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thejollyroger-writer · 2 years

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where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles (part 3 of 4)

Summary: British soldier Killian Jones is nursing his sick brother back to health in the middle of the coldest winter the Pennsylvania countryside has ever seen, and in the middle of a war he never wanted to be a part of. Emma Swan has found herself surrounded by American soldiers who have taken over the family farm in Valley Forge, but the biggest change in her life comes from a young British soldier she meets delivering extra rations. Will they give into the temptations of their hearts, or decide that the chance of unrequited love is not worth the dare of being branded a traitor?

Title from Robert Browning’s “Love Among the Ruins,” 1855. Written for @cshistfic and my forever cheerleader @shireness-says, who made her dream event a reality. Thanks to @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @profdanglaisstuff and @kmomof4 for being excited enough about this to make it happen. 💕

part one on AO3 / on tumblr

part two on AO3

"And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve Smiles to leave To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece In such peace, And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey Melt away— That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair Waits me there" - Robert Browning

It’s not unusual for Ruby to show up at the door of their cabin; she is the only one who knows where they are, has been supplying them with food every once in a while. She has a feeling that David also knows where they are — the secluded cabin was his father’s, though he swore never to return to it. For weeks, their only connection to life outside their cabin is Ruby, with letters from Mary Margaret tucked into the bottom of her basket.

So, when there’s a soft knock at the door on unseasonably warm early March morning, the very last thing Emma expects to see is Mary Margaret, her swollen belly due any day now, and her eyes red from crying, clutching tightly to Ruby’s arm.

“Mary,” she whispers, pulling her sister-in-law — her best friend — in for a hug after the moment it takes her brain to catch up. “What are you doing here?”

“You know I wouldn’t have done this if it weren’t an emergency,” Ruby replies, ushering them into the cabin.

It’s small, just enough for her and Killian to survive comfortably, a whole house crammed into a single room, but their two guests suddenly make it obvious just how small the cabin is.

Ruby’s words make Emma think the worst, her heart sinking in her chest as she watches them sit at the table, Mary Margaret’s eyes finding Killian, standing wordlessly at the stove.

“So you’re the reason my best friend disappeared,” she says. It’s not a question.

He nods. This isn’t his place to speak, and he knows it.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Emma says, her throat already dry. There is only one thing that would send Mary Margaret all the way out here in her state, and Emma can sense the words before they leave Ruby’s lips, a nod from Mary Margaret telling her to speak.

“David’s been killed.”

Her whole world seems to crumble from beneath her, head spinning as she tries to keep her feet on the ground. She has no words, and is unsure that she could speak even if she wanted to.

“How?” Killian asks, his voice sounding much further away than she knows him to be.

“I need your help, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, avoiding Killian’s question. “Please. I can’t do this alone. I need you to come home”

There’s no argument in her, nothing can be said that will change her mind. She has to go back.

And he can not go back with her. She knows it.

He knows it.

The air in the room is thick with the knowledge.

Home . Where is home anymore? She would have sworn that it became this very cabin, that it became any place she could be with Killian, but when the word leaves Mary Margaret’s lips, she knows that the farm will always be her home, no matter what.

“Of course,” she whispers, turning to meet Killian’s eyes. “Can we… have a few minutes?”

She fully anticipates the No , hearing it in David’s voice — which only makes Ruby’s “Of course, Em,” hurt all the more.

Neither of them move, frozen in their spots as Ruby and Mary Margaret move back through their door. The clock on the mantle over the fireplace ticks in the silent air, much slower than Emma’s pounding heart.

“You have to go,” he says, still leaning against the kitchen workspace.

She swallows, fingers gripping the edge of their dining room table. “Yes.”

“I can’t… I don’t want to stay here without you.”

“I cannot tell you what to do.”

“I love you.”

She sighs, her whole body shaking on the exhale. It is not the first time the words have been spoken under this roof, their feelings for each other quite obvious after giving up the rest of their lives to be together. In all definitions save the religious, they are married, have been together physically multiple times; perhaps in other situations, he would be able to return to the homestead with her as her husband, or at least her betrothed.

But that is not the situation they find themselves in, a fact they are both aware of.

Finally, she finds the strength to stand, closing the space between them just enough to touch him, though she does not. She holds her hands at her side, fingers squeezed into fists. “What are you going to do?”

He laughs out a single breath, shaking his head. In the ten weeks they have been together, his dark beard has grown thicker, stubble covering his chin, somehow making the sparkle in his blue eyes all the brighter. He has grown into the habit of running his fingers through the hair on his face, scratching along his jawline, and that is what he does now.

“All I can do is go back to camp and hope that my brother keeps me from scandal. From death.” After all she has heard about the elder Jones brother, plus the few moments she knew him once he regained consciousness, she has no doubt that Liam will do anything to save his brother’s life, even if he has been missing from their camp for ten weeks.

“I will write to you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, Killian!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air. All at once, she feels all the emotion that she has been holding in — fear, anger, despair, grief — and she crumbles against his chest, searching for solace in the one place she has been able to find it recently. She chokes out a sob, finally allowing her tears to fall. “All I know is I cannot lose you.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, losing himself in the scent of her tresses, lovingly washed by his hands just the night before. “They are waiting for you,” he says finally, his hands gently pushing her hips away from him.

It is not goodbye, but feels just as final, and they share one last kiss before she closes the door of the small cabin that has become their home, not knowing the next time she will see the man she has loved since the first time they met.

But she is needed elsewhere, and for now, that is more important.

She expected a bit of a mess. A few piles of papers on the desk, maybe an old tea mug or two.

She did not expect the whirlwind of papers strewn about the small study, looking as if a tornado ran right through the middle of the house.

“What the hell happened here?” she asks aloud, though she is alone in the room.

“Sorry my organization strategy doesn’t fit your standards,” a voice from the darkened corner of the room says, making her jump. For a moment, she contemplates crying out, as she recognizes the figure in the corner as none other than her recently-deceased brother — but when she steps out of the shadows, revealing his pristinely-tied cravat, embroidered waistcoat, and knee-length jacket, she knows it is not David; it is his twin brother, their only other sibling. Sure, she hadn’t seen James for almost ten years, but she recognized the differences between him and David immediately.

“Hello, brother.”

He bows slightly, barely noticeable in the low light of the study. “Emma.”

“You’re here for the funeral, no doubt?” she asks, trying to keep her contempt towards her brother out of her voice. Along with the other differences in their personalities, James was always much colder to her than David, separating himself from his other siblings as often as possible.

And moving far from their farm as soon as he could, attending a prestigious college in New York City on the hard-earned dime of their parents. He left the day after he turned eighteen, almost ten years ago.

“And to take over my duties as the head of household.”

Had she not just placed the pile of papers in her hands on the desk, they would have fallen to the floor. She feels her stomach flip, but tries to calm it with a swallow. “Yes, of course,” she replies, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

But she can tell that he recognizes the sheer shock written on her face. It’s a look that he became familiar with during their childhood, always going out of his way to scare her, to upset her. Just as he has done now.

“Let me know if I can assist you as I did with David.” And with a small curtsey, she leaves the room.

It’s not very often anymore that Emma finds herself lucky. Over the past three days, her entire life has crumbled around her, losing her brother and having to leave behind the man who still holds her heart.

But James has gone to town to call on the casket makers, leaving Emma to cover the duties as head of the estate. Which, today, includes responding to a small pile of correspondence left ignored by James, some delivered that morning.

Today, she is lucky to be covering James’ duties; otherwise, she would have missed a letter she knows is for her, written in a script that she would now recognize anywhere.

Swan Household

Head of Staff

What a clever man. He had no way of knowing who would be placed as their head of household; even she did not expect James to return home. But he remembered her technical title, given to her to be able to receive funds from David — the very same funds that covered them while they were at the cabin.

Her hands are shaking as she pulls at the seal, hoping that it bears good news, even with how short it is.

I once again thank you for the generosity of bringing me into your home to recover from the effects of getting lost in the storm before Christmas. If not for your assistance, I surely would have met my death on the snowy hillside. I wanted to assure you and the rest of the staff that I was safely able to return to my camp and to my duties as a soldier.

Though I cannot be thankful for the war that brought me to this continent, I am thankful for the time I was able to spend in your care. Perhaps if more households were as caring and understanding as yours, we would no longer need to fight senseless wars.

I wish you peace and prosperity for your upcoming harvest months, and am eternally grateful.

-Killian Jones

Setting the parchment back down on the desk, she smiles, even as tears begin to form in her eyes. She misses him with every piece of her being, misses the way he smiles at her over his tea cup, his warmth in the middle of the night, his fingers as he washed her hair. That they were only able to spend a few short weeks in blissful happiness was immensely unfair, though she would never have left him for anything less important. She is thankful for his letter nonetheless, ensuring her that he returned to camp safely, even deceptively. She blinks, a tear falling down her cheek, and when she opens her eyes, she focuses on his name for a moment. Killian Jones , the man she loves. The man who, in any other life, any other circumstance, she would surely already be married to.

But life is unfair, a fact that she is reminded of as her eyes move from his name on the parchment to the piles of other unopened correspondence on the desk. This life is unfair, but she has other responsibilities beyond sitting in David’s office and grieving for her broken heart. Grieving for what her life could have been.

She has a life here, and right now, that life needs her more than ever.

The morning of the funeral delivers a cold and dreary late winter day. A handful of guests arrive throughout the morning, all acquaintances of David’s, many of them merchants and farmers themselves. Each of them introduces themselves to James, knowing that he will be taking over the farm operations.

The only reply James gives any of them is a small bow of the head.

The dreary weather only matches the dreary feeling of being inside the house, the windows and mirrors covered with mourning fabric. Unprompted, many of their guests begin sharing lighthearted stories about David — how he spared a few coins when they were needed, how he would help deliver groceries when he went into town and was always available to anyone who needed his help.

With each new story, Mary Margaret falls deeper into despair, flanked by Emma and Ruby the entire day. She is, understandably, inconsolable, tears only falling harder as the evening passes. She pauses only to take a few small bites of the biscuit and jam Emma shares with her. Not long after, she excuses herself, waving both her companions away as she leaves the room.

Complete silence falls upon the room for the first time that day. Though a few of their guests have left for the evening, many still remain, faces Emma recognizes from the few times she was able to accompany David into the town, or was sent with Ruby. She smiles briefly at the baker, a greying man seated on their sofa, his young son asleep in his arms; beside him sits the owner of the closest dairy farm, the only animal their farm has not gained over the last few years. The seamstress that made Mary Margaret’s wedding dress; the journalist who wrote David’s death notice, seemingly taking notes for another article.

Emma cannot help but wonder what the papers will say about the future of their farm, about the lost brother returning home — and sharing his unhappiness about it with anyone that will listen.

Her fears only grow when the journalist — Isaac, she thinks his name is — fills the silence with a question she’s been avoiding for the last few days: “So, Mister Swan, what are your plans for the future of your family’s homestead?”

