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courtorderedcake · 5 years

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Hallow : ch V - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 5 / ?? - In which shit goes to hell

Emma did not see Killian again for over a week, which was almost a blessing in its own right. It allowed her to fully gain Elsa’s friendship and respect, a fact which delighted both Ingrid and Anna in turn. At first.

They soon discovered that Emma and El sa were a pair to be reckoned with, though, which ended with Anna shrieking and throwing pillows at them when Elsa discovered a poem from Anna’s long term boyfriend.

“An Ode to Anna, Princess of Reindeer,” she read, as Emma laughed and Anna tried to snatch the piece of colored, smooth parchment back. “‘While one has antlers and in the forest hides, I only wish I could lay a crown as lovely, before you were my bride.’ Oh Anna, how romantic, Kristoff has outdone himself. I especially love the part about how he wants to ride you as well -"

Anna went scarlet from forehead to fingers, the blush making her eyes blaze as they wrestled. Emma knew she was missing the butt of some joke, but it still took a few passes for them to explain - and by them, of course, she meant Elsa only, as Anna was too scandalized to contribute.

"We’ve been together for decades, it’s cold here, and we aren’t getting any younger!” Anna protested. “Plus, he’s dreamy in his coat, his nose is always warm, and his pockets fit both of our hands with a sandwich to boot. Perfect man."

Emma was rapidly discovering that courting was very different than even the most modern standards at home. Here, relationships were loud, heady, and were what Anna called 'the most progressive in modern history’. Elsa only rolled her eyes, and muttered about it being about time that women could wear pants. At Emma’s pressing, they showed her another glossy photo book similar to the one that Ingrid had given her, this one a 'Fashion Magazine’.

Pale women graced the pages, sporting large teeth - some gapped, much to Emma’s fascination - stick-like long eyelashes, and long pin-straight hair falling to improper lengths. They wore the same long dresses in floral patterns that were similar to those in Emma’s wardrobe back home, only with no bodice, petticoat, or undergarment. Elsa flipped the pages to show Emma a woman with a bright pink bubble in her mouth, her eyelashes long and rimmed with kohl and a shockingly bright cobalt liner, her hair piled high on her head behind a thick white band like a cone.

"A beehive. They’re all the rage. I guess that even Twiggy, Jackie O, and Mia Farrow have been spotted with them.” Elsa flipped a page to a skinny woman in a scarf, shiny white boots, and a scandalous dress. Emma sucked in a breath, feeling like a child being caught with illicit materials. The other women didn’t bat an eye, Anna flipping until the page displayed a darker, olive skinned woman with freckles and cloud-like curly brown hair wearing a shirt and breeches made of denim material. Emma’s mouth fell open in surprise; pants apparently were breeches, and not made of supple leather or soft calico, but of cotton denim.

“It’s soft, I have a pair. They wash them so they aren’t scratchy like cattle sacks,” Elsa supplied.

“I prefer skirts myself, still. I like to model myself after Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly. The classics, you know,” Anna said, and Emma tried to nod in agreement though she was terribly confused.

The week dragged on like this, no one too worried about Killian missing.

“He’ll show up when he decides he can forgive himself, so we can forgive him in turn. Or when he wants to be fed,” Ingrid said on the fourth night, as they settled in to watch a horror film playing on what they called a 'television’. Her voice fell to a teasing bitter tone, and she gave Emma a wry smile. “It’s why we don’t go and get a cat; it would have competition. He wasn’t always this intense, but even before that parasitic leech he needed space to realize what an idiot he is.”

They ate popcorn and drank hot chocolate, Emma convincing them to try it with cinnamon. It was a hit with everyone, especially when the movie became terrifying and they huddled behind pillows. Emma had never seen any Fae that terrified her, but this was a monster and not a Fae at all, and a swamp monster at that. Its dead, cold eyes as it tried to catch its young victim made Emma feel ill. They reminded her of Nil.

Emma’s sleep that night was difficult and filled with shadows, shapes she couldn’t discern or make out, and hallways with no end. Waking with a start, she was relieved when she found all of them asleep under a blanket, together on the couch.

Life dragged on and the comfort of a routine helped some as Emma tried to make sense of everything new all at once. Killian was still nowhere to be found, an absence Emma sorely needed to collect her thoughts. She needed time to plan her next moves. Ingrid, Elsa, and Anna were ready to help with anything they could, armed with advice and suggestions.

Chewing on a piece of chocolate cake, Anna addressed Emma over the books she was reading. Nemo had a large study full of books on the old lands and their culture, along with detailed notes. Taking advantage of this Emma spread them over the table and studied them for anything that might be of use. “So, when he comes back, don’t let him treat you any less than what you are. You need to treat him like the asshat he is. Build up some walls and armaments, you know?"

Emma sighed, resting fingers on the bridge of her nose. "I have walls, Anna. I have armaments. I don’t like that I have to trust or rely on him any more than I like being away from my home.”

“Do you think he knows that? Challenge him. Challenge us!” Ingrid said, smirking. “Take no shit, Emma. You’re a princess, and your own general now. Your own commander. That demands confidence and respect.”

Elsa pulled the piece of cake from Anna, earning her a playful slap, as she joined the conversation. “Be like your mother. Assertive and dangerously graceful, ice and fire.”

Emma thought of her mom, how quickly and quietly she could dominate a conversation to turn it in her favor. How hard her gaze could be, how her brows furrowed as she asked a question that ensnared her prey. Her face of triumph when she was using a bow during target practice or on a hunt, or using her tongue to land centering marks in a debate. Feared and adored, respected and admired.

When she tried to imagine that on herself, it felt wrong. How could she ever compare?

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian let himself stay away longer than normal, an eerie feeling of being followed something he couldn’t shake off. It had started in a dark cave somewhere in Africa, as he lurked in an antechamber waiting until he could move somewhere less damp.

It persisted through his next changes in locale, before he finally sat down in a dusty bar in the rolling plains of what was now called America. Nothing about the name America made any sense; however, after some light reading and chats with the Arren women, he had come to conclude nothing about America made much sense at all - least of all, why it was not called what the Indigenous or Northmen had named it. The bar was named even more nonsensically; a squat shack that was more rust than anything else in this neverending dustbin of nothingness was not exactly a 'Tree House’.

