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secret-captain-swan-blog · 3 years

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Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 94580/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11 // Ch 12 // Ch 13 // Ch 14 // Ch 15 // Ch 16 // Ch 17

Read on: Ao3

Killian is reading in the garden when it starts to rain. It’s not a lot, just drops against the thin pages of his book. He’s nearly to the end of Jane Eyre now. He’s honestly ready to be done with the book. Where it had once been enthralling, it now seems tiresome. The pain of the loss of Alice lingers folded in it’s pages.

He’s wondering if he should seek some refuge from the rain, when he looks up to see Emma running across the field. She’s windswept, her hair falling loose from her ponytail. Yet she’s still beautiful, like a Romantic heroine, her dress sticking to her torso. He can tell there are tears in her eyes.

He rises to his feet, striding as quick as he can to her. They meet in the middle. He wraps her in his arms quickly. Something is wrong, he notices instantly, from the slump of her shoulders and the desperateness she clings to him with. Her hands knots in the back of his shirt, holding on to him.

“Emma, love?” He asks into her hair. “Whatever is wrong?”

It must be the statue, he thinks. It must have gotten into her head. He should not have left her there by herself. She had heavy emotions that he should have been there to help her with.

“Killian, I can’t,” she mumbles, her voice half delirious.

“Can’t what?” He prods, fear trickling through his body.

She sniffles and whispers again, “I can’t.”

It’s windy outside, the rain picking up, and he can’t hear her well.

“Come, love,” he says. “Let’s get you inside. It’s getting bad out here.”

She shakes her head against his chest, “No. I can’t.”

He rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You’re going to catch a cold, love. I want to hear what’s upset you, but some place a bit less damp and cold.”

“No, no,” she says. “We can’t go into the castle. I can’t deal with it.”

“Deal with what, Swan?” He asks, slipping his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. He raises them to his lips to kiss them softly. They are already freezing.

“They’re going to tell me that I’m the lost princess,” she whispers. “And I’m not ready for it.”

He tries to process what she is saying. She’s the lost princess. She’s not ready.

His mind flits through all the evidence that he’s been trying to not point out for so long. The uncanny resemblance between the girl in Killian’s memories and Emma herself. The name. The accent. The right history. The scar on her shoulder. Even the chin. Killian’s spent so long trying to get Emma to remember something. For the connection to hold. And maybe, just maybe this visit to the gardens triggered the very thing that Killian’s been dreaming of. Maybe, even after last night’s fight, she has finally had the epiphany that he knows, he’s certain, must be coming.

But maybe that’s not it? Killian doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Reality rushes through him. Maybe the Queen or Regina just think that Emma is the lost princess and they want her to go public about it for publicity. Maybe now they’re manipulating her, asking her to pose as the princess. For what? For Misthaven Morale?

He’s going to need more information. Emma’s given him such few words, but his mind is spinning with possibilities. He knows, he’s certain, that something fundamental, potentially something he’s yearned for, is changing right here and now.

He brushes his hand against her hair softly, like he would a timid animal. She curls into him more, shivering.

What she needs, he realizes, obviously isn’t to go back into the castle. She needs to talk and in more than one way, unfreeze.

“Come love,” he whispers into her hair.

He leads her out of the castle grounds, the statues and winter garden behind them. Looking back now, he’s uncertain why he thought it was a good idea to take her there when she was in a bizarre state from the night before. As they weave down the cobblestone, she sniffles now, looking a bit less anxious. He thanks the gods for that.

There is a little tea shop in the grey stone shops lining the road. Called “The Castle Gate Cafe,” it’s lace doily sort of place. The counter boasts an assortment of cakes. He situates Emma in a table that’s tucked into a bay window off to the side that overlooks a damp patch of garden.

As he orders an Americano, a cappuccino, and a slice of lemon lavender cake, he glances back at Emma. Her face is distant, as if her thoughts are in another world.

When he comes back to join her, he presses a cappuccinos into her hands. She closes her eyes and takes a sip, her shivering subsiding.

“Sorry,” she says, after another pensive sip. “I must have seemed crazy back there. Or pathetic.”

“Emma, love, you seem traumatized,” he tells her.

She swallows, “I think I am a little.”

He takes a bit of the lemon cake. It’s sweet and soothing. He puts a piece of it on a fork and passes it to Emma. She takes the bite and gives him a smile.

“I was really affected by what I saw in gardens. I felt so ashamed for scamming the queen. I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. I was like in a weird trance or something, I swear. I felt like an out of body feeling, I don’t know.”

He takes a bite of cake and nods at her to continue.

She rambles, ”So, I went into the castle and all of a sudden, Mary Margaret was there and I just had to tell her everything.”

Killian chokes on his cake, “Everything?”

“Yeah, about the opera and our old plan and everything,” Emma manages.

He frowns knowing this means risking her security in Mishaven, her trust with the Queen, and the possibility of her returning to the country- and to him. “What happened?”

“She didn’t care. Killian, it’s crazy. She said that it doesn’t make a difference. She loves me,” Emma admits.

He reaches out to take her hand. Killian knows how much this means to her- to get the Queen’s affection and approval, to be loved by a parental-type figure in the way she’s always yearned to be. He knows it because he’s wanted it too. That’s part of why he’s never taken Ruby’s Granny’s generosity for granted. He rubs his thumb against her palm, part of him so understands and is proud for Emma.

