#krystal writes

[kmomof4]

Orphan Girl- A New Fic by @kmomof4

I am sooooooooooo excited to finally share this fic with y'all!!! It has been a LONG time coming!!! It was inspired a year ago by a song our community chorale sang for our spring concert. The song Orphan Girl was written by Brendan Graham for the Annual Great Famine Commemoration in Sydney in 2012. The ceremony commemorates the relocation to Australia of over 4k female orphans after the famine took its toll. The song is told from the perspective of a 16yr old Irish famine orphan longing for a better life in Australia.

I am an orphan girl,

In Westport I was found,

The workhouse is my world,

Since the praties took us down,

What time in life is left to me,

If I don’t leave Westport town,

But the crown is sending girls to sea, for far Australia bound.

Sail, sail, sail me away,

Sail to Australia;

Sail, sail, sail me I pray,

Sail me away to Australia.

They say Australia’s fine,

They say Australia’s fair,

Australia’s on my mind

And the fields of praties there

I pray when this inspection’s done, that they’ll say me fit to sail,

For they don’t just send out anyone, oh Lord, don’t see me fail.

Sail, sail, sail me away,

Sail to Australia;

Sail, sail, sail me I pray,

Sail me away to Australia.

I am scarcely turned sixteen,

But I’m ready now to go

I’m decent and I’m clean,

Fit for any man to know.

And I will be some good man’s wife, 

If there I’ll settle down-

And find myself a better life,

If I get to Sydney town.

Sail, sail, sail me away,

Sail to Australia;

Sail, sail, sail me I pray,

Sail me away to Australia.

Sail me away, sail me I pray

Sail me away to Australia.

I am an orphan girl, oh I am an orphan girl

And now thanks to whom thanks is due! Hollye helped me research and also betaed this monster, Joni helped me with plotting, and the discord ladies kept me sprinting until the dadgum thing was finished!! Thank you all!!!

Summary: Irish potato famine orphans Emma and Mary Margaret Swan hope and pray for a new life in Australia.

Rating: T

Words: 14K Make sure you have snacks and drinks readily available if you read this in one go... 😜

Tags: Period Piece, Irish Potato Famine, Australia Setting, Implied Sexual Assault/Rape, Minor Character Death

On ao3 if that's your preference.

New Tag List for the New Year! Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

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Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

September 19, 1849, Westport Workhouse, County Mayo, Ireland

I am an orphan girl, but my new life begins on the morrow.

Emma Swan sat on her straw pallet, the moon shining in the high window over her sleeping place in the female dormitory of the Westport workhouse. She could barely see as she wrote in the small notebook on her lap. 

The day car departs at 4am for Dublin. From there, we will journey by ship to Plymouth, where awaits the Panama to transport us to Sydney. I cannot help but feel afraid, yet hopeful as well, for what the future holds for myself and Mary Margaret. I know the Lord holds my life, my future, and looking back at what He’s already brought us through, I know I can trust Him. He’s provided an education for myself and Mary Margaret at Achill colony, and preserved my life through the loss of Mam and Da to the great hunger, and during my time here in the workhouse, where so many die every day. I can only expect that He will preserve me through the journey and days, weeks, and months beyond as well. 

As I look around myself, I feel more hope than anything. The workhouse has been my world for 4 years. How I’ve survived here that long is beyond me. This is my only escape and if the provisions we’ve been furnished with are any indication, we will be quite well off indeed. I’ve never owned a bonnet, or stockings, or a separate gown just for sleeping. My time of indenture will be 5 years. I’ll only be 24 by then. I’m going toward a better life. A life of hope and promise. Oh, Lord, be with me, I pray.

~*~*~

January 12, 1850, Immigration Depot, Sydney, Australia

Ruby Lucas opened the door to the room Emma and Mary Margaret, along with other girls from the Panama, would be staying in until they were assigned employment outside the depot in and around Sydney. They looked around wide eyed and slack jawed.

“Would you look at this?” Mary Margaret breathed. Emma joined her frank appreciation. She’d never seen a room this fine. The ceiling was high and the walls were lined with many multi paned windows, shades half drawn, but still letting in an abundance of light. The beds were lined up along the walls with a small dresser in between each one. And it was cool. After the heat of the Australian summer outside, it was a relief to be indoors. 

“It’s not much, I know,” Ruby said. “But this is where you’ll sleep during your time here. We do hold to a daily schedule. Rise at six, meals at 6:30, 11:30 and 5:30. Bedtime is strictly observed at 8:30. And you’ll have daily chores to attend to as well. Most girls are here for a month or less, but some have been here for as long as three months. It just depends on what you’ll be employed doing.”