Killian ordered two glasses of rum, sliding one over slightly, the person who had followed him sitting down without hesitation. Her skin was tan, but her eyes were tired under her cropped blonde haircut.

“Tink,” Killian grunted slightly, her dagger’s point pressing hard into his groin. “To what do I owe thi-"

"Listen. I’d like to make this quick and easy enough for both of us. I know you have the princess within your grasp. I have a friend who wants to ally with her. It’s complicated, but I trust you. I will be here, on these nights. Come see me. Dress nice.” She drank her rum in a flash, leaving a hearty tip and a business card, then disappeared as if she’d never even been there at all.

He drank his own glass before picking up the business card. In ivy green ink, the front stated boldly 'Tink Rebel - Siren - DJ’; on the back were a few sporadic dates and an address. There was no way to trust her, but it was better than any other lead he’d gotten.

It’s the only lead you’ve gotten. Magic is all but forgotten or mere banished remnants here; it should be easy to get the shard.

“And it should be just as easy finding someone else to watch over the princess as well? Do you think we can find some ponce to pawn her off on, so we can be free of this?” Killian asked wryly, slipping the card into his pocket before stepping into the night’s shadows.

That too. The further away she is from us the better. See if Tink can recommend a short cliff with a long fall.

“Aye.” He disappeared again, leaving a long trail behind before returning to the nearest point he could that would get him to Ingrid’s. The walk was long, but not unwelcome.

When he arrived it was dusk, a note on the door explaining the stillness of the house: Ingrid and Elsa were delivering a wedding cake, Anna was with her paramour, and Emma was 'practicing’. Elsa had even scribbled a little note for the princess, telling her that there was salve in the cupboard. Practicing? What could she possibly have to practice? Elsa and Emma were now on a first name basis? What all had he missed?

Killian found Emma on the patio, the night air cooling as her she focused intently on repetitive strikes with a sword. She did not seem to notice his arrival at all, continuing to practice blocking an enemy, then parrying.

Clearing his throat she turned with surprise, her body immediately in a well practiced defensive stance. Interesting. The princess was not a novice in swordplay.

“Care to duel?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She lowered the weapon, shaking her head. “You’re not worth it."

His blood lit, temper flaring. "Oh? Well, don’t you sound confident. Haughtiness doesn’t suit your temperament; aren’t you supposed to be good at needle point? Swordplay is quite a bit out of the wheelhouse of the 'demure’ princess act."

"My father is the best swordsman in the realms. He wanted me to be better, and I…” She got a far off look in her eyes for a moment, then shook it off. “I just wanted to spend time with him. I like to think that I am very good at it."

"Thinking that you are,” he smirked, letting the Darkness ripple through his skin and muscles, picking up a discarded cutlass from the pile Ingrid must have provided, “does little to prove that you are. Shall we test your mettle, Your Highness?” Killian raised the cutlass in an attacking stance.

To his great surprise she did not flinch or seem prostrated by this bravado, only shrugging and changing her stance to defend against his chosen style.

“I don’t go easy on anyone, especially if they underestimate me. Are you sure you want to spar?” The calmness in her words set his teeth on edge, and he answered by throwing himself forward. She didn’t even act surprised, moving in a subtle side step that left her in his previous position, her footing incomparable.

Killian laughed, more surprised than anything.

“This might actually be fun, especially since there’s no welcoming party for me tonight.” He circled her, and she mirrored his steps in their defensive opposite. “I thought all of you might have missed me a bit more. My ego is wounded.”

“You left without much more than a word,” she huffed and dodged a low arc, parrying away as he dodged to strike her side. She moved quickly, adjusting to try to attack his flank. “They were worried about you. You should apologize. Your ego deserves a good, sound beating anyway."

"They should worry less. I see that you and Elsa are thick as thieves now, though. There’s that.” Emma fluidly rolled to move in close to him, throwing him off balance and forcing him to fall back in retreat as he regained his footing. Her furious volley made him feel young again, green in the ears. Liam had given no quarter when they practiced either.

“Elsa is great. She might forgive you if you genuinely apologize,” Emma said quietly, sword against sword, pushing with her weight as he slid the metal blade down towards her neck. He wasn’t a lad practicing with Liam anymore, and the Darkness sang in his veins reminding him of that fact. His blood boiled hot as her advice was drowned out by the buzz in his head.

You are so weak, so beyond help, that even this castle coddled, custard fed, soft boiled, princess has you on the ropes. She’s the reason Elsa was mad, she’s the reason why all of this is happening, and what would Liam say -

“Shut up!” Killian swung up in an arc and went after her like a madman, his attacks relentless as she played defense against them, the metal clanging sharply, enough to make his jaw smart. He spun into an attack, kicking out her leg, barely hearing her shout of disapproval. “Shut up, shut up, shut up -"

With his back turned towards her while he was fighting with the voice in his head, Emma pushed up slightly, kicked hard, and took his legs out from under him, resulting in Killian landing on his back. Emma used her sword to smack his fingers, making him release his sword as he cursed. Killian growled at her as she took both swords and held them crossed in front of his neck. Her face was cool, expression entirely detached from the task in front of her. She had trounced him as if he was half asleep.

That would not do.

An outward kick of his boot aligned to connect with her knee, sending Emma falling back a step, while she was knocked out of her concentration by his crooked move. With a well practiced turn he let her sword slide against his shoulder, ripping the cloth of his shirt and digging deep into the flesh, listening with a delighted sense of malice to the horrified sound that came from her mouth.

She doesn’t know what you are capable of. What the world is capable of.

Emma was frozen, her breathing unsteady, her hand shaking as he yanked the other blade free of her grip. It fell with a clatter to the tile, and with another kick it slid into a flower bush while Emma looked on helplessly.

"Do you know,” Killian circled her, her hand jerked free from the pommel as he shrugged the sword from his shoulder and kicked it away, “what people will do to you? Any of the Mortals or Fae that think that you could be a stepping stone, what they’re thinking of? They’re not going to play fair, or think about bad form . Do you think they will stop hunting you, just because of a wound? You’re going to have to fight to the death, Princess."