His eyes flick momentarily to Emma’s, holding a look that she remembers well from their childhood, one that sends a frozen chill down her spine. It’s the same look he used to give her before tattling on her, before getting her in trouble with their parents. “I’m so glad you asked, Mister Heller,” he replies. “I do not intend to pack up my life in New York and move back here, if that is your question. In fact, if neither my sister or sister-in-law can secure a new head of household in the next six months through marriage, I intend to put the whole estate up for auction.”

Not for the first time of late, Emma finds herself nauseated, her stomach turning at her brother’s words. If she was not already sitting, she may have fainted, or at least lost her footing.

Through marriage… the whole estate. He expects one of them to marry in the next two months — surely he must be joking. He cannot expect Mary Margaret to marry so soon after the death of her husband; she knows that he expects it only of her.

“A very sensible plan,” the journalist responds, marking down notes with his charcoal pencil.

Emma can’t help but disagree.

Killian cannot believe she really wrote him back — but, at the same time, of course she did, has learned that she is nothing if not stubborn. The swooping letters on the page make his heart pound, remembering the delicate hands that wrote them, the way her fingers fit perfectly into his, how they would card through his hair as she sat staring at him, as if in awe of his very existence. He swallows, avoiding any deeper thoughts that would give him away, and turns his eyes down to the parchment in his hands.

Mr. Jones,

The rest of the staff and I were happy to hear that you have successfully returned to your camp, and that you remain in good health. With the tragic death of our head of household, his twin brother has begun the search for a replacement, hoping that one of the ladies of the household will be willing to marry in order to keep the farm. Needless to say, things are a little chaotic, not to mention up in the air, here. The sooner this war ends and gives us one less thing to worry about, the better.

Best of luck in your future endeavors.

E. Swan

He reads it once, twice, again, trying to figure out exactly what her words mean. Surely this twin brother — which Killian did not even know existed — was not really expecting one of the ladies to marry, especially not his mourning sister-in-law.

Oh, Emma, he thinks, his heart sinking into his stomach. In another life, he would have happily taken that offer, spending the rest of his days with the woman he holds most dear in order for her family to keep their farmland.

In another life. A life that he does not find himself in, he is cruelly reminded when Liam enters their shared tent.

“Pack your things, brother,” he says, beginning to do just that.

“Why?” he asks, dropping the letter on his lap. “What is happening?”

“We’ve been ordered to move west, and to do it quickly. There’s rumor of a storm moving this way and the captain wants to be clear of it before the rain hits. Orders are to pack up as quickly as possible and be ready to move before nightfall.”

Jumping to his feet, he tucks Emma’s letter into the breast pocket inside his jacket and begins to organize his few belongings back into his pack.

Emma already thought she knew heartbreak, having to leave behind her sweetheart to take over the responsibilities of her brother. She thought she knew heartbreak when she watched them lower his casket into the ground, right beside where she watched them lower first their father, then their mother, years before. She even thought she knew heartbreak when James declared in front of the entire village that the only way they will keep the farm is if she marries in the next six months.

But writing to Killian, replying to the letter he sent, and failing to receive a response after three weeks, hurts more than everything else combined.

Especially as her symptoms grow worse, the same symptoms she recognized in her sister-in-law less than nine months before, and she can no longer avoid them. She is thankful to have Granny on their homestead (more thankful than usual), knowing the woman also includes being a midwife in her history. She measures Emma’s stomach, asks her when the earliest she could have gotten pregnant could have been.

“New Years’ Eve,” she tells her, trying to keep herself from blushing remembering the evening — the excitement, the nervousness, the promises whispered in the darkness of their shared bed, the flickering of a single candle still lit to allow her to see his face.

Granny hums, looking down at the measuring tape in her hands before turning back to Emma and nodding. “You’re barely showing yet, but I would say it wasn’t long after that. Eight or nine weeks.”

That night, she does not even try to stop the flow of tears, curled up under the blankets in the coldness of her own room. She misses him immensely, wishes that he would just write back to her, even just to confirm that he is still alive. She knows there is no way to tell him that she is carrying their child, a being made by their love — and exactly the worst case scenario that David was trying to avoid when she introduced her to Neal. Tears come, puddling on her cheeks, dampening her pillow case.

James gave her six months, but if she is going to marry without their knowledge of her current state, it’s going to have to be much sooner than that.

Other interested parties: @thisonesatellite @a-faekindagirl @lfh1226-linda @pirateprincessofpizza @gingerchangeling @kmomof4 @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @ultraluckycatnd

#cshistfic #captain swan #cs ff #my writing #cs hist fic #cs fic #historical au #heartbreaking chapter #sorry yall #but like #not really

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montygreen · 2 years

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10 and 12 😘

Cori, I love you <3333

10. What’s a fanwork that made you cry? Honestly? None. And that's not an insult to any sort of fanworks, I'm just not a crier at any sort of media (ever.) Even really sad movies and books haven't made me cry unless I've already been in an extremely emotionally compromised state, but on a normal day, nothing fictional has made me cry. (Even though I've read some of the most phenomenal pieces of writing and seen the most phenomenal art.) I suppose the closest I've gotten is I've definitely gotten a bit misty eyed when people (you included!) have put lines from my fics on gifsets.

12. What’s a fanwork that changed how you view canon? You mean something other than every ben and devi fic you've written?? I mean, for me the jean jacket fic is straight up canon, I don't care what the show says, that masterpiece happened/will happen.

For a non-NHIE example, I remember reading this piece of meta for OFMD by @profdanglaisstuff about Ed not thinking Stede abandoned him, but thinking he died, and how all his actions in 1.10 could be explained as grief, not just heartbreak at being abandoned, it was just so well thought out and made so much sense that I'm honestly convinced that that's actually canonically what happened now. Also, definitely a piece of OFMD meta I read about the black cravat (I can't remember who wrote that one), but that's definitely influenced/changed the way I view canon too.

#catty-words #leila answers #i was gonna try and keep my answers constrained to nhie for you cori but my brainrot is too strong i apologize

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kmomof4 · 2 years

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And Giving Walsh What HE Deserves

Yesterday @lonelyspectator12 shared a video in the CSMM discord from ER of Luka beating up an abusive husband and asked if we couldn’t see Killian doing the same. The answer, of course, was a resounding YES! And when I mentioned writing it, I got a resounding DO IT! So here we are. I’m tagging this as CS fan fiction even though Emma barely appears in it. This is just a beatdown between protective Killian and asshole Walsh, hence the similarity in title to Neal’s beatdown in ch3 of this collection. Hope you enjoy!

Rating: M for violence and alluding to domestic abuse

Words: 702

Tags: Protective Killian, Asshole Walsh, TW Alludes to Domestic Abuse

On AO3 as part of my Prompts and Drabbles Collection.

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @the-darkdragonfly @batana54 @purplehawkcaptain @k-leemac @motherkatereloyshipper @apiratewhopines @killiansqueenofthejollyroger @onceuponahookandswan @meat-pie-with-sauce @cosette141 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @fleurdepetite @hookmecaptain @o-wild-west-wind

Killian Jones stormed through the front door of the dive bar and immediately zeroed in on Emma’s loser boyfriend, Walsh, who was in the middle of a game of pool. His eyes widened as he looked beyond the cue ball to where Killian was cutting a path through the crowd toward the table.

“I got no problem with you,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “I got no problem with you.” Louder this time as he stood from his place, his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender, he moved so the pool table was between Killian and himself.

Killian growled in response. “You’ve got no problem with me, but you have a problem with Emma?” His blood boiled. He was going to make the bastard pay for what he’d done to Emma sometime between last night when they’d all parted ways after a night out with friends, and this afternoon when Killian went over after Emma called him canceling their movie night. Something in her voice didn’t sound quite right, so even after she told him she was fine and was just too tired for their plans, he had gone over to check on her, to see if she was getting sick or something. He found her huddled under her quilt sound asleep, her gorgeous face sporting several fresh bruises. Killian took a deep breath to bring his fury under control and left as silently as he’d come, determined to find Walsh and make him pay.

Things hadn’t been great between Emma and Walsh the last month or so. Killian could see glimpses of possessive and abusive behavior toward Emma that had him watching Walsh closer than ever. He’d never liked the man, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he himself was crazy about Emma. Something about Walsh just set his teeth on edge. His smarmy sarcasm disguised as humor grated on Killian’s nerves and made it very difficult to enjoy himself whenever Walsh accompanied their friend group out for an evening. But the subtle condescension and arrogance that usually characterized the man was nowhere to be seen in Walsh’s eyes now.

Killian stopped at the edge of the pool table, Walsh opposite him. If Killian moved right, Walsh did the same, staying as far out of Killian’s reach as possible. Killian bared his teeth as Walsh started to babble senselessly.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear! Please, Killian! I’m sorry!”

“Oh, so the three different bruises on her face weren’t from you? Really?” Killian stood up straight and rubbed his chin, his gaze never leaving the sniveling and begging man across from him. “Hmmm, I wonder where they came from then?” Walsh let out a nervous chuckle at Killian’s newly casual demeanor. Seeing his chance, Killian leapt toward him. Caught completely off guard, Walsh stumbled, falling against the pool table and holding out his arms in a futile defense.

“I lost my temper! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“Oh, you lost your temper, Walsh?” Killian’s fist connected with Walsh’s nose, blood spurting everywhere. “Oh, I’m sorry, Walsh! I lost my temper!” Killian grabbed him by the front of the shirt and raised him up so they were eye to eye. His fist connected then with Walsh’s cheek. The crack of bone and resulting howl from the asshole in front of him was music to Killian’s ears.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Blood and tears poured over his face as he tried to speak through his shattered mouth. “Please! Have mercy!”

“Have mercy? Have MERCY? Like you had mercy on Emma? Huh?” Another punch landed and Walsh’s head lolled weakly on his neck as Killian continued his righteous assault.

“I promise! I’ll never do it again!”

“Damn right, you won’t,” Killian seethed, pushing the whimpering and bleeding man back onto the table. He pulled him up slightly, leaned over right in Walsh’s face and hissed, “You touch her again, I’ll kill you.” Before releasing him, Killian threw one last punch, landing on his chin and knocking him out cold. Killian let go and left the man unconscious on the pool table.

~*~*~

Thanks for reading! I’d love to know what you think!

#and giving walsh what he deserves #krystal writes #prompts and drabbles #cs ff #even though emma isn't really in this #just a beat down between protective killian and asshole walsh

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exhaustedpirate · 2 years

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another late contribution for this year's CS Supernatural Summer - hopefully it'll be worth your while ! i clearly lied last year so i'm posting the long-awaited second chapter of last year's entry today. you should definitely check out the first chapter before.

i hope you like it and feel free to share your thoughts!

thank you so much to @th3capta1n for being my beta

Summary: Ever since he was a boy, Killian Jones could see ghosts. Some were kind, others were a nuisance and rarely, he found the worst of them. This time he meets a woman who remembers nothing, except her name. Together, they’ll find out her story and help each other.

