”

She’s not really expecting more flirting, so she can’t say she’s disappointed when she doesn’t get it, but Emma is admittedly a little surprised that she doesn’t even get a response. It is, she quickly realizes, because Killian’s gaze has moved over her head, staring at a high archway with his lips parted slightly.

“Babe,” Emma mutters, falling back on recently-acquired habits and the hope that it will work. It does not. Damn. “Killian.” His brows furrow, blinking quickly and she’s not sure what to do with the look on his face – a mix of curiosity and fear that doesn’t add up at all. “Killian,” Emma repeats. “What’s...what are you looking at?” “I think we have to go that way.” “What? Why?” “I don’t--I just know.” Emma can’t argue with that. She won’t. “Ok,” she says slowly, moving her arm so she can lace her fingers through his and neither one of them stumble when they walk forward.

She’s got no idea how long it takes, a seemingly never-ending tunnel illuminated only by the light in her free hand. Everything looks stale, as if it’s overstayed its welcome or gone bad and that’s a slightly menacing thought, but Emma’s also seem more cobwebs in the last ten minutes than she knew could ever exist and Killian keeps brushing them away so she doesn’t walk through them.

“An officer and a gentleman,” she says, a fairly pitiful attempt to joke and this tunnel has to end eventually. “Hey, uh...you want to get dinner sometime or something?” Killian’s face turns incredulous. “You’re asking me out? Right now?” “I mean, you know after we deal with Excalibur and maybe aren’t buried alive--” “--We’re not buried alive, Swan. We can very easily get back into Grand Central.” “Is this you avoiding the question?” “No,” Killian says, far too quickly and the tips of his ears go red. Emma widens her eyes. “I’d like that. The dinner. And the getting out of here.” “Tough to breathe, right?” He hums noncommittally, another far away gaze that Emma follows. She gasps. She’s got to stop doing that. But she can see what he’s looking at and what he’s looking at is a goddamn sword in a goddamn stone like they’ve suddenly been transported into a Disney movie.

“So, seems fairly real, huh?” Killian asks lightly.

“Yeah. Very real. What do you think we do?” “Well, according to the legend only the rightful heir to Camelot could pull the sword from the stone, but I’m not sure we’re playing with the usual rules here.” He takes a step forward, grunting when Emma doesn’t follow immediately. “What?”

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just touch that thing?” “Why not? I’m not going to let you do it.” “I have magic,” Emma yells. “You can feel it! I’m supposed to be the one to save everything.”

Killian’s smile turns a little placating and Emma gets it – she’s kind of whining, but her magic also feels like it’s boiling under her skin and something is wrong here. They shouldn’t be here. “I think it’s got to be me, Emma,” Killian says, and she knows that’s right too. She hates that. She wishes she understood why. “I can...I knew it was here.”

“Ok.” He kisses her before she moves and she doesn’t want to think it’s the last one, but it feels a hell of a lot like that and everything that happens after that happens far too quickly and far too slowly and the ground shakes under her feet.

Killian’s hand lands on the sword, a jolt moving through his entire body that doesn’t look natural, but does look a little magical and the shadows that had lingered on the walls around them drift towards his feet. They creep up his legs and wrap around his shoulders, head falling forward when it all gets too much.

Emma can’t move. She’s frozen to the spot, Killian’s face twisted when he hisses in a breath of air that makes her own breath catch. Loudly.

His knees never actually buckle and that may almost be worse, as if his legs are locked into place by the darkness that clings to him. His tongue flashes between his lips more than once, eyes screwed shut and his knuckles have turned white where they’re holding the sword.

And then it’s over.

Fast and slow, good and bad, light and dark. All at the same time.

Killian’s head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief. There’s sweat on his forehead, hair matted to his skin and Emma’s lungs are burning. She still hasn’t moved. It doesn’t matter. He does.

He moves back into her space in three steps, a hand cupping her cheek with a tenderness that contradicts that the pitch-like color of his gaze. “Emma,” he whispers, and it sounds like a plea. “Emma?”

She shakes her head slowly and in the grand scheme of flight or fight situations, Emma’s a little disappointed when she doesn’t react at all. Her magic, however, is a different story and Killian’s smile is wide, if not a little jarring, the curl of it turning a bit predatory when his gaze meets hers.

“You’ve got to remember, Emma. I need you to remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Us. Please, love. I...I need you to trust me.” “I do,” Emma says immediately, and she means it. Completely. “Of course, I do.” Killian mumbles something she can’t understand, ducking down so he’s almost even with Emma and the magic that sparks around them isn’t hers.

It’s his.

And part of her knows it’s coming, the kiss and the feeling and she wants it, desperately, but part of her is wholly unprepared for the force of the emotion behind it, greedy and needy and it’s more out-of-place rhyme because the magic surrounding both of them soars. The first burst of light takes her by surprise, but then there are more, splashes of color staining the walls around them and the tracks under their feet and Emma almost feels like they’re dancing again, swaying into each other’s space and each other’s memory.

She presses up, Killian groaning when her tongue swipes against his lips and her fingers scratch at the back of his hair and she remembered that. She remembered that happening before, the same sound in a dimly lit corridor and a dress that made his eyes widen and they’d been dancing.

She only realizes she’s closed her eyes when they snap open, a spectrum of colors everywhere she looks and she remembers.

It was them.

Is. Present tense.

“Oh, shit,” Emma breathes, and that’s the least dignified response she could have come come up with.

Killian’s smile widens, another searing kiss and he lets his forehead rest against hers. “Eloquent, darling,” he says. “Your highness. Sorry I’m late.”

Tag List: @kmomof4 @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer@winterbaby89 @melsbels @tiganasummertree @jennjenn615 @idristardis @cssns

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #that stupid witch fic #all was golden in the sky #here's a fun fact #chapters five and six were originally one chapter #and i split em to add emma's conversation with belle #and the times square stuff #that times square stuff will be important #she says only vaguely ominiously

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stahlop · 5 years

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Once Upon a Time 1x19 “The Return” Review

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So I’ll admit, the first time this aired I totally bought into August being Baelfire. I mean, despite August asking if they even look alike, yes, they do look like they could be the same person (except that August has blue eyes and Bae doesn’t). Shout out to Robert Carlyle for actually making me cry every single time I watch this because his speech to August is just heartbreaking. It’s even worse when you know August isn’t Bae. Also, because I forgot it last week, Cora’s name means maiden, but can also be derived from the Spanish word corazon which means heart.

Summary: Bae tries to find a way for he and his father to be together without him being the Dark One. Gold grows suspicious of August and what he is doing in town after he catches him in his office. Regina realizes that Gold set her up when Kathryn returns.

Opening: August riding his motorcycle (this is the first time we’ve seen a Storybrooke character in the opener).

Character Observations:

Rumplestiltskin/Gold:

This is Rumplestiltskin soon after he changed originally. He still sounds a little bit like coward Rumplestiltskin, but with just a hint of joking/giddy Rumplestiltskin. He is still doing everything in the name of his son. We are seeing that even though he is the Dark One, he still has his humanity. He still has something worth keeping his humanity for. Even if it that means he turns someone into a snail and crushes him for accidentally hurting Bae’s leg. Bae, of course, just wants his papa. He doesn’t want this demon masquerading as his father. Rumplestiltskin says he wants more power to protect Bae. Bae counters with if he didn’t have power he wouldn’t need to protect him. Rumplestiltskin explains that he can’t get rid of the power. Bae wonders if he’s tried. Rumplestiltskin shows him the dagger and explains how the only way to get rid of it would be for someone else to kill him and take the power for themselves, just like he did. But he does say he’ll look for other ways to appease Bae. Bae pushes and asks if he could get rid of the power without harm to either of them would he do it. Rumplestiltskin says it’s not possible. He wants to know why Bae isn’t happy with the fact that he can conjure up anything his heart desires. All Bae wants is his father. All Rumplestiltskin wants is Bae’s happiness. He says he will do it if Bae finds a way to rid him of the darkness. They shake on it. We next see Rumple go off to do some business, which it turns out is killing their mute maid. We see a little of the Rumplestiltskin that we’ve seen in the future when he quips about the maid being able to draw a picture of the dagger. Rumplestiltskin is spinning. He is just spinning plain wool so he hasn’t figured out the spinning into gold yet. Bae says he has found a way to take them to a place without magic. Rumplestiltskin is scared. He says he’ll be powerless and weak. Bae says he’ll be just like everyone else and they’d be happy. Bae reminds him of their deal. Bae takes him into the woods and shows him the bean. It turns into a portal when he throws it. Rumplestiltskin is freaking the eff out. Bae falls in and Rumplestiltskin tries to pull him out. He can’t go through with it and he doesn’t want Bae to go either. Bae calls him a coward and says he’s breaking their deal. Bae falls through. Rumplestiltskin realizes that Bae is gone and starts digging in the spot the portal just was to try to be with him. Too late buddy, you missed your chance. This is probably the most human we’ve seen Rumplestiltskin as the Dark One. He’s been pretty callous about everything and doing things in the name of Bae’s happiness, but the real human emotion comes out when he realizes that everything he’s been doing for his son has now been lost and his own cowardice and weakness is what will make his son unhappy. Rumplestiltskin calls on the Blue Fairy. He wants to know how to get to Bae. She tells him he missed his chance, that was the last bean. He accuses her of lying and lying about lying. He lists off other ways he could possibly travel. Blue shoots them all down except for curse. She warns Rumplestiltskin that it is too high a price to pay and he doesn’t have the ability. He says he has all the time in the world to figure out the curse and how to find his son. He tries to attack the Blue Fairy when she tells him he drove his son away. So now we know now how Rumplestiltskin essentially lost his humanity and let the darkness take over. He was too scared to lose his power and lost his son because of it.

Which makes the whole Gold plot line in this episode even sadder. We first see him in his shop helping Henry pick out a gift for Mary Margaret now that she’s been cleared of murder charges. He catches August snooping in the back and becomes suspicious. Next Gold and Regina are talking and Regina mentions that Gold broke their deal. He mentions that he's only ever broken one deal in his life and this was not it. Regina says Kathryn was supposed to be murdered and Mary Margaret get the blame. Gold says murder seems so much worse in this world. You can’t just turn them into a snail and step on them (which we see him do later in a flashback). Gold clarifies that she said something tragic was to happen to her and kidnapping is tragic. Regina counters that the intent was clear. They continue to argue about intent until Gold says please to shut her up. Regina realizes that Gold is setting her up to take the fall. She doesn’t understand because they’ve been in this from the beginning. He created the curse for her (nope, he created the curse for him, you were just a pawn). Gold tells her to figure it out. Gold goes to Mary Margaret’s welcome home party, which I thought was weird, but then I remembered that he was her lawyer. But he’s basically just skulking in the background. Gold asks Emma if it’s hard to let Henry go back to Regina. She says it’s the hardest things she’s had to do. You can see Gold sympathizing. Emma non-sequiturs into asking him if he was behind Kathryn’s kidnapping due to his ‘working some magic’ quip. He wants to know if she thinks he’s working for or against Regina. Emma isn’t sure. Then he asks about August. He doesn’t believe that’s his real name and he was poking around his shop. Emma says she trusts him more than she trusts Gold. Well who does trust Gold? He breaks into August’s room at Granny’s and finds a drawing of the dagger. Gold follows August to the nunnery. He talks to Mother Superior, who has either been told by August to tell Gold his story, or is breaking some kind of breach of confidence by telling Gold August’s story of him finding his father but is too ashamed to reach out to him. Gold was not expecting that August is possibly Bae coming to find him. Gold goes to speak to Dr. Hopper. Tells him an abbreviated history of him and Bae. Thinks that August might be Bae, but also thinks he might be seeing what he wants to see. He isn’t sure that August might not be there to kill him. Dr. Hopper says to just be honest; Gold doesn’t do honesty well. Gold finds August at his cabin and he calls him Papa. Gold apologizes and wants forgiveness. They hug and Gold finally seems to have found peace. They go and dig up the dagger and Gold gives it to August for safe keeping. This whole scene is so heartbreaking once you know that August isn’t Bae. We finally see the human side of Gold and it was toward the wrong person. August immediately tries to use the dagger on Gold, who then realizes that August isn’t Bae. That he would know the dagger wouldn’t work here because Bae came here to get away from magic. Gold takes the dagger back and wants to know how August knows about it. He says he’s heard things. Gold says no one here knows and August says no one here remembers. August says he’s dying and needed magic. He doesn’t think Emma will believe in time. Gold tells him to keep trying, maybe Gold will get something out of it. I loved seeing this vulnerable side of Gold, even if it ended up being with the wrong person.

Bae: He wants his papa to not be the Dark One anymore. He doesn’t like what its made him become. And the fact that Rumplestiltskin is justifying everything he does because he wants to protect Bae makes him feel even worse. He witnesses his father turn someone into a snail and squash him because Bae wasn’t watching where he was going. His father also kills the mute maid because she possibly heard them talking about the Dark One Dagger and what it can do. No one wants to play with Bae because of who his father is. Bae is miserable. Is it any wonder when Morraine tells him about Reul Ghorm that he jumps at the chance to find her? So Bae gets Rumplestiltskin to make a deal with him that if he does find a way to remove his power without either of them getting hurt he’ll do it. Rumplestiltskin reluctantly agrees because he doesn’t believe there is any way Bae will find this way. He does so rather quickly though. Reul Ghorm, or the Blue Fairy, has a magic bean, the last magic bean, that she gives to Bae. It will take them to a land without magic. Bae jumps at the chance. Bae tells his papa that he’s found a way, a bean to take them to the land without magic. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t want to be powerless and weak again. Bae reminds him he’ll be just like everyone else. He also reminds him of their deal. Bae opens the portal. Rumplestiltskin is too scared to go through. Bae calls him a coward and goes through without his papa. Bae is definitely the braver of the two and he doesn’t have any powers. Hopefully, we’ll get to actually meet a grown-up Bae.

