#hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b

[fallforcs]

Game of Swans

Art by: @eastwesthomeisbest

Author: @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b

Emma Swan is the heir to house Swan, set to inherit Seagrove castle, her family sigil is a swan with a bowed head, she is the eldest child of David and Snow Swan, Lord and Lady of Seagrove. She has always craved adventure, staring out to the sea beyond the palace walls, and wondering what lies beyond.

 Killian Jones is the newly appointed Lord of Neverfall, the island fortress that has been passed from generation to generation, his house sigil is that of a butcher’s hook, gaining him the nickname from when he was captain to his father’s navy, of Captain Hook. He has grown world weary since the woman he was set to marry fell in the war that placed the current king upon the throne.

Rating: K+

Trigger warnings: Character death

A note for my readers: This is a Game of Thrones crossover, with mentions to characters from the series, but without any actually appearing. This is purely an A/U with Once characters.

Shout out to @ilovemesomekillianjones for being a lovely beta, and to the artist for sharing their talents with me.

Emma remembers the day that she was promised to the eldest son of Lord Brennan Jones, a neighboring lord.

He’d brought his boy into the castle. She had been running barefoot through the halls when Septa Ghorm caught her, she’d forced her into a tight corset, and silk finer than any she had ever worn, yanking her hair into odd shapes on her head, and pinching at her cheeks. Emma hated it. She had wanted nothing more than to get out of the silks and back into her riding leathers, so she could play with Graham the stable boy, in bare feet, with her hair sloppily pulled back into a braid. But Septa Ghorm would have none of that, she’d told her there was a visiting lord coming, and she must be presentable.

She’d grumbled under her breath how it never mattered before, let mother wear uncomfortable tight corsets, and silk, she wasn’t Lady yet. She was only ten, many years from such an awful fate as being forced to look pretty and fawn over the visiting lords.

Once she had been deemed presentable, Septa Ghorm, had nudged her out the door of her chambers, and towards the grand hall, where her mother and father would be hosting the lord of Neverfall. She had shuffled her feet along the halls, fighting having to go.

“Emmallie Swan, stop dragging your feet. It is not becoming of a lady to act in such a fashion. Straighten up, eyes forward, steps deliberate.”

Emma rolled her eyes, Septa was the only person in the castle that used her full name, others just called her Emma.

“Do not roll your eyes, I shan’t have you make me look incompetent. Now, remember to enunciate, no mumbling, and absolutely none of your grumbling and sighing young lady.”

Emma had let out one long drawn out sigh, making the Septa go a little red in the face, then straightened her back, affixed a neutral, if bored expression on her face, demurely smiled, and curtsied to her Septa, before walking into the grand hall. Septa Ghorm fell in step behind her, eyeing her like a hawk. Emma knew she would be getting a covert whack to the back if she acted unseemingly, so she carefully took to the steps, her silk skirts tight in her grasp, steps deliberate and careful, so she wouldn’t trip, and took her seat beside her mother.

Snow smiled at her daughter, “You look lovely, Emma,” she whispered, taking her daughter’s hand in hers and squeezing it gently. Emma marveled at the length of her mother’s fingers, a slender artistic ladies hands, next to her own clumsy and short hands.

Emma smiled at her mother and was about to respond, when the doors at the end of the room were opened, and four men walked in. The eldest of them, a greying man, taller than her father, with wild hair and deep blue eyes, was dressed in a lord’s clothes. A silver butcher’s hook with jewels in the handle pinned his cloak fast around his shoulder, and he wore a doublet with the same hook emblazoned on his right breast. Emma knew this must be Lord Brennan of Neverfall.

The other three were younger, a boy with curly brown hair framing a pleasant face stood beside the lord, his eyes were the same blue. He wore the same doublet and cloak, and a simpler jeweless hook on his right breast.She’d thought this must be his eldest son, standing a foot taller than the tallest of the other boys, his face was losing the childish roundness that hers still held, she would wager this boy to be about fifteen years in age, and he was staring at her mother with a confident smile on his lips. She didn’t like him.

The next tallest, seemed closer to her age, maybe two years older. His hair was less curly than the other boy, but his eyes were the same brilliant blue, although they seemed bored as he took in the tapestries hanging from the wall. Unlike his brother and father, this boy wore a linen shirt, buttoned with the top three undone, leaving a portion of his pale skin visible, and his doublet was hanging loose around his shoulders. Most likely his father hadn’t noticed his state. During her inspection of the boy who stood with his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his riding trousers. his eyes looked up, and locked with hers. It sent a thrill down her spine when he smirked at her, and winked. Emma jumped a little before turning her eyes to the smallest of the three boys.

He was easily the youngest, appearing to be no older than the age of eight. With the same blue eyes, he was made up more like his elder brother, without the cloak, and badge, the only badge upon his person, was a patch on his right shoulder of the family sigil.

Her father’s squire cleared his throat, “Might I present Lord Brennan Jones, and his sons, Liam, Killian, and Illian.”

“It is an honor to have you with us, Lord Brennan,” her father greeted. “Allow me to introduce you to my family. This is my wife, Lady Snow, and my daughter Emmallie.”

Lord Brennan studied her, then nudged his eldest son, in her direction. Liam looked at her, and she felt none of the same shock as when her eyes had met with the middle brother, who stood to the back of the group, seeming to want to fade into the background. Liam’s eyes were gentle enough, and she could see him being a friend, so she smiled at him. She noticed him blush as he smiled back at her.

“My lady,” Lord Brennan intoned, inclining his head towards her mother, before turning to Emma,, “you and your daughter are as beautiful as they say.”

Snow smiled humbly, and nodded, “I thank you for your kind words, Ser” she responded, the hand still on Emma’s tightening subtly.

The greetings went on like this for a few moments more, the eldest of Lord Brennan’s boys, also speaking in greeting, the messy one with the bored eyes, said nothing, but he kept smirking at her, and winking. Feeling her Septa’s eyes bore into the back of her head, Emma didn’t respond with so much as a blush, instead looking dead ahead, and staring at the banner hanging from the wall over the door, emblazoned with her family crest. It felt like she was forced to sit in the uncomfortable high-backed chair for hours, her back stiff, eyes glued to anything but the messy boy with the jewel blue eyes. She almost let out a sigh when father told the other lord that he would have chambers prepared for him, and his sons, and that eve they would feast in the hall.

Once propriety allowed, Emma got up, the door still closing behind the lord and his three boys. She stretched, letting out the loudest sigh she had ever let out, and declared herself bored.

Septa Ghorm made a small sound, close to a growl, at the same time her father laughed deeply, and offered to take her riding before the feast.

“Yes please, father!” she answered excitedly. Riding with her father beside her, the wind in both of their hair, was something that they had always enjoyed. It was how they connected, how they communicated. She would always cherish those moments, with the wind in her hair, her father, and the horses’ hooves on the hard packed earth.

Emma’s smile was so wide, it didn’t leave her face all afternoon or evening. Even though her legs were sore from riding her horse, still she smiled. Even as Septa Ghorm tugged and pulled at her hair again before the feast, grumbling about how her lord father shouldn’t be allowing her to do such things with visiting lords, her smile didn’t fade.

It wasn’t until she was seated at the feast, and the curly headed Jones boy was seated beside her, that Emma’s smile began to fade. It fell even further, when after the feast, as her Septa and Mother were preparing her for bed, her mother told her the worst thing possible.

“You’re going to marry that boy, one day,” her mother whispered, hands on her shoulders, and a completely misplaced look of pride on her face.

Emma felt a hard pearl of anger and despair coil in her stomach as she tried to come to terms with what her mother told her.

~~GOS~~

Emma spent the ensuing years being shuttled back and forth between her home, where she enjoyed rides with her father at Seagrove, and the dark cold halls of Neverfall.

Years spent trying to force a connection between her and Liam, years where she grew into a young woman, closer to the day they would stop speaking of marriage and start planning a wedding.

Her only solace in the confines of Neverfall she found, was the conversation she would engage in with the younger two brothers of the Jones family. She grew to think of Illian as a younger brother, as for Killian, he was a trusted confidante, she could tell him anything, and he her.

It was how she learned of the woman he wished to get his father’s blessing to marry. Milah, she never did meet the woman, only felt a fierce jealousy of the woman who caught the eye of by far the wildest Jones boy. She oft found herself wishing that when her mother and father put together the arrangement they had put her with the middle of the sons, instead of the stuffy eldest.

How did she explain Liam? He was kind, and generous, but distant. You get him talking about his younger siblings, he’d talk for hours, and he could speak at great length about sailing and what knots to use when. Otherwise it was silence, they would walk through the gardens of Neverfall, and not say a word. She would point out the flowers, and he would make a noise. She would tell stories of her childhood, he would tell her nothing about his. After the third month, she gave up, and they walked in silence. When she’d known him for three years, she knew no more about him than she had when she was first brought there, except that he loved his younger brothers.

She was on her way home to Seagrove when the soldiers came. Liam was escorting her home, as they would be married soon, it was his duty. That was the only reason, she figured, he couldn’t possibly feel anything for her, he never so much as spoke to her. The horses hooves on the packed road along with the chatter and joking from the men that rode with them, was the only noise. She knew better than to try and speak to the young man riding beside her, she wondered what the response would have been this time, a noncommittal grunt? Perhaps a shrug?

The birds around them suddenly took to the air, and Liam pulled his horse to a stop, Emma followed suit, as the sound of a thousand men came through the forest around them. The rattle of chainmail, and the whinny of horses. Emma’s heart was pounding as Liam signaled to pull the horses to the side of the road, let the other men pass, he signaled, be on guard was left unspoken.

When the horses and men came into view, Emma recognised the bowed swan sigil on their shields, and the banners they carried. She felt a smile on her lips before the thought struck her as to why her father’s men would be marching down the Kings road, heading towards Kings Landing, and why they looked ready for a fight. A coil of worry formed in her belly at the sight. They had been sailing for a few days, what had they missed?

That was a fear that seems so small, looking back.The commander of the garrison had sent four men to guide them home, where her mother had told her what happened. The Kingdom was at war, and the banners had been called. Her father and the lords of the North and the Eyrie had ridden for Kings Landing to end the reign of Aerys Targaryen.

She remembers it all so clearly, especially since it was the last time she ever saw Liam Jones. He had vowed to fight alongside her father, and then did something that she would remain shocked about for years. He had taken her in his arms and vowed to return for her, before pressing a long lingering kiss to her lips.

Absently, as she thought of it, Emma brought her fingertips to trace her lips, that had been four years past. She had learned when her father returned to Seagrove with the winds of winter on his heels, that Liam had perished in the battle where Robert Baratheon won the crown. That he had been with the kind boy when he took his last breath, and that he had given her father the badge he wore on his cloak, in the shape of his family sigil, as a token for the life they would never have. It was then that she learned that he had truly come to care for her, when she was bemoaning the fact her parents had not set her to wed his brother.