“That’s marvelous, Swan,” he says.

She takes another sip of cappuccino, before she presses her lips together, and looks up at him.

“But then all of a sudden, Prime Minister Mills walked in,” she tells him.

He lets an eyebrow lift in place of a question.

“And she said that she took DNA from us both, without either of us knowing,” Emma says.

Killian thinks back to the week before, the suspected break-in. Of course it wasn’t the hooded man, it was the Prime Minister.

“We’re related,” Emma tells him. “I’m Mary Margaret’s daughter.”

So he was right.

He’s been right all along. It’s her. Emma is the girl from his childhood. It was Emma who he used to play games with in the castle courtyard. It was Emma who he used to eat sweets with in the kitchens when the cook would make them an extra treat. It was Emma who he ran across the field with that dark night. It was Emma who saw his brother right before he died. It was Emma who was now his sovereign. Emma.

“You’re the lost princess,” Killian says.

He feels a weird bit of emotion well up in him, a feeling of completeness that now is crescendoing. The girl who disappeared that night has been found. The lost girl who never had a family has been welcomed home.

When Emma looks up at him and sees the emotion in his face, something changes in her too. Tears spring again to her eyes. He quickly moves from his seat to slide in the booth next to her. His arms wrap around her. His lips kiss her hair. He tries to hide his sniffles, but he can’t.

She wraps her arms back around him, burying her face in his chest.

“We found you, Emma,” he whispers. “You came home to us.”

She sniffles.

“Killian, I don’t know how to react to this,” she murmurs back. “You’re crying, Mary Margaret is crying. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t feel like a princess. I don’t feel like my life is changing. I still don’t remember anything. It’s not like a sudden dramatic flashback or anything. All of these people keep looking at me like I’m supposed to be crying, but I don’t even know.”

Killian tries to be attentive to her. He realizes that Emma isn’t experiencing this moment as he is. He needs to be there for her. Princess or not, Emma is his girlfriend. She needs him to support her through this emotionally cataclysmic moment.

“Don’t know what?” He asks, brushing another hand through her hair.

“How to be a princess? How to be a daughter? I’ve only ever been Emma Swan. I’ve only ever been lost or alone or fighting for myself. I just want to go back to Durham and write my thesis. I don’t want to learn how to curtsey or use dumb shrimp forks or whatever people do in those Hallmark lost princess movies.”

“I’m not quite sure what a Hallmark is,” Killian replies.

“It’s not important,” Emma says, sniffling and sighing. “It’s just. I’m not really sure I ever wanted this.”

“Emma, you have a family,” he says emphatically, tears still in his eyes. “You have a real life fairy tale. You weren’t reading Blanche Neige all these years to run away from that. Princess Emmaline Georgette Analise Charmant Blanchard Nolan, I promise this is everything you’ve ever wanted.”

She smiles and sniffles and nods, “Yeah, I think I know that. Maybe that’s what scares me the most.”

He hugs her tight.

“I still don’t know what to do,” Emma says. “I ran away from the Queen.”

“You ran away?” He laughs.

“Yeah, I didn’t know how to react and she was crying and I absolutely couldn’t be in that room another moment,” she says.

“Oh love. Oh Swan,” He says, amused. His voice is still ragged from tears. “I think we should go find your Mum now. She’ll be wanting to hug you too after all these years.”

They walk back into the castle. Emma has to fight against everything inside her that says to turn her back, head for the Misthaven airport, and take off for North Carolina. But Killian’s hand inside her own helps, a lot actually. She lets it ground her, stabilize her. He’s still looking at her with tears in his eyes that makes her uncomfortable, but she’s managing.

Queen Mary Margaret and Prime Minister Mills are standing in the foyer when they arrive. She realizes that everyone else is gone- the secretaries, the dignitaries and diplomats, or whoever else might be in the castle. It’s just them.

“Your Royal Highness,” Regina says, “I’m truly sorry for springing the news on you in an improper way. I apologize.”

Emma tucks some hair behind her ears. It’s still damp from the rain earlier, which has now turned into a gentle mist.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m sorry for running away. It’s an old habit, I guess.”

“Emma,” the queen says finally, her voice choked up.

Mary Margaret takes a step forward, her lips pursed to hold back a sob.

Emma realizes that like it or not, this is her life now. She can keep running from it. Or she can embrace it. It doesn’t mean she needs to give up everything. Those details- her thesis, her livelihood, the dumb shrimp forks- they can be sorted out later. But right now, she’s just found out that this woman who has been nothing but a kind motherly figure to her these last few months is her actual real life mother. The least she can do is hug her.

She crosses the space and steps into her arms. It feels like melting, like comfort. Like a blanket wrapped around you on a cold day. Like turning the doorknob on your apartment door. Like a bowl sized cappuccino made just how she likes it. Like home. Mary Margaret, Killian, Misthaven- this was her home. She has a home. She is home.

“I’ve had a few assistants go out to get some Mamie’s coffee and croissants for you,” Mary Margaret says. “And we’ll call in some take away later for dinner.”

Emma doesn’t say that they just got coffee, because really, she always wants coffee. And it sounds, oh so cozy, to drink more coffee in this castle with the Queen. With her mom.

“I was thinking that I could give you a tour of the castle,” Mary Margaret says. “And then maybe, this is silly, but we’ve got these old home videos David used to take of you as a child. They’ve been too painful for me to ever watch, but maybe, since you’re here- we could watch them together.”