Emma made a noise of rebuttal, but it was lost as he pushed her forward against one of the patio’s stone walls. Pinning her there to look in her fearful eyes made the strength the Darkness gave him pulse in his veins, its steady beat a call for more. How could he merely whet his appetite and not feast?

Make her pay, you cowardly poltroon. Make her hurt. Make her suffer!

Her hands fumbled, pushing him away as if she could, her movements no stronger than the touch of a butterfly. He caught one of her wrists in his hand with an iron grip, marveling at how dainty it was; it would be so easy to break, the voice in his head loud, so many voices that they were a whine covering any plea she might give.

Emma shifted slightly, eyes changed and no longer panicked as they stared up in fury. Her other hand twisted to reach the chain around her neck, taking the dagger shard that hung there and made a long slash down the hand that trapped her own.

Killian’s brain registered two things at almost a second apart. The first was that he did not feel the slash of the dagger piece immediately. In his experience, that could mean it was such a precise and quick blade that he had not felt it, or that the pain from the newly made wound was so great, his body could not process it all at once. The second was a brutal confirmation of his thoughts, the answer arriving in an abrupt, agonizing pain that wrapped around the end of his left arm like a venomous snake.

He threw himself away from Emma, all but shrieking as she approached with concern.

Emma looked furious, but also terrified, her voice shaking. "I - you can’t do that, how dare you do that! Why would you do that, what is wrong with you! And I - I didn’t cut you that deep -” Her hands reached toward his forearm even as he tried to flinch away. The cut was slight to the point of barely bleeding. She was right; she had barely nicked him in the trail she made down his hand to his wrist, and then a bit longer.

It felt as though she dipped his hand in fire, while someone rubbed jagged glass up and down his nerves. Killian saw white, the world taken from him in bright flashes that made the Darkness screech. His hand was burning, the world was burning.

As soon as it had come, it was gone. The same delicate wrist twisted to let slender fingers on her cool hand slide across the scrape, all pain gone, disappearing to next to nothingness. Light poured into him, light that was so vast, so intangible, so heavy in ways that were not bound by any laws Killian knew. The Darkness fled, hid away from what it knew was something ancient that followed no arcane limitations. His shoulder wound closed up as she laid a hand over it, the knitted flesh without an ache or scar that the Darkness would have left.

The moment she was done, Emma scrambled backward and so did he, the distance as they both caught their breath warranted.

Killian examined her, watching her shoulders shake and her hair fall in a curtain around her face. There was a dull ache in his hand briefly, but the Darkness was only a far off murmur. It was far too weak to protest when he moved closer, muttering an apology in her direction.

“I don’t - M'sorry.”

For her part, Emma nodded as she shrank away, before she stood to stare down at him. “You always have so many apologies, Killian. So many times when you could have just been…” Emma trailed off, biting her lip and fighting back emotions. She collected herself with another breath. “You could just try to forego apologies, to try and get it right without having to break someone first. What did you - what did it want you to do to me? What would you have had to apologize for if I hadn’t…”

He could not think of a reply, and if he had, he would not have given it. Emma was right. Watching her walk away, his hand throbbed. Looking down at the long mark, Killian noticed it was reopening, the dull ache starting at the top of his palm making his fingers stiffen and bend. With the princess’s departure, the Darkness crept back in slow increments, and he waited for their own dark magic to do its healing work on his crooked fingers.

The Darkness pushed at the scrape, its powerful magic attempting to imitate the light that had healed Killian’s shoulder. When nothing happened, the Darkness howled, strange emotions running through it and its vessel. Among the heaviest of them was the Darkness’ terror, and Killian’s feeling of a deep, burning regret, laced with shame.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Emma managed to avoid him in ways that grew more cunning with each day that passed. The date was set for their meeting with Tink and entry into the club, preparations being made by everyone in the house as they focused on Emma. He hadn’t even told her about this potential meeting, she had to learn of the development through Elsa, the coward. It was easier for him to disappear that way, his own form of avoidance from the way Ingrid’s ever-knowing eyes immediately narrowed in on the way Emma and he pretended that the other didn’t exist

Elsa dug out a dagger to match the sword they found for Emma, which Anna helped her practice with. Anna was a surprisingly talented blade fighter, and he could see Emma’s tension ease when Anna volunteered to help her train. He had also seen the quick look of panic at the thought of having to partner with him again.

She’s scared of you, this goes in our favor. The look of fear there is -

“Enough.”

You weren’t going to hurt her, just instill a bit of real world fear. We only listed some suggestions of things to tell her, not things to do. Those were ideas, just that. You didn’t act on them, even if you could have. You could have, but you weren’t strong enough. You frightened her and look at how well it worked!

Killian snorted, scrubbing up his face before giving up and resting his head in his hands. Weak enough? He was plenty weak enough, and the Darkness knew it too, had whispered into his ear things no one should experience, justifications wrapped around each act. ’ She deserves it ’, 'Make her suffer’ , ’ She’s your greatest foe ’, ’ She can’t stop you ’, all hissed over and over, every word made to sound so enticing. The urge to retch came over him, the old pew creaking against his weight as he stood to pace, his bad hand throbbing from its use in his hurry.

His bad hand. That was the only thing the Darkness seemed concerned about besides the ever-present need for the shard, its few words on the subject curt and bitterly sharp. It had never seen a wound like this. The dagger was meant to control the Darkness, to bind it to a vessel full of vengeance. It could kill the vessel, transferring ownership to another as had been done in ancient times, but that required ceremony. His hand had gone from a dull uncomfortable twinge to throbbing sharp shooting spasms that caused his fingers to stiffen into a claw like form. He kept his palm wrapped in gauze, alarmed to find the scrape, now a cut, leaving bloody stains.

Arguing with the Darkness over this was no use. It was its own pain, its own form of torture on top of his penance for attacking Emma. That and the constant echo of Emma’s voice rang in his head like a church bell, sometimes louder than the cacophony that was the Darkness, other times only a gentle tone. If this was his punishment, it was his to suffer alone. The small abbey somewhere in the mountains was far enough to cover their tracks, changing locations to make it harder to use a location spell. It seemed fitting, too, to search for penance in this quiet, snow filled hall, the stained glass and belfry crumbled onto the rough floor.