Emma looked at her sister, who smiled back at her. The schedule wasn’t anything different from what they’d experienced in the workhouse, but already, Emma could see the hope in Mary Margaret’s eyes and she responded in kind. Their education and the training they were to receive here at the Depot, made their prospects of employment high indeed. Emma hoped to work as a domestic, where she might fall in love with another servant in the household and have a family of her own someday.

“Thank you so much, Miss Lucas,” Mary Margaret said, turning to the young woman. “We are so grateful to be here, you have no idea.” Emma nodded her head in agreement.

“Oh, we don’t stand on ceremony around here,” she said, grinning widely and waving her hand around dismissively. “You can call me Ruby. And Granny will have your head if you call her anything but Granny. We’ve seen hundreds of girls come through here over the years and that’s what they all call her. Not that we see many of them once they leave, but when we do…” She trailed away, still with a broad smile on her face and Emma felt an immediate kinship with her. She had a feeling they were going to be great friends.

The following weeks passed quickly and Emma and Mary Margaret were both assigned to occupations within a month of their arrival. Mary Margaret was to be a teacher in a boarding school in Sydney for the children of landowners who lived outside the city proper and Emma was going to work in the home of shipping magnate and sheep farmer Killian Jones. He had a young daughter in need of a governess since her mother had passed away the previous autumn. Mary Margaret would be taking up her employment tomorrow and Emma would be traveling to Killian Jones’ home for a final interview. She understood that he wanted to meet her personally to determine her fitness for being his only daughter’s governess.

This was their last night in the depot, and they lay on their beds, facing each other in the darkness.

“I’m going to miss you, Mary Margaret,” Emma whispered. 

“I’ll miss you, too.” Emma could hear Mary Margaret’s smile in her words. “But we’ll still see each other. I’ll have the weekends off and hopefully, you’ll have the Sabbath off as well. We’ll make it a priority to see each other then. And we can always write to each other.”

Emma pressed her lips together in a small smile. Mary Margaret’s hope was contagious and she felt her spirits lift at her sister’s words.

“Can you believe how far we’ve come?” Emma asked.

“No,” Mary Margaret said, her voice tinged with wonder. “God has truly blessed us. We would have died in that workhouse eventually. But here, we’re going to be productive members of society. Not dependent on it. We have a chance to make new lives for ourselves. Fall in love, get married, raise children.” She paused for a moment. “The headmaster is very handsome.” Her voice was even softer now and Emma had to strain to hear her.

“The headmaster? Of your school?” Emma asked.

“Mmhmmm,” Mary Margaret agreed. “David Nolan.”

Silence fell between them and Emma got lost in her own thoughts. She didn’t know what to expect from her assigned position, or even if she’d receive Killian Jones’ final approval, but the position of governess to the daughter of a wealthy landowner would be as favorable an outcome as she could have expected. She’d be well paid and have higher status within the household than she could have hoped for. Perhaps there she’d meet some good man who would love her and care for her. Someone she could love and care for and raise children with. She smiled in the darkness. Perhaps this David Nolan would be that person for her sister. Only time would tell. She closed her eyes and slipped into dreams.

~*~*~

Emma stepped down from the carriage that brought her from the Immigration Depot to the home of Killian Jones. The house was a single story ranch style home that was finer than anything Emma had ever seen. Granny was right behind her as a chaperone since this wasn’t yet a permanent position. Off to the side of the house, there was a paddock with horses and several men working. Emma inhaled sharply as one by one, the men approached the fence to stare at the newcomers. Emma straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin slightly as she stepped boldly toward the house. It wouldn’t do to show her nervousness at their blatant appraisal.

As she approached the house, a tall and very handsome man emerged from inside. He wore pressed khaki trousers and a blue chambray shirt with a black vest over it. His six-shooter sat on his hip and Emma gulped thinking about the reason why he’d need to have it on him inside his own home. He had dark brown hair whose gently tousled style seemed to match the rest of him- controlled but just untamed enough to be interesting. He had piercing blue eyes and dark scruff lined his jaw with just a hint of ginger in the morning sun. Emma felt her heart rate jump when she saw him.

The man was literally breathtaking. 

“Emma Swan?” he asked, descending the steps toward them, his hand outstretched.

Emma stopped with Granny beside her and dropped a small curtsey before rising and meeting his gaze.

“Yes.”

“And you must be Ms. Lucas,” he said, shaking her hand. “Killian Jones.”