August: He pissed me off in this episode. We still don’t know what’s going on with his leg. I had suspicions when I initially watched this series, but this episode showed me that we can’t always trust where the writers may take us. He wakes up with leg pain. He is falling all over his room. He makes a phone call (on a rotary phone) to someone saying they need to accelerate the plan. I’m assuming he’s talking to Henry because he’s with him in the next scene. Henry isn’t sure how sneaking into Gold’s shop will help Emma believe, but he goes along with it. Henry distracts Gold in the front while August checks out the back room. Gold catches him, because August isn’t stealthy in the least. August tries to play it off that he thought the door was a back entrance, but Gold isn’t buying it in the least. August is speaking to Mother Superior (Blue Fairy). We don’t know what they are talking about, but Blue tells Gold. Gold later finds August at his cabin and says he knows who he is. August calls him Papa. And this is where I really start to dislike August. Because, as he says later, he wanted to Gold to work for the reunion and not trust his own eyes. You can definitely see that August does have some compunction about the ploy he’s got going with Gold when Gold apologizes and asks for forgiveness. Gold gives him the dagger to destroy it because he knows that’s what Bae would want to do with it. August is in shock that it was this easy to get the dagger from him. Then he shows his hand and tries to control Gold with it. That tips off Gold because he knows Bae would never use the dagger against him and would know there is no magic here for the dagger to work. August also lets Gold know that no one here remembers the dagger, letting Gold know that August is really from the EF. August says he’s sick and dying and needs magic and he didn’t think he’d live long enough for Emma to start to believe and break the curse. Gold wants him to keep trying. August is shocked that Gold let him live. He was definitely expecting to be dead after his confrontation with Gold.

Sydney: I would feel sorry for him if he hadn’t brought on his obsession with Regina himself. Unfortunately, his obsession has carried over in the curse which means he is now taking the blame for Kathryn’s abduction, tampering with evidence, and planting evidence in Emma and Mary Margaret’s apartment. Says he did it for the story and that he would be the hero and get his job back with this huge scoop. Plus get a book and movie deal out of the whole thing. His face shows conflict over the confession, especially when Regina keeps telling him to add things. He’s like a child who has been taught the correct things to stay

Emma: She is mainly working on figuring out what happened to Kathryn. She tells Emma that she remembers the car accident and that she woke up in a basement and was drugged. Then she randomly woke up in a field and walked until she got to town and was found. Kathryn doesn’t understand why people thought she was dead. Emma explains about the heart and the obviously tampered DNA. At the welcome home party for Mary Margaret, Emma says she has a lot of friends. Mary Margaret comments that it didn’t feel like that yesterday. Emma goes to take Henry home and David is at the door. Mary Margaret doesn’t want to see him. Emma gets him to take Henry home. Emma accuses Gold of kidnapping Kathryn based on his magic comment. Gold wants to know if he’s supposed to be working with or against Regina. Emma says possibly diagonally. Emma talks to Sidney and shows him the bug. He pretends he doesn’t know anything about it. He continues to defend Regina; Emma realizes he’s in love with Regina. Later on, Regina brings in Sidney to confess to Emma that he’s behind everything with Kathryn. Emma talks to Regina and basically accuses her of making Sidney confess to something he didn’t do to cover for her. Emma understands that Regina runs the game, but she’s going to start playing a different game (finally!). She will not let Regina talk and tells her that because Regina tried to take away someone she loved (Mary Margaret), she’s going to take away someone Regina loves, Henry. While I’m glad Emma is finally starting to fight back, I don’t like the way she worded this. I know Emma loves Henry, but fighting for custody of him should be because she feels she is capable of caring for him, not because Regina tried to frame Mary Margaret for murder.

Blue Fairy/Mother Superior: I feel like we aren’t getting the whole story here. The Blue Fairy aka Reul Ghorm aka Blue Star, is supposed to be the oldest magic, even older than the Dark One. So why can’t she defeat him? Why does she covertly try to subvert his power by giving Bae a magic bean to send him to a land without magic. And, if this wasn’t the intent, if she just merely wanted to help out Bae, why would she give up the last bean to him? I feel like the Blue Fairy is not entirely truthful. The Blue Fairy says that Bae is the part of Rumplestiltskin that keeps him human. Later on, when Rumplestiltskin calls her to find Bae, she tells him that he drove Bae away when he accuses her of taking his son. He also says she’s lying about the bean and lying about lying. There does seem to be something off about her.

As Mother Superior, she is either working with August to bring Gold to him, or she’s betraying August’s confidence by telling Gold everything. I’m going to go with August wanting her to tell Gold what was going on so he would think August was Bae. As Mother Superior she just always seems very angry. I’ve yet to see her in a good mood.

Regina: She realizes that Gold is trying to pin Kathryn’s kidnapping and the framing of Mary Margaret on her. She doesn’t understand why because she and Gold have been in this (the curse) from the very beginning. She obviously does not know about Bae and his ulterior motives. Regina gets Sidney to take the fall for everything. Emma is pissed beyond all hell that she did that to Sidney. Regina now needs to ready herself for Emma trying to take Henry away from her.

David: He’s conflicted because his wife is back, but he wants to be with Mary Margaret, who doesn’t want to be with him. He apologizes for everything with Kathryn, but she says it was okay because neither of them were ‘it’ for each other. He tries to see Mary Margaret at her welcome home party, but she’s still pissed at him for not believing in her.

Questions:

Why do Rumplestiltskin and Bae live so simply still? Rumplestiltskin says he can conjure anything, why hasn’t he conjured them a nicer house?

Why is August at Mary Margaret’s welcome home party? Did Emma invite him? Has Mary Margaret even met him?

Where did August get such a detailed drawing of the Dark One Dagger? It couldn’t be from the book because Henry said Gold wasn’t in there.

Was that really the last portal bean? What happened to the rest of them? The Blue Fairy said they were lost to them.

Why would the Blue Fairy give away the last magic bean to a young boy? Or was it because his father was the Dark One and she wanted to get rid of the threat?

Emma is transported to our world by a magic tree. Did Blue not know about that then with Rumplestiltskin, or was she simply refusing him access to the land without magic to teach him a lesson?

We know from 1x02, The Thing You Love Most, that Rumplestiltskin created the curse. But he obviously didn’t have anything he loved the most to sacrifice (he thought Belle was dead at that point). So did he use Regina, fuel her hatred, just to get her to enact his curse for him? We still haven’t seen how she went from sweet, young Regina to magic wielding, Evil Queen. Did Rumplestiltskin help her achieve all that?

Why is Rumplestiltskin so sure that Bae is still alive in current day? Has he had a vision?

Observations:

The ball Gold has in his hands when talking with Henry in the shop is the same ball Bae is playing with when we first see him.

Rumplestiltskin created a truce in the Ogres-war, stopped the war, and brought the children home.

Morraine is the same girl that was taken away from the village in Desperate Souls.

Henry gets Mary Margaret a bell for getting out of jail.

Everyone asking if Gold was there for the rent was hilarious.

The different ways Rumplestiltskin names to get to the land without magic are: realm jumper (possibly what Jefferson is), time-turner, mage, and curse.

I guess we now know why Gold hates the nuns so much. He blames them (as fairies) for Bae leaving him.

It seems everything that Rumplestiltskin does from this point on is to help him get to the land without magic to find Bae.

Another great episode! We still don’t know who August is, but for those who haven’t seen it yet, I’m sure you have some good guesses. August and Gold’s confrontation was some great work from both actors. Emma is finally going after Regina by trying to take Henry away. I’d think at this point that Emma would have more people on her side than Regina would, but we don’t know who else Regina has influence over. Also, I’d think Emma would need her own place before petitioning for custody because there is absolutely no privacy for Henry at the loft. But I guess we’ll see in the next few episodes. Season 1 is almost over!!!

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81

#once upon a time #once upon a time review #once upon a time rewatch #once upon a time 1x19 #once upon a time the return

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

A Darker Curse

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 14: Desperate Souls

The last thing he remembered was raising his cane to this man and then the rage took over. It blinded him to the point that he was only vaguely aware that he was beating the crap out of him. It wasn't until his own son was pulling him away from the man that he realized what had happened.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Neal demanded to know, as Emma checked on his victim.

"I want him...arrested!" Keith rasped, as he looked up at them with a bloodied face.

"Relax...I'll take care of him. Your injuries aren't too serious, but you need to go to the hospital. I'll call a bus," Emma said, as she met Neal's gaze and he got her drift, as he slowly led his father out to the patrol car.

"Hey...what do I tell my boss about the damage?" the bartender questioned.

"Tell him to file a claim. His insurance probably has coverage for this sort of thing," Emma answered, as she called for an ambulance.

"Do I even want to know why you were beating the crap out of that guy?" Neal asked.

"He's scum...back in our land he's…" Gold started to say, but his son cut him.

"I don't care who he was back there!" Neal shouted, silencing him.

"You know, Emma was trying to tell me how you had changed and how you were actually helping her Dad without expecting anything. But now I'm not sure I can believe that!" Neal snapped.

"Bae please...you don't understand…" Rumple pleaded.

"Neal...it's Neal now," he corrected.

"And you're right...I don't get why you were beating the crap out of someone, but it just feels like more of the same from you," he spat, as Emma approached. The ambulance was just leaving and she sighed.

"You know, I don't have a choice, right?" she asked him regrettably. He nodded stiffly.

"Why are you showing him sympathy?" Neal questioned.

"Because despite the fact that beating the crap out of some guy is a really bad move...he's still allied with me and my parents against Cora," Emma replied, as she put him in the backseat. Neal sighed.

"Emma...he'll turn on you the moment it suits him. I've seen him do it," he argued.

"Yep and so have my parents. Cora is still the common enemy," Emma argued back.

"Emma...people fear him for a reason and I'm sorry, but your parents are foolish if they don't," Neal said, but that was the wrong thing to say, as she looked at him sharply.

"That's...that's not what I meant. I just...making deals with him never works out well for those on the other end, unless he's going to get something from it," he stammered.

"And at this point, I don't care if he gets to rule the world out of it, because getting my father back and making Cora pay is all we really care about right now," Emma admitted. Neal sighed.

"Look, I'm arresting him and I'm going to interrogate him when we get back to the station. What more do you want? A public lynching?" she asked.

"Of course not," he answered, as they got in the car.

"Care to share why you went postal on that guy?" Emma inquired.

"Not really," Gold responded.

"Try again," Emma pressed and he sighed in exasperation.

"He accosted a woman...let's leave it at that," he answered. She shrugged.

"Maybe if it wasn't you, then I could. But you're not Prince Charming. I know, because he's my Dad and it would be like him to beat the crap out of a guy for assaulting a woman, though probably not quite as badly as you did. But he's not a stranger to a giving a punch in the face when it's needed," Emma countered, which allowed Gold a small smirk of satisfaction. He appreciated her knowledge of her own history. Snow had done well in that.

"Unless it is your mother that's accosted," he countered back. She gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Maybe, though my Mom does a lot of her own punching. Which makes me think that a beating like that means you have a history with this woman," Emma said, as they arrived at the station and marched him inside.

"Come on Emma...my Dad is the Dark One. He doesn't have history with any women," Neal argued.

"How the hell would you know?" she argued back and he realized that he wouldn't, so she continued once he closed his mouth.

"Are you really going to make me talk about this?" Gold asked.

"Yeah...because if it involves Cora, even indirectly, we need to know," Emma responded. He sighed.

"The woman is someone I once...cared for very much. Due to Cora's deception and interference, I believed her to have died before the curse," he explained. It was vague, but would be enough to convey why there was anger there.

"And now she just pops up here after all these years and without her memories, I assume?" Emma questioned. He nodded curtly.

"Convenient...but not sure why Cora would want to piss you off more by letting you know about her," the blonde said.

"I thought the same. But then she planned to have my son to use against me. That part just didn't work out for her," he reminded.

"Right…" Emma agreed.

"So then this Keith guy was probably trying to pick her up and it pissed you off," she surmised.

"Something like that and he's not just some guy. He was the Sheriff of Nottingham back in our land," Rumple told her.

"Seriously? That guy?" Emma asked and Gold nodded.

"Yes and trust me...no one would miss him," he replied.

"You know you can't use that as justification to beat the crap out of him," she chided.

"Actually, I could probably make a good case for that with him, but I'd rather just post my bond and go home," he replied.

"Yeah...and I have to wait for Albert Spencer to look over the case since he's our wonderful district attorney and knowing Cora, she's going to press him to deny bond," she admonished.

"The good news is that in less than twenty-four hours, we're electing a new Mayor so we can only hope it's Regina and then she can force him to plead your case down. Until then...I have to lock you up," she said regrettably. He nodded and walked into the cell.

"Well, then Cora better find a really good hiding place when she and your mother win tonight's election," he mused. She smirked.

"You seem confident that it's in the bag," she mused back.

"Well, the people in this town may fear Cora, but they fear me more...and my support is behind Regina. They'll vote accordingly," he boasted and she shook her head with a smirk.

"Or maybe they'll vote for Regina and my mother, because they actually want change and see a way out from Cora," she argued.

"Same thing," he argued back, while Neal watched the casual and somewhat friendly exchange between them with fascination. He knew his father was good at swaying people to do what he wanted, but this was Emma and she was far from easy to do this to. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around this repartee that his father seemed to have with Emma's family and he wasn't sure what exactly to make of it. His father couldn't have changed. It wasn't possible with him being the Dark One. Power controlled him. It was all he cared about. Surely when he got power back or worse actual magic, he was certain his true colors would return and Neal was going to be ready to call him on it when he did.

~*~

Mary stirred and opened her eyes, quickly noticing that she and David had fallen asleep together on the couch. It was innocent of course and she had slept better in his arms here than she ever would have alone in her bed.

"Good morning…" he said softly, as he gazed at her with a smile.

"Good morning…" she said fondly, as she gazed up at him and stretched.

"You know...I'm going to miss working with you at the shelter once you start your new job as Deputy Mayor," he mentioned. She looked at him coyly.

"Regina and I have to get elected first," she reminded.

"Please...this election is just a formality. Trust me, this town finally has the chance to vote Cora out. Regina is definitely going to win," he replied.

"Hopefully...but at least we still get to come home to each other at night and I'm sure as Deputy Mayor, I can find the time to come have lunch with the man I love," she mused, as she gently caressed his face. He smiled softly at that and the way his heart skipped a beat when she said that. He responded by initiating a kiss with her and they smiled at each other once their lips parted and they heard the baby on the monitor. They also heard Emma groan and stumble into his room. They weren't sure when she had gotten in, but from the sounds of it, hadn't been very long.

"I better go help her out. You can have the shower first," she said, as she kissed him quickly and hurried upstairs to help her daughter. David smiled at her, before taking Wilby out and then returning to clean up for the day.

~*~

Regina stood in front of her vanity, as she finished getting ready for the day. She put her earrings on and straightened her dress, before taking a deep breath. This was it. Tonight the town would vote. She would debate her mother in front of the entire town and then they would go to the polls directly after that.

"You shouldn't be nervous," a male voice said, as Ethan put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She smiled and turned so she could kiss him properly.

"Normally, I'd agree, but this is my mother we're talking about. She's not above playing dirty to get what she wants," she reminded. He shrugged.