You can’t have your freedom without her absolute compliance. She’s not ready for a battle, not ready for the world. If you’re not willing to train her properly, the Goblin will -

“Please, enough.” Thoughts of the Goblin Prince and what he might do, how close Killian had come to acting like the creatures who had taken Milah, swirled in another deep pull of his gut even as he paced in the cold cathedral.

She was safe, and you should make sure she learns this lesson. We need her not completely broken, but close, so close, to gain our freedom. And shouldn’t the sheep know that the wolf is -

“I said enough! Enough.”

Silence finally came, except for the gentle cadence of Emma’s words.

“You could just try to forego apologies, to try and get it right without having to break someone first."

"What would you have had to apologize for if I hadn't…"

Killian promised himself that he would never find out. Disappearing with a puff of smoke, he appeared miles outside of town, and began the long walk down the mountain to the shop. Even as the Darkness squirmed under his skin like electric eels, he focused on crafting an apology to Emma to vow that regardless of their dislike for each other, he would never violate her, couldn’t even lay a finger on her without permission due to the dagger’s magic.

Every word seemed wrong, and by the time he arrived at the shop front to quietly slip back onto the patio, he realized that he was in a deep bloody mess of it.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Emma was well accustomed to avoidance. It was an important part of palace survival when everyone wanted you nearby for their vanity, prestige, or to mite out a point in a quarrel, or your least favorite tutor was trying to teach you your least favorite lessons. To think she’d give a king’s ransom just to see Regina’s cross face with her eyebrows almost pinched into one straight line again, to go back to when translation of ancient runes was her greatest worry…

Someone avoiding her while she avoided them, though, that was new. This was new. Emma found it refreshing as she tried to spin the positives of working with a sociopath. He knew what he’d done, what he’d broken, almost as much punishment as the nightmares he introduced with his actions, or the thought of Nil’s threats made good creeping up on her without warning. Sleep no longer came between worries for those who she left behind to Nil and the Goblins’ wrath and those who she cared for here, further haunted by thoughts about who might be lurking nearby. Elsa or Anna found her asleep in strange places at strange times, Ingrid picking up on the tension immediately like some hunting hound, and all three of them tried to chase down the creature Emma feared.

How could Emma ever tell them it was Killian? That her fear was how he might lose control because of the demon voice in his head; how he had looked at her and their struggle before he retreated, how he made her feel in the few seconds that he took away her own limited control?

Elsa and Ingrid continued to push, and Anna watched quietly, observing until she asked Emma up to her room. It was almost dark, dusky colors painting the glimpse of the sea into a rainbow when Emma took Anna’s hand and helped both of them out of her window and onto the roof. Anna had brought a basket full of blankets, a thermos of hot chocolate, and chocolate covered orange peel for both of them, making Emma squint in suspicion.

"Emma, my family… Well. It’s hard to be the less exceptional one in some ways. Ingrid, Elsa, my mother, and Olaf were all gifted with incredible talent, ice magic passed down through generations. My father had normal or average talent, and I followed after him,” Anna began, handing Emma the thermos cup, laden full of the steaming beverage. She held up a finger to indicate just a moment, sprinkling a small container of cinnamon over the drink. Emma smiled.

“The thing about being ordinary, or I suppose I should say not extraordinary, is the difference in the sets of problems my sister and I faced, and as such, the way we see the world. Elsa is brave, she’s daring, and she’s far beyond outspoken. Ingrid is the same; they don’t see the purpose in not beating down doors to find what’s behind,” Anna said, nibbling on the orange peel. “For me, it was never that easy. I learned instead to watch, to wait, to listen and learn before rushing ahead to leap. I know that sometimes force is not the way to help."

Emma tried to interject, but Anna shook her head, laying an arm around Emma’s shoulders.

"Emma, anyone can see you’re trying to be strong, but I can see you’re hurting.” Emma flinched in her hold, and Anna gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t have to say anything, or talk about specifics - you can vent, you can talk, I can talk, or you can ask for advice. I just don’t want you to feel alone, and I want you to feel free to tell me if something happened with no worry of anyone else knowing. I’ll listen, even if it’s just to silence.”

“Anna, I -” Emma began but couldn’t finish, instead crying onto her shoulder in a sudden onslaught of tears. Her hiccuping gasps left Emma feeling like her lungs didn’t work, but Anna was patient, only stroking her hair and soothing her, giving her soft paper handkerchiefs from a box in her basket.

Emma heard a noise, both of them turning to see Killian pacing the patio, talking to himself as was usual in the evening hours.

“Emma, I’m not going to pry, but I know that he did something awful to you. I know that he can be truly a terrible person, and that we sometimes protect him too much.” Anna looked from Killian to Emma, her lips a straight line in concern. “I will be damned, though, if he touched you, if he acted in any way less than a gentleman; I will gut him myself -"

"He didn’t. Not really. We were sparring and he was suddenly so angry. It was like a switch went off, he just lost control. He scared me. He terrified me, because I thought he might do something, I thought he’d be like Nil. He stopped -”

“I’ll kill him myself if you like; he’s bound to never hurt any of us, that disgusting -"

"No,” Emma started, reaching for Anna. “That’s just it. He stopped, and he looked just as terrified as me. I don’t think… I think he’s losing a battle too; I think that thing is grinding him down. I could almost hear it, and it’s a constant scream. It’s torture, Anna. I - I don’t think - I think whatever safeguard he has for you, Elsa, and Ingrid, is holding what’s in his head on a tether. I don’t think he was going to hurt me, but I think that thing inside of him wanted me to be afraid. It wants him to doubt himself, to keep him scared too.”

“It’s still not OK, Emma, he still -"

"It’s not right, and I know that. However, nothing happened and I… This situation we’re in, he’s been alone with that thing in his head for a long time. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him struggle for control and win. I don’t think he would ever do anything to betray the last vestiges of humanity in himself.”

Anna mulled over Emma’s words, weighing them. “Elsa says there’s still good in him if you look for it, but I admit this only to you - that thing is definitely getting louder. I’ll think of something to keep you two away from each other for now.”

“Thanks, Anna,” Emma whispered, resting her head on her knees.

They went to bed soon after, after Emma accepted Anna’s offer to train with her in the morning instead of Killian with great relief. With her mind focused elsewhere, Emma almost forgot about his existence as they spent the morning and afternoon practicing stances and blows, until Ingrid asked them to go drop off a package at the harbor.