The brother that now held the lordship of Neverfall, as both his brother and father had found the end of the battle to be the ends of their lives. He was left in the drafty island fortress, raising the youngest of the siblings, alone. Even the woman he loved had died, she had been on a merchant ship that carried provisions for the Targaryen army, and now rested below the waves of the ocean.

That information had been in the last raven sent to her from the place that had become a second home to her. It denounced any alliance between their families, as his father had fought with the Targaryens, and his brother against. It was even rumoured that it was one of her father’s men who cut down proud Lord Brennan. She’ll never know for sure.

She looks back down at the letter in her hands, an invite, or a summons, however she chooses to look at it, from the king. Her father has taken ill, and is unable to take to his horse, and her mother refuses to leave his side, leaving it to Emma to answer the summons. She is to go to Kings Landing as the representative of her house, the queen is with child, and she is to attend for the child’s birth, and the following feast.

Emma has never been to the red keep, it’s only a week’s ride, yet she had never gone with her lord father when the summons had come before. She is set to depart on the morrow and is hesitant to leave her father with the way his health has declined, but she’s also excited to be on the roads and breathe in the early spring air, winter is finally receding, and the subtle hints of the coming summer are in the air.

Emma watches as the Maesters tend to her father and she feels a ball of tension form, will she ever see him healthy again? Or is she to be acting as the Lady of Seagrove until her brother comes of age? With a sigh, she folds the letter and mounts the steps to inform her parents of the preparations, and bid them farewell before she embarks to Kings Landing for the birth of the new royal.

~~GOS~~

Traveling is hell, Emma forgot just how much she hated it. The smell of horses, and of course the smell of unwashed men.

Honestly she doesn’t understand why they don’t bathe, the river runs alongside the King’s Road, she has made sure she keeps herself clean, if only the men with her had the same thought.

Emma and her men have been on the road for two days now. The sun beats down on them during the day, making the slight early summer chill feel less prominent, while the clear cloudless nights have her wrapping herself in furs to fight the bitter cold.

She much prefers to travel by sea. Emma feels a pang for the years when she made the trip to Neverfall, she never cared much for the place itself, but it had still become a second home to her. Or it was until Killian denounced all ties to her family. She sighs, her breath creating a small cloud as the setting sun allows the air around her to drop to its near winter coldness.

She never did get the story behind his anger, why his last letter held such animosity in its words. She remembers reading the words with disbelief running through her, how he had grown so cold as to completely deny that they meant something to one another, one passage of the personal letter he sent to her, stands out in her mind.

I suppose it must be liberating, to finally be free of my brothers “dull” company. Not to mention how you must love not having to make the “awful” trips to our castle any longer.

The man who wrote that letter wasn’t the boy she knew. By the time the war had ended, he had been named captain of his father’s navy, and then Lord of his father’s lands. She should have realized sooner that the war torn man who wrote such cold and cruel words was all that was left of the mischievous little boy who had chased her through the halls of Neverfall.

She knows that soon they will call to make camp, and she will finally be able to dismount her horse and stretch her aching legs. The mere thought has her eyes drifting shut in bliss. The ship that used to ferry her to Neverfall didn’t leave her this sore, a touch nauseous from the constant movement in the first few trips, but even that faded with time.

She was brought up short when her men halted around her, and she saw the banners waving by the docks. She hadn’t noticed when they entered the Baytown, but what truly shocked her was that the banners being flown by the men disembarking the ship bore the sigil of house Jones, the butcher’s hook, like the badge that hung on a chain around her throat.  

Emma hadn’t expected the reclusive island Lord to stir for a summons from a king he fought to keep from the throne, yet it seems that even Lord Jones had ventured out. Or at least sent someone in his place, likely young Illian, though the boy was near grown now, he wasn’t much younger than herself or his brother, he was seven all those years ago in her castle, looking like a lost little boy in the foreboding halls.

“We’ll stop at an inn this eve” Jiminy informs her, as he pulls his horse up alongside her.

Emma smiles at the thought, it won’t be as comfortable as her bed back at Seagrove, but it is certainly an improvement from the hard ground.

She can already taste the warm food, and is eager to escape the wind. It’s the only thing that pulls her mind from the thoughts of her childhood trips to Neverfall, and the blue eyed boys that were her only company there. Emma guides her horse back to the path, and off towards the inn at the crossroads ahead.

~~GOS~~

It’s been ages since he’s come to the mainland and the smell of the small village that they have made land in is thick and cloying, horse shit, food from vendors, unwashed men, and other smells he’d rather not learn the source of. Traveling to the Red Keep for the King’s child to be born is the last thing he wishes to do. He would much rather have taken the expedition in the opposite direction, find the lost heirs of the Targaryen family, put right the wrong that has been done them.

It makes his blood boil, the thought of the Kingslayer’s blood one day seated on the Iron Throne.  Yet when a king puts forth a summons, one does well to not ignore. Around him, his men unload supplies from the ship, and pack them into wagons and carts; one part supplies for the road, one part gifts for the unborn royal and it’s family.

He sits perched on a keg of fine wine, a gift from the vineyard located on the island that Neverfall resides on. It is said Neverfall wine is the sweetest wine you’ll ever drink, he wagers that to be true, seeing as it is the only wine he has ever drank. He never trusted the vintages that were sent to him from other lords.

He has kept his contempt for the new King, and his false lords as no secret. The true king resides across the narrow sea, just a boy, yet Viserys holds more of a claim than the child in Cersei Lannister’s womb.

It will always be a sore spot for him, the fact that his brother was slain fighting for the wrong side in that blasted war, and what for? Some green eyed child who never returned his affection? Emma … She is the only thing he regrets about making his stance after the war ended.

He was so angry with her when his brother died, though less angry than he was when he learned it was his own brother who ended his Father’s life, and one of his father’s own men who sent the sword through Liam in the name of the true king.

He remembers when his brother told him how he felt about Emma Swan, he also remembers the burning jealousy he felt when he heard the words in truth.

“Brother,” Liam called softly, entering the library where Killian went to read, and write in the journal his mother gave him before she died “Father and I have just returned from the mainland, I have much to tell you”

Killian rolled his eyes, and looked up from his writing. “What is it brother?” Liam always came home with stories, it made him mad that father never took him and Illian to the mainland. Since Liam was the heir he was always going. The older Jones didn’t know how much it hurt the younger boys that father always took him with to the mainland.

Killian had only been once, when father took them to meet Lord Swan, and his enchanting daughter. Emma Swan was probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, golden hair and emeralds for eyes. She was only a year his younger, so he hoped to one day be her groom.

Liam’s grin was infectious, drawing Killian from his thoughts. “I’m to be married, brother!” He declared, happily. “I’m to marry the most beautiful lady in the seven kingdoms.”

Killian raised an eyebrow at his brother, this news was unlikely. The most beautiful lady, had already been claimed by him, his brother couldn’t possibly marry her.

“Do you remember, when we went to Seagrove, brother?” Liam asked, perched on the corner of the desk.

Killian was confused, was there another lady in Seagrove? He nodded.

“Father has arranged for me to wed the Lady Emma.”

Killian felt as though he had been punched, what right did father have, to take her from him? Granted he had never told father of his attraction to the neighboring lord’s daughter. It doesn’t make sense though, Liam was three years his elder! Emma was much better suited to Killian.

Liam grabbed hold of his shoulders and Killian realized that his brother had been talking still. “She’ll be here within the month, father has made all of the arrangements. She shall spend two months here, fostering under his care, and I shall escort her home at the end of it. I knew when I saw her, I would marry her, brother,” Liam mused.

That was years ago, a year after that, the girl his brother loved so, had implanted herself farther into his heart, to the point that he would moon over every word she would say, even as she declared how she held no love for his noble brother. How she would rather marry a stable boy than be tied to his older brother. He knows he should have felt anger towards her for making such claims, should have told her that his brother loved her, that Liam had been unsure of how to tell her his feelings.

So when he died for her, Killian had no choice but to redirect his anger.

Instead of blaming the Lord that killed his king for starting the war that left him Lord Neverfall, he took it out on the family that was almost his, and the woman he truly loved. He still remembers Milah, the girl he was going to marry. Dark hair and sharp wit, he had felt stirrings in his heart, so he asked her to marry him, because he would never have the love he truly wanted.

Then even Milah died, and left him alone once again. So he sent the raven for Seagrove, a letter that he almost lost the nerve to send. There are still days he regrets breaking ties with Seagrove, and in turn Emma. But then he remembers his brother and the man in his own army bragging of how he felled the man who killed his father. He thinks of how he had gutted the man, when he learned of his brother’s and father’s fate.

Now here he is in a small village that Liam made landfall on the last time he disembarked a ship, they will sup at the town inn, and go the rest of the way by horse come morning. Killian can’t wait to return home.

~~GOS~~

Emma is enjoying her hot stew, her men around her drinking, and singing loudly. It is such a familiar sight, she cannot help but smile. Leroy is on a table singing her family song, “The Maiden of the Sea” a flagon of ale clutched in his hands. The song and voice are familiar, even if the setting is not.

“… head bowed in grief for those she lost, wings blocking the moon, if you are loved she won’t give up until she does find you…”

The tale of the great swan that Emma’s family took their name from would always be a favorite of hers. Her smile fell however when the next song began, a tale of grief, of father fighting son, a story of a boy who went to war for his love, only to never return.

She looks down into her bowl, mind once again wandering to the boy she never got the chance to love, and the one she is sure she always would.

Killian , she wonders what would have happened if she and Liam had actually married… would they have remained close? Would he have married his Milah?

These are questions that will forever remain unanswered, she isn’t sure what is making her mind dwell on the boys she hasn’t seen in years.

With the turn of her thoughts, Emma finds she is no longer hungry. Pushing her bowl away, she rises with the intent to retire to her bed for the night.

As she stands, the door of the inn opens and a group of men from the docks come in, being led by a familiar man with slowly widening blue eyes.

Emma falters as the years seem to melt away, and she’s a ten year old girl once more.

Her hand drops to the table, as the air rushes into her lungs. It feels like the first breath she has been able to take in years, “ Killian …” she breathes out softly.

~~GOS~~

Exhaustion drives him towards the inn, he has been avoiding the noisy rat infested hole as long as he could.

Killian would rather be spending the night on his ship, the rolling waves beneath him. This would have to do however. He draws closer, hearing a song being sung within the thin wooden walls. A scowl spreads across his features as he hears a line about a valiant soul taking arms against blood for the woman he loved.  A song he heard sung once at Neverfall, and never heard again when he threw the minstrel into the dungeons for slandering the late Lord of Neverfall.

The Westerosi Lords like to paint his brother as a brave man striving to save his bride from a wicked king, and his father as a man who would destroy his own son before he would see him happy. The songs about that battle make him sick. He almost turns to go back to his ship, but stops himself, knowing he will need to hold his head high through worse once they arrive in King’s Landing.