"No doubt, I'm sure...but I have a good feeling about tonight. The people want change," he replied. She smiled.

"I hope you're right," she said, as they kissed again.

"Are you sure you have to go in today?" he asked in a husky tone.

"I assure you that she does," an unwelcome voice sounded from the door that they somehow hadn't heard open.

"Mother…" Regina hissed, as she fumed at the intrusion.

"Ah...guess that's my queue to get dressed," he said, as he made his way to the bathroom.

"I can't believe you…" Regina growled, as she stormed out of her bedroom and downstairs.

"It is one thing for you to barge into my home unannounced, but into my bedroom!" she hissed, as she went to the kitchen to turn on the morning coffee.

"Seems like I came just in time. I understand the need for comforts of the flesh, darling, but a bartender?" Cora said in a disapproving tone.

"Last time I checked, I do not need to run whom I date by you and you know damn well that he's more than a bartender," she hissed in a hushed tone.

"Oh yes...the thief you married and shamed your family with," Cora hissed back.

"I love Robin and you took him away from me during the curse, but it's going to come to an end. And then you're going to pay for everything you've done...especially for what you've done to Snow and David," Regina promised. Cora smirked.

"We'll see," she replied and Regina narrowed her gaze on her mother. She knew that look. It usually meant that her mother knew something that she didn't.

"I came here to offer you one last chance to stop this foolish attempt to unseat me, but I see that it's a waste of time," Cora stated.

"You're here because you're worried," Regina said. But Cora didn't betray any emotion in her expression.

"Tread lightly Regina. None of this will end the way you think it will and I won't be able to protect you...or your family from the consequences," Cora warned. A shiver ran down Regina's spine at that. There it was...the not so thinly veiled threat at her family, which meant Snow, David, Emma, August, and little David were her intended targets.

"You've hurt them enough, mother. You've ripped that family apart and Snow and David have both suffered enough," Regina pleaded.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong. It will never be enough for that wretched little Princess. I won't stop until she's groveling at my feet, begging me to stop torturing her family and I am grinding her bones to dust…" Cora hissed. Regina swallowed and could not keep the look of horror from her features.

"How the hell did you get like this?" she uttered.

"I'll see you tonight at the debate," Cora said simply, as she walked out and pulled out her cell phone.

"The plan is a go...it needs to happen today," she said simply, before hanging up.

~*~

Snow had spent the morning and the better part of the afternoon running errands around town, as she prepared for the debate and election that evening. Regina was facing off against her mother and though they were both fairly confident about her speech, she wanted her sister to have the whole day uninterrupted to prepare. Regina had warned Snow to be careful, because she was certain her mother was planning something shady. Snow had no doubt of that, but thankfully, she had made through all her errands without incident and they were ready for tonight. It was getting late in the day, so she decided to grab a couple of cocoas and then head to the animal shelter. Then she and David could go to City Hall together.

"Thanks Ruby," she said, as she picked up the drink tray and started off that way, just as she a text from August, telling her he was heading to City Hall early to start covering the whole event. She one handed texted that she loved him and would see him there, before she rounded the corner to cut through the alley that led to the animal shelter on a parallel street. But the hair stood up on the back of her neck, as she found Sidney Glass standing in her way. She looked behind her and sure enough, saw two men that were obviously muscle.

"She must really be worried if she's pulling a stunt like this," she commented, but Glass only smirked.

"Let's make this easy, Ms. Swan," he said.

"Oh, I don't do easy," she replied, as she tossed the cups containing the hot liquid at him. He cried out in pain, as the hot liquid made contact with his hands and face, while the two goons grabbed her and tried to restrain her, as she fought. She tried to scream, but one put his hand over her mouth. She responded by biting him and he recoiled, before shoving her into the wall. She hit it hard and her vision blurred, thanks to the contusion on her forehead now and slumped to the ground. She watched them through bleary eyes, as their voices sounded like they were underwater.

"Taking her to the library is too risky. Change of plans...take her out into the woods. We'll deal with her there," Sidney said. Snow vaguely felt herself being lifted up and carried away, before passing out.

~*~

David was about to clock out for the day when the vet called him into his office.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Dalton?" he asked. The man sighed and nodded, as he motioned for him to come in.

"Yes David, please sit down," he requested and the blonde obliged.

"There is no easy way to say this, David, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go," he announced. David was stunned, but kept his composure and nodded.

"I see. May I ask why? Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No...you are really good with the animals, but I'm just not sure you're the right fit for this job anymore," Mr. Dalton said, clearly very uncomfortable about what he was having to do. David nodded.

"Or maybe it's because the bank owns the loan on this place, right?" David asked and the vet looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He opened his mouth, but David put his hand up.

"It's okay...I don't blame you. One employee certainly isn't worth risking your business over. I'll get my things," David said sadly, as he left quietly. He really loved working with the animals and would miss it, but he wasn't going to buckle under what he knew as a blatant attempt by his soon to be ex-wife to get him to come running back to her. Once he had a small box packed up with his few belongings he kept at work, he made his way out to his truck, only to find Kathryn waiting for him there. He sighed and shook his head, almost angrily, as he ignored her and put the box in the cab.

"David…" she said.

"Just save it," he snapped and she was taken aback by his obvious anger. She did not like this new side of him at all.

"You know what you need to do to get your job back," she said simply. He snorted derisively.

"Yeah...just come crawling back to you, right?" he asked rhetorically.

"Well, you can forget it. I loved this job, but I love my new life more, so go to hell," he responded and she grabbed his arm, squeezing it as hard as she could.

"Dammit David...you will not talk to me like that! You are mine," she warned, as she scrambled to hold onto him. She wasn't even sure why she kept after him when it was so obvious that he loathed her. She was humiliating herself, but Cora had drilled it into her that she had to somehow get David back into her bed, so she had come up with this as a way to do it. But unfortunately for her, it wasn't working and she was just coming off desperate and crazy. She heard the whispers about her. While she was desperately trying to convince them that Mary Margaret Swan was a whore and a tramp, most could only talk about how she was desperate, delusional and a stalker. Cora had insisted though that they would stop seeing her that way if she tore David away from his tramp girlfriend, but nothing was working and she was frantic. And strangely, she was not so worried about the part of David's rejection, but about the part where Cora would be livid with her failure.

"You need to get him back, Kathryn...it's imperative. If you don't...bad things might happen to your father's reputation if certain things came to light," Cora had warned her earlier. Kathryn knew that if Regina beat her mother out as Mayor that all the favors her family garnered would go away. Add to that, Regina would only be too happy to air her family's dirty laundry to August Swan to publish in the Mirror. Essentially, her father had purchased her husband for her and Albert Spencer had sold his step-son. Like property. If it got out...well, she wasn't even sure what the ramifications against her family would be.

"For the last time...I am not yours. I don't care what that piece of paper says," he snapped.

"The only piece of paper I care about between us now is the divorce decree that I'll soon have," he added, as he opened the door to the cab.

"David please...if that gets out…" she started to say, but he interrupted her.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you were sold like a piece of meat?" he snapped, but then shook his head.

"Of course you don't. I was just a kid when all that went down, but I'm finally going to own my own life for the first time and there is nothing you can do to stop me now," he told her.

"You were nothing before me!" she snarled. But he smirked.

"Yeah and two months ago, I probably would have believed you when you said that. But not anymore," he said, as he was about to continue unloading on her, but he suddenly got a funny feeling. He felt a few raindrops hit his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as he quickly got in the truck.

"David...this isn't over!" she shouted, as it started to pour rain.

"Yes, it is...and I need to find the woman I love," he shouted back, as he took off in the truck. For some reason, he suddenly had a deep, gut feeling that something was wrong. He felt it in his bones like nothing he had ever felt or so he thought. Mary Margaret was in trouble...he didn't know how he knew, but he knew and he had to find her...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Neal Cassidy #Swanfire #Rumplestiltskin #August W. Booth #CORA cast the curse #evil Cora #AU #mentions of abuse #nothing graphic #family #romance #adventure #a darker curse

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ineffablecolors · 5 years

Note

Number 6? Or number 11? I’m always a sucker for when Emma’s grinchy heart grows three sizes as she discovers Killian really isn’t an asshole.

Thank you, anon! This is definitely not finished but I’m too excited to share it and hear what you guys think. Sooo probably expect part 2 toward the end of the week :D

I’m doing winter prompts from here. If you like them, check out ‘Tis The Season and if you really really like them, check out my brand new book which also contains a selection of Christmas stories. :))

11. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

you’re such an assh- oh. [Part 1] [Part 2]; ~ 3, 200 words; FF.NET || AO3

“Love, you know Isteer clear of all that.”

Emma suppresses theurge to roll her eyes at his deep timbre, the way he rolls the word “love”around and flutters his eyelashes slightly – all obviously meant to charm MaryMargaret and let him have his way. As always.

“Oh, come on, Killian.You can let me have this one. It’s just a fortune, you don’t even have to showit to us.”

Jones sighs as ifdrawing a fortune slip out of the Christmas hat MM has been thrusting at eachof them in turn is the biggest sacrifice he has ever been asked to make. Emmafeels only slightly petty about the way she pointedly strides over and plungesher hand into the red felt.

Truth be told, Emmaisn’t the biggest fan of MM’s numerous Christmas activities either – the SecretSanta, the cookie exchanges, the ostentatious dinners, and now the Christmasfortunes, but there are few things she will not do for the sake of her bestfriend. There are also few things she will not do to spite Killian Jones.

If the way he doesn’t suppress his eyeroll at heractions is anything to go on, he knows it too.

“What did ya get, Ems?Please, let it be one of the saucy ones I wrote!” Ruby somehow manages to clapwith the glass of wine in her hand.

Emma pulls the pieceof paper out of its miniature envelope and groans at how many times it’s folded– by the time she has managed to get it all smoothed out Ruby is making dyingnoises.

“Alright, alright. Iswear this is made for people with miniature fingers. Here – A selfless good deed is the thing to make aheart sweet.”

This time she doesn’tsuppress her eyeroll. Her only consolation is that Ruby huffs in displeasureand drops back into her armchair, clearly displeased with Emma’s less than “saucy”fortune.

“Oh, that’s lovely,Emma!”

She puts on a smilefor Mary Margaret’s sake and looks back at the piece of paper. She has nodesire to “sweeten” her heart but doing a good deed over the holidays doesn’tsound like such a bad idea actually. Truthfully, Emma feels a little bad abouthow impersonal most of her holiday “good deeds” have been. She usually donatesto some organization aiding homeless people and sends some presents to anorphanage of her choice – both close to her heart, but she has never actuallygone and gotten involved personally. Maybe this will be the year.

She is drawn out ofher thoughts by the little jingle of the Santa hat that Mary Margaret is nowliterally shoving in Jones’ face. If the guy wasn’t such an asshole, Emma wouldactually sympathize with him.

“Come on, Killian.”

Especially when MMbreaks out her most winning smile. It’s as effective as Jones’ charms, if notmore so. Not that those have ever worked on Emma.

Honestly, she has noidea how such an arrogant man as Killian Jones wormed his way into the friendcircle of people such as David and Mary Margaret Nolan, Belle French and GrahamHumbert. Sure, she and Ruby aren’t without their thorns but their places in thegroup were solidified by their statuses – hers as Mary Margaret’s best friendand Ruby’s as Belle’s girlfriend, and they are always willing to take part inany group activities and eager to be with their self-made family.

The same cannot besaid about Killian Jones. Sure, he is a friend of David’s but he seems toaccept their invitations about as often as he turns them down. He never takes part in the Secret Santa. Henever hosts movie nights at hisplace. He rarely joins on day trips.He rarely joins them for dinnercelebrations, choosing to slink in when they are already at the bar instead. Hehas even missed a birthday party on occasion. Emma – with how much this groupof people means to her – thinks he is not nearly as appreciative as he shouldbe of how David has allowed him into their family and how they continue toinvite him to everything despite his flakiness.

At least he got overhimself enough to draw a fortune. Mary Margaret is positively beaming at him.Emma is trying to put a limit on her eyerolls allowance for the evening.

“Well, what does itsay?”

Jones seems startledby her question. His cough is incredibly uncomfortable and he looks around asif—

“Would you mind, love?”

He extends the littleenvelope toward Mary Margaret and she and Emma both look confused for a moment.MM seems to get with the program much faster.

“Oh, of course!”

She thrusts the hatwith the rest of the fortunes at Emma and takes Jones’ fortune. It’s only whenher slim fingers work their way into the small envelope and start on thetedious process of unfolding the tiny slip of paper that Emma realizes that’s apretty not one-hand job.

“Do you want me toread it out loud?”

Killian shrugs.

“If you wish.”

Mary Margaret looksdown at the fortune and Emma has just enough time to get confused by the slightblush that quickly works its way into her cheeks before MM glances at Ruby andit becomes clear that Killian has drawn one of Ruby’s “saucy” fortunes.Figures.

“Ummm,” MM swallowsand passes it to him and Emma is shocked to see that whatever is on the pieceof paper makes even Jones’ ears turn a little bit pink.

He stuffs the fortuneinto his back pocket and he and MM share a look that obviously swears them bothto secrecy in seconds. Emma’s curiosity is warring with her desire to show nointerest to the extend that she even considers sneaking the thing out ofKillian’s back pocket. Which she will never do. Of course not.

“More wine, Ems?”

“Eh.”

With obviousreluctance she holds her glass toward Ruby and one of the bottles of red Jonesbrought. Emma is not a snob. Not by a long shot. But Killian Jones has trulyhorrendous taste in wine. Or, more likely, he truly cannot be bothered to pickand buy a good one. It’s just another little thing that shows her how little hecares about the group of people who have welcomed him so warmly.

Emma has spent ashocking amount of time thinking about ways to fulfill her fortune. She hassettled on getting more involved with the two initiatives that she generallyjust donates money to. So three weeks before Christmas she finds herself at ashelter in a less than thriving neighbourhood, dressed in her oldest jeans anda dark hoodie under her thick winter jacket.

“Hello, may I helpyou?”

Emma looks at theblonde woman before her and her first thought is that she looks like she isrunning a law firm rather than a shelter’s kitchen. Her hair is pulled backinto an immaculate braid and her white sweater is absolutely spotless. Emmafeels like it’s mocking the safety of her hoodie.

“Hi, I’m Emma? Icalled beforehand to ask when you might need volunteers?”

“Oh, yes, Emma! Thankyou so much for coming! We’re still setting up in the kitchen but I canintroduce you to everyone and show you to the station. We should be opening inanother 15 minutes or so,” the woman gives a brisk nod and starts walking. “Oh,I’m Elsa, by the way.”