Word count: 7211 words

Rating: Teen and Up

tag list: @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff @winterbaby89 @stahlop @winterbythesea @sotangledupinit

read on AO3 | read the first chapter here and AO3

Chapter Two The Swan

“Alright, can we all just calm down?”

Killian stepped away from the table under the looks of barely contained excitement from Emma and Henry. One of them should have a leveled head and it apparently fell on him.

“There is a mysterious book written in a completely foreign language that conveniently appears exactly when we need it and you’re not even the slightest bit suspicious?” His nervous expression didn’t seem to dissuade his audience as they just smiled.

“It’s clearly a magic book.”

“It’s magic, Mr. Jones!”

He exhaled a defeated sigh as he threw his head back.

“Magic? That’s your justification?”

“Mr. Jones,” Henry crossed his arms with a completely unimpressed look that almost put his mother’s to shame. “My gym teacher is a mermaid and a werewolf serves me hot chocolate every Friday. Magic is the only explanation.”

There was a satisfied smile on Emma's face as she mimicked the boy’s pose.

"So, Mr. Jones." Emma's use of his last name called his attention to her. "Do you have any other easily explainable issues or can you take a leap of faith and see what's in that magical book?"

A leap of faith. As he looked between Henry's eager eyes and Emma's worriedly excited expression, he thought he could. That it would take the sheer belief in a centuries old ghost and a 10-year-old boy to get him to believe wasn't lost on him.

"Fine." Killian sighed amused at the excitement clear on Henry's face. He turned a reassuring smile to Emma's steadying breath. "Let's see if the magic book has some answers."

“Yes!” Henry was quick to reach for the book while rushing around the desk to sit at Killian’s chair.

“You said it was written by Alice Jones?” Killian asked as he stepped to Henry’s left side.

“Do you know her?”

“Alice was my mother’s name, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her write a book, much less in a language she didn’t speak.”

“Maybe it’s your ancestor?” Emma offers. “I have been dead for a long time.”

“My mother named me after my grandpa, maybe it’s the same?”

Killian’s fingers stroke the ring still clutched in his hand trying to rationalize their suggestion. “This situation just gets curiouser and curiouser.”

“Maybe I should read the book?”

“We should see what Alice Jones has to tell us.”

Killian nods. Trusting a mystery book seemed to be the least crazy thing for him today.

There is a story that no one knows, the story of the Princess and the Huntsman. Of how they fell in love and wished for happily ever after. The story that no one knows but me.

“I can see now why you’re so dramatic.”

Killian rolled his eyes at the teasing kid - and the snickering ghost - despite the uptick of his lip, gesturing for him to carry on reading.

Misthaven was a kingdom of peace and prosperity and it had been so since before my youth. Its people loved their royalty and they loved them back. Those good times didn’t last for long. I remember my mother’s solemn face as she returned from work - a handmaiden to the Queen must be her confidant, but even she couldn’t keep Queen Snow’s worry to herself.

Ships with black sails threatened to surround Misthaven’s borders; black armored knights terrorized provinces; a menacing cloud of dark magic frightened everyone.

No powerful villain stepped forward to claim such attacks and no accomplice confessed. The Queen appeared to be frightful even as she summoned every war council available.

Despite their efforts, the darkness seemed undefeatable. The fairies’ light magic barely managed to keep it at bay. The kingdom needed a solution.

A neighboring kingdom housed a powerful King. A King whose army was unbeaten by any forces that threatened him. A King whose power didn’t compare to Misthaven’s light. A King who wanted unlimited power. King Rumplestilskin.

Misthaven was, for a while, blessedly ignorant over the imminent threat. As well as its young Prince. As for Princess Emma, she had been allowed to participate in the war councils presided by her parents since she became of age. Now, a decade after the first, she was more than ready and shared opinions with intelligence and level-headedness.

Killian could see Emma’s blush covering her cheeks and he wished he could hold her hand. He wished she wouldn’t be so surprised to hear such compliments. He wished a lot when it came to Emma.

I have been her handmaid since we were both children. I have watched her grow beside me, never feeling like less, but like an equal. I still hold fond memories of afternoons of joy and companionship. I also learned things that I will take to my grave, however her story of love won’t be one of them and for that I apologize. This I do to guarantee my princess’ rescue.

“Do you want me to keep reading, Emma?”

She seemed startled from Henry’s sudden stop, looking from the book, to the boy and back before looking at Killian. He hoped she saw the reassurance he was trying to show. She nodded.

“You can carry on, lad.”

Henry nodded and cleared his throat.

Once she became of age, there was no end to the line of suitors hoping to gain her hand in marriage. (Killian pushed down on the surge of jealousy in his chest.) However, the Queen and her Prince had married for love and they wished the same on their daughter. Every suitor she refused was led out with a tight lipped smile and well wishes. There was no talk of arranged marriages for the throne was hers regardless of matrimony.

And the Princess treasured her freedom - if not of life, of heart. Her father had started his life as a shepherd and was now the Queen’s prince consort. Perhaps an unknown sailor would have the same luck.

But it was no sailor or baker who won such honor as to hold the Princess’ heart in his hand. It was a huntsman.

As the Princess’ closest friend and confidant, I was able to hear about their first meeting, when he was nothing but a crude hunter. How she had been out for a pleasant ride. How he was ready to kill a defenseless deer. How she didn’t quite like my reminder that her table was regularly filled with defenseless animals too. How she blushed and said her issue was his rudeness, not his eating habits. How he had finally let the animal go. How she could not stop talking about him for the next few days.

I was also able to witness their second interaction. See the Princess’ provoked by the handsome Huntsman’s quips. See how she liked his quick wit and he enjoyed the irritated blush on her cheeks. See how she gave him her name with her nose in the sky and how he smiled and gave her his. I was able to hear it all again for the next week.

During the next month, Emma would go see him alone. And when she came back, there was always something to talk about. From the annoyance she felt about him to the quiet confession about her restless heart when around him. From the way he had almost hit her with an arrow to the way he had helped her off her horse. From the way he was also too close to the way he was never close enough. From crude hunter to Graham.

“Graham…”

Her whisper caught his attention and he saw a multitude of emotions behind her eyes.

“Do you remember him?” Killian asked.

Henry had stopped reading and was now looking between them.

“I do.” Her voice quivered and when she looked at him, he saw her glassy eyes.

“Should I stop?”

That seemed to bring Emma back, the determination replacing the grief.

“No, I need to know how it ends.”

“Are you sure, love?”

“I am.” The strong tone in her voice was enough to convince him even as worry filled him.

Killian nodded to Henry who seemed to feel the same as him.

Emma wished to keep him secret. He didn’t know she was the Princess, as he seemed to have lived in the woods since childhood and she wanted to keep it as such. She wanted to keep the pressure away from their budding romance. For that’s what it was. From blushing cheeks to tangled hair. To stained riding pants. To-

“I think you should skip to the next paragraph, lad.” Killian insisted as he scratched behind his ear.

“Why? What does this mean?”

“It just means that Emma and Graham became boyfriend and girlfriend.” He screamed internally as he wished he didn’t have to have this conversation with his boss’ son.

He didn’t have to look at Emma to see her blushed cheeks and embarrassment.

“Oohh!” Henry’s expression would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so focusedly hoping that the subject be put to rest. “I understand.”

He really hoped for this not to get back to Regina. She’d kill him faster than one can say ‘fireball’.

Their secret courtship turned into love. Her books were filled with dried flowers, one for every encounter. I was the only one who knew of their relationship. Despite her trust in her mother, Emma knew how difficult it would be to bring Graham into this life, keeping the Queen in the dark was the only way to assure the ease in their romance.

However, every good thing must come to an end.

The threat becomes more dangerous. The dark magic encroaches them. There is no other solution. The fairies’ light magic isn’t strong enough. Emma wants to help, as she did before.

Once, when the Princess was no older than 11 years old, Prince James invaded the kingdom. A Prince from a kingdom led to poverty by its careless royalty. A Prince who wasted his years fighting battles that did not involve his kingdom and spending its money. Until his father died and there was no kingdom left to rule - its people either migrated or dead. A Prince who was the Prince Consort’s twin, since the King had wanted a child and took one of the shepherd’s wife’s twins, a mother who only wished the best for her children. A mother who accepted the deal to make sure her babies did not succumb to illness.

Prince James invaded the kingdom claiming injustice for the way his twin brother’s life had progressed while he rotted away in misery. It should have been a quick matter to resolve had it not been the dragon whose wrath James had unleashed on the kingdom. The dragon had wreaked havoc in the kingdom and as everyone watched, threatened to burn the royal family to a crisp had it not been for the burst of magic that saved them.

No one knew exactly what happened, but the ones who saw remember seeing a bright white light coming from the Princess making her resemble a wide winged bird - a swan. The dragon was quick to escape as the wave of magic because there was no other name for it, incapacitated Prince James and his crew. Everyone clamored Emma’s bravery and songs were written and played in the streets.

However, despite their efforts that seemed to be the only magical experience the Princess would experience. Nothing the fairies did seemed to bring forth another hint or spark from the young girl. Songs were corrected and Emma’s magical achievements were seen as a simple blessing, a power born from her parent’s true love that protected the family. They called her the Swan Princess - not only for the circumstance of her magic, but also for the fact that under her beauty hid a vicious bravery.

To say that Emma had been disappointed over her magical failure was an understatement. But so much like her family, she chose not to give up and dedicate herself to learning sword fighting from the soldiers, something she could actually grasp.

And now, just as before, Emma wants to help. She offers to join the soldiers, defend her home and her people. Unfortunately, that is not what her parents have in mind. “We can’t risk losing you, Emma”, They said. “We need a powerful alliance.” And Emma was smart enough to understand what they meant even before they confessed their plans.

An arranged marriage. Something she had been assured all her life wouldn’t happen. The tears that fall down her face are unconscious as she begs her parents for a different solution. She speaks to them, for the first time, of how her heart belongs to another even though his name is never even whispered. But Emma knows. This is her parent’s plan, the only solution that will keep her and the kingdom safe. So she accepts, even as her heart breaks.

I try to console her tears that night, to no avail.

The arranged marriage would be to the Kingdom’s closest neighbor. A Kingdom whose King owns the strongest army. A Kingdom whose King has fathered only one son, close to Emma’s age. Give or take a couple of years. There isn’t much to say about Prince Baelfire. King Rumplestilskin shelters him from everyone, practically confined to the castle. His mother escaping a life of such imprisonment, according to rumors, by joining a band of pirates. The young man is said to be a fairly nice Prince, educated and capable.

This union would entail a merging of Kingdoms. Such creation would result in the strongest Kingdom in existence. A merging that still required more planning, were not for the desperation of Queen Snow and Prince David for Misthaven.

But Emma’s stubbornness is unrivaled. Her room is vacant the next morning when I arrive to wake her up. Nothing, but a letter. A letter explaining that she will be leaving in search of another solution. That her heart is not ready to forget her love. That despite the love she has for her kingdom, she doesn’t wish to marry someone she doesn’t love. But she promises to return, after she finds a solution or once she realizes her journey is fruitless.