He’s considered as little more than a false Lord in their eyes, a man who refuses to bend the knee for a king he does not approve of. He grits his teeth, and pushes through the door, the first things he sees are the bowed swan heads on shields lined along the walls. Ser David’s men, the Lord himself likely about somewhere. He feels a pang in his heart at the thought of facing the man after all of these years. Then he looks up, and he sees her.

Emma.

Killian’s eyes soak her in, she’s more beautiful than he remembers. Emma’s eyes widen, the dark emeralds glittering in the candlelight, her golden hair even longer than he’s used to, drawn back into a braid. Her lips form a word, and he strains to hear it, his heart stuttering when she whispers his name from across the crowded room, that’s fallen silent.

After a moment the chatter and clash of utensils resume, thankfully though, the singing doesn’t.. He finds his feet moving him towards her, thousands of things he wants to tell her on the tip of his tongue. He’s brought up short, as a memory floods in, words he wrote so many years ago, buried in rage and grief.

“Consider this the end of our alliance, though I suppose it must be a relief to you, considering you never truly loved my brother. This will be the last you hear from me. It must be liberating.”

These were a mere fraction of the things he wrote, the end result was words that are forever etched in his brain. She wouldn’t wish to speak with him, probably hates him

Even as he thinks it, Emma takes a step forward, “My Lord,” she greets timidly. “It has been a very long time.” Her voice is entirely level, even though her bright eyes tell a different story.

“Aye, that it has My Lady. Not since King Aerys sat the throne.”

She extends a hand to him, and he takes it, bowing to press a kiss to her delicate skin which is warm under his touch.

When he looks back into her eyes, he sees a storm of emotion burning behind them.

Emma nods before gently pulling her hand free. “What brings you out from Neverfall?” Her question is clearly just to fill the sudden tense silence.

He smirks, “I wager the same thing that brings you from Seagrove. Unless you travel to see a suitor?” he asks, regretting it the moment the words leave his mouth.

Her lips draw into a hard line, her eyes cooling until they resemble steel. “If that were the reason for my travels, it would be no business of yours. As it is not however, we are on towards King’s Landing, in the place of my Lord father.”

Killian nods, unable to fight the leap his heart takes at the news that she is unwed, and unclaimed. “I meant no offense My Lady-” he starts.

Emma stops him, “I’ve grown tired, the road has been long, and I believe I shall turn in for the night. If it please you of course.” There is ice in her tone as she steps back from him.

Just like that she’s gone. He’s mucked it up again, just like when he sent that raven all those years ago. Only this time her ire is known and not imagined.

Killian runs a hand down his face, before he looks around to note that all singing has stopped, and the men of house Swan stare at him in shock. With a growl, he moves to the innkeep and sees about getting a bed for the night.

~~GOS~~

It is hours later when he hears footsteps outside the small room he has rented. He sits up from his bed, he has been having problems sleeping with the knowledge that she is here.  Killian spies candlelight under and through the cracks in the wooden door.

Slipping out of bed silently, he moves to follow the light. He pads softly to the door and opens it as the candlelight slips around a corner. Curious, Killian slips from his room and follows, finding Emma at the counter where a half loaf of bread sits, she is slicing off a piece.

“Well…” Killian begins, resting his shoulder on the wall. Emma jumps. “This is quite familiar. I remember sneaking to the kitchens with you when we were younger, because you never ate enough at dinner, and were hungry later.”

She sighs, setting down the bread she turns to look at him. “As I recall, it was you that told me there were sweets in the kitchens at all hours. I don’t see how my love for chocolate had anything to do with my lack of eating at dinner.”

“Aye, it was me, at the behest of my older brother, who noticed you weren’t eating.”

A frown appears on her face at that. “Liam noticed that?”

Killian’s smile is pensive. “Aye, my brother never said much, but he noticed and felt everything.”

Emma looks to her hands. “I know, that’s why I have felt so guilty all these years.”

“Because you didn’t love him?”

“Because I couldn’t love him!” Emma’s voice cracks on the last word, and he sees tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t love him the way he loved me.”

Killian is about to argue when she continues.

“I already loved someone else.” She looks to the ground, fingers plucking at her silk skirt as she drops to the bench in the darkened inn, the silence is suddenly deafening.

Killian stops where he is, a lump forming in his chest as she speaks. He imagines the stable boy she always spoke of when they were children, was this her love? “I see,” he speaks slowly, “yet you let him believe that you loved him, you never told him how you felt?”

Emma scoffed. “Yeah, that would have gone over great. Tell me, how do you tell the man you are to marry, that you cannot love him, because you already gave your heart to his brother?” she asks, her eyes filling with tears. “I couldn’t love him, because I already loved you.”

Killian doesn’t know what comes over him in that moment, he rushes forward, arm going around her, pulling her to him, his lips crashing into hers. For a moment he fears he’s made a mistake, then her arms come around him, her lips moving in tandem with his.

It’s more than he’s ever imagined, the taste of her lips a sweet yet savory blend, her skin soft under his thumbs as he strokes her cheek. He pulls away, eyes hooded as he looks up her. She looks wrecked, her lips slightly parted, eyes half closed.

“That was…” he began, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

Emma’s eyes open, “Long overdue,” she finishes for him.

Killian smiles at her. “I was going to say amazing, but aye, long overdue… much like what I’m about to tell you.” His hands cup her cheeks and he leans in close, her breath tickling his cheeks. “I love you, and I always have. I cannot say how much I envied my brother when you were his. All I ever wanted was you.”

This time, it’s Emma that closes the distance between their lips.

#ffcs 2018 #fallforcs #fall for captain swan #blinddate with a fanfic #game of throwns au #companionwayotter #game of swans #cs ff #cs ff au #hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b

[eastwesthomeisbest]

And this is my second contribution to the @fallforcs event - my artwork for @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b ’s story "Game of Swans". Check out this beautiful story! ❤❤❤

#fallforcs 2018 #fall for captain swan #fallforcaptainswan #fallforcs #author reveal #game of swans #hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b #captain swan #captain swan manip #captain swan edit #captainswanedit #cs edit #cs manip #csedit #my edit #my manip #i love this story

[dappermusician-main]

here comes the positivity fairy *rains positive energy over you and all of your friends* (I'm always here if you want to talk, even if I suck at remembering to talk to friends, because I am literal trash)

!!!!!!! thank u i love u!!!

#personal #hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b

[cssns]

And we’re back everyone! Please help me welcome @ilovemesomekillianjones back to the CSSNS!!!

I am soooo thrilled to be welcoming back Allison to the event this year! Everyone go say hi!

Tumblr Name

@ilovemesomekillianjones

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

Going on four years this summer!

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

I binge watched the first three seasons and fell in love with Captain Swan from the onset of their interaction. They are the reason I stumbled upon Tumblr, I was desperately seeking more CS content than just the show.

What drew you to this event?

I love Captain Swan and I love the supernatural world.

What inspired your topic?

Hmmmm, a need for Witch!Emma and her tiny dragon-like creature, think Mushu/Pascal, and a need for Western!Killian.

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

When alleged outlaw Killian Jones shows up bloodied and bruised on the doorstep of Emma Swan, two worlds will collide. He will learn of wonders he never thought to exist and she will learn that love could be in the cards for her. Will they be able to weather the inherent differences in their worlds and a crooked sheriff whose mission is to see Killian Jones hanged?

Who/what have you beta'd before, or is this your first time? Feel free to give as much info as you like.

I have beta'd dozens of stories for @hollyethecurious, @xhookswenchx, @hookedonapirate, @winterbaby89, @teamhook, @hooklineandswan, @demisexualemmaswan @thislassishooked @like-waves-on-the-beach @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b - I love editing if you couldn't tell!

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

I am looking forward to all the Captain Swan Supernatural stories that will be generated by this event.

Ohhhhh this is gonna be great!!!! Can’t wait for this fic on August 8!! Everyone go give her some love!!!

#cssns #gtkm interview #gtkm 19 #gtkm19 #ilovemesomekillianjones

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Copy and paste with your own answers and tag a few more! Thanks for the tag @onceuponaprincessworld and @hookedonapirate

How old are you: Wouldn’t you like to know 40

Surgeries: 1

Tattoos: 5

Ever hit a deer: No

Sang karaoke: Yes

Ice skated: Yes

Ridden a motorcycle: Yes

Ridden in an ambulance: No

Skipped school: I went to high school in Hawaii, so yeah, lots of beach days senior year.

Stayed in the hospital: Yes

Broken bones: No

Last phone call: My husband 

Last text from: My cousin

Watched someone die: What? No

Pepsi or coke: (Diet) COKE 

Favourite pie: Triple Berry

Favourite pizza: Pepperoni, sausage, onion, and bell pepper.

Favourite season: Spring

Received a ticket: 7

Favourite colour: Black

Sunset or sunrise: Sunset

Favourite Christmas song: Silent Night

Cupcakes or cookies: (Chewy) Cookies

Tagging @laschatzi @kmomof4 @hooklineandswan @winterbaby89 @nikkiemms @delightfully-difficult-pirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @thesschesthair @the-captains-ayebrows @aye-captn @resident-of-storybrooke @branlovestowrite @blowmiakisscolin @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jessthehottestmess @its-imperator-furiosa @imagnifika @cat-sophia @lifeinahole27 @gingerchangeling @demisexualemmaswan @teamhook @xemmaloveskillianx @bleebug @spartanguard @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @initiala @hookedmom @blessed-but-distressed @selfie-wench @ultraluckycatnd @deathbycaptainswan @losttalongthewayy @effulgentcolors 

#tag game

[shestillhasherquill]

Answer these questions 3 (and then 17 more) and then tag as many people to get to know them better

I was tagged by @distant-rose, yay! I love meme games

Name: Kavya

Nickname: KK, Kakku and unfortunately, Kavs. ugh.

Zodiac: Gemini/Cancer cusp

Height: 5 ft. Whatevs.

Orientation: Bisexual

Nationality: Indian 

Favorite Fruits: BLUEBERRIES, Bananas, Oranges, Grapes, Pineapple. I am allergic to like, three of these, however.

Favorite Season: AUTUMN

Favorite Books: The Book Thief, Time Traveler's Wife and ofc, Harry Potter.

Favorite Flowers: Hyacinths, the red ones! And Calla Lilies

Favorite Scents: Lavender, Vanilla, Sea salt or anything beach related.

Favorite Colors: All shades of blue, and Lavender

Favorite Animals: Lions, Dogs, cats - and if birds count, then OWLS

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: Hot chocolate. Always.

Average Hours of Sleep: If average is the sum of all the sleep I get a week by 7, probably 3 or 12. no inbetween. That math made no sense, dont hate me.

Cat or Dog Person: BOTH, MAN. ALWAYS BOTH

Favorite Fictional Characters: Killian Jones, Emma Swan, David Nolan, Regina Mills, Kate Becket, TED MOSBY GUYS TED MOSBY, Tracy (The mother!!), Marshall Erickson, Jaime Fraser, THE WHOLE CAST OF THIS IS US ALL OF ‘EM!, Peyton E. Sawyer, Brooke P. David, Nathan Scott, HJS, Uncle Jessie, and if @distant-rose‘s characters count - WES AND BETH ALWAYS, also Harrison and Neddy. But WES AND BETH OMG

Number of Blankets You Sleep With: Just my duvet

Dream Trip: A week in Ireland, in a cottage on a cliff or by the sea. Lots of roaming around the countryside stuff.