Emma smiles. She could do this. And maybe the home videos might even help her process and visualize and remember.

“That sounds great,” Emma tells her.

“I’ll just see you later then,” Killian whispers from behind her.

“No, no,” Mary Margaret says. “Please, Killian, you are family. Stay.”

Emma turns to smile at him and offer him her hand. “Stay.”

It’s late that night when they make it back to Emma’s apartment. After the long, harrowing, revelatory day, the clean white apartment and cozy house plants are the perfect greeting.

Emma is pretty sure she’s never been so tired. The rain and the emotions of the day have left her past drained. She leans on Killian as they walk in.

“Shower,” she mutters, as she stumbles towards the bathroom.

When Killian doesn’t follow immediately, she turns to him, “You too.”

He chuckles, before following her into the bathroom. She turns on the shower and cranks it up as high as it will go. That’s all she can think of right now- warm water and then a long sleep in her bed.

She strips off her clothes. Despite how tired she is, she glances behind her to see Killian’s expression. It’s something of admiration as he takes her in. She smirks and raises her eyebrows, before stepping in.

He’s inside the stream with her, sooner than she expects. The hot water alongside Killian’s arms wrapping around her lulls her and she feels the stress of the day leave her. She lets her eyes flutter closed as she leans back against his chest.

“What did you think of the evening with your mum?” He asks.

Emma smiles at the fact she has a mother. It’s a fact that is going to take a very long time to accept and set in, but for now she’s honoring her personal intention to embrace it.

“It was good,” Emma says.

“You know you can be honest with me,” Killian tells her, his hands moving to rub her shoulders. She realizes all the tensions she’s held in.

“No, I’m being honest,” she insists. “It was like having a family. A very rich, ridiculous family. But a genuine cozy little family.”

Killian nuzzles her hair, before moving to get her lavender aromatherapy body wash. He dabs it on a loofa and begins to rub it all over her.

“It was weird with those videos,” Emma murmurs.

She thinks back to the happy memory from less than an hour ago: of her, Killian, and Mary Margaret piled on a couch in one of the more comfortable lounges of the hilltop castle. They’d had takeaway pizza, which Emma could process now as a gesture from the Queen to be “chill” and let her ease her way into this.

They’d watched these videos of Emma with her family as a child. Baby Princess Emma waltzing with her father. Baby Princess Emma riding around on Prancer in the woods. Baby Princess Emma giggling as she plays tag with Killian down palace corridors. It’s weird to look at that little girl and know that it was her who did those things.

“I guess,” Emma says, as Killian switches from washing to shampooing, “I’ve been thinking for the last months, since I got here, that Princess Emma is this other person. A person who probably hates me for impersonating her. A person who is far more innocent than myself. A person who is probably dead.”

Killian starts rubbing shampoo into her hair and it’s fundamentally soothing. She lets out a soft sigh.

“It’s just weird to think that she’s me,” Emma says. “We are one in the same.”

She turns to face Killian and looks up at him. “You aren’t saying anything. I’m just monologuing here.”

He shakes his head as he runs his finger along the scar on her shoulder.

“I know, love,” He says softly. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve thought you were her this whole time. I know you don’t want to hear it.”

She takes his hand from her shoulder to bring it to her lips to kiss his palm.

“No, it’s fine,” Emma says. “As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew you had your suspicions the whole time. Even last night, you did. And in the end it doesn’t matter, because here we are anyway.”

Killian reaches behind her to turn off the water. He kisses her softly before opening the curtain. He passes her a towel and she wraps it around her shoulders, following him out of the bathroom.

She pulls on a Duke Writing Studio t-shirt and a pair of underwear, before toweling off her hair and crawling into bed. Killian is already there, arms ready to pull her close.

Her eyes flicker closed naturally and she sighs softly.

She supposes that is another good, but terrifying thing about this whole situation: every obstacle of distance that was between her and Killian has faded. Misthaven is her home now.

She knows that she has plenty of thoughts about that to fret over in the future. A tendril of fear and another of anticipation wind in her stomach, but for now the wave exhaustion crashes over and pulls her under.

The next morning, Emma tries to fall into her normal schedule. She needs routine and hard work to ground her. She always has. It’s a coping mechanism.

Killian is still sleeping when she wakes. She makes coffee in the French Press before heading to her desk overlooking the park. She pulls the soft grey blanket off the couch and wraps around herself, before opening up her thesis materials. She’s just a happy little Emma in her quaint, minimalist Misthaven apartment enjoying her coffee and working on her PhD.

She doesn’t know much about what the future holds, but it has to hold her dissertation. She’s spent so much time on it. She’s put in so much work. Looking at it now, she hopes that she won’t look ridiculous for writing her thesis on her own mother’s work or specializing in the literature from the country she is now sovereign of. But she thinks that if she can keep the Blanche Neige secret under wraps and she can probably pass off a decent thesis.

She smiles fondly at herself as she starts typing- she can be the first Princess with a PhD. She googles it just to fact check herself. Frowning, she realizes that a Japanese princess has already beat her to it.

A princess , she reminds herself. She’s still processing it. If she’s being honest, she’s probably at a sort of denial stage in the process because she’s feeling pretty chill about it. The shock of it has worn off, but she’s certain that the reality hasn’t set in yet either.