At the breakfast table, the Queen, her Prince and the Princeling await the arrival of the heiress. They receive me and the letter. Their expressions are full of pain and the whole castle is sent to a frenzy as they prepare an expedition to find her.

As a handmaiden, I am given no task except to wait for my charge. But I know I must attempt to find her. She is my Princess, but most of all, a friend, the only one I’ve ever had. The journey to that place in the woods isn’t familiar, but it takes merely a blink of an eye. But the camp is empty. The Huntsman has left - not in search of a new home but, I suspectbecause a stubbornly determined Princess has asked for his help in her quest.

The Princess has always been more than capable to defend for herself, that is without doubt. She who survives a dragon, can survive much worse. But I worry. And such worry is blinding when it comes to the ones you love.

Killian pretends not to notice Emma’s quiet sniff.

The Blue Fairy was known by all of Misthaven. If there was ever a blue star in the sky, children were told to wish upon it for she would grant their wishes if they were pure of heart. A child’s story for centuries, she seemed to be on familiar terms with the royal family.

The Blue Fairy was, once, Misthaven’s savior. When Queen Snow was but a runaway Princess, she was the one who helped her regain her throne. Regardless of her lack of involvement now, I was sure she would still be eager to help. My worry grew when Emma hadn’t gone to her first.

Under the shade of a willow tree, I called for her. My heart was put to the test but it seemed to be pure enough. Her voice called my name and there she was, in front of me. She was the size of a human, not as small as an acorn as my mother had told. It didn’t matter, in the end. I urged for her help, to bring back my Princess safe and sound.

Her magic was a light blue and it felt cool to the touch. I saw as she surrounded herself with magic and then sigh in disappointment as it got warmer once more. She said that my wish was a wish she couldn’t fulfill, for my Princess was no longer safe and sound. “Emma is no longer in our plane, I’m afraid she has been taken from us.” She explained and I attempted to fight my tears.

His hand reaches for hers, subconsciously. The cold feeling extends to his whole hand as he sees Emma do the same. There was no feeling of her hand in his, but there was something.

I begged for another wish. I wished for a way to save Emma. A way to bring her back to the people who loved her. My vision was filled with blue and I was able to feel the coolness of the Blue Fairy’s magic. I felt no different. “Your wish was granted. I have given you all I can to realize your heart’s desire.” It wasn’t much of an explanation.

Magic, she said, was as hard to explain as it was to understand. Their magic came from a higher entity, a Sorcerer. A powerful being capable of seeing the future. She couldn’t bring Emma back as it was far beyond her capabilities, but she had granted my wish, given me a tool that would help. I saw her when a blur of yellow caught my attention. She was sitting closer to the branches as if she had been there since I had arrived, but that wasn’t possible. I hadn't seen her.

There was an odd expression in the Blue Fairy’s face when I asked about her. Though I received no explanation except for an expression of grief in her face, I was told as to what gift I had been given. A capacity to see those who are no longer in the plane of the living.

"How will I be able to bring her back with this?" I asked, feeling as if the Fairy's help hadn't been so helpful. "This gift will help you save the Princess." Cryptic as all magic is. I tried not to feel frustrated as I exited the willow tree. When I reached the Huntsman's camp, I saw him.

I was angry and I snapped as I could only think he had left Emma alone. He simply looked at me with surprise. Surprised, I learned, that I was able to see him. He told me how he had attempted to beg for help from anyone whose path he'd crossed, but no one seemed to see him.

He was dead.

"He was dead."

That was the only explanation. As cryptic as magic was, it seemed to work. I wasted no time asking for Emma's whereabouts. He told me that he had been killed at the neighboring Kingdom's castle when Emma and he had requested an urgent meeting with the King.

The shrill sound of a phone startled them all. Henry took a breath as he saw the name on his phone's screen.

"It's my mother." One look at the clock and he winced. "I was supposed to be in her office ten minutes ago."

"Go, lad, we'll stay here." Killian reassured the curious boy as he glanced at Emma's expression, an expression of grief that clawed at his heart.

"I'll be back." In a rush that none of the other adults could muster, he exited the library.

"Are you alright, Emma?" He gave her a moment in the silence, hoping her whirling thoughts had the chance to calm.

"I can't believe I would forget all of this. I would forget falling in love, the love of my family."

"It isn't your fault, there is clearly something else at work here."

When she looked into his eyes, his heart broke. There was pain, grief, anger. "I remember what happened, I remember why Graham died. I know who did this."

300 years earlier

His hand in hers gave her strength, strength she wasn't sure she felt. Emma needed this mission to be successful, she didn't intend to spend her life attached to someone she didn't love, burdened by duties that she never thought she had to fulfill. Her heart was still set on saving her kingdom and she would, if there was no other way, but she needed to try first.

The halls of the castle were cold, quiet and dark. There was a prickling under her skin at every step, as if she was being watched, pursued. There was an eagerness in the dark corners of the room, eager to pull you in, drag you. The great hall wasn't better - still as cold, quiet and dark as the rest of the castle. And the man sitting on the large throne was the epitome of darkness.

He wore a wide, almost mad, smile, his eyes expectant. She felt like a prey. Graham's hand was no longer wrapped in hers, but she still felt his strong presence. She had a hunter on her side, it would all work out.

Next to his father's throne, sat a young man, close to her age. Give or take a year. Prince Baelfire, of course. A curious man, he was. The darkness didn't seem to reach him but entrap him. He seemed fragile - not by choice.

“Welcome to Aur, your Highness.”

As she was taught, Emma bowed. And so did Graham, playing the part of her escort. She saw the Prince bow to her from the corner of her eye and ignored his father’s admonishing gesture in response.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit in this early morning?”

Emma swallowed at the predatorial look in his eyes. It didn’t help that there was no one else in the room but the four of them. She could sense Graham’s discomfort matching hers.

“I’ve come to discuss the agreement you have made with my parents.” She attempted to keep her voice determined, brave - all she knew she was despite the threatening aura of the room.

“Yes, Prince Baelfire and I are looking forward to this union.”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss, your Majesty. You see, I don’t wish to marry your son if there is another alternative.” She held her breath as the royal looked at her, analytical. Emma sees Prince Baelfire await his father’s judgment - no disappointment, no joy, merely expectant with a hint of fear.

“It doesn’t seem to be your decision, is it, Princess? Your parents, as rulers of the Kingdom, have blessed this union, therefore there is no other choice.”

“I understand that it was their decision, but I am here hoping to reach another solution. The merging of our two Kingdoms won’t be easy and it might lead to complications with lineage.” As she speaks, she realizes just how complicated this deal is.

“I have no intention in merging our Kingdoms, Your Highness, so there will be no complications.” King Rumplestilskin’s smile turns wider, his eyes glinting with excitement. Prince Baelfire lowers his head at his words. Graham takes a step closer to her.

“What do you mean?” Emma was confused. There was a feeling deep in her gut that told her to run - her stubbornness was unrivaled. “My parent-”

“Your parents made a deal with me. I would help them with their threat in exchange for you marrying my son.” His giggle was manic and caused shivers down Emma’s spine. “They were so desperate, poor things, that they didn’t question my intentions.”

“And what are your intentions?”

“To take over Misthaven, of course. You’ll marry my son ensuring lineage and after your parents mysteriously pass away, I will be free to reign Misthaven as I see fit.”

“And what makes you think I will let that happen?” There was a scowl in Emma’s face as she balls her fists.

“There is nothing you can do about it, dearie.” Rumplestilskin rises from his chair, a far more threatening presence than she expected. “You underestimate my power.” He makes his way slowly to her. “Who do you think has been terrorizing Misthaven in order to make this happen?”

“It was you…” She whispered, reluctantly surprised. “But how? You don’t have magic. Especially not magic as dark as that.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Emma tried not to feel like a caged animal as he began walking in a circle around her. “But I made a friend, a friend who does indeed wield such magic. A friend whose plans match mine.”

“You won’t get away with this, I promise you that.”

Her threat lost its power at the King’s loud laugh. He seemed relaxed as if she posed no danger to his plan. And she believed it, it made her feel small. She wasn’t accustomed to being made to feel small.

“There is nothing you can do, dearie.”

With a snap of his fingers, dark tendrils wrapped around the two visitors. While her restraints seemed focused on her wrists, Rumplestilskin had Graham by the neck. As strong as he was trying to be, he was no match for such powerful magic.

“Please, he has nothing to do with this, just let him go!” Emma kept her eyes on the King’s hoping he wouldn’t see exactly how much it hurt to see Graham suffer as he was.

But she couldn’t help it.

She could pinpoint the moment he noticed, the way his smile widened and his tongue ran through his teeth - like a crocodile preparing to eat his prey. Her heart hammered against her chest praying to every entity she knew for their safety.

But no one was listening.

There was a crack and a heavy body falling to the ground. Her heart stopped. Her future destroyed in a second. The love of her life gone. There was no stopping the distraught cry that exploded out of her.

She didn’t notice how she had freed herself until she had her arms around Graham’s lifeless body. Her tears had landed on his unmoving face. And there was silence around her. She saw the King’s unconscious form laying on the floor as well as the absence of dark magic. A burst of magic, it seemed, to save her.

Unfortunately, not to save her from heartbreak, as she continued to hold a dead Graham in her arms. Her hands caressed his face and she felt it growing cold under her touch. She wished, more than anything, to have him open his eyes, to have him smile at her one more time.

“Princess?” A too small voice from a young man startled her and she raised one hand, hoping for another burst of magic to save her - but there was nothing, not even a spark.

Thankfully, she knew where her Huntsman kept his dagger and she quickly wielded it. She kept herself embracing him, however, one hand on his face.

“Take one more step and you’ll regret it.” Her voice was shaky but her determined stare wasn’t.

To her surprise, the dagger pointed at him doesn’t seem to frighten Prince Baelfire. He approaches with his hands raised to his chest until he stops a step away from her.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds honest in his whispered words as he looks into her eyes.

Emma lets out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and her whole being deflates as even the dagger falls to the floor. She turns back to the man laying on her lap, her hand cupping his cheek.

“If you must kill me, do so now. Your father won’t have my Kingdom.” Her voice is small, not usual for her.

“I have no intentions of killing you or of marrying you.”

That calls her attention and she looks back to the Prince.

“I simply do as my father wishes, he’s a powerful man.” He sighs as he kneels in front of her. “I have been carrying this for years.” Her eyes watch him closely as he removes a small vial from his coat pocket. “And I think it’s supposed to help you.”

“What is that?” She is wary, nothing good should come from such a dark liquid.

“I’m not quite sure, I was never fond of magic. I found it in the library. It had a note.” He removes a small paper from the same pocket which he gives to her.

She will need this.

“Who is ‘she’?”

“I don’t know. There isn’t anyone I know who would need this but you. My father won’t give up. This is all I can do to help.” He extends the vial to her.

“How do I know you speak the truth?” She took the vial even as she kept her eyes on him.