Blog Created: 2013? 2014? I think 2014.

Followers: 501.

I further tag @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @peglegsjones @justanotherwannabeclassic @lifeinahole27

#tag games

[fallforcs]

FFCS Complete List

All of the authors have been revealed and we are so sad this event has come to a close. Here is a full list of all the FFCS stories with the revealed authors, their pseudos and accompanying artists. We truly hope you’ve enjoyed your blind dates with all the fanfics!

Hayrides, Fate, and Fortune Cookie

Written by @searchingwardrobes​ (staygoldponyboy)

Art by @imagnifika​

Wilderness of Your Heart

Written by @ohmakemeahercules​ (aquietcalmoflove)

Art by @eastwesthomeisbest

Waiting for the Tide

Written by @demisexualemmaswan​ (judiciouscoot)

Art by @rouhn​​

Sugar Rush

Written by @athenascarlet​ (sparklinghourglass)

Art by @nicole-nikla​

Am I Your Girlfriend?

Written by @onceuponaprincessworld​ (debonairblackbird)

Art by @liloproductions​

Out of the Darkness Comes Love

Written by @flslp87​ (ticktockcrocodile)

Art by @onceuponaprincessworld​

You’re Killing Me, Swan Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Written by @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt​ (classiczebra)

Art by @sailingcaptainswan

Feel Again 

Written by @thislassishooked​ (simpleshade)

Art 1 and Art 2 by @branlovestowrite​

Game of Swans 

Written by @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b​ (campanionwayotter)

Art by @eastwesthomeisbest​​

Tricks & Treats 

Written by @thejollyroger-writer​ (flamboyantanaconda)

Art by @branlovestowrite​

Set Fire To The Darkness 

by @celestial-fire-writer​ (shadowyfirehawk)

Art by @nicole-nikla​​

I’m Not Dead Yet 

by @rouhn​ (im_running_out_of_time)

Art by @branlovestowrite​

Cinnamon 

by @theonceoverthinker​ (raventherambunctious)

Art by @jell-obeans​​

Stay Pt 1 Pt 2

Written by @singingisfun​ (hoppingharmony)

Art by @sailingcaptainswan​​

The Tutor 

by @blackwidownat2814​ (hollyodonoghue)

Art by @jell-obeans​

Score One for the Coach 

by @branlovestowrite​ (adamantbarracuda)

Art by @nicole-nikla

We want to thank the authors and artists for their hard work and patience. All of you are wonderful and talented people and we’ve enjoyed working with you!

Thank you to everyone who has supported our blog! Without all of you, this event wouldn’t have been possible!

#ffcs 2018 #fallforcs #blind date with a fanfic #complete list #cs ff #cs fanfics #cs ff list

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Lord Byron & The Jealous Princess: A Captain Charming Group Prompt Fic

Good morning, wonderful people! This is my contribution to June’s Captain Charming Group Prompt - Killian and David working on the Charming’s farm. Thanks to @flslp87 for organizing &  @juliakaze for the above aesthetic.

This is very silly. And it’s told from Mary Margaret’s POV. And, yes, Lord Byron is an actual goat. My Nan’s goat, to be more accurate. He’s pictured at the end, just so you can put a face to the name.  Hope you enjoy!

Lord Byron & The Jealous Princess

It was as if Mary Margaret “Snow White” Blanchard Nolan had lived two full lives already, with another just beginning. It was confusing, to say the least, to have been a princess and a bandit, a schoolteacher and a Mayor (however briefly), and now to be settled down as a teacher, mother, wife, and… farmer.

They’d wanted something different when all the chaos was over. They’d wanted to raise Neal to have a life that was as “normal” as possible without forgetting his fairy tale roots. They’d wanted to grow closer as a couple and as a team, to have a quiet home in the country where they could learn what it was like to just be themselves, to just be together.

Funny thing, David was sure growing into a closer team all right. Just not with her.

It turned out that Killian Jones was his preferred life partner on most days. See, Killian didn’t have a classroom full of students all day and Killian didn’t have a baby at home to take care of and Killian hadn’t already heard the story of the sheep that bit a black knight’s ass thirteen times since the last curse alone. So the pirate was excited to hear all the shepherding stories and to learn about all the new growing techniques this world offered and was perfectly happy to slop around in pig crap for several hours because with a busy wife of his own, he didn’t often have much better to do.

So when her cute little yard wasn’t filled with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum cavorting about the property doing all the work that David and Mary Margaret were supposed to do together, her quaint little home was filled with Killian this and Killian that and you wouldn’t believe what Hook and I did today.

(And if anyone found the large wanted poster Emma had photoshopped with Captain Hook at the center fastened to a tree with a few dozen arrows lodged in it, well it certainly couldn’t have been innocent Princess Mary Margaret to blame.)

Every day she’d come home and find the two of them planting things (any excuse to use that thing, Emma would grumble as Killian was plunging his hook into the dirt) or training the new horses or – even worse – her house would be empty, the Power Couple off buying supplies from Tractor Supply a town over.

She enjoyed the time it gave her with her daughter. She did. Emma was spending a lot of time just being with her and for that she was eternally grateful. They were finally finding their way into being both mother-daughter and friends, were bonding in a way that she’d never expected and would never be able to replicate with anyone in the world, even her other child (who just loved his big sister, which, yes, melted her damn heart).

But after sharing David with a kingdom and a town and stupid Princess Abigail, was it so much to ask to just be his right-hand man for once, no life-and-death threat involved?!

Mary Margaret’s revenge came in the form of a goat.

Lord Byron had been owned by some neglectful jerk on the outskirts of Storybrooke who’d landed in town with Hyde (it was pretty obvious why this asshole’s story had been left untold). Killian had struck up a conversation with the man and bartered with him a (fake) magic bean in exchange for the goat the man didn’t care about and then the pirate called Emma to poof them back to the Nolans’ farm and Byron became his best friend in the world (after David, Henry, and Emma, probably in that order).

Byron was a spirited animal, and boy did he love to play. Killian would run with him in the pasture, had even taught him to “high five” him with his horns.

“Come on, Byron! High five, buddy!” Killian would call, and the excited (massive) goat would buck up and tap his horns against Killian’s hand. He’d show the trick to everyone who’d watch – he even had Henry take a video with his “talking phone” and post it to “The Funny Video Site.” He was damn proud of that goat, and David just thought it was adorable.

So one fine Sunday morning after a lovely brunch prepared by Emma and Mary Margaret, the whole family ventured outside for David to show off his budding pumpkin patch. Neal saw the goat trotting along the pasture and called out, “Killy! Killy! High fi!”

Killian couldn’t resist his charming brother-in-law, so they all strolled over to the fence and Killian climbed on over. “Byron! Hey, buddy, how are you?”

They high fived a few times and Neal was clapping like Killian had performed a magic show and just as they were all about to turn and go check on the horses, something got into Byron and he out of nowhere and in no way influenced by fairy tale princess-animal telepathy – “high fived” the pirate.

Right in his ass.

Hard.

Killian fell over and Byron may have slightly stepped on him with his hooves before his best bud David came running, the goat knocking against his hip in a playful yet painful “high five” as well.

Once Henry stopped laughing, he took his uncle for a walk around the property while Emma and Mary Margaret collected their men and retrieved some ice for their bruised bodies (and egos).

And, oddly enough, after that day, Killian only stopped by once or twice a week, helping out with smaller tasks rather than assuming the position of farmer first mate.

The only first mate I need is you, David had said when she finally revealed her jealousy. But there was always left that special twinkle in his eye when his best mate/son-in-law would come visit (only to stay on the outside of the fence, of course).

Check out the rest of the takes on this group prompt by the following friends (I’ll go back and add links to the actual stories once I’m actually awake to read them):

@flslp87 - A Bet, a Hickey, and a Useful Teen @whimsicallyenchantedrose - The Favor   @hellomommanerd - Monstrosity    @ladyciaramiggles - A Little Hard Work is Good for Everyone @ilovemesomekillianjones - Pirate on the Plantation   @allyourdarlingswans - A Matching Set    @laschatzi   @krustybunny  - Weekends with ‘Dad’   @hollyethecurious - Killian Helps David on the Farm   @winterbaby89      @captain-swan-coffee     @laughswaytoomuch   @gingerchangeling     @profoundlyfadedprincess     @ashar663 - CC June Prompt   @spartanguard     @thesschesthair   @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99   @snowbellewells - Morning Routines @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b  - Boys and Their Tools  @revanmeetra87

Lord Byron thanks you for reading.

#captain charming #captain charming june prompt #captain charming ff #cs ff #keisha writes

[allyourdarlingswans]

A Matching Set

Killian “helps” David on the farm.  A little humor for the Captain Charming June Group Prompt.  Beautiful aesthetic by @juliakaze.

David had been tossing and turning all night.  By four a.m., he couldn’t take it any longer.  He had to know.  Grabbing the walkie-talkie from the nightstand, he crept downstairs.  “Hook, Hook,” he whispered into the device.  “Killian, wake up, this is urgent.”

 “What’s urgent, Dad?” came the sleepy disgruntled voice of his daughter through the speaker.

 “Oh, Emma,” he winced. He hadn’t expected to wake his daughter up.  “Is Killian there?”

 “No,” she mumbled in reply. “He’s usually out sailing at this time.”

 “At this time?  Without his walkie-talkie?” David forgot to keep his voice down and grimaced when he heard Neal whine upstairs.  

 “He likes to get out in the water before the fishing boats do,” she mumbled in reply.

 “And how am I going to reach him?”

 “Um, his cellphone?”

 “But these walkie-talkies are a matching set!”

 David only heard a thud on the other side in reply.

 ***

 David grabbed the walkie-talkie from his back pocket when he heard the telltale static.  “Hook, Hook, is that you?” he asked hopefully as he fumbled with the device.

 “Aye, mate, Emma said you had something urgent you wanted to speak about.”  He paused before adding uncertainly, “And I had to utilize the walking talking device to discuss it with you.”

 “Yes, these are a matching set!”

 “Aye,” he replied in the same uncertain tone.  

 David didn’t think Killian was usually this slow on the uptake but he didn’t have time to deal with the matter now.  There were more pressing issues to discuss.  “Meet me at the vegetable garden.”

 ***

 Killian was already standing by the vegetable garden by the time David had crested the hill with Neal in his arms.  And there it was again!  His son-in-law was giving the Charming vegetables the same disdainful look he had given them yesterday afternoon when David had been proudly showing off his new endeavor.

 “What’s the matter?” David cried out by way of greeting.

 Killian lifted his eyebrow in his father-in-law’s direction.  “What do you mean ‘what’s the matter’?  Did you not summon me here to discuss your urgent matter?”