By the look and soundof Elsa, Emma is sure they will be opening in exactly 15 minutes.

“So, tonight you’ll bemanning the station with Leroy – he is a veteran here so if you have anyquestions, he will know the answer.”

The short man givesElsa a nod while Emma just receives a suspicious once-over.

“Don’t let the scowlfool you, he is here every Christmas and will never refuse to show you theropes,” Elsa assures her and continues on, deaf to Leroy’s grumbling behindthem. “My sister Anna and her fiancé Kristoff should be joining you any minute. They have the bad habit ofcutting it pretty close quite often.”

Elsa’s pursed lips arenot exactly frightening but they sure don’t invite one to consider tardiness avirtue. Emma would be more put off but she considers that it probably takes astrong hand to organize and run such a thing.

“And don’t worry – ifthey are a bit late, Killian will come out to help you start off.”

Killian? Wha-

“Jones?!”

The guy stirring theenormous pot of soup gives a little jump and whirls around, the spoon in hishand splashes a little and Elsa must have put some sort of magical protectionon her sweater because it remains miraculously white and spotless despite herproximity to the stove.

“Swan?!”

“I see I don’t have tomake introductions here,” Elsa seems pleased by this development.

Emma is still stuck onthe fact that Killian Jones is makingsoup at a homeless shelter.

“So I’d say you candirect any questions at Killian. He has just as much experience as Leroy and heis much nicer to newcomers. Or justmuch nicer, period.”

Elsa laughs for thefirst time since Emma met her. Killian seems uncomfortable with praise for thefirst time since Emma met him. Emma has no clue what is happening and beforeshe can truly absorb it all Elsa waves at some place where the aprons are keptapparently and floats out, leaving her alone in the small kitchen with the lastman she expected to find there.

“You’d better grab oneof those before you get started, Swan. Can get quite messy after a couple ofhours.”

“What are you doinghere?”

She cringes a little.That was a bit too accusatory when asking why someone is being charitablearound Christmas.

“Same as you, I’mguessing.”

She looks at KillianJones and tries not to think that she is seeing him for the first time. It’shard though – especially when the tension in his shoulders is clear as day andshe can tell that his tongue is running restlessly over his lips even though hehas turned his attention back to his soup. The soup that he apparently made.That he often makes. For the homeless.

“You do this?”

His shoulders do thisrippling thing and now they are tight with another kind of emotion.Frustration, if she has to guess. Emma is surprised at how well she can readKillian’s emotions right now.

“It’s not the Ritz,Swan. You can chop some vegetables and stir some soup even with one hand.”

That’s not what—

“That’s not what I mea—“

“You meant why I’mdoing something other than throwing back beers and flirting my way into women’spanties for a change?”

She opens her mouth.Then she closes it again. Well, it kinda is what she meant, she just didn’tthink he—

“Yes, I’m well-awareof what you think of me. I’m sure finding Graham or David here wouldn’t havebeen such a shock.”

No, it wouldn’t have.But the bitterness in his tone is almost as much of a shock as his presence.

“I just—“

She is really not surewhat she would have said, she is really grateful for the girl that suddenlystorms in – Anna she will soon learn – chattering a mile a minute.

“Oh, you must be Emma!”

Somehow, in the spanof a second, Anna manages to introduce herself, give her a quick and veryunexpected hug, whirl around, kiss Killian on the cheek and whirl back aroundin time to introduce Emma to her fiancé.

“You should really puton a—“

“Here,” Killian thruststhe worn apron into her hands and turns back to his soup.

Anna beams at Killian’sback, oblivious to the tension that still lingers in the room.

“Lesson number 1,Killian is a lifesaver, if you fuck up – spill something, burn yourself, cut yourself,just come here and he’ll fix you right up.”

Emma is almost certainthat Killian mutters something along the lines of “I’m sure she’d rather not”but Anna is already dragging her out the door and talking about how Elsa’sschedule is law and must be abided at all costs.

She spends three hoursladling out soup that Killian Jones made for the less fortunate. It gives herplenty of time to think about things. Or more like, to keep going in circles.As soon as she has convinced herself that she has wrongfully labeled KillianJones an asshole, the cynical voice in her head pipes up and insists that onegood deed does not a good person make. As soon as that happens, another smoothor wrinkled face beams at her as she hands them their full bowl.

The thing is that thisisn’t just “one good deed”. Killian is obviously an almost permanent fixturehere. Elsa, Anna and Kristoff obviously know him quite well and think nothingbut the best of him. Some of the people that come in even ask about himpersonally. Anna lets a particularly excited little boy back into the kitchenand Emma is pretty sure he was clutching a handmade Christmas card and—

Her cynical voice isreally losing this one.

She heads to the backto leave her apron and take her jacket, still lost in thought, convinced thatJones must have gone home by now and she has some time to consider what thehell she should say the next time she sees him.

“You can leave that overthere with the rest. Elsa will collect and wash them.”

She doesn’t yelp buther eyes almost pop out of her head. Thankfully, Jones has his back to her again,though he has now moved to the sink.

“Jesus. What are youstill doing here?”

He sighs and Emmamentally slaps herself. Maybe it’s time she stops questioning his presence.

“As I pointed outearlier, Swan, this is not the Ritz. The “chef” and the dishwasher are one andthe same.”

“I got that, I’m notsome spoilt princess that stumbled here by mistake, you know?”

“I’m not questioningwhy you’re here,” he says emotionlessly.

Right. That’s her job.

“I can help with theclean up before I take this off.”

She motions to herapron and before Killian can approve or disprove of her suggestion, she reachesfor one of the huge pots. That’s her first mistake. Her second one is assumingit’s empty.

“Shit!”

Water with bits ofvegetables spills all over the floor and her shoes. And her old jeans. Fuck.

“Bloody hell!”

“Shit! Sorry! Shit,shit!”

“Go find Elsa. She’llfind you a change of clothes.”

“I’ll clean this and—“

“Swan,” Killian fixesher with a serious look that looks surprisingly calm and not angry. “It’s notanywhere near warm in here. Go get changed, I’ll clean this up and we’ll getyou a cab.”

She opens her mouth toprotest but snaps it shut and actually does as she is told.

Killian finds heroutside ten minutes later – soaked jeans and all.

“Before you startberating me, Elsa had just left – some engagement with her aunt.”

Jones sighs and runs ahand through his messy hair. His hand is very pink, probably something to do withwashing a mountain of pots and ladles.

“And cabs seem to beallergic to this street.”

“The neighbourhood ingeneral,” he mutters and his hand reaches toward his hair again when Emma feelsthe full body shiver wrack through her.

Killian’s hand freezeshalf way up and he sighs in resignation and drops it back to his side.

“Come on, Swan.”

He starts walkingbefore she can so much as blink at him in confusion. Emma is only a little putout that she feels compelled to follow.

“Where are we going?”she asks as she catches up to him and tries to ignore the way the cold windplasters her wet jeans to her flesh.

“I live just aroundthe corner.”

“You do?”

Killian doesn’t sayanything.

It’s not a niceneighbourhood and it’s not a nice building. But Emma is much too cold toconsider much of anything until Killian Jones is waving her into his apartment.

“Sorry, it’s not—“ hedoesn’t finish, just waves his hand in the air and hurries to turn up the heat.

He really doesn’t haveanything to apologize for – the place is tidier than her apartment has everbeen. Everything seems to have its place and nothing is just thrown around eventhough it’s basically one room – his bed and wardrobe at the far wall with twoprecariously high columns of books instead of a nightstand, a worn couch and asmall IKEA table in the middle and a kitchen corner to her right.

It’s not exactlypleasantly warm inside but Emma is not numb with cold anymore. She is awareenough to read the new tension that has settled on Killian’s shoulders. Not thestrange and unfamiliar one that Elsa’s praise put there earlier but one thatEmma is a bit more acquainted with – the one that always seems to fall over himwhen he is faced with some task that he cannot perform one-handed. Shame.

“I think these willalmost fit you.”

She snaps her headaround and looks down at the sweatpants that Killian is holding out to her.

“You can…” he waves atthe only door in the apartment that probably leads to the bathroom. “I’ll tryto get you a cab or an Uber.”

“Thanks, I—“ she lookshelplessly between him and the sweatpants, then she takes them and feels a bitsilly over the way she clutches them in front of her chest. “Thanks.”

His bathroom is justas spotless as the rest of the place and just as small and sparsely decorated.Emma puts down the toilet seat and leaves her jacket, wallet and phone on itbefore she bends down to unzip her boots.

She cringes at themuddy footprints that she has left on the blue tiles.

“Great.”

Is it something abouttonight in particular or has she always been the worst? Now, Jones isdefinitely never inviting them to—

The position shefreezes in must be comical to an outsider. In her socks, trying to avoid herown muddy footprints, one hand tugging the wet jeans off one leg and the otherclutching at the sink. It’s not comical to Emma. Emma is too busy having anepiphany about Killian Jones.

Killian Jones whoregularly helps out at a homeless shelter. Killian Jones who lives in a smallapartment in a bad neighbourhood. Killian Jones who never hosts movie nights. KillianJones who never takes part in the Secret Santa. Killian Jones who never joins themfor dinner in the kinda trendy restaurants that Ruby makes them spurge for fromtime to time. Killian Jones with the busy schedule. Killian Jones with thecheap wine.

Fuck.

“Fuck.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #the asshole fic #xmas challenge

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snowbellewells · 5 years

Text

A Fic-aversary and an Apology

Okay, folks, I really hate to do this (and have tried really hard not to up until now) but I am going to have to skip a week on my CSSNS MC “Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)”. I’ve been really busy with my job, plus lots of crammed weekends running here and there where I didn’t have time to grade or write. Then, I started feeling like where I was going in chapter ten and on from there needed to deviate from my initial plan, and it just wasn’t going to happen in two days’ time. I’ve been a couple days late the last two weeks and then it’s even less time to get the next one written, and so on. So, I really apologize and don’t mean to keep you waiting too long, but it will be next Friday before I have chapter ten for you. What I do have instead is a fic I wrote about a year and a half ago, before I was terribly good at posting on Tumblr that I’m bringing back for a bit of an anniversary. It’s near and dear to my heart, and I would love for more folks to see it.

Most importantly: It has gorgeous cover art now, which I am just in love with, made for me by @hollyethecurious !! She really made it more beautiful and eye-catching.

Anyway, to tide you over until next week (and I hope to also FINALLY update my CSRomCom au again this weekend as well) enjoy “Looking for a Heart (that’s not Walking Away)”!!!

(Liam x Belle multichapter fic, canon divergent from about 5x15/5x16)

(This one was a completely new and different fic attempt for me. Not only does it go AU from about the middle of 5b, but it changes a lot of what happened with Liam in 5x15, and while some of 5x16 and 5x17 happened, some of it didn’t. Beyond all that, it’s putting a large focus on characters I haven’t written much before, and one that we really haven’t seen a lot of to characterize in the same way that I can work with say Emma and Killian. Still, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and finally found that I had to give this a try. It doesn’t explain how everything happened right away, but events will be filled in as the story progresses. I feel like this is a bit of a mix between canon divergence and AU. Slow burn friendship/relationship for Belle and Liam; sideline CS and others. I definitely don’t own them, just having fun imagining. I’d love to hear what you think!!)

*I will also attempt to add ff.net links to the rest of the chapters at the end...

“Looking for a Heart that’s Not Walking Away”

chapter one: like ships in the night

In the wee, cold hours of the morning, anyone walking Storybrooke’s town square would have seen only peaceful, vacant storefronts and the dim stillness of a little hamlet still fast asleep; or they would until they reached the library and found one solitary light burning stubbornly in the back of the building. Most residents and visitors knew the building and the sweet, brunette librarian who kept the place with pride, but even without the whole story, they also knew she had not been the same since her return from the Underworld with the rest of the heroes. The light burning in the middle of the night, and the large, dark circles under the clearly sleepless woman’s eyes when one saw her in Granny’s Diner the next morning picking listlessly at her pancakes and syrup, were only outward signs of her inner turmoil and pain.

This particular night turned earliest bit of morning, Belle Gold sat at the circulation desk, a cup of lavender tea, which she had hoped would soothe her and induce sleep, long gone cold at her elbow, and a large, gilt-edged book open before her. In her insomnolent state, she had returned to this once-favorite story for help, but instead she found herself wishing to violently rip the pages from its spine, more troubled than ever as she huddled on the high stool pulled up to the counter to perch on as she read and wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around herself against the now-familiar questions swirling in her mind: ‘What did I ever see in this story?’ ‘How stupid could I have been?’ ‘What ever made me think I could influence anyone or be a hero?’ ‘Every attempt I’ve ever made went wrong and only made things worse…’

Shivering against the drafts of a still-chilly April night and the cold certainty that she was nothing but a fraud; so naively convinced of her pretty ideals but completely ineffectual at doing anything with them when the moment of truth had come, Belle knew rest and peace were far from coming. A tear ran silently down her pale cheek as she thought of all that had happened – the tangled, progressively darker events which made up her own story – and she sucked in a ragged breath, trying to keep it from turning into the wrenching full-bodied sob she felt rising within her. Though she had fought so valiantly hard, it would seem her tale could not possibly end in happily ever after now. All her efforts at love and bravery – at goodness – had turned to dust in her hands, crumbling like the shriveled brown flower Hades had used to taunt her after Gaston’s fall into the River of Lost Souls.

The only thing keeping her from falling apart completely, she thought ruefully as one small, graceful hand lowered to rest protectively on her slightly protruding belly was the tiny being she had wished for so long. This baby should have been a lovely, innocent symbol of her and Rumple’s love, a living hope and second chance – for her husband, and for herself – and now Rumple would never even know his second born child. Though Belle was not sure what she had left to give this unborn babe, her hope and belief nearly dried up and vanished forever, its growth inside her was what kept her from lying down on the floor of her precious library and never rising again. All of her gumption, her resolve, her joy, were gone, deserting her as completely as they had ever filled her before, and the fact that her child would need her was all to which she could truly cling.

Eventually, just as the dark night turned early morning and lightened to grey, and the faintest traces of sunrise began to streak the sky, Belle’s head lowered, the side of her face coming to rest on the printed page of the book she had so loved once upon a time, her impossible, idealized version of a hero pressed to the soft, pale skin of her cheek as she slumped over the counter in a restless sleep…

As she dreams, she is once more in the Underworld, brought by the man she has tried so hard to win back from the Beast within – the pressing roar in his ear of magic and power – the man who, despite it all, she has never ceased loving, to the very throne of the Lord of the Dead. Rumple’s hand clenches her forearm so tightly it hurts, and she realizes with stark clarity that even the Dark One is no match for a deity. Rumple is sorely afraid, though he doesn’t let his outward appearance show it.