Granny shook his hand and then waved aside his greeting. “Everyone calls me Granny, young man. And I’ll expect you to do the same.”

The man laughed good naturedly. Emma took a deep breath, hoping it would bring her heart rate under control. 

“Very well, Granny. Please, come in,” he said, gesturing behind him toward the house.

Emma struggled to keep her mouth closed as they entered behind him. Like the Depot, the ceilings were high and it was blessedly cool after the nearly two hour journey in the carriage. It was rustic in a way the Depot was not, the walls a little rougher and exposed beams up above. She tried not to stare as he led them into what could only be his office. He shut the heavy double doors behind them as she and Granny settled themselves in the leather chairs in front of the huge wooden desk that dominated the room. He sat down behind the desk and folded his hands on top of it, leaning forward just a bit.

“Welcome to Drogheda Station, Miss Swan,” he began. “My name is Killian Jones, and I am in need of a governess for my young daughter. She lost her mother closing in on a year ago now, and I just wanted to meet you myself before introducing you to my Alice and make sure you’d be a good fit with our family.” Emma nodded, but remained silent. His crystal blue eyes remained on hers as he spoke and she had to give herself an internal shake to keep herself from getting lost in them.

“So, tell me about yourself.” He looked down at a small stack of papers on his desk for a moment before looking back at her again. “I have quite a bit of information about you from your file provided to me from Granny, but I’d like to hear some of it in your own words.” He smiled and Emma instantly relaxed as she returned it.

“Ah,” Emma began, “the name… of the station? Drogheda? That’s Irish isn’t it?”

His smile lit up his face and Emma thought she would swoon at the pleasure she saw in his beautiful eyes.

“It is,” he affirmed. “My father was from Drogheda in County Louth on the east coast of Ireland. He immigrated here when he was a teenager. He died when I was small, but when I bought this land, I wanted to honor him and the roots he left behind by naming the station after his hometown.”

“I see.” She smiled back at him. “That’s a lovely tribute to your family. Thank you for sharing it with me. I’d never been to County Louth, but I had heard of it. I’m from County Mayo on the west coast.”

Killian smiled softly at her statement and nodded for her to continue. He watched the young woman in front of him intently as she continued speaking. Her manners were impeccable and her appearance was most pleasing. Her long golden hair was gathered at the nape of her neck in a ponytail against the summer heat, but it positively glowed in the sun shining through the windows of his office. There was a sadness in her green eyes that Killian found himself responding to. It was the look that he himself saw in the mirror every day. The look of an orphan. Given her circumstances, and where she came from, he wasn’t at all surprised. 

What did surprise him, however, was how strongly he was responding to it. He wanted nothing more than to care for and shelter this lovely young lady. Her education and decorum were obvious in her comportment and Killian was sure she’d be a perfect fit for the position. He rarely had trouble discerning the character of a person upon their first meeting, and after just this brief introduction to Emma Swan, he had no compunction whatsoever in bringing her on as Alice’s governess.

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” he said when she finished telling him about herself. He turned his attention to Granny. “She’ll do fine. Thank you,” he continued with a short and decisive nod. “Now, do either of you have any questions for me?”

Emma glanced at Granny for a moment before turning back toward Mr. Jones. 

“I had a couple of questions, actually, Sir.” 

He waved aside her statement. “You don’t need to address me as Sir, Miss Swan. As a member of the household, Mr. Jones will do,” he said, his blue eyes meeting hers.

Emma was surprised, but nodded. “Well, that was the first one,” she said with a smile. “The second was concerning time off. I do hope this isn’t presumptuous. My sister remained in Sydney as a teacher at a boarding school and I’d like to be able to visit her occasionally.”

“Of course,” he agreed immediately. “We are pretty strict about observing the Sabbath here, so you’d be free to spend that day however you saw fit. Whether you spent it reading in your room, catching up on correspondence, or visiting your sister in town. You’d, of course, have access to a carriage to carry you to and from.”

“Thank you so much.” She looked at Granny again, who’d opened her mouth to speak.

“I have a question as well.”

Mr. Jones encouraged her to continue with a wave of his hand.

“I noticed the men in the paddock next to the house paying special attention when Emma climbed out of the carriage.” Granny was fierce and she wouldn’t tolerate any untoward behavior toward her charges. She fixed him with a glare that had Emma questioning if she’d actually remain behind when Granny left or not. “What guarantee do I have that Emma will be safe here?” “I run a tight ship here, Granny,” he said, meeting her stare with one of his own. “I can’t fault the men for noticing a pretty lass, but there is a line and they know not to cross it. Not to cross me. Emma will be safe here. You have my word.”