“No,” Killian said flatly, without looking at Emma.

As Anna raised her palm and started to speak, Ingrid gave her a withering look that Anna returned with her own glare. “I’ll go, it’s not a big deal -"

"You have chores to attend to, and are minding the shop. The princess has not seen our harbor, and needs a chaperone. Specifically, her chaperone, and the one that is charged with protecting her while she is in our care. Unless he has decided to forego protecting her, in which case I will personally make sure that he cannot step foot in this home again.”

“It’s fine,” Emma shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. To the harbor and back, maybe an hour or so. Let’s not make a fuss.”

Emma walked away to fetch her shoes before anyone could start up again. Waiting outside, she found herself entirely unconcerned with who would be joining her; regarding the sea up close and personal was an experience she needed to count as a win. The sea was a primordial part of what created magic, an element of nature that had long been fought over by many different species. Peace had been hard won for those in the ocean’s depths, and here it was again in danger. If this might be her last chance to see it before either the beginning of a war or her abominable marriage, she would not let anything stand in her way.

Killian stalked out a few minutes later with nothing more than an affirmative nod at her. She followed in silence, his exasperated body language becoming more and more noticeable. He cleared his throat a few times as if he had something to say, only to end up more tense than before while furiously picking at his ear. Emma had finally had enough with the entire debacle after he practically ran into another woman while mulling his thoughts. The drop off itself was quick, but when she did not turn in the direction of home immediately, he began to press her.

“We’re done here, aren’t we?”

“I have other things I’d like to do,” she replied firmly, with a slight shrug of dismissal. “Go back, or do something else if you like. It doesn’t matter."

"No. If I show up without you, Ingrid will throw me out on the bloody streets! Do whatever it is on your own fucking time, princess, I’m not -” Killian’s voice grew louder, but Emma interrupted with a sigh.

“Killian, I’d appreciate it if you could just…” Emma trailed off, her voice tired. “Just try and be a good person, a gentleman, just until I get to see the ocean, finally. I’ve already forgiven you, and I can’t have you ruin this for me too.”

Killian sputtered, his face turning from calm to angry in a flash, then almost just as quickly becoming impassive once more. It would have been amusing, if she had been willing to tolerate his behavior. He stayed quiet, unsettling so, as she took in the sea. The silence itself was surprisingly companionable, both of them sitting on the pier’s edge, the port bustling with brightly colored fishing boats. The sun dipped lower, finally settling into the sea and spreading out blankets of pinks on the horizon.

“Thank you,” Emma whispered, and Killian grunted. Emma refused to turn to look at him, but let her words spill over into the darkening water. “We don’t have to like each other, but that - when we were sparring - that can’t happen again Killian. I need to trust you enough to know that you would never -"

Killian made to start speaking and Emma waved her hand in an attempt to make him stop.

"No. Listen. I am not saying that - I know that wasn’t your intention when this happened. You caught yourself, you didn’t - You didn’t let it push you into becoming someone you aren’t, even under all of… you didn’t let yourself. I just need the promise that you won’t let that thing take over you, that you won’t let it master you when you have control. That thing wants me destroyed.”

Killian swallowed hard, and took a moment before answering. “I don’t know if I can promise you that.”

“You need to. If we are going to be allies, you need to.” Emma sighed.

“I found a potential ally for you. I can promise for now that I want to be free, and I will not find freedom within the Darkness.”

Beautiful lies. Let’s see how perceptive the princess is, hmm?

“For now, that will have to do.” Emma sighed, and stood up, finally ready to return.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Being around humans was grating enough when Killian was not in a hurry, but being around humans while under a time crunch, especially ones that tried to flirt or were too nervous - it was hell.

The styles of human fashion had changed markedly in the time that Ingrid had resettled with her nieces, allowing Emma several wardrobes to choose from in both past and present clothing. Ingrid was taller, but with a quick hem all of her clothing fit the princess well enough, and Elsa or Anna’s outfits fit her perfectly.

Killian could find nothing that fit in what was left of Liam’s or Nemo’s clothing, and even if he could, breeches and a tufted tunic did not seem to be 'en vogue’. With a little research and a brilliantly orchestrated bribe of the women getting to dress Emma, he’d found a shop in the city that carried the newest trends in what this ruddy century considered clothes. They called it post-modernist, or mod - the contrast of black, white, and primary colors or prints more of a headache to Killian than cohesive.

The saleswoman had been tinted red from the second she came to help him with his measurements, pulling out an animal print suit that he immediately refused, then another in an itchy fabric she called corduroy. After many attempts, he settled on a few garments, and hoped that Emma didn’t have nearly as much trouble with whatever Anna or Elsa cooked up.

Killian heard her protests behind the door as he adjusted the neck of the damned clothing that this world had made popular. Anything called a 'turtleneck’ shouldn’t be a mainstream garment, but here he was wearing one in black, tucked into charcoal and blue checkered linen trousers with a matching 'sport’ coat. Plaid, was the word for it, the saleswoman had informed him of its pattern name, completely flustered by him when he walked out from the dressing room with it on in the shop; his hope that this would be inconspicuous was already in question.

Emma protested loudly again, and he heard Elsa and Anna laugh brightly while Ingrid made clucking sounds with her tongue.

Stepping closer, Killian tried to separate their voices.

“There’s nothing -” Emma stammered, her voice high and wavering.

Elsa soothed back, voice dangerously sugary, her preferred way of convincing a customer to try a new dessert. “That’s the style. It’s Modernist, all the rage in the cities.”

“My legs! - and arms! No, no way Elsa, and these tall slippers are -"

"Heels, Emma, they’re heels ,” Anna supplied. “You look amazing, and I mean it. In this realm, this is a deal maker and what the women wear out -"

"There is nothing to this! I can’t possibly convince someone to ally with me wearing -"

"Oh, you’d be surprised. I almost put you in my go-go boots before deciding on the heels. And it will get you inside, which is what matters. If you have to, you can find more clothing. Plus, Ingrid did some light enchantment work on your bag. Your sword is in there should you need it, and I put in some hair pins and lipstick,” Elsa said matter of factly. “Now then. Come on, let’s get one last look at you -"

There was movement behind the door again, along with more protests, before the door swung wide open in front of Killian - much to his surprise and Emma’s shock to see him waiting.