“I don’t know. But I am.” The Prince shrugged his shoulders as he returned the eye contact. She had always been able to tell when someone was lying to her. He was telling the truth.

Both turned when they heard a groan from their right. Rumplestilskin was regaining consciousness. She needed to act fast.

“Thank you.” She quickly said to the Prince as she removed the cork from the vial.

There was no time for second thoughts. It was trusting a mysterious vial with an even more mysterious message or seeing her Kingdom conquered by this villain.

With a deep breath and a final look to her hunter, she drank the strange liquid to the last drop.

Everything went black.

Now

“The potion killed you, then.” Killian didn’t know what to think, it had been a strange story. He wasn’t sure whether he’d like to hug Emma or punch someone who had probably been dead for centuries.

“I don’t think so… Remember the garden?” Killian nodded. “No other ghost has been there, I don’t think I was dead.”

“Aye, I just-” Killian interrupts himself when he turns to her. There is the wet streak of a tear on her cheek. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry about Graham.” His hand inches closer to hers.

“That’s alright, I remembered…”

The door opens suddenly for Henry to run inside.

“My mum is going for a meeting so I still have an hou- is everything alright?” Henry asks as he looks at Killian’s expression. The small lamp on his desk flickers on and off slowly. “Emma?”

His call seems to catch her attention. She turns to him with a small smile.

“I’m alright.” The lamp stops flickering.

“Everything’s alright, lad.” His smile is reassuring and Henry seems to deflate as he feels a more calm environment.

Wanting to give Emma a few moments to rearrange her thoughts, Killian busies himself giving Henry a resumed version of what Emma had told him.

“So that Baelfire turned her into a ghost!”

“Actually, the potion did.”

“Someone must have given that to him, someone who knew what was going to happen!” Killian swore he could see the cogs in Henry’s brain turn.

“Perhaps we’ll get some answers if we carry on reading.” Emma’s voice seemed back to normal, quieter but more herself. Looking into her eyes, she nodded.

“Aye, we should keep reading, lad.”

“Right!” Henry quickly ran to the book that had remained open on the desk.

Graham told me what happened. How the King-

“Okay, she’s saying what we know, I’m just going to skip.” Henry interrupted.

After he passed away, there was too much. Too much confusion, too many sounds, too many colors. Once he was able to concentrate on his whereabouts, all he saw was Emma laid on the floor next to him as Rumplestiltskin paced angry. Prince Baelfire seemed to be telling him how Emma had killed herself out of grief. How she had taken a potion, a poison he assumed, how he had been unable to stop her.

“He’s protecting you.” Henry seemed surprised by the revelation.

“He didn’t seem to be as bad as his father.” Emma admitted.

“Aye, the lad had courage.”

Unfortunately, there was nothing else I could do. I couldn’t go to the castle to retrieve the Princess nor could I tell the Queen where she was. While magic is common, talking to the deceased did not seem to be something that would be celebrated.

“Right you are.” Killian whispered. Henry turned to him followed by Emma, making him blush. He cleared his throat. “Carry on, lad.”

It was hard to see how distraught the Royal Family was about the Princess’ disappearance. The castle seemed too quiet at times and her room even emptier. But it didn’t take long to receive news. Prince Baelfire arrived at court with Emma’s body carried by a fleet of guards.

The tall ceilings of the hall echoed the Queen’s cry of anguish as she saw her only daughter’s lifeless body. The Prince with a wall of bravery behind his heartbreak, commanded the servants to take Emma to another room. Everyone was dismissed. As the last to leave, I saw as the Prince attempted to comfort his wife, even as he cried with her.

Prince Baelfire was quick to leave the castle. I, however, couldn’t stay far from my Princess. I followed the procession as they took Emma to a guest room. I entered as they did, but did not leave as they did. I touched her hand, it wasn’t cold, it was rigid, it was as if she was sleeping. Graham stood by my side, a mournful expression in his eyes as he kneeled at her bedside. I pretended not to see his sadness as he attempted to hold her hand.

“Do you want me to continue? I know this can’t be easy…” Henry interrupted, looking to where he felt Emma’s presence.

“We need to know what happens next.” Emma’s voice was determined even as she wiped a fresh tear from her cheek. Hearing her parent’s pain wasn’t easy. She then turned to Killian with a nod. “I’m alright.”

Henry turned to him when he didn’t say anything, but Killian couldn’t take his eyes off Emma’s, hoping he was able to give her some reassurance. Finally, he nodded.

“She is not dead.” The Blue Fairy watched from the end of the bed. She startled me. I had never known her to be able to appear wherever she wished. Regardless, it was reassurance. She wasn’t dead. “I was told that I needed to come to this room at this time, now I see why.” Cryptic.

With a wave of her hand over Emma’s body and a familiar spark of cold, blue magic, she seemed to have her answer. “She is asleep. A cursed sleep.” She said. The half-answers and enigmatic posture were maddening. And I said so. “She will remain asleep until someone breaks her curse.” I turned to look at Graham, but he hadn’t moved, he seemed unwilling to care about anything else but the sleeping Princess. He was dead, unable to be with her again.

“Oh, Graham…” Emma whispered.

I was determined to break the curse. Not only to spare her parents the heartache, but also because I needed her back. “You mustn’t wake her up now.” The Blue Fairy told us. I was angry, why should Emma be suffering when we can help her? “Rumplestilskin believes her dead, his plan has been stopped. Wake her now and we’d be doomed.”

“She knew Rumplestilskin’s plan?!” Killian’s fist was balled against the table as he attempted to hold back his anger.

She knew his plan, even though no one had told her! “The Sorcerer knows all, Alice Jones. He’s seen this and more and we are to follow his plan.” His plan to destroy a family? To take their daughter from her? “Yes. All is as it should be.” I cursed. I never cursed anyone before. But I did now. “I understand your frustration, but all is as it should be.” She repeated, with an infuriating calm.

The feeling of inadequacy was like a fireball in my chest. But as angry as I was, the Blue Fairy was right, Emma was safe while she was asleep. What was I to do next? “I will place a preservation spell on her body, you will urge her parents not to bury her for it will surely kill her.” Before I could say anything else, she was gone.

Bloody fairies.

Bloody fairies. As helpful as she was, the hardest part was my chore. I left Graham to his vigil. I only returned the next day, her parents having had some time to compose themselves. But still I saw the lack of light in the Queen’s eyes and the slumped shoulders in the Prince’s posture - for a stranger, they would look the image of collectedness but not for me.

It was easier than I thought to convince them not to bury Emma. I was never fond of lying but saying that the Blue Fairy had blessed Emma’s form to withstand the course of time was nothing more than a half-truth. In a matter of days, a glass coffin was produced to hold the Princess. It was placed in the family’s mausoleum and everyday for years, the royal couple would place fresh flowers, usually accompanied by the young Prince.

The story was kept quiet. Both to ensure the Kingdom’s trust in their leaders’ safety but also to prevent any conflict between the two Kingdom’s involved. King Rumplestilskin remained quiet, his plan had failed. The dark magic surrounding the Kingdom was unable to get in. Even with Emma gone, there was too much light to let in the darkness.

His failure drove him to madness, pushing the darkness as far as it could. Until, decades after, he was killed with a dagger through his heart. A culprit was never found and the Kingdom, as fragile as it was, accepted the new King without protest. King Baelfire would do great things. Both Kingdoms fell into peace once more.

Life had returned to normal after Emma’s presumed death. Even as the country mourned, they celebrated Prince Leopold’s milestones.

Despite mine and the family’s desire to keep working with them, they had no need for me, not with the Princess gone. But, a year or so later, I was married. This might not seem important to you, but I discovered something. I welcomed a son soon after. A son who would grow up, as children do and would talk to entities no one else could see but me. The Blue Fairy’s gift was passed down. I was able to witness a granddaughter with the same gift.

We kept it secret, as well we could. I attempted to share this story with my kin, but I see now my time is short so I’m hoping that writing it will preserve it in its most perfect state. I understand now that I am not the one supposed to save Emma. But I hope that one of my own blood will.

I saw her, long after Rumplestilskin was killed, after her parents passed away - one not far from the other -. She was as if no day had passed her by, still in the clothes she wore when she fell asleep. She did not recognise me, but she was the one who found me. She did not recognise me because she did not remember who she was. All she knew was her name.

Emma.

You, who reads this book, my kin, I hope your heart remains true. For that is the only way to save her. Please, save her.

“Wow…” Henry breathed.

“Indeed.” Killian sat on his desk feeling his shoulders tight.

“I’m sorry.” Emma spoke softly, catching his attention.

“What do you mean? Why are you apologizing?”

“This was never supposed to be your burden.” Emma looked at him, her eyes a mix of apology and determination. “The only one who’s supposed to save me is me.”

“This isn’t a burden, Emma. I’ve spent years helping people like you. Apparently, generations. This is my mission and I’m gladly doing it for you too.” His smile was reassuring and he hoped that he wasn’t showing too much.

She doesn’t seem to notice as she looks down with a hint of pink in her cheeks. “Thank you, Killian, for helping me.” Her smile when she looks back at him sets his heart hammering against his chest.

Henry’s attempt at being quiet is louder than he seems to want as it breaks their moment. His cheeks are red and he tries to hide his satisfied smile.

“There’s nothing else in the book?” Killian asks, clearing his throat, hoping to get the attention off their small moment. “There seems to be some writing on that side.”

“Oh!” Henry’s brow furrows as he stares at the strange writing. Emma, he sees, has moved back to standing next to the boy. “I can’t read it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s in a weird language, even weirder than what I just read.”

“Hmm, strange.”

The library door is opened once more, the sound catching their attention.

“Henry?” Principal Mills calls from the door as she looks around for her son.

“It’s time to go already?” Killian can hear the pout in the boy’s voice and knows it’s there when Emma shows that soft smile that, he learns, is reserved for Henry.

“Yes, I’m done with the meeting. Come on, you have homework to do.” There is a smile on the Principal’s face too, it seems involuntary when Henry is involved.

“Fine.” He huffs as he rushes to put his backpack on. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Jones.”

Killian nods with a grin. “Master Mills.”

“Mr. Jones.” Regina dismisses him with barely a look. As Henry reaches her, she places her arm around his shoulders and kisses his forehead.

“You may think she’s scary, but Henry knows how to soften her.” Emma quipped as the door shut behind the mother and child.

“The lad has abilities that we don’t know half of.” Killian winks.

After such a heavy afternoon, it seems odd to be in silence. There is much he wants to say but doesn’t know how to start or if he should. He shouldn’t.

“Would you like to watch a film tonight?” Killian asks quickly.

She seems to startle but relaxes almost as quickly. “In the box that has the people inside?”

“The people aren’t exactly ins- Nevermind,” He laughs. “Aye, in the box.”

“I would love to.”

The headiness her smile causes chases him out of the door. They keep silent. There is no need for anything to be said. Nothing needed to change the quiet, light mood between them.

Of course, their plans are meant to be ruined. A short blonde woman carrying a bright pendant stops in front of them, stopping their walk. She looks at him with curious eyes.