 “It’s because of you.”

 “It’s because of me?” Killian repeated slowly.  “My apologies, mate, if I have inadvertently caused offense but –”

 “It’s your face that has offended me!”

 “Now, now, Dave, that’s rather rude,” the pirate replied, rocking back on his heels.  “And entirely impossible.  How can my face be offensive? Your daughter thinks-”

 David definitely didn’t want to go there.  “It’s the way that you look at my vegetable garden,” he interrupted.

 And there – there, it was again, that look as Killian side-eyed David’s vegetables like it was dirt beneath his feet.  Which, technically, it was but it was cultivated dirt. “Oh, is that what you would call this?” he asked almost too casually.

 “Well what would you call it, mate?” David bit out the last syllable.

 “A vegetable…patch,” Killian replied, his lips curling into a sneer.

 “A patch?” David looked down at his little plants and carefully ploughed rows of dirt.  It was a beauty in his opinion.

 “Aye, this spot of land is just an afterthought, Dave.”

 “Well, actually, Snow suggested I take a hand at this. She said it was pretty good, she even –”  

 But Killian was on a roll and hadn’t heard his mate.  “I mean, you are trying to grow spring vegetables in the summer season and plants meant for a different climate. What kind of farmer in Maine are you?  Why are your rows so…crooked?”

 “Crooked?”

 “Your soil looks a bit dry. At what hour did you water your plants? Have you seen Happy’s heirloom tomatoes? They are spectacular.”

“Spectacular?”

 “Spectacular,” Killian affirmed. “Everyone has been talking about them.”

 “How do I grow spectacular heirloom tomatoes?”

 “Only one way, mate. Research!”  Killian clapped Dave on the back and lead him to his truck. “To the library!”

 ***

 “These tomatoes are wonderful, Mom,” Emma said as she swiped another from the counter.

 “Oh, honey, you can thank your husband for that.”

 Emma frowned at her mother. “What do you mean?  Between Killian’s sailing trips with Henry and deputy duty, he doesn’t have much time to help on the farm.”

 “Oh, he’s helped plenty,” Snow smiled mysteriously.

 Before Emma could respond, her husband walked in with her father. “Dave, those fava beans are spectacular!  Even Aton will be jealous!”

 “Fava beans?  Who likes fava beans?” Emma murmured, scrunching her nose at the thought.

 Snow swatted at her daughter lightly. “I like fava beans.  Don’t ruin this for me,” she hissed under her breath.

 “And I got this book in the library for you on winter squash,” Killian was saying to David.  “It’s never too early to be prepared.”

 Killian handed his father-in-law another thick volume as he had done the past few weeks while “helping” David on the farm.  He patted his mate on the back before taking a seat next to his amused wife.  “What can I say, love? Your parents are a matching set but I know who I really need to keep happy in the relationship,” he said as he sent a wink to his mother-in-law.

 ***

 @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose   @hellomommanerd    @ladyciaramiggles  @ilovemesomekillianjones    @allyourdarlingswans    @laschatzi   @krustybunny    @winterbaby89    @charmingturkeysandwich    @captain-swan-coffee    @laughswaytoomuch   @gingerchangeling    @profoundlyfadedprincess    @ashar663   @spartanguard   @thesschesthair   @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99  @snowbellewells  @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @revanmeetra87 @hollyethecurious

#captain charming #captain charming June prompt #captain charming fanfic #captain charming ff #bandit hook #captain bandit #captain swan #ouat #ouat ff #ouat fanfic #allyourdarlings #allyourdarlings fanfic #allyourdarlings writing #prince chamring #david nolan #farmer david #killian jones #captain hook #emma swan #snow white #mary margaret blanchard #farmer killian

[snowbellewells]

“Morning Routines”

Here is my entry for the Captain Charming June Group Prompt!  Hope you enjoy! :)

(Killian asks a favor of his mate, then finds a way to make himself useful...)

“Morning Routines”

By: snowbellewells

        “Are you kidding me right now?” David Nolan asked with equal measures of exasperation and resigned humor.  “What am I supposed to do with that?”  He’d come out of the barn on he and Snow’s new farm property, where he had already been tossing hay down for the single milk cow and several sheep though the sun had barely crested the morning horizon.  Swiping his forearm across his already sweating forehead, he gave his son-in-law an expectant look, making it clear he actually wanted an answer.

           To be fair, Killian Jones looked more than a little sheepish as he stood in the barnyard, eyes trained down on the wet, squirming ball of grey-striped fur in his hand and reaching up to scratch nervously behind his ear – a dead giveaway that he was embarrassed or caught in subterfuge. Emma had caught onto it by now, but he snatched his hand back to his side quickly, hoping his already annoyed mate hadn’t.  “Well, they are good for catching vermin, are they not?” he tried tentatively.

           To his relief, a bit of a smile began to quirk one side of the Prince’s mouth, despite the sterner look he had clearly been trying to hold.  Stepping forward, the shepherd turned ruler sighed good naturedly.  “Oh, come on then,” he gestured for Killian to hand the small, shivering kitten over for examination.  “Let’s get a look at this fearsome mouser of yours.”

           Letting out a snort of surprised laughter, Killian gently passed the bit of fluff over, unable to resist scratching it behind the ear once more as his mate cradled the wee thing to his chest.  “Do I even want to know how it got so wet? Or why it isn’t living at your house?”

           The former pirate – big softie that he had proven to be, despite his previously infamous villain persona – shook his head at his own weakness, knowing he couldn’t help taking in strays and that all of his new family was beginning to figure him out.  Blowing out a breath, he told David with a bit of a chuckle, “Well, it would seem the little bugger got caught out in the rain last night.  He was on the back stoop crying pathetic little mews when I got up this morning to put the coffee on and start breakfast.  As to why he is not staying at our abode…your lovely daughter might have ruled that two cats already were more than enough.”

           Now Dave eyed him all too knowingly for Killian to be quite comfortable with, elbowing him in the side gently as he walked by, and clearly expecting the other man to follow.

           Killian trailed his best mate up the steps of the cozy farmhouse and into the kitchen where Snow sat at the table, dressed for her day at school and finishing up feeding the young prince his breakfast.  The moment she laid eyes on the tiny feline in her husband’s arms, she began to coo over it and offered it a saucer of milk.  Smirking to himself, the pirate bit his tongue and didn’t mention not being the only one who was subject to his wife’s wishes, and glad of it.  The kitten clearly had a home now, and he knew well enough when not to press his luck.

***CC******CC******CC***

           Some months went by before the whole episode came up again. Once more, Killian was at his in-laws’ farm early in the day, as he had taken to doing a couple of days a week when he wasn’t needed as deputy at the station. Though the barnyard and farmyard were far from being a ship on the open sea, he liked the fresh air and the clear expanse of field and sky.  Modern life and paved streets could sometimes be a bit hectic and crowded; though he would never regret choosing it in order to be with his love, the country outside of town made for a soothing escape.

           This particular morning, Snow had already left for school, David had all of the animals fed, and was taking a breather before moving on to the next task on his day’s list.  He was also watching (and surreptitiously recording video with his phone to send to his daughter) in genuine amusement as his friend and son-in-law entertained both Neal and the stray cat he had brought to the farm that morning months ago.

           Shaking his head slightly in wonder, the prince watched the nearly unbelievable sight of a “retired” pirate sitting on a short, three-legged stool in his barn, milking his old cow as adeptly as if he had been born to it. It was another one of many things David would have assumed to be overly difficult for a man with only one hand, until he met Killian Jones. Chuckling, he continued observing almost forgotten as Killian expertly aimed a stream of milk into the mouth of the cat sitting expectantly nearby, much to the clapping, enthusiastic delight of his own toddler.

           “Again Killian! Do it again!” Neal squealed in excitement.  Weirdly mesmerized, the former shepherd still marveled at how calm and unperturbed the cow was by the whole thing, not even turning to look as the other man smoothed the cool metal curve of his hook over her flank, whispering to her occasionally in a soothing lilt to which she lightly flicked her tail but didn’t even bother to turn her head and look.  His other hand managed to send the milk either into his pail or to the cat, as without fail as an old pro.

           Hitting “send” David awaited his daughter’s response and went to resume the chores with a smile.  It was helpful to have the milking handled, even if the manner of it was unconventional.  Then again, looking at the rest of the life they’d all led, had he really expected to run an ordinary farm?

Tagging the rest of the participants:  @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @hellomommanerd @ladyciaramiggles @ilovemesomekillianjones @allyourdarlingswans @laschatzi @krustybunny @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @charmingturkeysandwich @captain-swan-coffee @laughswaytoomuch @gingerchangeling @profoundlyfadedprincess @ashar663 @spartanguard @thesschesthair @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99 @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @revanmeetra87 

#Captain Charming June Prompt #farmer prince #farmer pirate

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Captain Charming June Prompt

Here is my story for the June Captain Charming prompt:  Killian helps David on the farm.  

Thank you to @juliakaze for the above graphic!

Tagging the other Captain Charming authors.   @whimsicallyenchantedrose   @hellomommanerd    @ladyciaramiggles  @ilovemesomekillianjones    @allyourdarlingswans    @laschatzi   @krustybunny    @hollyethecurious   @winterbaby89    @charmingturkeysandwich    @captain-swan-coffee    @laughswaytoomuch   @gingerchangeling    @profoundlyfadedprincess    @ashar663   @spartanguard    @thesschesthair   @ihavelovedthestarstoofondly99  @snowbellewells  @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b   @revanmeetra87

Check out everyone else’s take on the prompt here.

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The Favor

Killian scrunched his nose as he dug the pitchfork into the muck in the horse’s stall, and then tossed it into the wheelbarrow.  This farming was hot, physical, odoriferous work.  Why the blazes had he ever agreed to Dave’s favor?  Next time he found himself in a pinch, he’d face the consequences on his own.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

One week before

Killian peered into the washing machine in dismay.  What the bloody hell had gone amiss?  Where should have sat a load full of clean, pristine white clothing was a mess of pinks and reds.  After sifting through, Killian found the culprit.  A brand new pair of Emma’s red unmentionables had found its way in the otherwise white load.

“Bloody hell,” Killian muttered to himself.

She’d warned him about this. “Killian, you have to sort the laundry before you wash it.  Separate the whites from the colors.  If you don’t, the colors will bleed and ruin the whites.”

He’d waved her off, assuring her that he’d been washing his clothing for a couple of centuries before she’d been alive, but it was clear she wasn’t convinced, sure this “washing machine” would do him in.

And so it had.

As Killian picked gingerly through the wet, soiled clothing, he groaned.  Nearly every one of Swan’s mini corsets and a fair number of her skivvies were destroyed.

But as frustrating as that was, the worst by far was her favorite cream-colored sweater.  (Well, her formerly cream-colored sweater.  Now it was a distressing splotchy shade of pink.)  Emma was going to kill him.  It was her favorite sweater, one she told him was as comfortable as a warm hug, one she’d be happy to wear every day if she could.