From there, the moments progress like an inexorable nightmare. So soon after her inadvertent actions against Gaston, things already seem hazy and unreal; she can barely comprehend the showdown forming between her husband and Hades. Fire and light shoot back and forth, crashing against one another in the middle and neither attack striking its intended target.

Winded, panting, nearly falling to his knees with exhaustion, Rumple finally raises a hand in surrender, as she runs to support him and help him back up, seeing the drained former spinner without his precious might and the upper hand. Putting a bracing hand beneath his elbow, she steadies Rumple as he stands once more and intends to do so as he moves forward, until he turns to her, bringing them to a halt.

Meeting Belle’s eyes in that moment, Rumplestiltskin’s gaze shows pain and infinite regret; only somewhere beneath those emotions is the love lingering for her, love that she had always wanted to believe would triumph over the Dark One’s lies. “I am so sorry, Belle. For so many things…” he whispers brokenly, the back of his hand stroking her cheek as lightly as the mere brush of air in a breath, as if hesitant to hurt her more than he has already. “I have put you through more pain than any love should have to bear…only to have it all come to this in the end.”

Pulling his gaze away from her face, Belle sees her husband’s eyes slide back to meet the god’s controlled, implacable stare and subtly shifts forward to stand in front of her, partially shielding her from Hades’ view. Her heart is swept up in pride for him at this moment of real, selfless bravery, even as it then breaks when his next words sink in. “Very well, Hades,” Rumplestiltskin hisses, sounding as reptilian and menacing as Killian has always insisted, his sharp eyes flashing even as he concedes. “You know that I cannot best you, but with the powers of the Dark One and its immortality, you cannot end me either. Let Belle and our child go, and I will serve you by finding you a replacement soul, one that will prove much more satisfactory than a mere infant.”

The silent air crackles around them, and Belle opens her mouth to cry out, “Rumple, no!” and pull him back, both terrified at what the Lord of the Underworld might do, and horrified anew that Rumple could once more offer up another person’s soul as if it were his to barter, even as she had thought for once he was making a heroic sacrifice. But she feels his fingers curl around her even more firmly, and a tingle runs up her whole arm, holding her in place, words bottled in her throat no matter how she tries to force them out, until she realizes that Rumple is using his magic to hold her back and keep her silent. Emotions rise in a confusing swirl, and Belle is not sure if she is moved by his desperate bid to protect her or impotently furious at his overriding her free will.

Hades tilts his head to the side, coming closer as he studies his nemesis calculatingly. “Let me see,” he mused, wearing a face that gives the sense of bored unconcern, even Belle with no magic or powers beyond human intuition knows the god is toying with his prey – if pressed, she has seen much the same look on Rumple’s face too many times as the Dark One. “An intriguing proposition,” he drawls out the words slowly, as if tasting the flavor of some delicacy on his tongue, “…but do I believe you?”

“You would do well to take me seriously,” Rumple vows, iron in his voice and threat on his tongue. “I may not win, but you will be battling me until the judgment day, neither of us able either to triumph or to pass on.” He steps forward as well, standing taller with a hint of the malice that shows at the heights of his power, limp nearly unnoticeable as he meets Hades and reaches out his hand. “You want to take this deal, trust me,” Rumplestiltskin asserts, nearly baring his teeth as he does so. “I will be your right hand, Hades – if you spare my wife and my unborn child, never to trouble them again.”

Hades tilts his head, studying the Dark One with amused curiosity as if he is some new species the deity has never seen before. “I’d be a fool to trust you for even a moment,” he replies coolly, “and I know you will only serve me as long as it takes you to find an escape. Yet…” he takes a moment to muse as if there is no trouble or threat at all, Belle resenting all the while that he can balance all their lives in his hands while appearing not to have a care in the world. Finally, he gives a quick, decisive nod, his pondering resolved. “If I’ve already gotten what I need from you by then, why shouldn’t I be free of your tiresome, disloyal presence?”

Belle is sure there is some horrible drawback, some hideous fine print somewhere which has been missed – added to the fact that Rumple is bartering someone else’s soul for their safety – and she hates being forced to stand idly by, no one paying her any mind. Her husband moves to shake the god’s hand, and she begs silently, regardless of whether either of them can hear, “No, Rumple, please don’t do this! There must be a better way!”

Without deviating from his original intent, Rumplestiltskin leans even more toward the Lord of the Dead, not allowing himself so much as a glance at her, solely focusing on Hades, alert for any move or threat from his dangerous adversary. Their hands meet in between, as if to shake on the arrangement, and a burst of magical power so ground shaking shoots out sparks, tossing both Hades and Rumple apart. It topples Belle to the ground, momentarily blinded by the white hot flash and breathless from the impact, her awareness shattered. For a time, she knows no more, and when she comes back to herself, she is lying on the moving floor of the library elevator they had taken down to Hades’ inner sanctum, and the door is sliding open to reveal the Underworld’s version of her beloved haunt. As the lift reaches the top and halts, Belle sees that she is also utterly alone…

A few scratching sounds and a thump against the outer door of the Storybrooke Library, followed by the sound of something metal picking at the lock, the doorknob rattling, and an accented male voice calling her name hopefully, before the tell-tale sound of the lock clicking free, awakens her just a couple of hours later, still early morning, but light now. She hears the sound of more than one pair of booted feet striding toward her as she blinks dazedly and surfaces from the flashback-dream and her tormented rest. Shooting upright quickly, hoping they haven’t seen her pathetically asleep where she fell, Belle nearly loses her balance and topples off the stool she’d been perched on. Wincing at the pain in her lower back from sleeping in such an awkward position, Belle tiredly rubs her eyes and tries to focus on her early visitors.

Only a second later, she registers Killian Jones’ voice jovially greeting her as he walks toward her across the open entryway and also hears the low, warm chuckle behind him from Liam, his revived older brother. She had been introduced to him as they were all working together to leave the Underworld, but she has not had much occasion to be around him since, and so she is surprised by his seemingly easy good humor, and the sparkle in his eyes that much resembles the one she’s often seen in Killian as they’ve researched some Big Bad threatening the town or discussed favorite books over lunch.

Startled, she lets hesitant brown eyes come to meet his friendly, open gaze and gives what she hopes is a welcoming smile as she teases Killian in hopes of keeping his usual perceptiveness from picking up on her disheveled, unhappy state. “What brings the Jones brothers to my library at the crack of dawn?”

Killian flashes her a devious wink, before nodding his head to her briefly in a playfully slight bow, “Ah, but wouldn’t you like to know, Lass?” he teases. His voice is bright and jovial, and there is a happy twinkle in his ocean-blue gaze that has been absent in many instances where she has seen him appear dazed or haunted since his return to life and the world above. She simply has to return the mischievous grin – happy for this former enemy who has become a true friend, proud of him (though it may not be her place) that he has found the strength Rumple never quite mustered to change for the better, make right the wrongs within his power to mend, and became the man he was always meant to be.

Tilting her head to study both of the men before her with friendly curiosity, she begins checking in the small stack of books Killian has carried in with him to return. Liam meets her eyes but doesn’t speak, his smile warm and friendly, but his general bearing more restrained than his younger brother’s. They certainly resemble each other – well-formed, strong features, straight noses and piercing eyes – but Liam is a bit taller, slightly broader of shoulder, and with fairer hair beginning to grow out enough to show curls that Killian’s straight, dark, shaggy locks don’t possess.

Deciding to get to know the intriguing man before her a bit better, Belle chooses to ignore Killian’s baiting and glances at his older brother from beneath lowered lashes. “And what about you?” she asks softly, “Do you enjoy reading as much as Killian does?” For some reason she has to fight a tremor in her voice as the words leave her mouth, and a thrill of nervous awareness racing up her spine as Liam Jones’ lips angle up into a fuller smile.

“Aye, Mrs. Gold, I do indeed,” he replies, with a succinct, definite nod of his head as he steps closer, right up to the counter of the circulation desk between them, while Killian wanders away into the stacks to look for new volumes. “We share our love of the written word, ever since I first taught him to read when we were boys, though Killian has always tended more toward daring adventure tales, epic fantasy and the like. I’m a bit of a history buff myself – love learning how kingdoms rise and fall and how leaders are formed. There is much to garner from such real events that have come before.”

Belle bobs her head in an excited nod, warming to the topic as she leans over the counter, absorbed by his words in spite of herself and forgetting the pain and confusion of the dream vision to a more pleasant topic. “I know exactly what you mean! There are so many good records, biographies, accounts of battles, journeys, and expeditions – it’s amazing to learn what that must have been like, to imagine traveling alongside such great adventurers when such momentous enterprises were being undertaken.” She pauses to draw in a breath, having begun to speak quickly in her excitement. Amusement shines in the look Liam Jones levels at her across the desk, but understanding and a sort of relief that intrigues her glows from his expression to warm her as well.

Belle makes an impulsive decision in that moment, wanting to share something she still loves and finds joy in with someone else who has weathered and survived much and clearly loves it too. Moving to stand quickly, with the intent to take Killian’s brother to their nonfiction section and show him some of her favorite tomes, Belle forgets for a moment how much her subtly widening stomach throws her off balance and pitches forward as she slips off the stool, then cries out softly as overcorrecting to catch herself pulls at her back painfully.

Liam is around the counter and at her side in an instant, one hand on her arm to steady her, the other coming to rest at her waist. “Steady on, Lass. Easy there,” he murmurs with soothing concern.

Killian darts back out from where he’d ventured, good arm full of novels and brows pinched together with worry. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks.

Belle shakes her head, offering Liam a grateful smile, even as she blushes in embarrassment and also feels warmth flood her at his contact with her body. She tries to calm both of them – conscientious, old-fashioned, chivalrous gentleman through and through – and step away. “N-nothing. I’m fine. Just lost my balance is all. …Th-thank you though, Captain Jones,” she adds sincerely to Liam. Unthinkingly, she raises her hand to her neck which feels cramped and stiff as well, wincing slightly before she even realizes.

Killian, observant as ever and an especially intuitive friend when it comes to her, notices her moving gingerly and guesses at her sleeplessness, speaking gently as he touches his metal appendage to her shoulder and impels her to look back up at him simultaneously. “Still not resting, Love?” he asks, already seeming assured of the answer. “You’ve been sitting at that counter all night, haven’t you?”

Sheepishly, the tiny brunette dips her chin to her chest in the slightest of nods, feeling even smaller under the concerned scrutiny of these two tall, strong former naval officers. It isn’t worth denying the fact; Killian already knows the truth. She had confided in him long ago, even before their trip to Camelot, her sleeplessness from a broken heart. He is certainly astute enough to realize that the organ is now only more broken.

What startles her however, is his proper older brother’s reaction. In interactions, Liam has always been friendly but reserved; now, he ushers her forward, an arm coming around her waist to guide her toward the reading lounge she has set up by the windows and into an overstuffed, comfortable chair. “Milady Belle, sit, please. You’re with child. You must take care of yourself.”

She doesn’t fight him, letting him lead her to the seat and settling into it with an actual sigh of relief. And he surprises her again by kneeling before her and grasping her delicate hand in his much larger one, enveloping it completely. There is an open, earnest look on his face that both soothes and puzzles her as he gazes up into her face and asks her if there is aught else they can do or fetch for her.

Liam himself doesn’t understand what has come over him as he looks up into the weary, hurting face of this lovely but lonely young woman. All he is certain of – and he knows he will speak to Killian about why she isn’t sleeping, what she has been through – is the concern for her he feels. He wants to find out why she is so sad, and to find a way to make it better. His resolve is firm, even if not fully understood, and he senses the beginning of a new mission, a new adventure.

Link to Chapter Two: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/2/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Three: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/3/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Four: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/4/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Five: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/5/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Six: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/6/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Seven: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/7/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Eight: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/8/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Nine: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/9/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Chapter Ten (Epilogue): https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138837/10/Looking-for-a-Heart-that-s-not-Walking-Away

Tagging a few who may enjoy (sorry if not, or if you’ve already read it, but thought even previous readers might want to see its new art! ;) : @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @effulgentcolors @aloha-4-ever @winterbythesea @hollyethecurious @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @ohmakemeahercules @shireness-says @resident-of-storybrooke @spartanguard @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @vvbooklady1256 @xemmaloveskillianx

#ouat ff #liam x belle ff #ouat au mc #5b canon divergence fic #cs supporting ship ff #chapter one #anniversary repost #now with fic art

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courtorderedcake · 6 years

Text

RIPTIDE 2/13

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter II : Mist

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When Zelena summoned her to her chambers, Emma was sure she’d been discovered. It had been months since Walsh had forced her into illicit nights of his mouth on hers, and his hands groping ever farther into territory she wished lay unexplored. She knew the consequences if Zelena found out, but Granny’s life lay in her hands. She was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever known.

“Emma. I’ve been watching you, you know.” Zelena sat in the small space of her quarters in a plush emerald chair, upholstered in shimmering velvet and lined in golden embroidery. The cabin was narrow with a small window, filled with the chair, candles that were lit haphazardly, a canopied bed that was built into what might have previously been a small closet, a bookshelf, a cedar chest, and a small table covered in bottles. The door closed behind her, and Emma gulped.

“Yes.”

“I’ve noticed what you think you’ve been hiding from everyone.” Zelena smiled deviously, steepling her fingers. The hair on the nape of Emma’s hair stood on end. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret?”

Emma stared into the crimson haired woman’s eyes. “I don’t know-”

”You should embrace it, like I have. It’s a gift, no matter what weak minded fools say.” Zelena made a dismissive motion towards the door, her mouth curling into a sneer. “Magic is nothing to hide.”

”Magic?” Emma let out a breath of relief, her face contorting in confusion. “What are you talking about, magic?”

It was Zelena’s turn to be confused. She blinked several times, her face falling into a confused and astonished expression. “Emma, my pet, your magic. It radiates off you. Honestly- how could you not notice?”

Emma’s heart began to race. “I haven’t ever… I mean, I don’t have-”

”You healed Snow when she fell from the rigging months back. A fall like that should have broken her back.”

“That was luck, she slowed herself by catching some rope.” Zelena shook her head.

“You’ve conjured sunlight during gray days, and when you sing, dolphins and mermaids come near.”

“Mermaids are always seeking pirates to lure to the grave. And dolphins, well…” She swallowed hard. “They think we’ll throw out fish.” The candles in the room seemed to dim.