Granny was motionless for a moment before she nodded her head sharply and stood. Emma stood as well and turned toward her caretaker for the last month before embracing her fiercely.

“Thank you so much, Granny,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Granny held on to her upper arms as she drew away from her. “You make us proud, Emma. And I will expect a visit when you come to town to visit Mary Margaret.”

Emma smiled through the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once they’d escorted Granny back out to the carriage that would carry her back to Sydney and watched it disappear over the horizon, Mr. Jones showed her back inside. Emma noticed the men in the paddock didn’t pay them any special notice this time, not while he was with her. As they passed through the house, Mr. Jones pointed out various rooms as he led her directly to her quarters. Her trunk had already been deposited inside, as he had instructed before they saw Granny off.

“Dinner is at seven. You’ll meet Alice then,” he informed her. “Until then, feel free to unpack and rest. I’ll have a lunch tray brought to you here in a few minutes so you won’t be disturbed.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate a rest after the journey and I’ll look forward to meeting Alice this evening.” Emma smiled and nodded as he backed out of the room and shut the door.

~*~*~

Emma rushed into the dining room hours later to find Mr. Jones and a young girl already seated at the table. Emma quickly curtseyed and apologized for her tardiness before sitting down in a vacant chair opposite the girl.

“It’s your first evening in a new environment,” Mr. Jones said. “And I didn’t exactly take you on a full tour of the house so you’d know where to go. So no apology is necessary.” He gave her an appraising look as their meal was served. Emma’s mouth went dry, wondering if she’d done something wrong already.

“This is the same dress you wore this morning, is it not?” he asked.

Emma looked down as a blush heated her cheeks. “It is,” she said. “I only have one other.”

“I see,” he murmured. “We’ll have to make a trip into town sometime soon to furnish you a suitable wardrobe. You can’t be expected to wear the same two dresses day after day after day. People would think you weren’t being paid a suitable wage. I’ll need to clear my schedule a bit, so we can take a couple of days for the trip. I still have some of my wife’s garments you can make use of until then.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted. He glanced at his daughter who watched the exchange with wide blue eyes, just like her father. “I am trying to raise Alice to be a lady, with the manners and comportment to match, and that is difficult enough out here in the bush without a good example for her to follow.” He raised his eyebrows at her with a significant look and Emma nodded her understanding before smiling across at the girl.

“Alice, this is your new governess, Miss Emma,” he introduced. “Emma, may I present to you, my daughter, Alice.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Alice,” she said.

“You as well, Miss Emma,” Alice replied, a wide smile lighting up her entire face. 

Once the introductions were out of the way, Alice proved to be a delightful chatterbox. She was inquisitive, attentive, and very observant and it was clear to Emma that Mr. Jones loved his daughter dearly in the way he spoke to her and gently steered the dinner conversation. 

As the meal came to an end, Mr. Jones rose from the table and spoke once again. “It’s time to ready yourself for bed, my Starfish.” He turned his attention to Emma. “I’ll see to her bedtime routine tonight, and give you this first evening to yourself. You can take over tomorrow evening.” Emma smiled and nodded her agreement. “Goodnight, Miss Emma.” 

He held his elbow out for Alice to take and Emma’s heart melted.

“Goodnight, Mr. Jones. Goodnight, Alice.”

“Goodnight, Miss Emma,” Alice replied. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

As they walked out of the dining room, Emma smiled softly at the obvious affection between father and daughter. It was wonderful to see a father take such an interest in the care of his child. Once they were gone, she thought back to all the circumstances that had brought her to this place. This truly was the beginning of a new life for her, and she had the feeling it would be a good one.

~*~*~

The next morning, Mr. Jones took Emma on a full tour of the house. She met Robin Locksley, the overseer at the station, and the other household staff. They were all friendly and polite and Emma felt completely at ease among them. Once the tour was finished, Alice joined them as they entered the stable to collect a buggy for a ride around the station, for when the ladies might take excursions around the property. 

“Cassidy,” he called, once they were inside.

A man with light brown hair emerged from one of the stalls wiping his hands on what was once a white cloth. He wasn’t as tall as Mr. Jones, and was a bit stockier, too. The look in his eye as he took her in reminded her of the way the hands had stared at her when she’d arrived the day before. She did the same thing now as she did then, raising her chin just a bit and squaring her shoulders. A quick glance at her employer told her he’d noticed his appraisal as well, and wasn’t pleased. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he silently clenched his teeth in apparent irritation.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones,” the man said affably. “What can I do for you?”