“Are you Killian Jones?” She asks, igniting his curiosity.

“I am, who is asking?”

“The Blue Fairy wishes to speak with you.”

#cssns #cssns22 #captainswan #killian jones #emma swan #captain hook #henry mills #ghosts #cssns 2022 #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs ff au #ouat ff #cs ff #carolina writes

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stahlop · 1 year

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I posted 205 times in 2022

22 posts created (11%)

183 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cssns

@stahlop

@kmomof4

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I tagged 37 of my posts in 2022

#once upon a time - 9 posts

#cssns 2022 - 7 posts

#once upon a time rewatch - 6 posts

#once upon a time review - 5 posts

#captain swan supernatural summer - 5 posts

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#killian jones - 3 posts

#mariakov81 - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 67 characters

#and then were stabbed with a sword by said savior to save the world

My Top Posts in 2022:

CSSNS Artist Spotlight

I am highlighting @mariakov81. She wasn’t even my artist but she made me the artwork below for my CSSNS 20 fic Making a Memory. This was a birthday gift she made for me before I’d even posted the piece, but Masha had been hearing me talk about it for over a year by that point.

I don’t know if she’ll be able to art for us this year, as she’s been displaced by the war in the Ukraine, but she’s too talented not to shine a spotlight on.

22 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

What are you doing New Year’s Eve?

Hey all! I had hoped to get this done for New Years, but that didn't quite happen. Only 10 days late. Not too bad. The muse would not stop talking while I was writing this, so you get this 10,000 word one-shot. This is a fake dating fic, but with a twist. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite for being my awesome betas!

Summary:

“You were thinking I could pretend to be your new boyfriend?” He looks a bit incredulous that she’s asking him this. Crap! Did she read this whole situation wrong? They’re always flirting in the hall and at the mailbox, usually when she’s just gotten home from her job. Maybe he’s just the type that flirts with everyone and he really isn’t interested in her. She’s usually really good at reading people.

“Yes?” It comes out like a squeak. She feels like an idiot. Emma Swan, who can take down a man in six-inch heels and a mini-dress as one of Boston’s top bail bonds people, is making a complete fool of herself.

Rated: T

Read it on Ao3

Emma looks at the slightly damp invitation in her hand before knocking hesitantly on her neighbor’s door. Of all the insane plans she’s had, this one certainly takes the cake. And now she’s getting her neighbor involved. Though he flirts with her constantly, so she’s pretty sure he’s interested in her and her whole scheme won’t be completely out of left field. And now she’s feeling like an idiot just standing out here. Maybe her knock was too hesitant.

She’s about to leave and just forgo this whole thing when he opens his door.

“Hey!” he says, with a grin on his face. Emma notices his dark hair is wet and dripping down the hair on his chest. A towel rests low on his waist and Emma notices a happy trail that starts right below his belly button. Shit! She must have caught him right out of the shower.

“Um, hey!” she says back. That was so lame. Emma tries to regain her composure and get back on track with her plan. “I can come back later if you’d like.”

He looks her up and down and Emma is glad she wore a deep v-neck top tonight. “Not a problem. Come on in, take a seat.” He gestures to his black leather couch. “Just let me put some clothes on.” Her neighbor disappears into a room directly across from the front door. Emma makes herself at home on the couch and looks around. It’s pretty neat, with a coat and shoe rack combo right next to the door. A coffee table is placed right in front of the couch with some mail on it. Some men’s magazines and a TV Guide, Emma notices. There are few pictures around, mainly of him with friends. None with girls. So her instinct that he was single was right. It’s definitely got that bachelor pad feel to it.

“Sorry about that.” He says as he comes back in from his room. He’s changed into a pair of loose fitting jeans, a gray henley (that unfortunately covers up his chest hair), and an unzipped brown hoodie. He rubs the back of his head with a towel and Emma can’t help smiling at how hot he looks doing it. “What can I do you for?” he asks, sitting close to her. A wave of butterflies goes through her stomach because there’s a whole other side of the couch he could have sat on, and instead, he’s decided to be close to her.

“Um, okay, this is going to sound insane, but….” she trails off and just hands him the invitation. He takes it from her and reads it out loud.

“Storybrooke Annual New Year’s Eve Ball,” he announces. “You want me to go to a ball with you?” He looks confused at the invitation.

“So, my parents –who I love and are the best people– try to set me up every year at this thing. And it’s something that I have to go to. I always go back to my hometown in Maine for it. And I’m sick of the set ups, so I kinda told them I’d started seeing someone….” At this her neighbor gives her a quizzical look, like he doesn’t quite understand what she’s telling him. “Um, I was kind of hoping that I could get away with saying it was a new relationship and he wasn’t ready to meet the parents yet, but they insisted.” She’s started fidgeting with her hair now, the blonde strands that never stay in her ponytail no matter how tightly she pulls it back. “So, I was thinking…”

“Sure, Ems,” he smiles. “I’d love to come home with you and pretend to be your fake boyfriend.” Emma lets go of the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

“Thanks, Neal.” A smile forms on her lips. “Let’s go over the details.”

—----

“Emma! Honey, Emma’s home!” Emma’s mother has been out on the front porch of the old farmhouse waiting for them. It’s currently snowing and her mother is waiting on the front porch.

“Mom! It’s freezing outside,” she huffs. Droplets of her breath hanging in the air as if to prove her point. She was already irritated. Neal had insisted on driving his Jeep instead of her precious, yellow Bug. Sure her Bug was older and had the unfortunate capacity for breaking down on a regular basis. She doesn’t really drive it much in Boston but she’s had the car since high school, rebuilt it with her father, and even though she’s now 24, she doesn’t want to get rid of it. Neal’s Jeep happened to be the kind with the canvas roof and plastic windows, so it was just the frame in the summertime. And it didn’t keep the cold out at all. At least her Bug has working heat (most of the time). So, to see her mother sitting outside in the cold when she could be inside the warm house makes Emma even more upset.

Her mother gives a little laugh and throws her hands out at her. “I have two heaters out here. I’m fine,” she says, adjusting the scarf around her neck as she leaves the apparently warm porch to greet her. She embraces Emma in a warm hug. Emma can feel the heat on her clothes from the porch heaters.

“And you must be Neal!” she says, going in to give him a hug as well. She looks about ready to burst, her face stretched into the biggest smile Emma has ever seen in her life. But Neal sticks out his left hand instead (he’s left-handed, but it still seems to be a quirk he has as Emma has never seen another left-handed person shake that way). Her mother’s face falters and her body stops as if she’s slammed into an invisible wall, but she recovers quickly and puts her hand in Neal’s for a shake. “Mary Margaret Nolan,” she says, introducing herself..

“Neal Cassidy,” he responds with a small smile. Certainly not as wide as smiles she’s seen him give her when she’s wearing her honey trap outfits.

“Well, grab your stuff and come inside.” Mary Margaret gestures for them to follow her. The snow falls into her brunette pixie cut, still without any hint of gray. “Your father is out doing the evening chores and should be back in soon.” Emma nods and grabs her purse from the car before moving the seat to grab her luggage in the back.

“Hey, babe,” Neal says loudly, giving her an exaggerated wink, “I gotta take a piss. Can you grab my things for me?” Emma is about to suggest he just grab his stuff after he’s done, but instead he just yells “Thanks!” and crunches up the walk to the farmhouse.

He must have really had to go, Emma thinks as she takes a look in the back of the Jeep to see at least four pieces of luggage, not including her two, sitting there.

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24 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

A Chance to Fly Ch.2

Second chapter of my CSSNS fic is here!

I want to thank all the ladies in the @cssns Discord (since I was too excited to post the first chapter and forgot), for helping me with the descriptions of the dragon and helping me come up with the title.

Thank you @spartanguard for being my beta and for the banner.

Chapter 1

Read it on Ao3

Rated T

Considering she was the princess of Misthaven, Emma had actually not seen much of the land her mother ruled over. She had assumed that because her mother often talked about marrying her off, that it was that she didn’t want her to become attached since she would go live with her husband in his kingdom. But flying above it now, she could see just how much she had missed out on. She knew her kingdom was on the water, but she’d never seen the vastness of the sea, her room being on the land side of the castle. It extended so far, Emma wondered if there was an end. The village that she’d snuck out to just that morning seemed so tiny from up in the air. And she could see more tiny villages spread out below her. She hadn’t even known those existed until this very moment. She could also see how in need of repairs the towns further from the castle were. Emma knew the wealthiest citizens, the ones who donated to the queen’s causes and helped keep their army up and running lived in the town. The ‘War Council’, as her mother called them, even though they’d never been at war in Emma’s lifetime, were her most trusted advisors. They all had grand houses near the palace, although Emma had only seen them from the carriage on trips into town. She’d never met any of them either. If it weren’t for the times when she was younger that her mother had brought her to that exact field that she’d just left, Emma would have thought her mother did not want her known at all.

“Quite a view,” she heard Captain Nemo say from behind her. She had almost forgotten he was there. While she was clinging for dear life around the base of the dragon’s neck where the spines stopped, her companion sat behind her as if this was a normal means of transportation for him. Emma realized it probably was.

“It’s a bit…disorienting,” she said, still gripping tightly. The scales did not feel hard or scaly like she had expected them to. Instead, they felt as soft as the leather satchels her mother favored. She wondered how that protected him, being soft instead of hard.

“I’m sure you’ve never seen your whole kingdom before.” There was a hint of accusation in his words, not toward her though.

“Not from this angle,” she replied, trying to be as diplomatic about it as possible. Emma knew there were those that did not agree with her mother’s politics, and it seemed that Captain Nemo may be one of them. The answer seemed to satisfy the captain.

The force of the wind and the beating of the dragon’s wings were whipping Emma’s hair all around her. Even if it had been in a simple twist, it would have been better than the knots she was going to have once they landed. She hoped Captain Nemo wasn’t having to fight it too much. As if he were reading her mind, he asked, “Would you like me to tie your hair back for you, princess?”

“That would be lovely.” He plucked a red ribbon from his coat pocket (Emma would have to find out later why he had a random ribbon on him), and began to gently braid her hair. It was an odd sensation, having her hair braided while flying on the back of a grand dragon. It also made her wonder how a man such as he came to know how to braid a woman’s hair.

“I have a daughter,” he said, once again making Emma wonder if he had some mind reading talent. “Or rather, I adopted her when her kingdom was lost to the Ogres. I’m somewhat known for taking in lost children.” It was obvious from the tone he used that he considered Emma one of those ‘lost’ children. But Emma would not play the game he was trying to play with her.

“That sounds wonderful, Captain Nemo. I hope to be introduced to them some day.” If she was anywhere but riding a dragon, she would have given him her patented royal smile, but since she couldn’t exactly turn around to face him, she hoped that she sounded sincere.