Emma stood at his height, or maybe just below, dark kohl lining her eyes and making them look like cut emeralds in their sharpness, contrasted with a soft pink color on her cheeks and lips. Her hair was pinned up loosely and messily gathered in the back, strands pulled loose over her shoulders and by her temples, the ends falling on the simply cut blue of the dress she wore. Strange slipper sandals with impractical straps climbed just above her ankles, the heel far too high for any sort of work, and she wobbled dangerously in unsteady excitement. A sharp 'V’ in the fabric neck of the blue dress let her collarbones brazenly peek out with the top of her breasts, no corset or undergarment evident, with a dropped waist that slightly flared out to end abruptly at her thighs, showing off long legs that seemed to never end. Her shoulders were bare as well, sun-kissed skin everywhere on display as she tried to pull the fabric down with one nervous hand.

Focus! What is wrong with you?

The Darkness was ignored and unheard. Killian found himself unable to speak for a long moment as Emma’s cheeks reddened deeply, the flush spreading down her chest so quickly he could follow its path, making his mouth dry.

"I can’t leave in this if he is going to make faces and mock me the whole time -” Emma began, growing even more flustered when the other three women burst into peals of laughter. “Please, there has to be a longer gown than this -"

Killian cleared his throat, unsure if he would be able to speak without his voice cracking, leveling a glare at Elsa. "I agree. This - this won’t work. She needs to be able to move, to not stand out -"

Mumbling something, a flash of magic caught Emma’s shoes with a silvery hue. "There. Stability charm.” Ingrid nodded. “High boots were all the rage in the Court for some time. This charm saved my neck before. You should be just fine now.”

“As for moving and standing out,” Elsa purred, holding Emma’s shoulders and giving Killian a salacious look of amusement, “the charm and her bag should be just fine for any trouble you may run into. She’d stand out if she didn’t wear something trendy, especially with it being such a warm spring. Or are you implying that Emma stands out for another reason?"

The air crackled between them, the bait in Elsa’s questioning apparent to everyone but Emma, who looked perplexed.

"Killian, I don’t like it either. I can find something in their closet that is -” Emma began, reaching her hand towards him. He flinched away, Elsa giggling once more before Anna gave her a sharp pinch. Even the Darkness stayed quietly observant, as unsteady and unaware as Emma in this regard.

Killian scrubbed a hand over his face furiously, giving them all a thin smile. “No, no, Elsa knows best about these things. Come on then, shall we? I don’t want her getting any more bright ideas .” Emma stepped around him, looking back confused as she stepped down the stairs to head outside, all of them giving her encouraging looks. When she was out of reach, Ingrid simply shrugged and excused herself, while Elsa grinned widely. Shaking her head, Anna watched bemusedly as Killian mouthed he was going to kill them, and Elsa mouthed back Good luck .

Emma waited for him on the terrace, glowing softly in the star light, bag clutched tightly in hand. She bit her lip, anxiety written across her face.

“We don’t have to do this, love. If you aren’t ready, that is. We can train longer, work our way up to this, or have them meet under other circumstances.” His whispered attempt at reassurance fell flat to his own ears, so it was no surprise when she shook her head.

“I’m done waiting. I can’t wait any longer; every day that passes means it’s more likely that…” Emma looked down, taking a deep breath. “Let us be done with this.”

“Aye.” Offering his hand, she slipped her own palm against his and curled her fingers to rest interwoven with his. They took a step together and were gone.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Emma was unprepared for the combined smell of too many people, urine, and acrid smoke when they landed on the strange hard ground that made her teeth rattle at the impact. She gripped Killian tightly, resting her head against his chest as his jacket fluttered against her cheek in the wind and he let his arms hover inches away from her before lowering them to his side.

“Princess?” he asked gruffly and she sighed, pulling away to steady herself on her own.

Emma pressed a finger to her temple; there was another beat that came through the ground, far more unsteady as it rose up. The thumping noise made her feel off kilter. “Sorry,” she murmured, looking around.

Across the street, lights swung back and forth, lighting in different colors and patterns to what Emma was now realizing was a beat. She stepped towards it and saw a line of people waiting near a single entrance, strange words swimming across a black panel of lights. People jostled her as she tried to get closer to read what the lights said, but it looked like they were in a different language. She looked for Killian to ask, but he was nowhere in sight.

A blaring noise came from her left, two large lights approaching quickly, too fast for her to stop. What was this beast -

Hands pulled her roughly back onto the crowded walkway, a pair of blue eyes under wildly curled blonde hair incredulously staring at her.

“Are you trying to get killed, lady?” the other woman hissed. Emma blinked, staring at her. “Watch where you walk, okay? You’re going to get flattened by these asshole drivers if you don’t. Your boyfriend there should have warned you."

Killian came into view, staring at both of them with annoyance.

"Bloody hell, Emma, I looked up for two seconds and you were gone -"

"And in the middle of the street, looking up,” the stranger pointed out.

“And in the middle of the street looking up, at gods know what -"

"Where I saved her from a car hitting her,” the stranger added again.

“Where she saved you from - Bloody brilliant, you almost got hit by a motorized contraption. Taking you to the city was an awful idea, I should have - ugh. Because that’s just a bloody brilliant way of making mates -"

"So this isn’t your boyfriend then. This is your father?” the strange woman questioned, and Emma felt her cheeks flush deeply, Killian looking at both of them in disgust.

Emma tried to stammer out a few nos, but not before Killian supplied something suspiciously sounding like 'bugger all’.

“If he’s some sort of sugar daddy, that’s fine too, no judgements. It’s the 60s babe, free love and love free, ya know? Just making sure he’s with you, should be watching a pretty lady like you -"

"She’s nothing to me,” Killian stated harshly. Emma sucked in a breath, but the stranger only shrugged unperturbed.

“Right then. I’m Alice. Since I saved your, er, nothing person here, if you happen to be heading into the Never, do you think I can get in with you? You both look very posh I must say.” Alice said, giving Emma a little spin. “M'own not 'nothing person’, we call them a girlfriend, is in there somewhere. I haven’t seen her in weeks, and she hasn’t been home or to the usual or unusual places. You catch my drift?"