“Cassidy, this is Alice’s new governess, Miss Emma Swan,” he introduced. “Miss Emma, this the stablemaster, Mr. Neal Cassidy. Whenever you and Alice want to go for a ride, or need a carriage for going into town, he’ll take care of getting your horses ready.” 

Emma curtseyed politely, even if she’d rather stay far away from the man in front of them. 

“I’ll be accompanying Miss Emma and Alice today, Cassidy, but in the future, if they are traveling by buggy or carriage, I want a stable hand to accompany them.” He turned to Emma, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I know you’re able to drive a buggy, Miss Emma,” he said, “but in the case of an emergency, whether that’s dingos or a broken wheel or axle, I’d feel better knowing you had an armed man with you and my daughter.”

“Of course, Mr. Jones,” she agreed quickly. “To be honest, I’d feel the same way. There’s too much out here that I’m unexposed to and unfamiliar with. I’d feel much better having someone with us who could handle whatever the bush throws at us.”

Killian smiled, relieved she’d agreed with his edict so quickly. Turning back to Cassidy, he gave the man’s back a hard stare as he went about preparing the carriage for them. He hadn’t missed the blatant appreciation in his eyes when he saw Emma. Cassidy was relatively new to the ranch- he’d only been there since the new year- but he’d come very highly recommended. Just as he’d told Granny the day before, he couldn’t fault the man for noticing Emma, but he hadn’t been here long enough to know what was expected behavior around a lady. Killian had a feeling he was going to have to keep a close eye on the stablemaster and make it very clear to him that Emma was under his protection. Anything less than gentlemanly and respectful treatment of Emma and Alice would not be tolerated. And would be dealt with immediately and decisively. Killian’s honor would allow nothing less.

~*~*~

Emma had been at the station for two weeks when Killian was finally able to take a couple of days away from his work to accompany Emma and Alice into town for a new wardrobe for Emma. Alice was quite excited because she’d been promised new hair ribbons. 

The bell over the door rang as Killian opened it before allowing the ladies to precede him inside. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. The sunlight pouring through the windows at the front of the store drew attention to the soft fabrics and rich, vibrant colors. They nearly made Emma’s eyes dazzle. She’d never seen the like.

She couldn’t help reaching out and trailing her fingers along the edge of the dress in front of her as Killian approached the counter. The material was soft to the touch, and nearly exactly the same color as her eyes. A small sigh escaped her as she pictured herself wearing it. A soft gasp beside her brought her out of her reverie and focused her attention on Alice.

“You’d look so pretty in this, Miss Emma,” she breathed. “Don’t you think so, Papa?” 

Emma was astonished to find Killian standing in front of them. She’d been so lost in her daydream, she hadn’t realized he’d returned to where she and Alice were looking around at the clothes on display.

He had a soft smile on his face as he looked at her and his hand joined hers as it continued to stroke the soft fabric.

“It would look lovely on you, Miss Emma.” His eyes never left hers as his hand gently cupped hers, so that the back of his fingers also ran along the material. Emma could hardly breathe.

A third voice joined them, startling Emma again. A tall, somewhat plump woman dressed in pink was looking her up and down.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “And I believe this day dress would need very little in the way of tailoring. It seems to have been made for you.” She pulled the dress down and held it up to her. “Yes,” she said, nodding decisively. “Go in the back and put it on. I’ll be there in a moment to make sure no alterations are needed.”

Emma, seeking his permission, looked at Killian who was scratching behind his ear. He nodded gently at her. 

“Miss Flora and her sisters, Miss Fauna and Miss Meriweather,” he began, motioning at the other two women who’d also joined them, “are master haberdashers. I’m sure Miss Flora is correct in surmising your size and if the dress will fit.”

Emma nodded and took the dress from Miss Flora. She moved toward the back of the shop and took a deep breath trying to bring her heart rate back under control. The way he was looking at her as they both touched the material of the dress made heat rise to her cheeks and sent her heart into overdrive, beating a staccato rhythm that she could only hope wasn’t obvious to the people around her.

Once she got the dress on, she could plainly see Miss Flora truly was an expert. It fit her perfectly. Just then, Miss Flora came through the drapes that hung over the door to the front of the store and Emma could just see Alice poking her head through.

“May I come in and see, Miss Emma?” she asked, shyly. 

Emma smiled widely. “If Miss Flora doesn’t mind,” she answered. “It is her shop after all.”

The woman smiled indulgently and turned toward the child. “Of course not, my dear! Please come in.” Alice came through the drapes as Flora mumbled under her breath about other items Emma would need to round out her wardrobe.