And now he’d destroyed it. She simply couldn’t find out what he’d done.  There was only one thing to do.  He must call in reinforcements.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Killian, this is far more than I’d ever want to see of my daughter’s underwear,” David said, gingerly picking up a red-tinged bra, “particularly a pair that looks like my daughter had been stabbed in the chest.”

“It’ll be me who’s stabbed in the chest if I don’t find a way to fix this,” Killian said.  “After all, you Charmings do rather enjoy sticking a blade through my ribs.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?” David asked. “I was cursed.”

“If you help me avoid my wife’s ire,” Killian said, “I’ll forget it ever happened.”

David looked over the various items of clothing scattered throughout the laundry room.  “Have you tried re-washing them?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “I’m not entirely daft, Dave.  Of bloody course I tried washing them.  I ran them through the laundering machine three more times, but as you can see, to no avail.”

“Maybe if we try bleach…”

“Maybe, but the label maintains that bleach is not to be used on this fabric lest it yellow,” Killian said.  “I think perhaps we best not risk it.”

“I suppose we could ask Snow…”

“No!”  Killian insisted.  “Should we alert your lovely wife to my predicament, she’ll tell Emma.”

David was silent for another moment and then gave Killian a hesitant look.  “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“Aye,” Killian said warily, “and just what might this idea be?”

“Magic.”

“All well and good, mate,” Killian said, “but neither one of us is endowed with magic and Regina is on vacation in the Land Without Magic.”

“But…” David said, even more hesitantly, “Gold’s still here.”

Killian had, of course, thought going to Gold was a terrifically bad idea.  He’d rather chop off his remaining hand than parade his wife’s ruined unmentionables before the crocodile.

And that’s how it happened.

“I mean, I suppose I could take these things to Gold for you,” David said, clearly reluctant, “but if I do, you owe me one.  You owe me a BIG one.”

“If you can restore my wife’s clothing to its former glory without her learning of my mishap, I will complete any favor you so choose.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

This morning Prince bloody Charming had cashed in on his favor.

“Killian I’m in a huge bind,” David said just after dawn.  “You know we got Jack Horner to be our farm hand, but he’s sick today. Something about eating a bad plum in a pie.  Anyway, if I’m going to get all the farm chores done, I need help.”

“I’m sorry, Dave, but I’m no farmer,” Killian said, “I’m a man of the sea.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also a man who owes a favor,” David said.

Killian had sighed, but finally agreed to the task at hand…if only he’d known ahead of time he would spend his morning shoveling horse droppings from their stall.  A man had his dignity, after all.

He shoveled the last bit of muck into the wheelbarrow, and then stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow.

This task was nearly at an end, but the gods only knew what Dave would have instore for him next.

As though summoned by Killian’s thoughts alone, the prince himself stepped into the barn, looked around and clapped Killian on the back.

“Looks great in here, Hook,” he said.  “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“I’m pleased it meets with your approval.”

“It does.”

David started to walk away, but then turned back toward his son-in-law.  “Look, I know you’re only doing this because of that favor you owed, but I wanted to thank you.  Really. It’s great to know I have a friend who’s got my back, who’ll help out in a pinch when needed.  And I hope you know you can always count on me to.”

“Of course,” Killian said, touched in spite of himself.  “We’re family now.”

#captain charming june prompt #captain charming friday #my fanfiction #this is ridiculous #but it's the only thing my muse came up with for this prompt

[huffleporg]

The Catfather

Part Two: Leave it to Chewie

Captain Swan, Captain Cobra, [G], ~5.4k words, 2/?

Summary: Thomas O'Malley couldn’t say he had the perfect life, but after adopting Swan the cat and her two kittens, Thomas finally had a sense of normalcy restored. That was until the day his dead wife’s long lost son Henry Mills showed up on his doorstep, claiming that not only is his wife alive, but her name is really Emma, he’s really Captain Hook, and that it’s his job as her True Love to find her and save her so she can save everyone else.Quite a lot to swallow before breakfast.

From the Beginning

Tags for those interested: @canwetalkaboutcaptainswan @cherrywolf713 @karl0ta @look-at-this-world-in-the-eye @grxyswan @forestiyari @its-about-bloody-time-cs @krystalsficpage @kmomof4 @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b @whimsicallyenchantedrose @chinawoodfan @gingerchangeling @pirateblackrose @spitfiresandhurricanes @5oceansaway @blackwidownat2814 @princessschreaveherondalerogers @killiansprincessswan @32variations @flyflyangel @lillpon @cocohook38 @swiftmicheles @hookaddict @piratesbooty63fan @its-so-me-love @thegirlwiththeleadarrow @animatedshorts @cinnamonduckling @maybesandhopefullys @captainswansjourney @acaptainswaneternity @alaynagayle @cinnamon-swan @chitown1320 @natascha-remi-ronin @syddysb @trueromantic1 @longlivetherollyjoger @pirateherokillian @spartanguard @swansorceress @book-and-music-lover @el-kelpo @fecc94 @its-like-a-story-of-love @winterbaby89 @greenleaf777 @vatrixsta @sailormew4 @ilovegemgem​ (and who might be interested @csficpromotion​ @csfanfics​ @thecsfanficsource​) 

And without further ado, Part Two!

“So let me see if I have this straight,” said Thomas. It was nearly three hours and four cups of coffee later. Swan had remained in his lap almost the whole time, occasionally mewing and pawing at him, but largely just watching and objecting to being put on the floor every time Thomas got up to make another cup of coffee.

After the first half hour, Henry had accepted the offer of coffee, though he had only taken a few sips in between long-winded and often extremely confusing explanations, which only prompted more questions from Thomas and even longer answers that were never entirely satisfying. Henry’s neglected mug of room temperature coffee rested on the kitchen table, beside the remnants of the orange that Lucy had eaten after over an hour of helping tell the story.

“The daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming broke the curse cast by the Evil Queen in Storybrooke, because you found her… your mother, and brought her there and convinced her to believe in…” he really didn’t know how to describe it. Part of him thought that this was completely ridiculous and impossible, but there was something in Henry’s conviction that made him want to believe, and an even odder lingering feeling in his gut that there was something undeniably true in the story Henry had spun. “... all of this. Anna - Emma,” corrected Thomas, “broke the curse and saved you from the same sleeping curse the Evil Queen put Snow White under with True Love’s kiss. You’re the son of Emma and the son of Rumplestiltskin and the Milah from my tattoo, who was my first love…” He had needed to sketch out the family tree Henry had described on a piece of paper, but it was really a jumbled mess that looked more like a wreath than a tree. “And you were adopted by the Evil Queen, who’s name is Regina. Her half-sister’s the Wicked Witch, and she tricked Robin Hood, got pregnant, but Regina was Robin’s soul mate… but he was killed by Hades? Despite being a Greek god, he’s someone in this mess too.”

Henry nodded as Thomas spoke.

“And I’m Captain Hook, but my name is Killian Jones and not James Hook like it is in the play--” He had seen the play growing up, though if what Henry was telling him was true, he only believed that he had seen the play. “Emma and I met in the Enchanted Forest because somehow she and Snow White wound up there. We climbed a beanstalk to help get a magic bean to get everyone to Storybrooke. In Storybrooke you were kidnapped and taken to Neverland by your father’s ex-fiancee and her lover. I had gotten a magic bean and I was going to leave, but then I came back and I took your mothers and grandparents to Neverland, where I had spent a few centuries living, as had your father.”

“Don’t forget that Peter Pan was there!” interjected Lucy.

Thomas glanced down at the family knot. “And he was your great-grandfather.”

“Malcolm was, but then Malcolm went to Neverland, de-aged himself and called himself Peter Pan,” explained Henry.

“Right…” Thomas looked down at the picture of the family sitting all on one side of the table as if they were in The Last Supper. Everyone a stranger to him but Anna. “Sorry, but even after all those curses and back stabbings and… everything, everyone still got together at Granny’s once a week as a family?” In terms of difficult things to believe, this was hardly the most difficult to accept, but it was high on the list of things that he was having trouble with believing.

“There was the time when Belle gave everyone food poisoning and you might have sent a few vaguely threatening texts from the ‘head,’” said Henry with a small smile.

Thomas blinked. “The head?”

“Bathroom on a ship, but you would refer to pretty much any bathroom as the head.” The young man shrugged his shoulders with an amused grin. “But yeah. Surprisingly, we came to accept everyone as having changed for the better and found that our bonds as a family were stronger than anything thrown at us. You never did get along well with my grandfather on my dad’s side, and I don’t think he ever really liked you, but you both considered each other family to a certain extent.”

The way that the younger man spoke, it seemed that Henry had so many memories crowding his mind that he wanted to share, but the urgency of the situation prevented him from going into great detail. Thomas found himself yearning to know just what memories colored the words Henry chose, how he sighed and paused, which ones lit up his eyes with excitement or brought the pain that had stretched his voice thin in many places. These small glimpses were not enough to know the forgotten lifetimes that Henry was trying to explain to him. Lifetimes that Thomas himself believed he could feel the weight of.

Or perhaps these were all imagined stories Henry had invented himself and told his daughter. Perhaps Henry and Lucy had come to believe these stories he told about his birth parents’ families, but that didn’t mean that any of this was real. If this were all in Henry’s and Lucy’s heads, and Thomas accepted it as true, then son and daughter were mental, and Thomas was mental for believing them.

That was the logical explanation, but Thomas’s logic couldn’t explain away the odd sensation of familiarity that followed every one of Henry’s words. He couldn’t deny that something about Henry’s story spoke to some part deep inside of him that was telling Thomas to believe. This was right.

“It’s quite a lot you’re asking me to swallow, Henry,” said Thomas gently. “A lot of extremely improbable stuff. Impossible even.”

“I know it seems like that,” said Henry, “but it’s real.”

Thomas shook his head and continued, “Fairy tales aren’t real, though. And you’re saying not just fairy tales are true. Stories written by real people like J.M. Barrie and Hans Christian Andersen actually happened, but different than these authors wrote them.”

“They were Authors,” said Lucy. “With a capital A. Like my dad is.” She proudly looked over at her father. “So were the Brothers Grimm. Scheherazade too.”

“Even Walt Disney was one,” added Henry. “He was the predecessor to my predecessor. Sort of like my Grand-Author.”

Running his fingers through his dark hair, Thomas sighed, “So how do you explain the fact that all these stories are old? Some are thousands of years old. But you’re saying Snow White just happened some fifty-ish years ago.”

Pausing for a moment, Henry seemed caught, as if he had overlooked a critical part of the narrative he had been creating. “In addition to recording the stories of their time, many Authors have been gifted with the ability to see the future. It comes in flashes, and it’s not always accurate, since there are always possibilities when it comes to the future. Authors rarely get clear ideas or see the whole story before it happens. So, you wind up with a version of the story out here that isn’t always right about someone who hasn’t even been born yet. That story gets told, and people change it as they’re telling it. You know, like the game telephone.”