“Even right now, you’re messing with the candle light. You could be a more powerful sorceress than me even, with the right training.” Zelena’s eyes seemed to grow greener, glittering like a cat who caught the canary.

“No, I believe you are mistaken. Those are all just coincidences. I don’t even know the first thing abou-”

Zelena shot a bolt of green fire at her, and she flinched, smelling the sulfuric flame that she was sure she’d feel licking her with its acid tongue of pain soon. Her hands warmed, but nothing bit her with a burning sting. She peeked one eye open. The flame rested before her, held by a white light flooding from her palms, flickering in the cabin. All the candles were out, the green light coming from Zelena casting an unearthly shadow over everything, tinging the space emerald. Zelena’s face was a sly smile.

“When would you like to begin your lessons, my darling pet?”

Between magic lessons, her kitchen duties, and Walsh’s continued violations, Emma was growing exhausted. It didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, with the crew more sympathetic than her teacher, who in turn was much more sympathetic than the rank man in back of her.

Walsh pawed her naked breast, grunting with the other hand in his pants, rutting against her ass. She was used to his usual crassness, but he’d been pushing for more of late, seeking to take her as a woman and man joined. Emma had known for years she most likely would never be a woman who was able to save herself for marriage, but she had hoped she’d at least find someone who made her feel something other than revulsion.

A few women on the ship sought female company after unpleasant experiences like her own. Fewer still sought out the occasional male companion or consort, which generally were more common in the uncharted shores or more exotic and inhibited locales. Zelena did not like such places because they didn’t have the finer luxuries she was accustomed to.

And oh was Zelena ever accustomed to fineries, Emma was finding. Zelena has started her off with mapping and studying where various herbs could be found, along with other sundries, talismans, magickal items, and rare stones or gems. Then she’d had her chart merchant courses to create a route that would keep her coffers and apothecary cabinet stocked, and set Emma up with a book making her various unguents and potions for beauty.

Emma had proved to be moderately skilled, Zelena overjoyed and tasking her with studying more arcane magic. The magic was mostly enchanting swords, creating poisons to wipe on blades, bewitching objects, or summoning the elements to do your bidding. Emma found it easy, and spellcraft or elemental magic easier yet. After weeks of practice, she could create a flaming sword, heal small wounds, or conjure a bright burning light in one hand while a rapier was held in the other.

When Emma had found an aging Bradshaw through word of mouth, dragging his sorry hide on board per Zelena’s request for a man to test poisons on, Emma felt a delight that was almost sisterly. Killing Bradshaw with a painful combination of poisons while spittle ran into his graying beard was not quite just desserts. Emma would have given anything to have poisoned the slaver at his prime, when he had whittled away her skin for a laugh. Zelena was beyond impressed at Emma’s aptitude for cruelty and creating poison blends that caused torment. The next morning, Zelena demoted Walsh with a smirk, promoting Emma to First Mate instead. Emma would swear the woman gave her a motherly look, the unease of her company fading.

Eventually Zelena demoted Walsh, no one particularly shocked other than him, his last line of superiority disappearing. To complicate matters, Zelena had praised Emma, stating she was the most skilled in battle and hinted at making her his replacement. Meri had at first been icy, but even she couldn't stay mad for long when watching Walsh sulk was such a delight. Zelena made it very clear what his purpose was on her ship, her personal dandy to keep her satisfied until someone else could fulfill her needs. A toy, a wind up monkey, clattering around for her entertainment only. His anger was palpable on deck every time she called for him. Emma would feel bad if it wasn’t so ironic. Walsh, caught in the same net he cast for her.

Zelena began to trust Emma with more self study but never anything that could truly threaten her own skill. She was a narcissist, but a realist first and foremost. A threat was a threat, and as someone who coveted her possessions, Zelena kept them close to her chest. Or so she thought.

The first thing to escape her, whether in obliviousness or arrogance, was Walsh seeking Emma’s companionship every morning, and Zelena’s bed chambers every night that she summoned him. She was an insanely envious woman, and Walsh had caused a few women to meet her fury by trying to sneak a poke in at brothels under her nose. Emma suspected Zelena didn’t think anyone on the Oz would dare. Truly, Emma wished she could stop the entire disgusting ritual, but Walsh had been prepared.

“This is going to continue as long as it suits my needs,” he’d said as he forced himself into her mouth. “And if you say anything, to anyone, I will make sure that everyone on this ship thinks you initiated it, as well as killing your grandma myself.”

She hated the taste of him, but she hated knowing how easy it would be for him to convince Zelena that she was the instigator. He’d fallen out of favor with Zelena, and she was quick now to call him on his incompetence while using him for her other needs. Instead, after a bloody battle that left Emma breathless from the use of both her magic and blade, Zelena had praised her in front of the crew while chastising Walsh’s failure to do much more than cower.

As it stood, Zelena had just let Emma gain her trust. That trust factored into the second thing Zelena failed to notice - something even Emma barely noticed herself, at first.

Emma realized it slowly, practicing her craft at night and feeling her magic pulse all through the ship like tendrils or veins. She could feel the ocean and its currents, deep into dark waters, the night air and starlight - elements being broken down further and further until everything was light or dark or electric or an unexplainable force. She could feel that force in everything, moving in and out like the breath of some great invisible beast.

And Emma could reach a finger to touch it, if she just pushed, pushed -

A great pair of yellow eyes stared at her, unblinking, the pupil widening and shrinking as it came to focus on her being. At first they stared at each other, and each felt the other. A light and a darkness, one small and one large, one so very young, one ancient but not yet wise. She felt its curiosity as well as her own before she lost hold of the thread, falling back into her body.

She’d woken up sweating to a ruckus on deck. Throwing on her clothes, she joined a small handful of the crew, including Zelena, who were watching the sun come up and join the moon in the sky at an unnatural pace, blinding them and bleaching the night sky in its radiance before dipping back below the horizon again.

“An omen,” Zelena had said, quietly.

“Of what? When has the sun ever chased a still moon, and then raced forward before stopping? What kind of omen is that?” Emma asked, shivering slightly in the now chill air of the returned night.

“A great power has manifested itself. That’s an ancient spell that even I can’t do. It’s in a relic of mine somewhere. Starsphere manipulation, or something.” She yawned, and stretched. “I’m going back to bed. Since all of you are up, you can begin your day early.”

Emma sighed, and returned to the bunks to get dressed for the day. She blinked when she saw the book she’d been reading the night before by candlelight, realizing the cover was well worn and not the book that she thought she’d been studying. Looking at the text of the cover, she couldn’t help the chill that ran up her spine, excitement thumping in her heart like cannon fire.

“SpellKrafte of the Starspheres”.

Their latest haul had been a success, a ship taken down and heavy pockets for every one of the crew. Emma had run several men through, including the captain who had tried to shoot her with a shoddy pistol, unable to get off the shot before her sword cut through him like a ribbon. She’d smiled into his face, letting him know that her angel looks held back a demon’s blood lust. In the hold, they’d found wine, cheese, fresh fruits, vegetables, spices, and tea; and Zelena was happy to announce the coffers were full again with the gold and jewelry they looted. There were no survivors this time, simply blood, bodies and fire offered to the sea when they had finished stripping the ship. David, Snow, and Emma watched it sink into the black water, a gift happily given for another day of plunder.

When the ship had sank into the sea, Zelena gave orders quickly before going to her ledgers, and Emma took up for her in her absence. She knew everyone but Walsh was pleased that she was now First Mate, her ease and fair hands left little need for the punishments once doled out by Zelena. David maintained the weapons easily, teaching new crew members when Emma or Snow could not, and Meri, along with Fa, had made navigation a breeze. The new worlds were not so new with their residents among them.

Walsh had taken to punishing Emma for his demotion with his body, pulling her aside in the mornings when she woke to help Granny. His needs had gotten lewder and much rougher, and she found herself escaping into thoughts of her duties as he spent himself. It never lasted long, for which she was grateful; he had given up seeking anything but his own pleasure. She’d open her mouth, let him pull down her trousers or hike up her skirts, and pretended she wasn’t thinking of unfurling sails or making sure the gunpowder casks were dry.

If he thought she was bored, he’d give her a heavy handed smack which caused an annoying bruise she’d have to hide, so she tried to show slight interest in his grunts. He’d spill himself down her throat, on the floor of the store room, or more frustratingly in her skirts, hair, or on her breasts. She hated the sticky feeling of him on her skin as it were, but it was better this than letting him fill her - that was the worst. The apothecaries in a few port towns carried several potent herbs that when mixed just right, created a tincture that prevented becoming with child. Although she used it religiously, the risk of carrying some bastard scared her.

Emma never wanted children, and the idea of bringing a child into this world that had hurt her so badly made her skin crawl. Her hands were covered in the blood of men, death an old friend she helped to feed. A child did not belong in this world. She had, at many times, hidden herself for just a few moments, assuring herself that nothing would happen, nothing could happen, the fear too much to bear in an open space. Walsh would occasionally use that fear, talking about forcing her to marry and stay on shore, and on those days, her anger was palpable while frustration at her situation boiled over.

One of the ways she let off her frustration at the arrangement with Walsh was seeking out companions in port towns, finding dandies, the rare male escort, or a woman of the night. Nothing was truly satisfying, and she hated watching someone try and pretend they were enjoying something they weren’t. Even when slightly enjoyable, there was never any reason to go back or any connection.

They made port that night with coin to spend, and Emma made her way into one of the disreputable taverns where she knew trouble would not find her. Sinking into a chair, she drank heartily and let the conversations flow over her, the different crews shouting and jostling each other, many different songs from different lands weaving together into a comforting lull. Walsh had been rougher this morning; drinking helped her forget a hard day’s work on top of the bruises on her hips.

As some men were lured away by women to drop trousers and coin, one of the older patrons began playing away on an accordion to a familiar sea shanty, the liveliness thrumming in the crowd as more voices joined in. One of the bartenders pulled out a fiddle, and the place came alive with drunken singing and dancing. For a moment, Emma let herself smile into her tankard as she drank the spiced ale, enjoying the way her head spun.

When two uniformed officers crossed her line of vision, the smile disappeared. She could feel the tension settle for a moment, before the taller of the two spoke up.

“A round on me, and my little brother. Tomorrow we leave, and tonight you have the finest ale.” His shout was met with a hearty cry of appreciation from the sailors inside, and the music started up again, louder than before. The shorter brother, still wearing his hat, approached the bar near where she sat. She could hear the coins clink behind her.

A tankard appeared to her left, placed down by the younger brother. Following the arm, she looked up into blue eyes, lit with amusement. “Here you go lass.” She blinked at him, watching trays of ale go around to the other tables.

“A toast!” said the taller brother of the two, shouting again. “To fair seas, and fair weather, as far as the horizon goes!” Glasses clinked, and Emma raised hers halfheartedly. Throwing back the remnants of her first ale, she started on the second. The younger brother still hadn’t moved and was too close for her liking.

“Another toast.” Emma bristled. “To better lives, and futures.” he said, and she tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in company.

Emma snorted. “Sure, mate.”

“Have a little hope darling.” A chair scraped and he was sitting beside her. “You never know what the future holds.”

She stared at him, seeing the glint of hope in his eyes, and felt pity rise in her stomach. He couldn’t be much older than her, but she knew so much better of waiting for brighter futures. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she had seen what his king sent men to their deaths for; that in ports all over the world, there were men that were once like him. Men that were now broken husks, full of loss.

Instead, she whispered curses softly under her breath.

“What was that lass?”

She smiled sadly. “I said, I wish you good luck, Lieutenant.” she lifted her tankard.

He smiled brightly, tapping her tankard with his. Quickly, Emma drank the rest of her ale before pulling out her chair and leaving through the open door. The night air felt good, crisp and cleansing on her face, and the moon was high in the sky, leaving plenty of light to guide her down the street. She hadn’t realized how much she had drank, her cheeks felt warmed. At this point, holding her liquor and keeping her footing were never problems unless something very strong was involved, even if she felt a little dizzy.

“Hey, hey wait-” he called out to her, and Emma turned around to appraise him. He swayed slightly, and she sighed. Not used to holding his drink yet either. Burying any emotion, she composed herself before he approached. The last thing she wanted tonight was this poor boy trying to keelhaul her; he’d lose a hand and she’d get a lashing from Captain Zelena.

“Yes?” she asked, letting the bite of irritability shine through.

“I know this isn’t good form, but I-” He stepped towards her and she could see under starlight that he’d lost his hat, his jet black hair falling out of his pulled back style. “I wanted to ask you if you’d give me a kiss for good luck.”

Emma sighed. Sailor superstition was rife, but this was ridiculous.

“You don’t want a kiss from me, mate. I’m cursed. You’ve better luck finding a toad to press your lips against.” She turned away again, and he gripped her wrist.

“I may have better luck with the toad, but I’ve asked you.” He looked down at her through dark lashes and she felt flush color her cheeks and ears. “You're beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He flushed, nervously scratching behind his ear. “I may have had too much to drink, and I’m usually not this forward, but I mean it. You’re stunning.” His words were sincere, ringing completely genuine. Something inside her stomach flipped, causing the bite in the night air to lose its teeth completely.

“Fine, Lieutenant.” She pressed her lips against his, and he pressed back. She’d kissed other sailors, men with chapped lips and stubble, but this was velvet soft, while his tongue asked for entry without demand. He turned his head to deepen it and she obliged, her skin licked with heat. She should have ended this instantly, but he tasted like honey, mint, ale, salt of the sea, and a rich headiness that made her dizzy. He groaned into her, and she bit his lip to illicit another. He pushed her back against a building or a wall, she couldn’t tell; she was breathless and a knee was between her legs.

Hadn’t he mentioned good form? Emma didn't care.

He seemed unsure as she rocked her aching core against his leg. Nothing ever felt like this with Walsh or any other man for that matter- there was never this hunger, the fire burning and wrapping her in a tingling blanket of sensation. She wanted more, eyes widening as she let out a moan into his ear, his fingers wrapping around her waist, his other hand stroking the neckline of her corset.

She reached a hand to his buckle, undoing the ridiculously shiny thing, and pushed down the front of his pants. In the lower streets here, it was common to see lovers, paid or otherwise, enjoying each other’s bodies.

“Here? In the street? I can’t; I don’t do this. We can’t,” he hissed, his voice hoarse. She nodded, tugging on his length, unsure of what had come over her. “We - we shouldn’t.” She licked her palm and continued, and he rutted into her hand. “We should go back and get a room,” he moaned the last word, as she twisted up and down his cock. “Oh, Gods, damn it it all!” His hands pulled down her corset, and he sucked hard on a nipple, plucking at the other. Emma felt like she was being lit, like a gun filled with powder ready to fire.