“How is my princess this morning?” A groggy voice asks from behind her.

She turns to see a disheveled Killian leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. He’s just in boxers and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

She purrs, “Come here.”

He walks behind her chair and loops his arms around her. She feels the scruff of his beard on her cheek as he leans down to give her a kiss.

She turns her head to kiss him on the lips, her hands cupping his face to pull him down to her. His body curves around hers to deepen the kiss and pull her close. She feels so soft and delicate, like she’s something so precious to him. She’s grown to like that feeling- like she matters.

Her arms lift to his shoulders and he uses his own arms to lift her. Her legs curl around his torso.

“Sorry about the coffee breath,” she whispers, self conscious.

“Dammit Emma,” He whispers, as he falls onto the couch.

She transitions perfectly into straddling him. Her hands dive into his gloriously disheveled hair. His head lowers to kiss her neck, then her collarbone, before he settles to lick at the base of her throat.

She hums in pleasure. All her thoughts, her worries, her cares are gone. All she can think of is Killian, the man she loves- and it’s bliss.

Then a phone's ringtone strikes the air and the spell is broken.

Emma stumbles off of him to head for her bedroom where her phone is lying on her bedside table.

“Hello,” she asks, not pausing to glance at the number.

“Emma, darling,” replies Mary Margaret.

Her mom. The queen. Blanche Neige. It’s almost dizzying.

“Oh hey,” Emma says, sitting on the side of her bed.

“I was wondering if you and Killian would like to join me and Regina for brunch,” she says. “We have a lot to go over- publicity, citizenship, castles, balls.”

Emma can hear a smile in her voice, but her own stomach churns. The denial phase is slowly slipping away into something else, some sort of reality setting in. She can’t have slow and silly mornings with her boyfriend because she has princess responsibilities.

But she feels, alongside of that, a weird sense of duty well up in her. Of course, she must be at this meeting. She can tell that just like the night before, the Queen is trying to make it easier for her. She isn’t throwing her into royal duties, just inviting her to a casual brunch.

“Yes, certainly,” Emma says. “We’ll be there.”

“It’ll be at my place,” Mary Margaret says. “The Summer Palace. I’ll send a car for you in about a half an hour. See you then!”

Killian pokes his head in and she explains the brunch meeting.

“I’ve actually got work this morning, love,” He explains. “I can skip it, for certain, darling, if you want. I don’t want you to go alone if you are nervous.”

Emma can’t believe she forgot that Killian has a life outside of her. But of course he does. She senses that everything for them is going to change very soon. “Publicity” the queen said. It may be one of the last times that Killian will get to work in peace, or work at all.

“It’s fine,” Emma says, rising to meet him and kissing his cheek. “Go to work, Killian.”

They launch into action, mutually displeased to leave behind their moment on the couch, but both busy with their plans. Emma changes into a pair of black jeans and a sweater, hoping that it’s a nice enough outfit for brunch with the Queen. Her hair, messy and tangled from sleeping it in wet, goes up into what she hopes suffices as an elegant top knot. A spritz of perfume, a bit of concealer and mascara, a peck on Killian’s lips- and she’s out the door to meet the car.

The Christmas decorations are up in their full glory when Emma arrives at the summer palace: fairy lights, garland, and wreaths of evergreen adoring the palace. She exits the car and is greeted by a doorman who informs her that the Prime Minister and Her Majesty are in the Forest Room. Emma nods and makes her way through the palace, trimmed with Christmas cheer, before finding the tea room.

“Emma, darling,” Mary Margaret says, crossing the room to envelop her in a hug.

Emma wants to resist, because that is her instinct. Flashes of Ingrid, of other foster parents flash through her mind. People she thought she could trust, but proved her wrong. It’s hard to believe that there is actually someone here who truly loves her and won’t leave. But it’s true. So she lets her mother hug her and lets herself relax into the hug. A part of her that has always been raw and ragged, now feels soothed.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asks.

Emma nods.

“Well there is fruit and patisserie on the sideboard, coffee and tea as well. If you prefer a hot breakfast, you can just order from one of the footmen,” The queen directs.

Not being fussy, Emma takes some strawberries and a pain au chocolat. She fills one of the dainty mugs with coffee and then joins Mary Margaret and Regina at the table.

“Shall we dive into it?” The Prime Minister asks. “We need to decide when to send out the press release. I’ve already had it drafted and you can review it if you please.”

She pushes Emma a piece of paper with the official Misthaven seal on it. Emma tries to skim it, but her mind is too all over the place to focus.

“I think it’s best to do it as soon as possible,” Regina informs her. “It would be disastrous if the information was leaked from someone else. Obviously there will be a lot of commotion about it at first. This is, afterall, a nearly impossible event to happen- lost princess finds her way home. So I expect that we’ll have a fair bit of international coverage. It’ll be best if you lay low during that time, avoiding reporters and the like. However, once it dies down, you should be fine. Misthaven is too small to have the insane paparazzi that English and Swedish royals face.”

Emma nods. The words paparazzi makes her squirm and want to run away. She thinks about the simple pleasure of drinking coffee at Mamies or sitting, editing her paper, in Killian’s pub. She wonders if she’ll ever get that pleasure again. Or at least how long she’ll have to wait to do that again.

“We’ll hire you security as well,” The queen adds. “At least until the hype dies down and even after, so we all know you are safe.”