"Yes, we’ll get you in!” Emma replied, laughing lightly.

At the same time, Killian issued a firm, “No."

Alice sighed deeply. "I hate to beg, but I will. Please. Her stage name is Cheshire, but her real name is Robyn. I’m desperate."

Emma looked at Killian, her eyes pleading. He shook his head, crossing his arms. "Absolutely not. You’ve already almost died out here; we’re getting in and out of here as quickly as possible without any more of your nonsense. Now come on.”

Pulling Emma’s arm roughly and walking across the street as the cars stopped one by one, Alice scrambled to follow. The line parted around them, leading to two large guards at the door with name tags on their bulky, overly large black suits: T. Dee one stated, the other T. Dum . Emma wondered how two different people could look so entirely like each other, and be so vastly but unnameably different.

“We’re on the list,” Killian gritted through his teeth, the noise and heavy beats of the music making it difficult to hear. “KJ and E.”

Alice tugged on Emma’s bag gently, pointing out the marquee above, the black banner with its blinking lights. “It says in Greek, 'Θαύμα Ποτέ Νησί’. Never Worry Land. Never Wonder Land.”

Despite the heat of the evening, a chill ran up Emma’s spine.

“Yep. Yer right here,” one of the men said, pulling aside a red velvet rope while the other opened a door for them.

Squaring her shoulders, Emma spoke as firmly and loudly as she could. “She’s with us too,” nodding at Alice. The woman’s eyes went wide, and the guards at the door narrowed their squinting glares. Killian’s nails bit into her flesh until the two guards looked at each other and shrugged, letting them all enter.

Past the entrance, Alice launched herself at Emma, laughing and crying at the same time. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, you beautiful woman. I - we, me and Bynni, we owe you.” She turned to Killian and stared at him, almost like she could see right through him. “We owe you too, so consider this: be nicer to her. Μπορεί ακόμα να σας σώσει."

Killian bristled, letting go of Emma in contempt. The inside of the club was dark, but the bars and dance floor shone with bright and strange combinations of lights, sound, and color. Women writhed in cages that moved around the large dance floor, the size of which was comparable to a small ballroom.

Elsa had been right about her attire. If anything, Emma was modestly dressed compared to the strips of fabric some of the women were wearing, hips and buttocks on complete display as they undulated. Killian motioned for her to listen, and she peeled her eyes away to regard his face.

"No more bullshit, Emma. You have to listen now.” She nodded, and Killian seemed to relax more, staring at their surroundings. “I have to find our contact, Tink. She said she would be at the far end of the dance floor, so stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Yes sir. No more disobedience.” Emma gave a mock salute and he bristled even more.

“Just stay here, look pretty, and act nice. You know,” Killian smirked and let his anger volley in a faux sympathetic tone. “What you’re good at.” Emma looked as if she’d been struck, and he smiled a pitying grin, her glare following him.

He made it a few steps away before returning, remembering his dire warning. “This is the most important thing, I almost forgot.” His voice was deadly serious in contrast to the smug sarcasm he had just displayed. “Do not drink or eat anything they give you. Not a morsel. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded, and Killian raced off towards the dance floor.

The music of the club was overwhelming, thrumming through her body. She watched Killian disappear into the mass of people, heading towards a raised platform with large speakers on either side. A woman stood, raising her hand with a strange ear warming device on her head, a short green dress that was covered in glitter fitted to her like a second skin.

Killian had instructed her to stay where she was, so she leaned against a tall chrome stool watching everything with interest. A man with a saccharine smile grinned at her from behind the counter, the walls behind him filled with various colored bottles of spirits. He seemed too young to be there, a child-like mischief behind his smile, but one marked with a strangely malicious intent. Emma shivered. She didn’t like the way the man’s eyes gleamed as he looked at her with that same look that pricked at a familiar uneasiness.

“Can I get you a drink, Miss?” he said, and his voice was like sweet cream. “On the house.” She didn’t see him make any movement, but a drink suddenly appeared in front of her. It smelled of vanilla, strawberries, honey, and sugared plums. Killian’s warning played over in her head.

Do not drink or eat anything they give you.

A tag was on the bottom of the drink. Had that been there before? She pulled it between her fingers, almost upsetting the martini glass. A picture of two rabbits sitting on a flower bed while toasting drinks was etched on the yellowing paper, inky ornate cursive flowing along the bottom. Drink Me . Strangely, if she put the tag down, the image from afar looked like something else entirely but her brain could not place what.

Emma put it down and went to move away when a gaggle of women pulled her to the dance floor. Emma was spun, twirled, and swallowed by the dancing crowd. The music had changed, moving through her body like a delicious current. Her dress suddenly made sense - everything was hot and slick, the scrap of a dress almost too much fabric on her skin now. In front of her, a pair of brown eyes met hers, and a woman ground against her, gyrating her hips into Emma’s to the beat of the music. Hands behind Emma grasped her hips, and another woman, a redhead with dull gray eyes stroked up and down her sides. Emma felt overcome, the movements overwhelming. Swaying slightly, she tried to press through the crowd and back to the bar, but could not move through the group that seemed to only knit tighter around her.

The world twisted again, and a muscular, lean, dark skinned man grabbed her in a dip, hands low on her thigh as he brought her leg up in the air. Pulling her close again, they spun in an elaborate tango before he twirled her into a tanned blonde man that made a cat-like purring noise, the dancers around Emma moving closer and making movements that left her breathless. Martinis were being passed again, tags being thrown in the air and raining down on sweaty skin. A waiter with the same gleaming eyes as the man behind the counter smiled that same saccharine smile that belied something dark just below the surface.

“Try a drink, Miss.” He had the exact same voice as the other man, and she backed away. “Just a sip, they’re delicious.”

Emma refused again, now pushing against the flow of the throng of writhing bodies. Another group of women pulled her into a grind, the pressure intense, their hands roaming free on her body. Everything felt deliciously good, and she forgot why she was so frightened before as soft, gloss covered lips kissed a trail down her neck. Behind her, two women touched trails down her sides with rough finger pads, one gently tugging her hair, the other alternating small nibbles on her ear lobe while running nails down her exposed shoulder. They were all whispering at once, and Emma’s mouth was so dry.

“Have a drink, try a sip. Drink it, it tastes amazing!”