Was this what the whores in the brothel felt when they wailed into the night? What other sprawled bodies in other shadowed alleys moaned about while people looked away? Hot breath in the crook of their neck, a warm tongue laving their collar bone, a coil that tightened when his fingers found her wet and aching? Oh, his fingers!

He curled them in her, whispering how wonderful she’d feel around him, how she probably tasted like heaven. He found a sensitive spot, and she ground down on his hand. His fingers left her and she whimpered, wishing he would keep that sweet pressure on her. He instead stroked his shaft with his wet fingers and slowly, reverently, sheathed himself.

Her body trembled, and they held each other forehead to forehead for a small time. This wasn’t just sex. This was making love, or rather with the love absent, fucking for pleasure. Walsh was sex, and nothing more; this dark haired lieutenant was a push to lunacy; his body pressed into hers so tightly with the brick biting her back, his first movements making them both moan lowly.

His eyes were blown out, as she pushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling the beginning of something low in her belly rising like the breath you search for as you drown. They found a rhythm, rocking with each other sloppily. She let out a laugh that he mirrored with a grin when they fumbled for a moment and she almost slipped. He dug into her deeper, making her toes curl, her noises becoming needy pants on his shoulder as she dug her nails in his back.

“There! Fuck, yes, there!” she moaned. The new angle had him gripping her hips, sinking her body on his with groans of pleasure. The drag of him inside, hitting spots in her that had been so neglected, had that coil in her belly tight once again. Everything was taut, tense and waiting, waiting to feel something she’d been chasing for so long. She’d never gotten this close before. She felt like one of the moths that circled lanterns at night so close to heat.

”That’s it lass, come for me,” he groaned, moving faster, and the pleasure she felt had her writhing. It was euphoric, and then it was more; starlight ran in her veins, pumping through her heart to shoot back to her fingers and toes. She felt her body tighten and spasm as she cried out into his neck. He whispered into her ear how beautiful she was, sweet things that had her eyes feeling glassy, kissing her and keeping her on a sword’s edge that caused her thighs to quiver. It continued as he took, burying himself as deep as he could into her body, letting out a shuddering moan as he pulsed.

They panted into each other’s shoulders, tightly gripping each other. She snuggled into his embrace, her skirts shifting, and his cock softening. He kissed her temple as she adjusted herself with a shy smile. In this moment, drunk and soft, body sated and held tight, she let herself be vulnerable. Hazy thoughts of blue eyes, dark hair, reddened lips, and the golden buttons of his uniform that pressed into her skin broke down long standing walls. If she believed in fate, this moment would be destiny.

“See. You never know what the future holds,” he whispered into her ear, tucking back a blonde strand of hair. He let her down carefully, pulling himself from her and tucking himself back into his trousers. He helped her pull up her corset to her surprise, and pressed soft kisses to her neck.

“You shouldn’t go.” It crept out of her lips before she could stop it. He blinked slowly like waking from a dream.

“Shouldn’t go? Where?”

Her voice was a harsh whisper. If she could save one person from the hell of dying for the King’s greed, she’d try. Especially this man, so young and full of life, who believed in good form and telling her she was beautiful.

“You shouldn’t go to whatever hellscape the king is sending you to. He only sends men to their death. It’s not my place, but please -” His hand covered her mouth, and the moment was broken. A cloud covered the moon, darkness falling over them.

“What you say is treason,” he hissed, slowly releasing her and moving back a step. She shook herself, walls coming back up with no effort, meeting his eyes. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Do not trust your king. You’ll die if you listen to his lies. ” She watched his face harden with resolve.

“You know nothing about me, our king, or our mission.” His eyes darkened like the sky above. “We seek to end the last encampments of ogres. We’ll be saving people and children that these foul creatures kill. We will be heroes and free men!”

Emma was about to speak, to tell him about real freedom, but a voice broke the silence.

“Brother!” Someone was shouting, and he pulled away to look. “There is ale still to be drank and the night is young!” Her heart hammered in her chest, and she steadied herself. The spell was shattered, and not every man could be saved. Even this one that quickened the beat of her heart insistently. Pulling her cloak up over her head, she moved from him, pushing him aside. To her surprise, he moved to catch her arm, his footfalls behind her. They broke into a run through the town’s smoky corridors.

“Wait!” he called after her, but she knew her way through the alleys and back streets, twisting until she was back in front of The Emerald Envy of Oz. She made her way to the gangplank.

David stared at her coldly. He earned his nickname, Charming, by his expressionless face in battle and his quiet demeanor that hid a sharp tongue. She nodded at him in greeting, straightening her skirted breeches and corset under her cloak. David cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed red in only the way a sibling can embarrass you and make you angry at the same time.

“It’s not what it looks like.” She stomped up the gangplank.

David grunted. “It never is.”

“Some Navy fool shipping off tomorrow for his first bloodbath wanted a kiss.” She threw herself down on a crate, folding her arms.

Another grunt, and a snorted laugh. “So he won’t be making it to see the waters, dear sister?”

She grinned salaciously. “He’ll live, for tonight, at least. And he’s in much better spirits. I gave him a bit more than a kiss to comfort him when he dies for his King.” She winked, and watched her brother’s body stiffen, ears beginning to flush.

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Things I didn’t and never want to know. Disgusting. Hopefully he dies, so I don’t have to slit his throat instead.”

Looking out over the waves, she sighed suddenly defeated. “He will. If he survives, he’ll wish he was dead.”

Her brother came to sit next to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. They sat together listening to the waves until the stars began to fade, letting words that were unnecessary between them go unspoken.

The smell of gunpowder was acrid in her nostrils as Emma boarded the small merchant ship, landing with a thud. She pulled out her rapier and lit a fireball in her other hand that glowed with an unearthly shimmer of white light. The man before her looked horrified, and his knees shook as he fumbled to pull his own sword. He never got the chance, her rapier making quick work and spattering blood as she moved through the crew with little difficulty.

A sword nicked her shoulder, held by a portly man who sneered at her. “Witch! You pirate witch, I’ll see you hanged like the filth you are!”

Emma felt her shoulder throb, her magic pulsing in time with the pain. It flickered, and she tried to focus on parrying the saber this man kept slamming down towards her. She gritted her teeth, trying to hit this man with a blast that would knock him from her and give her some distance. Her magic wouldn’t comply, though. She tried healing her shoulder and ended up searing the wound.

“Emma! Get it together!” Zelena shouted, her own sword clanging as she took on a fight of her own.

The portly man slammed down over and over on her rapier, his saber blade much heavier, and Emma saw the strike coming in slow motion. She put both hands up, reaching deep and let go, her magic uncontrolled and wild. The man was blasted back, hitting a broken piece of wood with a wet smack. To her horror, her uncontrolled blast had also thrown a few of her crewmates.

She ran to help them as part of the merchant crew launched a boat with as much as they could carry. Zelena screamed orders, but with no dinghy to give chase immediately and both ships locked together, it was fruitless. When the rest of the merchant crew was dead, Zelena grabbed Emma by the hair and dragged her below deck.

“What was that? Control your magic! You could have killed us, and our haul would be cut because of your pure incompetence!” Zelena was livid, eyes shining. “You will be training with me at night as well as every afternoon, until you can wield your magic with pinpoint accuracy through any type of pain or distraction.”

Emma could only gulp and nod, Zelena’s rage practically turning her green.

The members of the merchant crew that escaped turned out to be a blessing in disguise, however.

Word spread of a female run ship sailing the sea with no quarter. One that had a witch with magic white as swan wings, an archer that could shoot a single snowflake, a quiet swordsman who didn’t mince his charming words, and a crazed captain that would spill anyone’s blood to get her pretty things.

News spread quickly, like wildfire through dry wood or a storm over rough seas.

It wasn’t a fortnight gone when they noticed the dot on the horizon, a fast moving ship in full regalia seeking nothing other than to end the threat posed. A navy frigate. Meri had spotted it while whittling a wooden bear in the crow’s nest whistling down to Fa. She and Fa seemed to share a code made of looks and small signals, practically reading each other’s minds. Emma wondered often if they had taken each other as sapphics, or common wives, but never cared to ask.

Emma still helped Granny in the morning, met with Walsh to her growing disdain and frustration, trained with Zelena, tended to her duties, kept the books and logged their goods, trained again with Zelena, did final nightly inspection, and then collapsed in bed for a few hours of sleep. The practice had Emma lit like a candle at both ends, unable to stop the flow of magic through her body. Her body felt worn, and magic crackled in her fingertips every morning as she chopped vegetables and fruits or kneaded dough.

Granny had taken to needing more help, to the point that David had started helping her clean up at night, occasionally with Snow keeping him company. Watching her brother bonding with someone else was a highlight for Emma. She loved to hear his low laughter as Snow talked to him, her legs swinging from her seat on the counter while she ate an apple.

Granny knew that she was struggling as well, and begged Emma to push Zelena to pick up her granddaughter who could help and fight as well - but Zelena wasn’t receptive to anything but fighting off the coming assault.

Several mornings to Emma’s delight, either her magic or the smell of onions on her skin had warded Walsh from some of his fouler acts. He’d also been less rough, and she held out hope that he was finally growing bored of her and her disinterest. As long as he had Zelena to stick his cock in and stay in her favor, he still got his special privileges. Emma did dread him ever saying anything about these forced trysts, and knew that if they did end, she could be in danger of blackmail or worse.

Zelena was unaware of anything but the coming battle. The fear consumed her, and she studied the Navy ship’s pattern as well as books on its form. It would have at least sixty guns, a large crew full of experienced forces, and have a sturdy build for defensive maneuvers. She’d laid out what spells she’d need, and Emma and her worked non-stop to make a working defense.

The first step was an invisibility powder and a protective charm. Then, they’d enchant the cannons for accuracy and to fire on their own. Finally, they needed to enchant weapons so they could hold an enchanted flame or freezing shock. Zelena didn’t want this fight; normally offensive, there was nothing to gain from battle, which left her on the defense. She wanted to scare these Navy men. Let them see the witches and the women with the flaming weapons. Let them see the men who served, and the grace they wielded a sword that chilled an enemy to the bone. Emma mixed satchels of herbs, gunpowder, and magical poultices which created smoke that would bring on sleep or paralyzation.

When the sun rose in reds and purples, Meri whistled to Fa, a loud and high pitched sound that twisted at the end. Fa ran to Zelena, waking her.

“Captain, there’s a second ship. It was following closely behind the first.” Fa gasped, hands on her knees.

Zelena’s reply was graceful and eloquent.

“Shit.”

They held their breath as the Navy ships approached, obviously confused. A ship disappearing was unheard of unless sailing in shipwrecked waters, and a ship as large as The Emerald Envy of Oz didn’t just lift off the face of the sea. That was, of course, part of Zelena’s plan. The ships stopped at a small, anchored dinghy, a dummy sitting prone in its curved hull. Zelena nodded to her crew, and they watched with weapons ready as the navy sent a small boat to survey the anchored decoy.

Emma waited for Zelena’s signal, biting her lip.

A man stepped into the dinghy, hauling the dummy up, and he waved a handkerchief. Zelena saluted Emma, and Emma took a deep breath. She felt every muscle in her body tense, and the crackle of her magic rose up through her hair, wind swirling around her.

The dummy exploded, blowing the man to smithereens, and spurting strange purple goo that covered both navy ships. It stretched like tentacles, the consistency of thick molasses. Terror swept through the crews, some men stuck in the concoction, others trying desperately to get them free while getting stuck themselves. Emma laughed with wry amusement when a high ranking official jumped off the side of the ship to escape a blob. Other men tried to hit the substance with anything they had around, finding it able to hold even the heaviest barrels in its viscous grip.

Emma’s hands filled with light again, and Zelena watched with ecstatic glee as she raised them while performing the enchantment, gold spreading to their cannons. It was done. Leaning back against the mast, Emma took deep breaths as sweat beaded her brow. Zelena in turn cast a quick charm on their weaponry, lighting them with her signature green flame. Emma pulled out her own rapier, letting it light green, and joined the line of her crew.

As their ship moved closer to the goo-covered frigate and its companion, Emma smiled at the names scrawled on their hulls, now obscured. The Jewel of the Realm, now the Ew th Ream in its jellied form, on one side and the larger ‘Feared Avenger’, its own letters also covered by goo, making it the Red Ven. Without a nullifying charm, they’d be stuck for days like this.

When they were close enough to the larger ship, Zelena gave Emma one last signal. With a wave of her hand, their cannons began their enchanted firing and the invisibility charm fell. Shouts and screams of pure horror filled the air, the Navy unprepared for this level of an ambush. Her fellow crew mates answered with a roar of war cries, enchanted blades shining in the sun, as they flew to board each of the ships. Emma landed on the Jewel of the Realm with a roll, expertly avoiding the goo, and slashing the first man that ran at her with ease. Parrying attack after attack and letting her sword start fires on the deck as well as on men’s uniforms, she showed her teeth in a wide leer. Men ran terrified, the captain shouting desperately.

Shoving her rapier through another man, she set her eyes on who she assumed was the captain of The Jewel and smiled a predatory grin. The captain was tall, had sandy, coppery blonde curls, and was broad with a muscular build. She had the vague sense she’d seen him somewhere before, but that didn’t matter in this moment. She headed towards him when an attack caught her off guard. She parried back, and her attacker spun, going high. Blocking with her rapier, she aimed a hard kick in his gut, and he fell to his knees. She went to cut his throat, tipping his chin up at her with the point of her blade, when he glared up at her. Neither of them could hide their shock.

“You!?” he said, blue eyes wide and angry. His mouth pulled back into a sneer. The lieutenant she had shared her body with, had warned of death, a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Me,” she said sadly, and let the point of her rapier press into his neck. A small dribble of blood ran down to pool in his collarbone, blooming red in his shirt. Every muscle in her body felt frozen, her mind screamed at her to end his life.

He closed his eyes, and she took a step back, arm raised and unsteady. Emma lowered her wrist, unable to fight a feeling of wrongness.

The captain barrelled in to her with a roar, and she was quickly under him. He had her shoulder pinned and blue eyes that were so like the dark haired man met hers. The brother. He groaned and paled as he looked at her face, his weight crushing her. She looked down and saw her rapier buried deep in his thigh, blood gushing in spurts from a wound that meant certain death.

“Liam!” The dark haired man pulled the giant off of her, rolling him on his back as the sandy haired man turned white. She watched as they held hands, the dark haired man cradling his brother’s head. “Stay with me, stay with me brother. Please, stay with me.”