Alice’s eyes lit up at the day dress Emma wore. A soft smile touched Miss Flora’s lips as Alice came closer.

“You were absolutely right, Miss Alice,” she said. “This dress is perfect on our lovely Emma. It really brings out your eyes,” she said, turning her attention back to Emma again. Her eyes twinkled and Emma smiled softly at the complement.

After that, it was nothing but Miss Flora measuring Emma every which way she could be measured. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine all that went into making a lady’s wardrobe. Miss Fauna brought in swatch after swatch of fabric for Emma to choose from and also helped settle her sisters when an argument arose between them about which color- a soft sky blue, or a blushing pink- would better compliment Emma’s fair complexion.

By the end of it all, Emma was ready for a meal and a bed. She’d been on her feet for hours as the ladies brought out dress after dress- with all the accessories that went along with them- for her to try on both before and after slight alterations were made. The first day dress they’d found when they entered the shop was the only one of the bunch that needed nothing done to it and Emma planned to wear it when they traveled home the next day.

In addition to Emma’s full wardrobe, Killian also made arrangements for Alice’s measurements to be taken as well. She’d grown so much over the summer- much like plants, Miss Flora and Miss Fauna agreed- she was going to need new clothing to see her through the winter. But for now, Alice was simply thrilled with beautiful new ribbons for her hair that matched many of Emma’s new dresses and hair accessories.

It was much too late in the day to try and make it back to Drogheda Station before nightfall, besides the fact the sisters needed a bit more time to complete a few pieces of Emma’s wardrobe. They would be ready in the morning. So the trio made a surprise visit to Misthaven School where Mary Margaret taught.

The sisters embraced joyfully before Emma introduced Killian and Alice to Mary Margaret.

“Mary Margaret,” she began, “This is Mr. Jones and his daughter, Alice. Mr. Jones, my sister, Mary Margaret.” 

Killian extended his hand for Mary Margaret to shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Mary Margaret. My daughter, Alice,” he said, motioning toward Alice, who dropped a slight curtsey.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Mary Margaret,” she said, smiling shyly.

“And you, Miss Alice,” she replied with a nod, her smile warm and welcoming.

They spent a pleasant evening in one another’s company. Once they were past the introductions, Alice blossomed under Mary Margaret’s attention, telling her new friend all about everything Emma was teaching her and how much she enjoyed it. Even with as tired as Emma was, when their time together was drawing to an end, she was loath to leave her sister’s presence, knowing it would be a long while before she’d be able to visit again.

The sisters embraced warmly and even Alice threw her arms around Mary Margaret’s middle in a surprise hug that was completely unexpected by all the adults.

“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Mary Margaret,” Alice said, releasing her. She turned unsure eyes upon her father, not quite certain how he’d react to her lack of decorum. But the smile on his face told her all was well. A relieved smile broke over her face as she turned back to her new friend and dropped a curtsey before returning quickly to her father’s side.

“You as well, Miss Alice,” Mary Margaret replied, her attention then turning to Mr. Jones. “Thank you so much for this wonderful surprise, Mr. Jones. It’s only been a couple of weeks since we’ve seen each other, but I’ve missed Emma so much.” She placed a hand over her heart, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, matching her sister’s as she glanced at her. “I had no idea how much I was going to miss her.” Mary Margaret’s attention returned to Mr. Jones as she extended her hand. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss Mary Margaret.” He took her hand and shook it before glancing at Emma and Alice. “And now we must take our leave before these two collapse. It has been a very long and tiring day for us all.”

“Of course,” Mary Margaret agreed, reaching for her sister one more time. “I’ll see you again soon and we can write in the meantime.”

Emma nodded, too choked up for speech. She pulled back and turned to where Killian stood with Alice, her arm looped through his. He smiled gently at her and Emma returned it, licking her lips that had suddenly become dry as she approached and looped her arm through his offered arm before they walked out toward their waiting carriage.

Mary Margaret smiled as she watched them go. Thankful that just as her life had turned around since leaving Ireland, it appeared her sister’s life had done the same.

~*~*~

“Goodnight, Alice,” Emma murmured, rising from the child’s bed in the hotel room Mr. Jones had booked them for the night.

“Goodnight, Miss Emma,” Alice replied as she snuggled down under the homespun quilt that covered her bed. Emma was too wound up to sleep just yet, so she crossed the room to where a small sofa sat near the door and sat down. She picked up her journal that lay on the small end table and began to write.