Emma nods again. She wishes she brought a notebook to take notes.

��You’ll obviously move into the house in the Southern Valley,” the Queen tells her. “And we’ll have to make plans for the Christmas ball. It’s a bit last minute for a dress, but we can figure something out.”

Emma feels her forehead crinkle, all of it hitting her too fast to process.

“But, I’m leaving Misthaven next Thursday to be back in America for Christmas,” Emma says. “I already bought the ticket.”

The only way that Emma could buy the ticket was through her grant and fellowship. There was no way she could afford it on her own. She couldn’t just buy another one because she changed her mind about when she wanted to go back.

“What do you mean going back to America?” Regina asks, perplexed.

“To go back to Duke and finish my PhD,” Emma explains.

“Well clearly that isn’t important now, is it?” Regina says.

“What do you mean?” Emma says, startled. Her mind races with defensive thoughts. She can’t lose her thesis. “That’s everything. My life’s work.”

“Emma will finish her PhD,” Mary Margaret says. “Of course she will.”

Emma feels her pounding heart decelerate.

“It might be in your best interest, however,” the Queen says. “To take a semester off. See if you can take a small leave of absence. I’m sure it’s understandable, just so you have time to transition.”

Emma wants to say no. She wants to say that she spends Christmas with Belle and her father each year. She wants poinsettias in the green house and presents under the tree.

But then she thinks about waking up on Christmas morning with Killian beside her. A Christmas tree in her own house. Emma’s never even entertained the thought of having a house of her own before because it seemed too impossible. But now she’ll have one and a family of her own to spend Christmas with. Yes, she’ll have to stay. It seems silly now to have even thought otherwise.

“What about my flight home?” She asks. “I already bought it.”

“Don’t take it, obviously,” Regina says. “I’m not even sure why we are talking about this. You’ve just inherited a hundred million euros, I’m not quite sure why you’re hung up on this.”

Oh.

Emma tries to process a hundred million.

She thinks about stealing concealer from the drugstore because she couldn’t afford it and she wanted to cover up the bruises.

She thinks of eating a grilled cheese every other day and sleeping in the library.

She thinks of all the opportunities she said no to- studying abroad, nights at the theater, dinners out with professors- because she couldn’t afford it.

And now she has a hundred million euros.

Emma doesn’t realize she is crying until her fat tears fall into her coffee cup, a sob coming out of her chest.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret gasps, coming over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “My dear, what is it?”

Emma tries to breath and chokes on her breath, a hiccup forming.

“I’ve never had money like that,” she says. “Nothing close to that. I’ve always had to scrape and fight for scraps. I don’t know how to have this life now.”

Mary Margaret and Regina exchange a look and the Prime Minister leaves the room. The queen lowers herself down so that she meet Emma face to face.

“Emma,” the queen begins, rubbing her back as tears tumble from Emma’s eyes. “I am terribly sorry that you’ve lived a life you didn’t deserve. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to experience such horrible poverty and so much financial anxiety. I’m sorry for every moment you’ve been lonely. Every moment you’ve wondered where your mum was. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tuck you in at night and take you on nice holidays and buy you new books. I can’t begin to understand what your life has been like, but I can tell you it’s going to be better now.”

Emma sniffles and looks up at her.

“You’ll never want or fret about money. You’ll be able to help others with that money, make a difference in the world. You and Killian will be able to give your kids everything you didn’t have,” The queen says.

The queen beckons Emma into another hug and she obliges.

“You are going to have a good life now, Emma,” the Queen tells her.

Eventually Emma’s tears lull and Regina returns. They start to make plans for Emma’s move, which is to happen in two days. They take her measurements to send to the dressmaker for Emma’s dress for the ball, which will also double as her public debut. And they pass along a debit card for her new royal bank account. Regina advises she starts updating her wardrobe with pieces that are “couture” and informs her that once her move is finished, a stylist will come to help her look a bit more sophisticated.

The comment makes Emma want to roll her eyes, but she decides that isn’t very princess-like and resists.

It’s overwhelming and totally new. But Emma is trying, with all her might, to shove the walls down. If they come up now, she’ll only hurt Mary Margaret and Killian. She hasn’t worked this hard to turn on them.

As the driver takes her back down from the mountaintop palace, she leans her head against the window. She imagines herself turning into a tree, roots growing deep into the ground, branches reaching towards the sky. She tries to think of herself as being unmoved here, firm of purpose and place. Growing a home here in this place, here in Misthaven.

She has the driver drop her off at Mamie’s, where she gets a cappuccino and reads a book of fairy tales. Emma decides she needs to make the most of her last few days of anonymity. It starts to rain again, the weather decidedly cold now, Indian summer behind them. From Mamie’s, she can see Killian’s pub across the street and across the blustery street she can just make him out at the counter. She sends him a text telling him to come over when he finishes his shift.

As she flicks through her phone, she realizes she has a text from Belle.

Sorry to change our usual plans girl, but Will invited me to Misthaven for Christmas to meet his family. Any chance I can convince you to stay in Misthaven for Xmas as well?

Emma taps back.

Haha I just decided today to stay in Misthaven for Christmas too.

Emma smirks to herself and sips her cappuccino as she waits for a response.

Yes, amazing!! Can you stay with Killian then? Is it okay if Will and I take back his apartment?