“Well,” he began, “you’ve technically already met one.” She felt him pat the dragon near her leg. “I raised Hook here since he was a babe. Poor thing was abandoned when I found him.” Emma felt a pang of sadness overcome her. She didn’t know anything about dragons, had no idea how they were raised or how they bonded with their parents, but the idea of being abandoned tugged at her heartstrings.

“We’re almost there,” Captain Nemo announced. Emma looked down to see a large forest spread out beneath her.

“Where are we?” she asked. She’d never been so far from the castle.

“Sherwood Forest, near Nottingham,” he replied as if it were common knowledge. Emma wasn’t sure if her mother’s reach went this far. She wasn’t sure what her mother would do now that she’d been taken. She wasn’t even sure where or why she was being taken here. Did the dragon live in the forest? She thought they preferred caves.

A small clearing became visible and she felt them starting to descend down towards it. Emma braced herself for a hard landing. She was pleasantly surprised when he landed gently, almost like landing on a cloud. Captain Nemo didn’t seem to agree.

“I swear, his landings get worse and worse,” he grumbled, holding his lower back as he slid down Hook’s leg and down onto the ground. Captain Nemo grabbed Emma’s hand and helped down the same way. That was not as easy as the captain had made it seem. The bottom of her dress caught on the dragon’s dew claw and a nasty tear appeared right above the hem. Captain Nemo had the gumption to at least look slightly embarrassed about that.

“Don’t worry. A dress is not the proper attire for dragon riding. We’ll get you fixed up with the proper clothing soon enough.” Emma couldn’t figure out how that was going to happen, what with them being in the middle of a forest. It wasn’t like a seamstress was just going to pop around from a tree.

But a young woman did.

“Papa!” The young girl shouted, running into Captain Nemo’s arms. She was a pretty, young brunette, not much older than Emma was. She wore a plain, simple blue frock with white stockings and black slippers. It did not seem like the attire of someone who would be hanging around the forest.

“Belle! Oh, my sweet girl!” Captain Nemo kissed the girl, Belle, on the forehead and enveloped her into a hug. Emma stood awkwardly next to Hook, who also seemed to shift uncomfortably (could dragons be uncomfortable?). Instinct had Emma stroking Hook’s wing and his whole body seemed to relax at her touch. She knew dragon riders had a special bond to their dragon, but being able to relax him seemed on a whole other level.

“Emma!” Captain Nemo said, pulling away from the young girl. “Meet my daughter, Belle, the one I was telling you about!” he said brightly. Emma could see the love and affection radiating between the two. It was something she had never seen from her mother in all her eighteen years. She put on a smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes to say hello.

“It’s nice to meet you, Belle,” Emma said, giving a small bow forward. Belle curtsied in return.

“Belle, this is Emma, Hook’s dragon rider,” Captain Nemo said, completing the introductions. Belle looked slightly startled at her father’s announcement, but recovered herself to give a smile back. Emma wondered why she seemed startled. Hadn’t Captain Nemo and Hook been searching for a dragon rider? A movement from the trees knocked Emma from her musings. She was surprised to see more people emerging from the same direction that Belle had come from heading into the clearing. Emma backed up into Hook. She may have just met the dragon, but she felt safe with him.

“Nemo!” A scruffy looking man with graying blonde hair, a quiver full of arrows on his back, and a bow in his hand, called out towards them. “Who is this you have brought back with you?” Emma noted that he had an accent similar to the man she had met earlier that morning. Had it really only been that morning she had snuck out to try a caramel apple, hoping for just a little excitement in her life, and now she had literally ridden a dragon farther than she’d ever been in her whole existence?

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27 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

A Chance to Fly

Thank you to the @cssns for once again making this wonderful event. This fic was supposed to be a one shot, but it kind of decided it wanted to be a multi chapter instead. I have not finished it, so there is no kind of schedule. But I am currently working on chapter 2, so I will get it finished as soon as possible. I know exactly what is happening and where it is heading.

Thank you @spartanguard for the wonderful artwork and also for being my beta!

Read it on Ao3

Rated: T

The day had not happened how Emma had envisioned it would when she woke up that morning.

It had started out nice—the sun streaming through her windows, waking her up as usual. It was the first day of the week, so her mother was already out attending the gardens, something that would take her away from being inside all day. Which was perfect for what Emma had planned.

She silently crept out of her bed and changed into a plain, light blue, linen gown, something she knew wouldn’t look out of place where she was headed. She pulled her long blonde hair out of her face and into a bun, tying it as tightly as she could with a matching blue ribbon. She pulled up her stockings and put on the slippers she normally wore when helping her mother with the gardens. Normally, her mother would insist on the servants helping her with a tiny bit of makeup; instead, she pulled out a simple brown cloak that would cover her face and hair and put it on.

Emma went to her hope chest that resided at the foot of her bed. She didn’t know where it came from, but it was exquisitely made. Her name was carved into it and it was surrounded by swans and dragons. It was obvious someone had put a lot of time and effort into making it for her. When she asked her mother, she said it had been a gift when she was born 18 years ago, but couldn’t tell her from whom. Emma knew she was lying. She could tell when people were lying. Her mother lied about many things; Emma could just never figure out why.

Inside the hope chest, she moved blankets and heavy traveling cloaks aside until her hand reached the pouch she had hidden at the bottom. A small, velvet satchel of coins that she had stolen from her mother earlier in the week. She put the coin purse in her skirt pocket, then walked toward the enormous fireplace that filled her room. Spring had settled early and it was too nice for a fire right now, but Emma wasn’t going to make a fire. She moved the grate out of the way and pulled up the false bottom, revealing a small ladder. She was glad her servants had never looked too closely when they’d lit the fires for her; this was definitely a secret she didn’t want her mother to know about.

Emma climbed down the ladder and took the secret passageway that led out of her home. She’d often wondered why this passageway existed. Did a past ancestor have a secret lover that they went to visit or bring into their room? Maybe it was just a servant’s entrance, but that didn’t explain why it went into her bedroom. Most likely the mystery would never be answered. Emma used it to go into the village undetected on days when she wanted to be anywhere but home. Days like today, when the market was happening.

Emma crept through the crowded market in the center of town, trying not to be seen. Her cloak hid her face just enough to give her some semblance of anonymity, but it would not do for her to be caught. Her mother would punish her if she knew she were out. Not that many people would recognize her by her face; her blonde hair, on the other hand…

The outdoor market was known throughout the Enchanted Forest. Royalty and peasants came far and wide to buy the wares, spices, and food only found here. It was practically a maze for someone who’d never been there before. Emma imagined it was much like the bazaar’s she’d been taught about in Agrabah. She pulled the cloak further down over her face and made sure her hair was still held back as she approached the merchant selling caramel apples. She knew it was an indulgence, something she really shouldn’t spend the tiny bit of coins she’d stolen, but she’d seen them when they had ridden through the market last week, and it was all she’d thought about since.

Her mouth practically watered as she handed over the coins for the sweet treat. While the cook made many types of apple dishes, caramel apples were fairly new to the market, and Emma couldn’t wait to bite into the one that was on the stick she now held in her hand.

She turned from the merchant, ready to take a bite before finding the shade of a tree to eat under when she ran smack into something solid.

Nope, not something.

Someone.

Emma looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen; like the sun glinting off a sapphire. The man attached to the luminescent blue eyes looked at her like he’d like seen a ghost. His eyes widened and he shook his head as if to clear his vision. Emma wondered what staring into those eyes all the time would feel like. The rest of him wasn’t bad either. The bottom half of his face was covered by a scruffy beard, dark like his hair with flecks of ginger in it. She could barely make out pointy-tipped ears under his hair. And speaking of hair, his tunic was unbuttoned more than what was considered proper, topped with a gorgeous red waistcoat with black embroidery on it. And that’s when Emma realized the caramel apple she’d been coveting for the last week was nestled into the tuft of chest hair peeking out from the undone buttons.

“No!” she cried, tears pricking her eyes as she realized her caramel apple was no longer edible. All the planning and plotting to get the delectable treat was completely ruined. The stranger’s facial expression turned to one of surprise at her reaction, then gazed down to where she was looking to see the apple now stuck in his chest hair. His face then turned to one of disdain.

“Well that will be a bitch to get out,” he surmised. Emma noticed an accent that wasn’t usually from this part of the Enchanted Forest and absentmindedly wondered where he was from, before focusing on the apple again. The stranger gave Emma a slight smirk before grabbing the apple with a handkerchief he grabbed from an unseen trouser pocket (tight leather trousers she noticed), and unceremoniously pulled the apple from his chest, taking several hairs with it.

“Fu…ow!” Emma almost laughed at him changing his mind about cursing mid-exclamation due to him not wanting to upset her delicate sensibilities. She’d been told on many occasions (usually by her mother) that she had a mouth worthy of any sailor (not in public, mind you, as that would not be appropriate for someone of her station).

Emma smiled at the handsome stranger, almost giggled even, that was until he plopped the now inedible caramel apple into her gloved hands.

“Well, I can’t eat it now,” she pouted as she placed the sticky and (now) hairy apple on the back of a waste cart. She sighed; the whole day was a wash. She might as well head back before her mother discovered she was gone.

“You ran into me, love,” he said to her with a smirk and a bad attempt at a wink. The mouth which had seemed so soft and kissable looking just moments before now repulsed her with his attitude.

“Not your love,” Emma said matter-of-factly. She positioned her hood lower over her eyes so she didn’t have to see his (not) perfect face anymore. “And I didn’t see you there. You just snuck up behind me,” she insisted.

“One would think an apology was in order,” he said drolly.

“Yes, an apology would be nice,” Emma retorted. The stranger lifted one eyebrow up (which Emma did not find sexy at all, no siree, annoying is what she found it) and huffed.

“So we’re just two ships passing very closely?” he asked with a low tone to his voice, his face suddenly very close to hers. Emma was glad her cloak covered her entire body or he may have noticed the goosebumps that formed when he’d spoken.

“Not even in the same body of water.” The nerve of him! Trying to flirt with her after he’d ruined her morning. She stomped off angrily toward home as the stranger yelled something about finding her again. Not in a million years! Her whole day had been turned upside down and it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

She snuck back in through the secret passage, a sigh of relief leaving her when no one was waiting for her in her room. If her mother had had an inkling she’d left, there would definitely be someone here for her. It was still early enough that Emma had time to change before her mother expected for lunch. She removed her linen dress and cloak and shoved them into the bottom of her hope chest. She rang the bell for one of her servants to come help her change into what her mother would consider ‘proper’ attire.

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44 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Why Neal Cassidy is a bad person

My dissertation on the horrible person Neal Cassidy is and why he was never meant to be a romantic interest for Emma Swan.

There was a recent TV Line list that talked about Love Triangles that didn’t really work. The Neal/Emma/Hook triangle was one of those on that list. It was obvious from the short blurb that was written that the writer was a Neal fan. I’ve also heard and seen SwanFire (Emma and Neal shippers) fans plead passionately about how they were meant to be, and honestly, I’ve always scratched my head about this, because I’ve always seen Neal as a horrible person. Even before it was obvious to me that they were going the Captain Swan (Hook and Emma) route, I’ve never understood how anyone could be on Team Neal. So I’ve decided to look at it logically.