Compared to some of the explanations Henry had provided to his questions, this was extremely straightforward. “Okay, I’ll allow that that does seem completely plausible given the… based off of what you’ve told me about this… parallel universe--”

“It’s not a parallel universe,” interrupted Henry. “It intersects with this one. That’s why we are all here. That’s why everyone in Fairyland is here.”

“Poor choice of words, but how else am I to describe it?”

“Reality,” suggested Lucy.

Urgently, Henry nodded. “It’s what’s real. None of this is real. A curse made it all.”

Thomas glanced around the room. The home filled with items he and Anna had accumulated together, each item with a memory attached to it, seemed as real to him as anything ever could. The memories he had acquired over half a lifetime were ones that he trusted to tell him the truth about who he was and what he had overcome to get here to this moment. He could remember learning in introductory psychology in college that it was possible to create false memories. He let out a laugh as he realized that that memory itself could be a fake memory implanted by magic he didn’t understand instead of some experimenter with photoshop.

Leaning forward, Henry asked, “What?”

“This is all so… surreal,” Thomas said. “A part of me knows that this is absolutely mad, but…” He trailed off, his smile fading.

“A part of you knows that it’s real,” Henry said. “You want to believe.”

“It’s just so hard to accept.”

Swan started licking his hand at that moment. Surprised, Thomas pulled away from her rough tongue and wiped the wetness off onto his robe.

“I know I’m asking you to believe in a lot, and that it’s confusing and seems far-fetched,” Henry said. “You’re not the first person I’ve had to convince about this. Actually, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to explain this to you?”

“It’s not?”

Henry shook his head. “The Author before me wrote an alternate universe for all of us, to give the villains happy endings, only really he just turned the villains into heroes. Everyone except me and my mom weren’t able to remember anything. But, I was able to convince you then. I will convince you now.” A confident smirk crept up on his lips.

As if he were in an elevator, Thomas felt an unsteady upward jerk, forcing his heart up. Dizzy recognition filled him. That expression. He had seen it before. Many times before. He could see the man in front of him before he had become a man, memory overlaying the present. The gears in his mind that had been stubbornly still suddenly inched forward, teeth knitting together.

No quicker had the sensation come over Thomas did it vanish, leaving him feeling as though he had just run all the way to the city hall and back.

“The Wookie,” managed Thomas. His voice was practically a rasp.

Henry’s eyes lit up, and Lucy, seeing her father’s reaction, got to her feet.

Still in his lap, Swan started to purr.

“I remembered… something…” Thomas shook his head. “I’m not sure what… but…” He looked intently at Henry. “I know I knew you. I know you.”

Beaming, “Yes. You do,” Henry said.

Thomas pointed at Lucy. “And I don’t know you, but something tells me that I should get to know you.”

“You should,” said Lucy. “I’m your granddaughter.” She gave a smirk that mirrored her father’s.

Awkwardly, Thomas laughed and scratched the back of his ear. “That’s really going to take some getting used to.”

Henry said softly, “You will,” before pushing the storybook closer to Thomas, and adding, “You really don’t know any of these people?” The book was still open to the dinner scene at Granny’s.

Shaking his head, Thomas repeated, “Other than my wife and you, no. I’ve never seen them before in my life… this life.” Henry’s and Lucy’s disappointed expressions made Thomas wish that he was able to give a different answer.

“That’s to be expected, I guess,” said Henry with a sigh. “Storybrooke was a town, and I didn’t know everyone.”

“And Fairyland is a city,” said Thomas. “Not a big one, but a city.” Enough hours away from Seattle or any other big city to be considered out of the way and essentially in the middle of a lot of nothing, as if everyone within a certain radius had been drawn in towards the center, leaving miles around the city desolate. There was really no reason to ever leave the city and travel the hours it took to get anywhere else. It had everything the residents could ever need and then some. There were plenty of businesses that seemed to never get customers, but somehow managed to scrape through. He hadn’t ever given any thought to their presence in the city, but after Henry had described Storybrooke the eerie familiarity had lent him an explanation. None of the businesses were real businesses. Anything bought or sold here was in essence irrelevant. The curse kept everything in stasis.

Henry shrugged his shoulders. “It would have been nice if you had recognized someone. It would have been a place to start. But that would only get us so far. Everyone here is cursed.”

“Not everyone,” piped up Lucy. “Not whoever cast the curse! We haven’t figured out who did that yet.” She paused. “Remember, Grandma remembered who she was, since she cast the curse, and she was mayor.” She was grinning broadly with pride for having thought of this. “Who’s mayor of Fairyland?”

Before Thomas could answer, Henry said, “Not necessarily, when Grandma and Grandpa cast the curse, they were cursed too, and when you,” he nodded at Thomas, “cast one, you got cursed too. But both times a memory component was added by someone else, so the person who added that component remembered, even if they didn’t create the curse.”

The name of the mayor faded on Thomas’s lips. “I cast a curse? But I thought I was just a pirate.”

“You weren’t just a pirate,” said Henry. “You were also a Dark One. Briefly. Like for a week, but you didn’t remember. Anyway, that’s how you wound up dead and Zeus brought you back.”

As Thomas leaned back in his seat feeling once again overwhelmed by all the information Henry was dumping on him, Swan placed a paw on his chest and rested her white head upon it purring. Thomas rubbed the velvety fur on the bridge of her nose that was more fuzz than anything else. “It seems I have led quite the life. Wish I could remember it.”

“If we find my mom, you will,” said Henry firmly. “I know it.”

Swan sat upright and started kneading Thomas’s chest, causing the robe to open up.

Thomas let out a surprised cry of pain and picked Swan up, only to find her claws were tangled up in the red robe. As he unhooked them, he said, “And the mayor might be a good place to start? Our mayor’s name is Clive Wilder. I don’t reckon that’s any help though.” He set Swan down on the ground. Instead of slinking away, the white cat placed herself decidedly between the legs of Henry’s chair.

“Is he in the book?” asked Lucy.

Thinking back to the illustrations Henry and Lucy had shown him from the book as they had been explaining their story to him, Thomas shook his head. “He wasn’t in any of the illustrations you showed me,” said Thomas.

Lucy let out a frustrated sigh.

Henry let his fingertip go around the rim of his abandoned coffee mug. “Think you could take us to him?”

“I mean… it’s Saturday afternoon. I don’t think he’d be in his office,” mused Thomas. “But we could try to look him up. I’m willing to hazard a guess that his number is unlisted, though.”

“What about his address? Could look that up.”

Thomas wasn’t so sure that it would be likely to be listed either, but he pulled out his phone and with a few clicks brought up the town whitepages. W-I-L-D-E-R he typed. “So there are two Wilders in Fairyland, but only one ‘C. Wilder.’” He looked up from his phone. “57 Crescent Court.” He gave a small shudder at the alliteration. Getting to his feet, Thomas said, “I’m going to get dressed.” And take a much needed bathroom break. “I will be back in ten minutes.”

He was back in seven. He was quick to shed his robe and pulled a shirt and pants out without paying much mind to it until Marie decided to pounce on the sleeve. “Not a toy,” he said, tugging the flannel out of her mouth. He picked up a nearby catnip mouse. “This is a toy.” He threw it in the direction of Berlioz who was lying on his back in a patch of sunlight. Marie pranced off after the toy, allowing Thomas to finish getting dressed and emerge from the bedroom.

No sooner had Henry turned to face him did an amused smile crept up on his face.

“What?” asked Thomas, pulling on his shoes.

“Oh, nothing,” laughed Henry, shaking his head while his daughter and Thomas looked equally confused at him. “Just I don’t think Killian Jones would be caught dead in flannel and jeans. Especially not something so… colorful.”

Thomas glanced down at his green and blue flannel top. It was hardly vibrant or particularly loud. There was a thin yellow stripe in the flannel pattern, but that was a muted shade.

“Flannel was more what my mom would wear. You normally wear mostly black or dark colors,” explained Henry. “And leather. Lots of leather.”

“I don’t think I own anything leather other than a few belts. And I detest black.” The suits that he wore to work were always grey, navy or somewhere in between. The only black suit he had ever worn had been to Anna’s funeral, and that was something he hoped to never wear again.

“That’s the curse,” said Henry, still smiling. “Come on, let’s go.”

Lucy gave Swan a final pat and then straightened up. She tucked the makeshift storybook under her arm and hurried to the door. Henry quickly followed. Thomas took up the rear. As he paused to shut the door, a blur of white shot through his legs and scampered onto the porch. Swan made it all the way down to the mailbox by the time Thomas caught up with her.

“Bad kitty,” scolded Thomas, as he wrapped his arms around her middle.

Swan fought against his hold, giving a low disapproving growl.

“Indoor cats do not belong outdoors. You know what I promised the shelter. You’re an indoor cat now.” He walked up the path and climbed up the stairs. When he reached the hallway, he set her down on the rug. “Please behave.” He had to move fast to beat her to the door, shutting it firmly behind him. From the other side of the door, Thomas could hear Swan clawing at the wood, trying to scratch her way outdoors. “It’s for your own good.”

A muffled plaintive meow came through, that was heart melting enough to make Thomas wish that he had attempted to train her to walk on a leash. Too late for that now. “I’m sorry.” He walked away from the door, not looking back until he couldn’t hear the scratching anymore.

From above, Thomas heard, “Cat trouble?”

Thomas looked up to Marvin on the duplex’s balcony, small plate and sandwich in hand. Lunchtime, which for Marvin Roquefort meant something with avocado and cheese that was supposed to be healthy. “Nothing I can’t…” Thomas held up his fake hand, “handle.”

Marvin stroked his black beard and looked perplexed as if wondering if it was polite to be amused by Thomas’s joke, while Henry let out a laugh.

Thomas sighed dramatically and said, “It’s okay to laugh, Marvin. I give you permission.” How many times would they have to go through this? How many times had they actually gone through this? Based off of what Henry had told him, he and Marvin could have had this conversation thousands of times, and not been aware of that fact.

Instead of laughing, Marvin said, “Who are your friends?”

Henry stepped forward and said, “I’m Henry. This is my daughter, Lucy.”

Thomas added, “They’re family. Visiting.”

Squinting down at the three of them, Marvin said disbelievingly, “You’ve got American relatives?”

After years of being neighbors and visiting one another’s place, Thomas knew that Marvin had a fairly decent understanding of his family tree from the pictures on the wall and conversations that they had had. “Anna’s relatives. So family, with American accents.”

The surprise was evident on the older man’s face. “Wasn’t aware she had any family.” He picked up his sandwich and took a bite out of it. “Enjoy the family reunion.” He turned around and vanished out of sight into his second floor apartment.

Thomas walked up to Henry and the unfamiliar car that Lucy had already sat down inside. The ten-year-old girl made it obvious that they were going to take Henry’s car. “Who was that? When he’s not Marvin,” he whispered as he opened the car door.

“Blackbeard,” said Henry, still grinning from ear to ear. “But with a haircut and better grooming habits.”