Rolling her eyes, Emma replies:

In a huge plot twist, I’m actually getting my own place in Misthaven. I’ll explain more later on facetime when I am not at a coffee shop. Loooong story.

#Captain Swan #CS fic #CS fic rec #cs ff #cs ff au #cs modern au #killian jones #emma swan

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

A lot of questions incoming from the 40 writers asks 😂

2, 3, 9, 15, 28, 35 and 38!

Tell me everything ♥️

CJ 🥺 thank you 💕

fic writer asks

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Smut. Is smut a trope?

All the scenes I want to write play out so well in my head but then I put it into text and it’s a CRINGE FEST 😫

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I mean.... probably not any body/gender swap ff tropes. Nor supernatural stuff. And absolutely nothing with horror/gore. I generally just write about things that happen in my life or those closest to me so there’s always a existential realism to my works (hopefully it comes across).

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Just because of how long it’s taking me to finish the series I’m going to say Hurricane. I didn’t mean for it to get longer than 4 chapters but the ideas kept flowing and then somewhere along the lines I ran out of an actual satisfactory ending.

I do have the rest-ish of the series mapped out though! I’m aiming for two more chapters. Chapter 7 is the BIG ANGST and Chapter 8 is the resolution to that. Then... idk. Haven’t really figured out if I’m going to see them out of the hurricane or just leave them in the cabin and up to interpretation 🤷‍♀️

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Ohhh this ones hard! All of my fics play out like movies in my head so trying to pic one that would leave me as a viewer completely satisfied is difficult 🙈

Do We Have A Future? probably, just because it’s topics that need to be more mainstream and would be one of my favorite angsty things to watch.

If I could choose to make a tv series out of my fics, it would definitely be the Living Trauma Universe leading into the FATL Universe (extra angst, lots of feels, & cute boys).

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Only 3? :(

@alwaysmychoices hands down. Life With and Without is my favorite series in the fandom, I have read both parts at least 5 times during the hiatus’. Her writing is so clever and she makes Ethan and Charlie into real, flawed people. Honestly, I still have the mental image of Ethan Ramsey in sweatpants from A Weekend With happily burned into my brain. (it was such a small detail but written so well and completely made E a fully formed person instead of a pixel we write about)

@starrystarrytrouble Ruby’s writing is like poetry. She’s simply able to elicit such strong emotions in such few words. I can see every single fic she writes clearly in my head, that’s how strong her imagery is. My favorite fics are definitely the ones where she uses symbols and metaphors (the paris one, the daises one [on ao3] and ofc the symbolism of amber in amber and the damn christmas lights in the holiday fic). Such food for my soul 💖

@writinghereandthere Ana’s PROSE. that’s it. that’s the explanation. This woman can write the most affecting of words and it is a crime to be that good. I’ve said it before and I’ll scream it again (in words that can’t fully encompass how much i love her work), my favorite fics of hers are the ones that are so mundane. The ones that are just little domestic fluff or random ficlets of nothingness that still seem to carry so much weight. Unchained Melody. The Normal and Mundane. More Than a Drawer. Passing Ships in the Night. And there’s another bryce one I’m forgetting that has something to do with this sunshine pixel. But you get the point, I could list every single one of her fics and it still wouldn’t do them or her justice.

okay i’m cheating but I can’t not add @the-pale-goddess. Hilde’s fics were some of the first I read during my great migration back on tumblr. Miami Heat was *chefs kiss*. And Tiffany and Ethan? All their troubles? I adore her complicated characters. Tiffany is such a strong, badass woman I really admire. Um and uh also have you read this woman’s smut??? 🥵😈

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Right now, no. That’s only because the story doesn’t call for it yet. I do think that Becca would die before Ethan so do with that bit of information what you will 🤷‍♀️

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

Every single review makes my day.

I definitely have a few saved that’re burrowed in my likes but can’t seem to pinpoint one right now. Really just anyone who comments on the content and seems to have been engaged or connected to the pieces I write really tickles my heart.

WAIT OKAY the review @terrm9 left on Make Believe. That one holds a special place in my heart. I cannot read that fic without wondering about her and if she’s doing okay, and hoping she does well on all her exams/coursework lol

While I am on the topic of my fics that remind me of people; I can’t read FATL without thinking of @kalogh it is my magnum opus all because she requested the quote, Leakage reminds me of Ruby because she encouraged me to write it, and Above Board always reminds me of you wanting to know more about my soft beans.

#queencarb #asked

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terreisa · 3 years

Text

Love Down the Line: Chapter 10

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Oakland and Portland, May 27th

Emma felt the mattress dip slightly behind her. She curled in on herself but there wasn’t much room in the bunks of the bus for her to completely avoid whomever it was. It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try though, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and not making a peep.

“I’m not going away until you tell me something,” Ruby sighed. She shifted and Emma felt her stretch out next to her, “You can’t avoid it forever. It might help to talk about it.”

“What’s there to say?” She asked dully. “It’s all over the internet.”