Look, I understand that Neal is the father of Henry, Emma’s son. I understand that a lot of people feel they should be together because then they would be a family. But just because you have a child with someone does not mean that person is the one for you. So let’s look at the facts surrounding Henry’s birth. Henry was 10 when he found Emma on her 28th birthday, which means she was 17 when she had him (despite Emma saying she was 18 in The Price of Gold). She went to juvie, not jail, which we know from Desperate Souls, because she tells Regina that the records needed for the article printed about her in the paper about having Henry in jail were obtained illegally, because her records were sealed, something that could only happen if she were underage. We know that Emma ran away from Ingrid’s foster home at 16 and made her way to Portland where she stole the bug with Neal inside. At this point, Emma is either still 16 or just about to turn 17, depending on how long it took her to get to Oregon from Minnesota. Either way, she is still underage, and Neal, if we want to go off the age he is now since leaving Neverland, is around 22-23 (his wanted poster in Tallahassee has his birthday as 3/23/77), which is still skeezy in my book. I’m not even going to get into his years in Neverland, because he was the same age for that whole time. Now, Henry’s birthday is 8/15. Regina put this in as a code in the hospital in A Tale of Two Sisters, and in The Dark Swan Henry tells Killian that Regina uses his birthday for all her codes. Whether the writers intended this to be true when they used the code originally I have no idea, but this has been what most of the fandom considers Henry’s birthday. With that date in mind, Emma would have conceived Henry in November of 2000. Since we know Emma’s birthday is October 22nd or 23rd, that means she was only a few weeks past her birthday in conceiving Henry. Barely past the age of 16. In Oregon, the age of consent is (and was in 2000) 18, so Neal was breaking the law by having sex with Emma regardless of her consent.

Moving on to what I consider the biggest reason that Emma could never love Neal (again), is HE FUCKING PINNED HIS CRIME ON HER AND LET HER GO TO JAIL!!!!! I cannot express enough how if Neal truly loved Emma he would have figured out some other way to let her go to get to her destiny once August informed him of who Emma was. He simply could have left. He could have broken up with her. He could have faked his own death. But setting her up to go to prison? That’s just cold-blooded. That’s not something you do to someone you love. And for what? Because he was afraid that Emma would eventually lead him to his father? It’s real simple, Neal, once the curse is broken, you just don’t go to Storybrooke. Simple as that. Or you man up and confront your father. Either way, you don’t set up the girl you purport to love at the risk of seeing your father again! And then, when the curse does break and August sends him a pigeon letting him know, Neal still doesn’t do anything about going to find Emma. This just shows that he didn’t care for her at all. I don’t care how scared of your father you are; if you claim to love someone the way Neal claims to love Emma, you go after them.

Which leads me to the episode Manhattan, in which Neal and Emma reunite and Neal is a complete asshole to Emma. He treats her like she’s still 16, which is just gross. He acts like he knows better than her and tries to convince her he did everything for her own good, while also telling her if he’d known she was from the Enchanted Forest, he never would have gone near her. Then, when he finds out about Henry, he acts as though Emma purposefully kept this from him. She didn’t find out until after he sent her to jail. Get off your moral high horse, Neal. Emma doesn’t owe you a fucking thing. Not to mention that Emma went looking for him after she got out of jail (Regina told us she spent two years in Tallahassee in The Price of Gold). If she could have found him I’m sure she would have told him about having his baby in jail, but Neal wanted nothing to do with Emma, so she couldn’t. The fact that Neal gets upset and hurt over the fact that Emma didn’t tell him about Henry at the bar when he told her he couldn’t and wouldn’t have risked being with her if it meant seeing his father again completely blows my mind. He has absolutely no right to be angry at Emma about Henry. None. Not after what he did to her.

Moving on to Storybrooke, when Tamara comes to town, Emma is suspicious of her (and with good reason), but Neal just thinks she’s jealous. WHAT? Even after repeatedly telling Neal she’s not jealous, he continues to believe it (because he’s apparently a real catch). When Emma reminds him about her superpower is knowing when people lie, Neal says he never believed in that. So not only does he accuse her of being jealous, then he tells her the superpower that we know is real (albeit a little wonky) doesn’t exist and that he never believed in it. Way to be supportive. I can see why he’s such a catch. Now, I do have to give him credit for actually apologizing to Emma for framing her, but I still see it as too little too late. He messed up Emma’s whole view on love and men in general because he was a scared little boy. Emma, of course, turns out to be right about Tamara, which Neal doesn’t figure out about until she clobbers Emma and shoots Neal into a portal. Right before he falls he tells Emma he loves her. Okay, let's back up five minutes ago before we found out Tamara was a traitorous bitch to when Neal was in love with her. FIVE MINUTES AGO! And now he’s telling Emma he loves her like he was never involved with Tamara? Not to mention, he doesn’t even know Emma. He knew her 11 years ago. Emma is not the same, naive little girl she was back then. And yes, Emma tells Neal she loves him too, but again, neither of them are the same people they were back then. So yes, they may both have intense feelings, but if they got to know who they were now, I doubt they’d be in love. And I also believe Emma only said she loved him because he was about to die.

When Neal is in the Enchanted Forest trying to get to Emma and Henry in Neverland, he thinks of no one but himself when it comes to getting there. He uses poor Roland as bait not even caring about the consequences. He also makes himself seem much more involved in Emma and Henry’s life when talking to Mulan. He doesn’t even explain any of the backstory to her, just tells Mulan he messed up and he’s trying to fix it. He can’t even admit out loud the most crucial parts of his and Emma’s story because he knows he is wrong.

Which brings us to Neverland. Neal acts like a possessive jerk the entire time. Emma straight up tells him she wished he was dead, and he apparently takes that as an invitation to ‘never stop fighting for her’. Let’s get one thing straight, for all men, when a woman tells you she wishes you were dead because of all the pain you previously put her through, that does not mean she wants you to fight for her. It means she doesn’t want you in her life. And also, what? When did Neal ever fight for Emma? He’s always run away from Emma! He’d never have even thought to fight for her if she hadn’t come across him in New York and discovered Henry was his son. He was engaged to Tamara only 3-4 days prior once Emma and the crew rescued him from the Echo Caves. So all this ‘never stop fighting for you’ crap that he’s spewing is just pure bullshit, because the one thing Neal is good at is running, not fighting.

Once he finds out that Emma and Hook kissed, well, then Emma doesn’t even seem to be a person anymore, just an object that Neal wants to possess. When Hook tells Neal about his and Emma’s kiss, he just tells Hook, Emma has him now. No, ‘well she might choose me’ or ‘it’s her decision’; Neal’s already decided that Emma is his. And yes, both he and Hook act like children in Dark Hollow when they fight over the lighter, but no one said men are rational when it comes to women. Also, it seems that Neal wants to one up Hook more than he wants Emma once he figures out Hook is his rival.

Once they get back to Storybrooke, it is clear that Emma is uncomfortable when Neal asks her to lunch. The fact that Neal has to beg her to give him a chance, then tells Emma that if she doesn’t show up he’ll leave her alone speaks volumes. It’s obvious to Neal that Emma doesn’t want to give him a chance, yet he insists on it.

Then everyone is cursed back to the Enchanted Forest. And Neal, for all the running away that he’s done, decides that the only way he can get back to Emma and Henry is to resurrect his father, The Dark One. I get that he’s not thinking rationally, but the only way Rumplestiltskin was able to get to the Land Without Magic was getting Regina to enact the Dark Curse. What exactly did he think resurrecting Rumplestiltskin was going to get him? Then when he and Belle find out that the whole resurrection spell was not only a ploy by the Wicked Witch, but would also kill Neal in the process, he decides to go through with it anyway? What is the point of resurrecting his father to get back to Emma and Henry, if he would be dead? All he did was deliver his father into Zelena’s hands and kill himself in the process. As much as the writer’s tried to make it look like Zelena manipulated Neal into doing the spell, Belle tried to warn Neal off and he did it anyway.

I get that he believed he and Emma to be True Love at that point because he was somehow able to bring over the swan keychain necklace. But honestly, I think the curse may have worked a little differently for him (and Hook) since they weren’t part of the original curse. Or maybe it was just sent to be a reminder of all the bad things he did to Emma so he wouldn’t try to go after her. Whatever it was, it did not confirm they were True Love in any way.

And finally we come to his death. I honestly do not understand the hero arc. Neal condemned himself to death to resurrect his father. Rumplestiltskin absorbed Neal so that he wouldn’t lose him (despite the fact that they were barely speaking before Rumplestiltskin’s death), and then Neal asked Emma to free him from his father so he could tell her Zelena was behind everything. How exactly does that make him a hero? He made a stupid choice to resurrect his father, that put him right into Zelena’s hands, and none of that helped him get back to Emma or Henry. The only heroic thing he did was sending the bird to Hook to have him get Emma back her memories, and no one knows that was him.

So let’s review:

Neal took advantage of an underage girl.

Neal sent the girl he loved to juvie by framing her for his crime.

Emma had to have her baby in juvie and give him up for adoption because of Neal.

After Emma broke the curse, Neal still wanted nothing to do with her.

Neal still wanted nothing to do with Emma when he found out she was in NYC to bring him to his father.

Neal gets mad at Emma for never mentioning Henry, despite the fact that he wanted nothing to do with her.

Neal starts treating Emma like she’s still a lovesick teenager when his fiance (whom he also never mentioned) comes into the picture.

Neal immediately tells Emma he loves her five minutes after his fiance tries to kill Emma and shoots him.

Neal uses a 4-year-old to summon the Shadow so he can get to Neverland to be with Emma and Henry.

Neal acts like Emma is a possession and not able to make up her own mind when he realizes he has a rival for affection.

Neal decides resurrecting his father, after making a true sacrifice, is the only way to see Emma and Henry again, despite his father never being able to get to the Land Without Magic before.

Neal basically commits suicide and plays right into Zelena’s plan in order to resurrect his father.

Neal dies because he wouldn’t listen to Belle and resurrects Rumplestiltskin.

I know people have a lot of opinions regarding Neal. Again, I never saw him as a potential love interest for Emma. I got creeper vibes from him from the start. I never saw him as a hero or a potential hero. Was I happy that he died, no. I saw that as a cop out from the writers so they could immediately put Emma and Hook together and not let Emma make up her own mind (which I was confident would be Hook even if Neal was still alive). I would have rather seen Emma and Neal become friends and co-parent Henry together than have a completely useless and avoidable death. Instead, the writers felt the need to glorify his stupidity and then name Snow and Charming’s baby after him (don’t even get me started on how wrong and idiotic that was). But I will always see Neal as a bad guy because he could never think of anyone but himself.

Please do not post anti-Captain Swan comments on this. If you want to defend Neal, please feel free. I’m really curious as to what Neal fans see in him. But I did not mention Hook because this is not about the love triangle, it is about why Neal specifically was not good for Emma.

264 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

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