Emma’s knees went weak as it felt like thousands of hands were on her, stroking her in exquisite torture. Scratchy moans turned to whispers and breathless gasps of the same words.

“Have a drink.”

Pleasure coursed through her body as Emma rolled her body and spun to the music. Her head was blessedly empty, she had no worries, and what would one drink do? It couldn’t hurt; Killian wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy, so it very well could be she should drink it.

Something in her mind wriggled, and she realized that her eyes were closed. She opened them to see Killian struggling to get to her, Alice with him looking horrified as he tried reaching out his hand and shouting words that she couldn’t hear over the music.

The dagger around her neck glinted, reflecting the bright lights that littered the ceiling. Light hit a dancer, the redhead with the dull eyes, and to her growing terror, Emma saw that the woman was falling apart. A skeleton with dripping remnants of flesh jumped with the crowd and ground her hips with a decaying man. Bodies pushed hard against her as she tried to reach for Killian. She saw more of the waiters giving out drinks, the liquid sloshing in their glasses. The redhead threw back a martini after clinking it against the decaying man’s glass, and suddenly they were young again. Emma screamed but could not be heard over the din.

Killian tried to grasp her outstretched hand, fingers barely touching her own, but several of the suited waiters were surrounding her. The man behind the counter held out a drink, and with the illusion broken, she could see the viscous, bile yellow drink in the glass, noting the sour smell it permeated the air with. Emma couldn’t hear anything but the music and the chanting of the men with their gleaming eyes, the same four words somehow superimposed over the music.

“Have a drink, Miss.” One of the waiters tilted her head back, another held her arms, a set anchored each leg, and one secured her jaw open. Killian tried to fight to reach her, but the crowd clawed at him from every angle.

“Lost Boys! Leave her!”

The man behind the counter smiled as recognition dawned on Emma, her panicked noises swallowed by the song.

The yellow liquid poured down her throat, and as soon as the glass was empty she could hear the moans and screams of agony in the music’s shrill tones. Her body felt tired, leaden, and the room spun as she felt what could only be described as a thread being cut in her solar plexus. A force pushed her deep into her mind, swimming through darkness towards a small window of sight, watching her entire body move under someone else’s control.

A low, oily, familiar, voice spoke from the depths of the darkness. “Emma? How amusing, it feels like ages since you and I last spoke!” It laughed, and through the window of what should have been her eyes, she watched erratic movement that must be dancing. She could now see the truth of what this place was, the glamour lost as some strange magic controlled her. “Well Emma, you’re mine now. A Lost Girl, one of Pann’s very own menagerie.”

A memory swam through her mind.

Granny had told her grandchild legends to scare her into bed at night. Granny would never deign to tell such tales in front of Emma, but Ruby on the other hand was happy to oblige. When they snuck out at night and drank honeyed wine on a secluded balcony, Ruby would try to scare her with the stories of the olden times.

“So then Granny said,” Ruby hiccuped softly, “that the Fae that got banished, they used to make these circles.” She swayed, making a circle in the air with her finger. Emma was warm and felt herself swaying in the warm winds, looking out over the orchard below. “They made ‘em out of mushrooms, and if a human walked through one, BAM!” She clapped her hands together, and Emma jumped with a giggle. “Part of their collection. The magic would catch the human, and they’d dance forever - you’d see these Fae with humans following falling apart, cursed to dance until they were dust.” She wiggled her fingers for added emphasis, and Emma laughed along with her, imagining a skeleton trying to dance.

Here in this otherworldly place, humans, creatures, and Fae came to dance under the lights, surrounded by walls painted in strange runes; they came like flies to a glittering spider’s web, eager to be trapped. Dancing without end in pure pleasure, extending their lives as their bodies rotted then renewed again. Forever lost, Lost Boys and Girls for eternity.

Emma could still feel sensation, but as if through layers of thick wool. Something sticky and wet touched her as she spun, and she felt bony fingers grab her wrist. As if commanded, she looked out to see a skeletal figure gripping her, both of them swaying to the beat. It downed a passed martini glass, becoming a heart faced brunette with glazed eyes, her fingers once again soft on Emma’s wrist. She mumbled quietly, and Emma strained to hear what her own voice repeated back.

"Have a drink. Have a drink. Just one. Have a drink.”

Pann’s laughter was all around, almost overpowering the sensation of Killian’s arms dragging her away and fighting to free her from the throng. Nails were sharp, blows against them both coming from all sides as Killian pulled her to a door, her purse tight against her, spilling hair pins that he picked up and bent with his mouth. Jamming the pin inside the door’s lock, it took a few wiggles before the door knob turned, the crowd pressing the door closed as Killian held her in the darkened stairwell that lay behind it.

Emma willed her body to move, only to feel sharp zaps of electric fire race through her, making her shake from the exertion. The only thing she wanted was to go back to the crowd, to drink and dance, her mind fuzzy and warm like a favorite blanket. She couldn’t hear Killian’s frustrated yelling, or feel how he had to grip her shoulders; she only saw his eyes staring at hers in sharp focus as if she had woken from the deepest sleep.

His hair was askew and his suit was ripped on the shoulder, the sleeve dangling slightly, but Emma could only fixate on the blood that dribbled from his lip. Another long rivulet trailed from his forehead and fell between his eyes. It was closer to the right side as he faced her, one of her trembling hands twitching up to smooth the lines of worry away -

Emma fell back, her body convulsing violently with the same electrical shocks of pain she had felt before, closing her eyes in an attempt to keep the voice out of her head.

“Now now, don’t make a fuss, Princess. You are such a prize, I’m so happy you could join my collection instead of someone else’s. The whole United Realms is looking for you! It seems that the Goblin prince is quite taken by your beauty.”

It was like nails on a chalkboard, someone screaming and clawing at her face while Pann laughed. Behind it, Emma felt her weight being pulled, a voice she begrudgingly trusted whispering not to panic.

“Let go. Let go, I’ve got you. Don’t fight it, just rest,” Killian repeated, dragging her body upwards.

Pann’s laugh quieted while Emma faded away, her eyes open and glassy, the world going golden for a brief moment, then dark.

#Hallow #Courtorderedcake #CSSNS #CSSNS 2019 #Captain Swan #Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

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