What a wonderful day it was. Our visit to F F & M Haberdashers was like a dream. The clothing on display was simply beautiful. The fabrics were so soft and the colors so bright and lovely. I thought we were abundantly blessed with the items we brought with us from Ireland, but the wardrobe Mr. Jones purchased for me today is so much more than I ever dreamed.

Emma tapped her quill against her chin as she thought about her next words. Her mouth opened slightly and she took a deep shaky breath as she told herself that these words were hers alone. No one else would ever be privy to them, and so she could write down exactly what her thoughts and feelings were as she tried on the different dresses and showed them to Alice and Mr. Jones. She licked her suddenly dry lips and continued writing.

I felt a bit like Cinderella in her beautiful ball gown, with Miss Flora, Miss Fauna, and Miss Meriweather as my fairy godmothers, and Mr. Jones standing in for the prince. Emma’s cheeks heated as she wrote those last words. She cut her eyes over to the bed where Alice was comfortably in the arms of sleep before she re-inked the quill and  put it  to paper again. Mr. Jones is obviously not a prince, but the way he looked at me with each new garment I tried on made my heart stop. His eyes are so clear and so blue. They’re beautiful and I could get lost in them. She shook her head, trying to banish the fanciful musings from her mind. He was an established landowner and she was only a governess. There’d never be anything between them. But the parallels between the story of Cinderella and my life are clear. A girl with nothing is suddenly given everything. Oh, how I wish… She stopped again, utterly unable to put those deep and hidden desires of her heart into words on the page.

Music reached her ears as she closed her journal and laid it back on the end table. It had been a very long day, but thinking back on all the joy the day had brought, Emma knew it would be some time before she’d be able to sleep. She rose from the sofa and glanced back at Alice, satisfied to see her still sound asleep and slipped out of the door. Mr. Jones was in the adjoining room in case Alice cried out and she’d only be gone a few minutes. Just long enough to find where the beautiful melody was coming from. She descended the stairs to the main lobby of the hotel, following the lovely music to a grand ballroom.

As Emma entered, she saw many couples dancing out in the middle of the floor, while several tables laden with all kinds of sumptuous looking delicacies lined the walls of the room. There appeared to be about a hundred people in the lavishly decorated room, soft candlelight illuminating the space, giving it an almost otherworldly quality. Then her eyes landed on the obviously newly married couple in the center of the dance floor. 

They were a truly beautiful couple. Both with blonde hair, hers was piled on top of her head in an elaborate style, held together with strings of pearls woven throughout that echoed the ones sewn on her gorgeous white gown. His countenance appeared to be chiseled from marble, the lines of his face perfect in every way. Normally, Emma would think of marble as cold and unyielding, however, he was anything but as he gazed at his bride. They had eyes only for each other. Their matching smiles were full of joy and love and her heart melted inside her.

“They’re a beautiful couple aren’t they?” a voice whispered from behind her, startling her. She turned, a gasp on her lips and her hand pressed to her heart, to find Mr. Jones standing just behind her, a soft smile on his lips.

“I didn’t see you there, Mr. Jones,” she murmured before glancing back into the room. She smiled as her eyes found the bride and groom again. “Yes, yes they are. Do you know them?” The question flew out of her mouth before she really had a chance to think about it, but she couldn’t think of any other reason for him to be down here. Perhaps he’d been invited to the lavish affair and he’d come down to offer his congratulations since he hadn’t been able to attend the ceremony.

Mr. Jones chuckled in amusement. “No,” he informed her. “This is old Sydney money. I’d never be invited to something like this.” He scratched behind his ear just as he had that morning at the haberdashers and his cheeks turned red. Emma couldn’t help but smile at the nervous mannerism. “My money is much too new for me to be considered a part of the upper echelons of Sydney society. Which this clearly is,” he said, motioning back toward the room. “But I heard the music, and wanted to see where it was coming from.”

“I see.” She paused for a moment as they both continued to watch. “It was the same for me. Alice was asleep, and I only planned on being out of the room for just a few minutes, so I followed it down here.” 

They were both silent for a few minutes, simply enjoying the soaring melody of the string quartet and harpsichord.

“This reminds me of my wedding day to Milah,” Mr. Jones said softly. She turned confused eyes on him as he continued. “Not the setting obviously, we were too poor for that, but the way they’re looking at each other. Like there’s no one else in the world. They could be in the outback, surrounded by sagebrush and dingos and they would still be looking at each other the way they are now.”

A sigh escaped her as she nodded her agreement. “After all the blessings I’ve enjoyed these last few months, it seems almost selfish to hope that I may find a love like that someday.”