From the moment she’d stormed out of the office building she’d been hounded by paparazzi. Her Instagram was full of comments that ran the gamut from cussing her out for kicking Killian off the tour to cussing her out over the leaked, and very edited, audio from her ranting at Walsh. Will had informed her with an impressed grin that she’d been trending on Twitter for two days along with the hashtag MissHighandMighty. The only good thing that had happened was Regina was too busy putting out fires to rail at her in person over what she probably saw as her failings and shortcomings. Instead she’d received and ignored multiple texts that clearly communicated Regina’s increasing frustration with her. She’d blocked Killian’s number completely.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ruby chided. She paused, “He’s been calling me, asking what happened. I’ve been letting them go to voicemail, mostly because I don’t know if you want me to answer or what really happened actually, but even if I did I wouldn’t say anything. Chicks before dicks and all.”

Emma felt herself smile, her first real one in three days, “Yeah, but that’s how you like it. Dorothy okay with you being out here?”

“Eh-” she could feel Ruby’s shoulders lift behind her in a shrug, “She knew I’d be touring when we first hooked up. We just got a few extra weeks before it actually happened. She wasn’t too happy with the drop everything and catch a red eye to LA part of it all, though. We were about to go on a date, by the way, so thanks for that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling a bit guilty.

“You can make it up to us later,” Ruby said matter of factly. “Nice attempt at a deflection by the way.”

“Thought I’d try,” she muttered.

“And if I was Tink it might have worked but I’m not so it didn’t. Time to spill.”

She closed her eyes. It was just one of the many moments she’d been dreading since seemingly everything in her life had imploded. In a sort of grim twist of luck it was going to be one of the easier of the conversations she knew needed to happen. With a resigned sigh she opened her eyes and turned onto her back, though she kept her gaze trained on the underside of the bunk above her.

“How much did you know?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Did Regina tell you I’d only go for it if you were the one to bring him in? Did he flirt and flatter his way into getting you to agree to helping him re-jumpstart his career through me?”

Ruby let out a harsh burst of air, clearly surprised by her question. She could almost feel the glare aimed at her but kept her eyes focused upward.

“If you really thought that you wouldn’t have made me fly all the way out here to replace him,” Ruby said harshly. Then she sighed, “I didn’t know what plans Regina had for him or his career but I did know that he’d signed with her. It’s why she didn’t put up a fight when I suggested he take my place on the tour. I thought you knew that.”

“No. I clearly didn’t,” she said shortly.

Ruby sighed again, “Okay, but to be fair it also wasn’t this big secret. He was just a substitute guitarist, you even told him that.”

“Yeah, well, he turned out to be more,” Emma muttered, hating the catch in her throat.

“Emma-” Ruby lifted herself up on her elbow and hovered over her, her eyes wide, “Did you fall for him?”

“No. We were just…”

She couldn’t force the words ‘having fun’ off her tongue. Instead she gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping Ruby would get the idea. That Ruby’s first instinct was dead on wasn’t something Emma wanted to dive into.

Ruby narrowed her eyes and studied her before smirking and flopping back down beside her, “Whatever you two were ‘just’ doing it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ fucking.”

Emma couldn’t help twitching at Ruby’s matter of fact statement. She hadn’t known that Ruby was a goddamn psychic. Looking over at her suspiciously she was annoyed to see Ruby looking like a cat that got the canary.

“What did Tink tell you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Tink,” Ruby said with a sing-song tone, “Will has been complaining non-stop about having to share a room with Tink. Apparently glitter ruins a man’s reputation.”

“He’s with Belle, he shouldn’t be worrying about his reputation,” Emma grumbled. Then she sobered, “He’s not telling everyone about that is he?”

Ruby’s grin faded, “You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t know what anyone wouldn’t do anymore,” she whispered.

“Emma-” Ruby turned onto her side and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, “I’m on your side, always, but you haven’t even given Killian the chance to explain himself.”

She scoffed, “You haven’t heard what Walsh actually told me. He said that Regina was the one that told him to bring up Killian getting back into music. She had to have planned it all out with Killian at that goddamn lunch, gotten his okay to do it that way. There’s fucking pictures of them shaking on it right before Regina came to the studios.”

That had been the final blow. She had been in line at a grocery store the day after the disastrous interview, waiting to buy emergency Milk Duds and microwave popcorn. Killian had been calling and texting her with increased frequency and she’d ignored them all. Her phone had started buzzing in her hand again and in her fumbling to pull it out of her pocket she’d dropped the Milk Duds. When she’d bent to pick them up her gaze had caught on a tabloid with a blown up picture of Killian, Regina and Robin seated on the patio of a restaurant, the remains of their meal strewn across the table. Killian and Robin had been shaking hands while Regina looked on in satisfaction. Emma had dumped the candy and popcorn into a basket of french bread and fled the store, blocking Killian’s number as she did.

“There’s pictures of them sharing a meal,” Ruby said, being annoyingly pragmatic, “And that was a paparazzi shot, so you don’t know that they were plotting anything.”

“He never told me Regina was going to be there,” she said harshly. “I was almost willing to hear Killian out, eventually. He kept calling and texting and I thought maybe I should give him a chance to explain. Then I saw that fucking picture. I asked him what he was going to do that day and he lied straight to my face. He said he was hanging out with Robin and his son. No mention of Regina or lunch meetings or that he had even started recording again. He’s lied to me at least twice that I know of and I have no idea how many more he’s told me since we met.”