Thomas sat down in the passenger seat and tugged the seat belt into position. “So he’s Edward Teach?” He had heard about the legendary pirate before who had terrorized the West Indies. It was hard to imagine the man who went to Quaker meetings weekly running around with a sword and hemp burning under a much longer beard. It was hard to even picture Marvin with any beard larger than his very closely shorn balbo.

Henry started up the engine. “Not entirely sure on that one. Being able to travel through realms, he could be, but to be honest, I think that there are just two pirates with the same name. One in this world, one in your world.” He pulled away from the curb.

“Like how I have two brothers named Liam?” He raised an eyebrow, still finding that fact both bizarrely amusing and horrible.

With a shake of his head, “Different matter entirely. But you are still stuck on that fact.”

“Yes. Because it’s morbid and demented. Worse than George Foreman.” Suddenly naming several children after one’s self seemed entirely acceptable compared to the idea of naming a child after an older dead sibling. There was something so arcane about it that it made Thomas not know whether he should wince or laugh.

“And not very original,” added Lucy from the back.

“Luce,” chided Henry, before turning to Thomas. “Okay, Killian.”

Thomas looked at Henry. Though he knew that Killian was his name, he felt no connection to it, no ownership whatsoever.

“You’re going to have to direct me where to go, and Operation Chewbacca can begin.”

“Operation Chewbacca?”

Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, Henry grinned. “Every adventure needs a name.”

Honestly, Thomas couldn’t say that he was a big Star Wars fan, but suddenly the franchise was growing on him. “It’s a good name,” allowed Thomas. Better than Operation Mog.

“Glad you think so. Now, do I turn left or right up here at the stop sign or do I keep on going straight?”

****

Without traffic, it only took twenty minutes to get to Crescent Court, or rather the street beside Crescent Court. As Henry parked on the street next to the one where the mayor lived, Thomas gave Henry a quizzical look.

“It’s important to take precautions,” said Henry. “We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not a what,” said Thomas. He hadn’t ever met the mayor in person, but he was fairly sure that Clive Wilder was as human as any of them were.

Ignoring what Thomas had said, Lucy leaned forward between the front seat and the passenger seat. “Did you learn that from Grandma?” Her brown eyes were wide and hopeful.

Henry nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Yeah. That and a love of comic books, spy stuff and action movies.” Catching sight of Thomas’s confused look, he added, “My mom was a bail bondsperson. And before that she was a thief. That’s how she wound up in jail.”

“You can’t be a bail bondsperson with a record,” said Thomas incredulously, though of all the things to question about what Henry had told him over the past few hours, this was extraordinarily trivial.

“Sealed juvenile record? Curse magic?” suggested Henry. He opened the car door and stepped out. Thomas followed suit, and Lucy wasn’t too long behind them bouncing out of the car, the book still tucked under her arm.

Eagerly, Lucy said, “So what’s the plan?” She bounced up onto the balls of her feet, glancing from father to grandfather expectantly.

A small smile crept up on Henry’s face. “Remember how Killian thought you were a Girl Scout?”

“I can track, but I’m not a scout,” said Lucy.

“No, not a scout, scout. Girl Scouts are kinda like a club for girls, and they sell cookies. Everybody loves their cookies,” explained Henry. “They were uniforms and go camping--”

“Earn badges,” added Thomas. “Climb mountains.” The more he heard from Lucy, the clearer it became to him that she knew very little about this world.

“We’re going to go up to Clive Wilder’s door, ring it, ask if he wants to order Girl Scout Cookies,” said Henry. “If it’s clear that he knows something’s up then… well… just follow my lead.”

Thomas had to admit, it wasn’t a bad plan. If he had assumed that was what was going on when Henry and Lucy showed up at his doorstep a few hours before, then it was possible that Clive would make the same assumption. “Let’s do it.”

The houses on Crescent Court were much nicer than the ones in Thomas’s neighborhood. Elegant and well kept, painted with whites, blues and greens, the houses stood proudly, sprawling out. They mimicked older style houses, though Thomas knew now they couldn’t be as old as they looked. Manicured lawns with gardens that had to be cared for professionally separated the houses from the sidewalk lined with deciduous trees in full summer green. Cars glinted in the driveways, bright and new. It looked more like the suburbs than a city neighborhood.

“This is the sort of place I grew up in,” murmured Henry as they walked past the third hedge wall in a row. He stopped suddenly, his face growing pale. He pointed to a blue house a few houses down. “Tell me that’s not 57?”

Thomas peered farther down. “I think so. This one’s 53, so next must be 55, and then--”

“You don’t recognize it? It doesn’t bring back anything?”

Lucy joined Thomas in staring intently at the blue Queen Anne. Thomas shook his head, frowning. “No. By your tone I take it I should.”

“Yes,” said Henry, almost laughing in frustration. “That’s your house! We picked it out together.”

Thomas’s forehead wrinkled as he stared more intently at it. “Really? I don’t recognize it at all. Never been one for Victorians.” He tried to imagine living in that house, sitting in a rocker on the wrap around porch or looking out of the wide windows. Not even the faintest spark struck him. “Sorry.”

With a sigh Henry brushed it aside. “Well, let’s see who lives in it now.” Swiftly, Henry closed the distance between them and the blue house.

As they walked up the brick path and started on the steep stairs, Thomas found himself looking upwards at the house, willing himself to remember something, even the smallest of flashes. Without paying attention to where he was stepping, Thomas found himself falling forward onto the stairs. Thomas put his hand out to brace himself. The impact stung, but he gave an embarrassed laugh. “You’d think I’d be better at climbing these stairs,” he murmured to Henry and Lucy. He pushed himself up and climbed the rest of the way up the stairs onto the porch so he was standing beside them in front of the door.

“Actually, you would get tripped up on that step even when you remembered the house,” said Henry nonchalantly. Turning to his daughter, he asked, “Are you ready.”

Lucy nodded firmly, face set in a determined expression.

Firmly, Henry knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing a blonde teenage girl wearing a purple shirt that read ‘Fairyland State.’ She looked at them, clearly annoyed to be interrupted. “Yeah?” she asked. “Can I help you?”

If Henry was disappointed, it didn’t show on his face. Instead, he smiled at the girl. “We’d like to talk to an adult. Is your father available?” he said smoothly.

“I am an adult,” said the girl, her voice dripping with irritation. “But sure.” She stepped back and shouted, “DAD!” loud enough so that a dog started barking somewhere inside the house.

Footsteps came from inside.

“Someone wants to see you,” she said to someone out of sight.

“Really?” A man with grey hair stepped forward. Blue eyes surveyed the three standing on his front step. He gave a small polite smile. “I’m sorry. But you are--”

“I’m Lucy Mills.” She stepped forward smiling. “I’m a Girl Scout. I’m selling cookies.”

The teenage girl smirked and vanished inside the house.

“My daughter Riley was a Girl Scout back in the day,” the mayor said. “It’s good to the Brownies are still thriving.”

Oblivious to what the mayor was referring to, “We’re not selling brownies, we’re selling cookies!” said Lucy brightly.

Clive Wilder blinked in confusion at the girl. “I am aware.”

“Lucy’s got a sense of humor,” said Henry quickly.

Thomas offered a nod of confirmation. He was fairly sure that Brownies were younger than Lucy, but perhaps the mayor was an even worse judge of age than he was.

“But Lucy’s having a whale of a time in Girl Scouts,” continued Henry.

The emphasis Henry placed on the word ‘whale’ made Thomas frown slightly, wishing he understood the implication.

Jovially, Clive said, “That’s good to hear. The Girl Scouts are always doing excellent community service in this city. Say, how would you girls like to get a tour of City Hall?”

Lucy glanced up at Henry.

“We’ve got our meetings planned out for the next school year already! But thanks for the offer.” Henry’s ability to lie under pressure was uncanny. Certainly better than Thomas could ever hope to be.

“So, cookies?” said Lucy.

“Right, yes.” Clive nodded. “Do you have any Thin Mints.”

“Oh, we’ve got thin mints, thick mints, all kinds of mints!” chirped Lucy.

The mayor’s face was blank for a moment, but then suddenly he let out a laugh that sounded hollow. “There’s that sense of humor your father was talking about.” His grin lasted long after his laugh, as if painted on. It was exactly the sort of smile that Thomas would expect from a politician. “Put me down for a box then.”

Lucy beamed.

“We’ll be back with your order in a month’s time!” said Henry, starting down the stairs. “Have a good day, Doc- Mister Mayor.” He gave a wave, which Lucy echoed before prancing down the stairs and walkway.

Thomas gave the porch one last sweeping look, frowning with desperation, before rejoining his comrades. As soon as they were out of earshot, Thomas whispered to Henry, “Do you think he cast the curse?”

Firmly, Henry shook his head. “No. There’s no way he did.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because,” Henry stopped to glance over his shoulder to make sure that they were now hidden by the hedges of the next two houses down from 57, before continuing on towards the car, “Frankenstein doesn’t do magic. He’s all about science.”

Blue eyes widened. “Frankenstein’s real too? What about his monster?”

“All real, but I don’t think he’s brought anyone back to life recently. Really it didn’t work so well the last time.”

Thomas wanted to ask more questions about Frankenstein and his monster, but instead it was Henry who asked a question.

“Is that a ticket? Damnit.” Henry ran up to the car and pulled a yellow paper out from under the windshield wiper.

From where Thomas was standing, it didn’t look like a ticket. “I think someone’s probably advertising a yard sale or bible study group.” He caught up to Henry, Lucy a couple strides behind him.

Henry unfolded the yellow piece of paper.

“See, look, just an ad for a performance at a jazz club,” said Thomas. “The Blue Village. Not a bad place if you like jazz. Not my cup of tea, though. I prefer--”

“Killian, we know you like sea shanties,” interjected Henry. “Look at the bottom.”

Thomas glanced down to the bottom of the flyer underneath the big lettering and silhouettes of instruments one would associate with jazz. In elegant, flowing script, someone had written, He can help.

#captain swan #cs fanfics #cs fanfiction #captain cobra #ouat fanfiction #the catfather #my fics

[cerullos]

@hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b​ use of terms like “safe zone” wrt canon m/f ships is just a bit...questionable, that’s all i’m saying. like, you can discourage infighting in your corner of fandom w/o couching it in that kind of language. i’m sure you can understand how that would look kind of wild out of context 

#no one's calling you homophobic for not shipping 'the lesbian ship' chill dfngjkfg

[hungrywhovianjedi]

winterbaby89 replied to your post “winterbaby89 replied to your post “35 in Wisconsin  ah yes sweater...”

@hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b gotta love hungry Tumblr and eating messages and notifications... We got ice today... not supposed to be over 45 for the next week or so...

@winterbaby89 ours just came to an end. started the day at forty-five ended it with ice and snow

#winterbaby89

[librius]

Hellllllllo I need to know 23

Dig a little deeper.

23. Have you ever met someone famous?

yes!!! i met john barrowman once with @hungrywhovianpotterheadfrom221b and we got a picture taken with him!

#Anonymous