“Killian, I…” His head lolled, and Emma could see the large man go into shock. His blood coated her hands. For the first time in many years, it made her feel sick.

Emma moved to his side, and ignored the man called Killian’s rage filled protests at her approach. She was vaguely aware that not only was this wrong, it was sheer lunacy on her part. Her body moved out of her volition without regard of why. She pulled her rapier from the bigger brother, Liam’s, thigh. Throwing it aside, it clattered against the deck as she held pressure to the soaked thigh below her hands. Emma felt a blade press against her neck, Killian against her back. Ignoring it, she focused on her magic, knowing she would need to pull from that golden thread to heal something this bad.

“You killed him, you killed him you bitch. I’ll cut your neck and send you straight to hell you demon -”

The spark ignited in her hands as Killian rasped in her ear. White light poured out of her hands, and she pressed on the wound harder, ignoring the bite of the steel. Liam groaned, color returning to his face, his chest heaving with slow effort. The hand at her neck fell away as the man’s wound closed into a faint scar.

She felt the sobs against her back as Liam’s eyes fluttered open. Killian scrambled back to his brother, hugging him tight, as the battle slowed around them and her crew began retreating now that the point had been made. Snow gave a bird call, and they began to return to the Oz.

Emma picked up her rapier, wiping it on her pants, and went to walk away. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked down to see Killian’s tear filled eyes.

“I don’t know why you did it, I don’t know how you did it -” He gulped down another sob. “Thank you. Thank you, for -”

“Fuck off, and quit the Navy. You got lucky this time.” Emma pulled away from him, and both brothers stared at her as she carefully swung back onto the Oz’s boarding planks.

David, Walsh, Fa, and Merida poured the prepared potion on the Avenger, releasing its sticky hold on the Jewel. There were minimal casualties, besides David losing part of his finger, and a nasty gash that Fa had on her cheek. Zelena had killed most of the naval crew, and those that had bailed bobbed in the water as she took up her mantle at the wheel. Emma steered the Oz away, and the Avenger followed. Commandeered for their use the sailors watched helplessly, swimming towards the Jewel to be fished out of the water. The Oz and crew now controlled a fleet.

The former captain of The Feared Avenger flopped on the Jewel’s deck, wet and raging mad. He had caught a glimpse of one attacker, a woman glowing gold as she flew through attackers without quarter. A demon from his past sent to punish him and test his worth.

Captain James Nolan’s dear little sister was a pirate, and she had magic.

#October 11th 2018 #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan big bang #riptide #Courtorderedcake writes #courtorderedcake #chapter II #mist #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan au #cs ff #cs au ff

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swanqueeneverafter · 5 years

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After The Sunset, Pt.17

Storybrooke. Present. Granny’s Diner. Morning. (Granny enters the diner and heads to the back room.) Granny: “You awake yet, Ruby? (Entering the kitchen, she sees the claw marked door of the freezer ripped from it’s hinges:) Ruby!” (Granny steps into the freezer and Ruby is nowhere to be found.) The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Belle is riding on a wagon with Alistair's group in search of the Yaoguai. She is reading a book.) Alistair: “What's that?” Belle: “Uh, a book. I trust you've seen one before?” Alistair: “You expect to beat the fiercest creature in the land with a book?” Claude: “Maybe she means to bore it to death.” (The group chuckles.) Belle: “It will tell us how to find the Yaoguai.” Alistair: (Takes the book:) “These are just scribbles.” Belle: “It's called another language. (Taking the book back:) One that I know how to translate. Hmm.” Alistair: “What?” Belle: “Oh I thought it was just, scribbles?” Alistair: “We are here to protect the land, girl. If that book tells us where to go you shall share it with us.” Belle: “It says we'll find the Yaoguai by the lake.” Alistair: “The lake you say?” Belle: “Yes.” Alistair: “You heard her, Claude. We're going to the lake.” (Alistair kicks Belle off of the wagon.) Belle: “Wait! (Gets up and retrieves her book:) Enjoy the lake! (Reading out-loud to herself:) The Yaoguai prefers mountain habitats to all others.” At The Yaoguai's Lair. Belle: (Still reading out-loud to herself:) “The Yaoguai hibernates by day and hunts by night. Please be asleep. (Draws her knife and walks forward before stepping on a twig. The Yaoguai emits a sound from its lair and Belle begins to run but trips. Mulan appears and shoots an arrow, causing the Yaoguai to roar and then flee. Mulan runs over and helps Belle to her feet:) How ever can I thank you? Y-you saved my life.”

Mulan: “And you ruined my hunt. It took me weeks to track the Yaoguai here.” Belle: “Yeah, I found it in a day.” Mulan: “You had luck on your side.” Belle: “No, not luck. It was this. (Holds out the book:) I could, uh, I could help you find it again.” Mulan: “You've done enough damage already. If you really want to help, stay out of my way.” (She runs off into the forest.) Storybrooke. Present. (In the forest, David and Granny are searching for a missing Ruby.) Granny: “This way. Over here. (Sees Ruby asleep on the ground:) Ruby! Ruby, wake up.” David: “Hey.” Ruby: “Where am I? What happened?” David: “You're in the forest. You must've fallen asleep here last night.” Ruby: “I-I don't understand. You put me in that cage. You locked me up.” Granny: “The freezer was torn to shreds when I came to check in on you this morning.” David: (As Ruby panics:) “Ruby. Ruby, it's all right.” Ruby: “No. It's not. I don't remember anything from last night. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Oh my God. Did I do something last night?” David: “Ruby, all we know for sure is that you broke out and ran through the woods. There's no reason to assume the worst.” (David's phone vibrates.) David: (Answering the phone:) “Yes, Sheriff? Yeah. Okay. I'll be right there.” Ruby: “What is it?” David: “There’s something going on at the cannery, Lily didn’t say what. I gotta go check it out on our way back into town. Hey. Relax. Everything's going to be okay.” Enchanted Forest. Present. (Rumplestiltskin and Regina sit together beneath an old oak tree reminiscing.) Regina: "So you've been traveling with Belle and Gideon this whole time?" Rumplestiltskin: (Nods:) "And it’s made me a new man." Regina: (Smiles:) "You always told me people never change, but it seems you did.” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, change is inevitable. Slow and painful at times, but inevitable.“ Regina: (Sighs:) “Tell me about it. My relationship with Emma has never been better, but my son no longer needs me.” Rumplestiltskin: “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Henry will always need his mother. Both of them.” Regina: “You think so?” Rumplestiltskin: “I’m certain of it. Regina... there’s something I need to tell you.” Regina: “Oh no. That doesn’t usually bode well.” Rumplestiltskin: “I... (He starts to tell her but then changes his mind:) am just so proud of the woman you’ve become. I- I realise that may sound strange coming from me, considering-” Regina: “You chose me to cast your Dark Curse? (Nods:) It is odd, but still appreciated. I’m proud of both of us. To think how far we’ve come from where we began is astounding.”

The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Rumplestiltskin is teaching Queen Regina how to use magic. They are practicing on a black unicorn.) Rumplestiltskin: “Now show me what you've learned. Immobilize it.” (Rumplestiltskin giggles as Regina succeeds.) Regina: “There. I did it.” Rumplestiltskin: “Excellent work, my apprentice. Now there's just one last, tiny, tiny, teeny, little detail. Take its heart.” Regina: “Like what my mother did to...” Rumplestiltskin: “Oh, to your true love. Indeed. Then you already know how it's done. (Regina approaches the unicorn:) Gentle. If you do it right, no harm will befall it, unless of course, you will it.” Regina: “I can't. It's innocent.” Rumplestiltskin: “Nothing is innocent. (He takes the unicorn's heart and giggles:) Now, it belongs to me. You see, when you take a heart, it becomes enchanted. Stronger than a normal heart. You're not hurting the beast. You're controlling it. Now show me you know what to do with that power. (Tosses the heart to Regina who catches it:) Kill it.” Regina: “What?” Rumplestiltskin: “You've seen it done. Now do it yourself. Show me you can take the next step in your training. Crush it. (Regina is unable to so:) Dearie, dearie, dearie. And I had such high hopes.” Regina: “I didn't sign up to kill unicorns.” Rumplestiltskin: “Magic is power. Until you can take power, you're not learning anything. Do you want me to teach you or not?” Regina: “Yes.” Rumplestiltskin: “Then there's one simple question for you to ponder.” Regina: “I'll tell you anything.” Rumplestiltskin: (Giggles:) “I don't need the answer. You do. What's holding you back?”

Regina’s Family Vault. (Inside a glass coffin lays the body of Daniel, Regina’s lost love. Although quite dead, his body is preserved with an enchantment spell.) Wonderland. Past. (Mere days after the loss of her sister, Drizella is approached by Gothel. After some initial resistance, Drizella decides to listen to what the robed witch has to tell her.) Drizella: (Watching her mother stand beside her sister's casket through a mirror Gothel is holding:) "That's my sister, Anastasia. Mother's favorite. (Drizella watches as Rapunzel touches the wand to her hand before sinking it into Anastasia's chest:) What is she doing to her?” Gothel: “Practicing.” Drizella: “For what?” Gothel: “For waking her up. The only way to wake Anastasia is by taking her heart and replacing it with one full of Belief.” Drizella: (Realising:) “My heart.” Gothel: “I'm so sorry.” Drizella: (Crying:) “I always knew that she loved her more. (Voice breaking:) I guess I just didn't realize how much until now. (Inhales sharply:) Oh, God. I'll never get away from her, will I? No matter what I do, she always finds a way to hurt me. Oh, God! I'll never be free!” Gothel: “I can help. I promise I can protect your heart. Join me.” Drizella: “No. You’re the reason my family was torn apart to begin with. There's only one way to protect me, and I know a prince who will help.”

Enchanted Forest. Present. (Belle and Emma walk through the woods together.) Emma: "I have to say, I didn't think I'd be seeing either of you for awhile. I thought you two were seeing the world together?" Belle: (Chuckles:) "We are, but there's plenty of time. We just came back to see friends, family." Emma: "Oh, so Gideon's with your father? I was wondering where the little guy was." Belle: (Stilted:) "That's right." Emma: "How long have you guys been back?" Belle: "Oh not long, we just dropped Gideon off with his grandfather and then Rumple and I have been going through some books back at the castle." Emma: "Yeah, 'Gina mentioned something about you two moving back there?" Belle: (Scoffs:) "Not without some serious cleaning. Whoever Rumple had as a maid before was obviously useless." Emma: (Frowning:) "You mean you, right?" Belle: (Stiffly:) "Of course. (Chuckles:) I was joking. (Changing the subject:) A-anyway, you guys are on honeymoon then?" Emma: (Watching Belle curiously:) "Yeah, (Shakes off the thought of something being wrong:) yeah we are, or trying to be. The problem is deciding where we should go. I mean, Regina has only known Storybrooke or the Enchanted Forest and I've never really been anywhere so..." Belle: "You thought you'd try a honeymoon in the Enchanted Forest?" Emma: "Well we're trying, but there's still people here who have a problem with Regina and I don't want her being on edge all the time." Belle: "No, that's understandable. Maybe you need to look beyond the realms of story. Rumple and I found some wonderful places in the Land Without Magic for example." Emma: "Yeah? You got any recommendations?" Belle: (Smiles:) "I think we can give you a few, yes." The Land Without Magic. Past. Maine. 2009. (Emma parks her yellow bug in front of the same bar/grill that August took her to during the dark curse. At the counter, holding an article about her being found as a baby, Emma asks the woman behind the counter for information.) Emma: “So, I just thought I'd ask on the off chance if there's someone still working here who remembers that baby being brought in.” (A woman joins the line behind Emma and appears to be keeping an eye on her.) Woman: “Twenty six years ago? We can't keep a cook for six weeks.” Emma: “Maybe, like, a long-time customer.” Woman: “The food ain't good enough for that kind of loyalty. Sorry, honey, but you're not gonna find anyone here who remembers this.” (Emma takes her food and walks to the sitting area. She sits alone and looks back at the article.) Cleo: (Walks over to Emma's table:) “Tough break, kid.” Emma: (Looks up at her, surprised:) “What?” Cleo: (Sits down:) “Heard what you were asking. You a reporter or something?” Emma: “No, nothing like that.” Cleo: “You're the baby, aren't you? From the article... you're the baby, right? (At Emma’s look:) Intuition. Mine's usually pretty good. And I'm sorry. It's hard not being able to find your family.” Emma: “It's just a dead end. I've had a lot of those. (Stands:) So, thanks for your concern, but I got this.” Cleo: “Can I say one more thing based on my intuition?” Emma: “Okay.” Cleo: “I look at you... young, pretty...” Emma: (Now wary:) “Okay.” Cleo: “And I see someone who now... stop me if I'm wrong, but... someone who stole money from a couple convenience stores in Phoenix, got arrested, and took off on her bail. (Emma suddenly takes off an a run, and Cleo follows her calmly. Emma dodges a moving car, gets into her bug and attempts to pull away, but her wheels screech instead. She opens her door to discover her rear wheel has been booted. Catching up to her:) Well, hello there.”

The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Belle stands drawing water from a well in a village when the men from the hunting party corner her and begin to push her down the well.) Alistair: (As Belle screams:) “The Yaoguai wasn't at the lake.” Belle: “I'm - I'm sorry. I must've misread that one.” Alistair: “Hmm. You know what I think happened? I think you sent us in the wrong direction on purpose.” (Out of nowhere, a soldier enters and grabs Alistair away from Belle.) Soldier: “Let her go.” Alistair: (Panting:) “This isn't your fight, soldier.” (Claude unsheathes his dagger, and begins to fight the soldier, but is easily taken down. Just as Claude is defeated, the soldier's helmet falls off, revealing the soldier to be Mulan.) Claude: “Wait. You're a-” (Mulan punches him.) Mulan: “Yeah. I know. (Draws her sword:) Go.” (The men run off.) Belle: “I... didn't expect to see you again. Thank you.” Mulan: (Sheathes her sword:) “I had to put up with brutes like them when I served in the emperor's army. Fools who think we have no business holding a sword. I only wish there was someone there to stand up for me.” (She looks down to her leg, having sustained an injury herself while protecting Belle.) Belle: “You're, uh, you're bleeding.” Mulan: “I'll survive. The sun should be setting soon. We need to move out.” Belle: “What- what do you mean ‘we?’” Mulan: “You tracked the Yaoguai in a matter of hours. It took me weeks. You track the beast, and I'll kill it.” Belle: (Nods:) “I'd be honored to help you.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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