She was breathing heavily and as much as she wanted to yell, scream out her frustrations and heartbreak, she was all too aware of the others on the bus waiting for her to do just that. Tink and Will had been watching her closely for days and while deep down she knew they’d never blab to reporters or post anything on social media they also weren’t the ones she wanted to talk to. Ruby had been her friend the longest and should have been the perfect person to unload on but Emma still felt like a powder keg, ready to explode. With a heavy heart she realized that the one person she wanted to vent to was the one person she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“So you’re just going to ignore him? You never want to know what was really going on?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I can find that out from Regina. She’s underhanded and does things on her own terms but she never lies about it. At least not when you ask her straight up,” she said bitterly.

“And don’t you think Killian would too?”

A week earlier she would have been absolutely sure how she would have answered. Instead she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her and she’d yet to find her footing.

“I’m just not ready to talk to him yet,” she hedged, knowing Ruby would keep at her like a dog with a bone. “Can we just… not talk about it at all anymore?”

“Okay,” Ruby acquiesced after a small pause where she’d merely looked at her, “but can I ask one more thing?”

Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine. What?”

“Were you happy?”

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest. She thought back to the couple of times that she’d woken up before him, able to look at him without a suggestive wag of his eyebrows or salacious twinkle in his eye. There were the nights they stayed up too late, either on the bus or in their room, talking about everything and nothing. He’d made soundchecks less of a chore as he joked around with Will or teased Tink about the romance novel that was always sitting on top of whatever flat surface was nearest. Then there’d been the moments when she’d look at him only to find him already watching her with a soft smile that she was helpless to return.

The memories only made the sting of his betrayal hurt all the more.

“I really, really was.”

For the first time since her world came crumbling down she let herself cry. She’d held herself together with nothing more than stubborn will and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with the next show. As she curled into Ruby’s arms with heaving sobs she vaguely realized it might not have been the best strategy.

Slowly, and nearly a whole box of tissues later, Emma regained control of herself. Ruby was still curled around her, gently rubbing her back. She was vaguely aware that at some point Ruby had been whispering to her but she had no idea what she’d been saying. It didn’t matter much, not when just being there meant more to her than anything Ruby could have said.

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmured, her voice wavering and her nose sounding stuffed.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock of her hair, “You’re just lucky this was a tour shirt you ruined with all your snot and tears.”

Emma snorted and pulled back but only got an inch away before Ruby crushed her back to her. She sighed in annoyance even though she hadn’t really wanted to leave the comfort of her embrace.

“You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, even as she relaxed.

“Eh, there’s still a few hours until it’s absolutely necessary,” Ruby said, squeezing her harder.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Babe, you just cried out all of your bodily fluids. If anything you’ll need a Gatorade but I’ll just yell at Will until he brings it to us-” Ruby scoffed. Emma felt her tense slightly before she asked quietly, “Do you want me to block Killian’s number?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes. She felt like she should want to cut Killian out of her life completely. To make him feel even a sliver of the hurt and uncertainty she was feeling. However there was something deep inside her that recoiled from that idea, that despite the hell she was going through she still cared enough about him to want to minimize his pain.

“No,” she sniffled, “He’s your friend too.”

“Not right now he’s not. I mean, I still think you should hear him out but maybe he kinda deserves the cold shoulder for a week or two.”

She shrugged, knowing that Ruby would probably ice Killian out for a month instead. Which, of course, meant that after that she would most likely put all her energy in encouraging him not to give up. Then Ruby would simultaneously be wearing her down to get her to call him. Even thinking about that probable future had her wanting to delete Killian’s number completely, if only to stave off the inevitable.

She fished her phone out from under the tangle of blankets. While she hadn’t turned it off completely she’d put it on silent and had pretty much ignored every text and email notification since the Walsh audio had leaked. Regina had told her she’d take care of it and Emma trusted her just enough to believe that she would.

After unlocking it she was greeted with the continued barrage of messages she’d been expecting. Unable to hold back her frustrated sigh she gave up the pretense of trying to hide what she was doing and pulled out of Ruby’s arms to prop herself up to deal with the never ending tidal wave of texts and emails. She could feel Ruby’s gaze over her shoulder but made no move to hide her screen, even in the best of times it was hard to keep her from snooping.

Scanning through the emails first she was glad to see that most of it was spam. A few were from Mary Margaret or David and she suspected that half the texts would be from them too. There was only one from Regina, though it had been sent at the beginning of the shit hitting the fan telling her to keep a low profile while everything was dealt with. With grim satisfaction she proceeded to delete the spam, glanced over the ones from Mary Margaret and David with a touch of guilt at their concern and her lack of communication with them.

The texts were another matter completely. She had been right in thinking that half were from Mary Margaret and David, reiterations of the support and concern from their emails but a touch more frantic as they progressed. After sending them a quick message that she was alive and would call them once they got to the hotel she grimaced at the ten unread messages from Regina. Having one message go unread from her was bad enough and Emma knew that when she finally responded Regina would probably reach through the phone and rip her heart out.

The first couple were innocuous, more warnings for her to lie low and to ignore whatever reporters might show up at her hotel or the venue. Several were updates on how things weren’t progressing with the fight against Walsh. Then there were the admonishments and disappointment at her continued insistence to keep Killian off the tour. The final text was a directive: Answer your goddamn phone, that had Emma wincing and noticing for the first time the little indicator that she had voicemails to listen to. Throwing Ruby a worried glance she tapped on the icon and prepared for the worst.

You have six new voice messages. To listen to your messages press one-

Message one:

“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to take legal action but be prepared for the possibility that we will. We also need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”