“Blessings?” he echoed quietly. “Losing your family and traveling thousands of miles to the other side of the world to face an uncertain future… I’m not sure I’d call them blessings.”

“No disrespect, Mr. Jones,” she replied, “but if you’d seen the workhouse, you might think differently.”

“Point taken,” he said, a genuine smile on his lips.

“But, yes, the blessings,” she emphasized the word with a small smile on her lips, “of a good education before coming here, meeting Ruby and Granny at the Depot, and then coming to work in your home, meeting you and Alice… it’s the best outcome I could have hoped for.”

“There’s nothing wrong with hoping to find love one day, Miss Emma,” he said. “You’re young and beautiful.” His cheeks flushed and he scratched behind his ear again before his eyes settled on hers again. They were the deep blue of the sea, and the way he was looking at her made the butterflies in her stomach take flight and her breath catch. “You’re kind and very intelligent. And just seeing you with my daughter the last couple of weeks, I know that your heart is good. You will make a very blessed man a fine wife someday.”

Emma dropped her gaze from his and she could breathe again. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she looked up at him again. The intensity she found there was the same as before and she could positively drown in them without a whimper of complaint.

“Th- thank you, Mr. Jones,” she stammered. “I should probably be getting back,” she said, motioning toward the stairs. He smiled and nodded, holding out his elbow to her. She took it and allowed him to escort her back to their adjoining rooms. Being this close to him was doing nothing to calm her racing heart and heated cheeks, but his words downstairs had touched her in such a way that she could hardly say anything in response. When they reached her door, she turned back to him. “Thank you again, Mr. Jones. For everything.” She hoped the gratefulness in her heart showed in her eyes and that he saw it and took her meaning. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss Emma.”

She smiled softly as she closed the door, unaware that he lingered there for a moment longer before returning to his own room.

~*~*~

The next few months passed happily. The bond between Emma and Alice only strengthened, and Emma loved her as if she was her own child. They settled quickly into a routine of studies during the morning hours with the afternoons being filled with lessons in manners and comportment, drawing and painting, dancing, and learning to play the pianoforte. Killian was a frequent observer of Alice’s afternoon lessons and Emma couldn’t help the little stutter her heart gave whenever he joined them. 

He was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on and even though he was nearly a decade her senior, she couldn’t help but wish that perhaps someday he might come to see her as more than just his daughter’s governess. A personal relationship between a landowner and a lowly governess was very much frowned upon, but she’d been so welcomed into the family by both Alice and Killian himself, she couldn’t stop her imagination running away with dreams of a happy beginning with Killian and Alice.

The only dark cloud in her new life was the stablemaster, Neal Cassidy. He’d never done or said anything overtly inappropriate, but she’d have to be completely blind to be unaware of his lustful gaze whenever she had need to come to the stable. His words and actions toward her were polite, but she could feel his eyes on her whenever he was near, whether that was inside the stable or not. And the shiver of trepidation she felt in his presence warned her to never be alone with him.

Alice’s 8th birthday was soon approaching and she found herself intimately involved in planning a special dinner and party for her young charge. Being so isolated from other children her own age living so far out of town, Alice didn’t have any friends to invite over, so Emma was determined to do what she could to make the day of her birth memorable. 

On the Sabbath before Alice’s birthday, Emma traveled into town to visit Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Granny, and also to do some shopping for Alice. She’d made such wonderful progress in her art lessons, Emma thought it was high time for her to have her own set of charcoals and sketch pad. When she’d discussed the idea with Killian, he’d wholeheartedly agreed. He’d been unable to leave the Station to do the shopping himself, so she’d offered to do it for him during her visit. Since the sketch pad and charcoals would be given to Alice by her father, Emma decided to gift the girl a new bonnet and hair ribbons.

She left immediately after breakfast with Will Scarlet, her usual companion when she and Alice had need of the buggy. Thankfully, she had time to complete her shopping before meeting her sister at a local inn for a meal. It had been over two months since their last visit and they embraced warmly before settling at a table in front of the windows.

As they sat down, Emma’s eyes were drawn to a beautiful peridot ring that sat on the third finger of Mary Margaret’s left hand. One hand flew to her mouth in shock as she took her sister’s hand with the other in order to bring it closer.

“Is this what I think it is?” she breathed.

Mary Margaret giggled with delight. “It is!” she exclaimed. “David asked me to marry him! I didn’t want to tell you in a letter and so just waited until our visit!”

At their surprise visit two months ago, Mary Margaret had told her more about the handsome headmaster of her school she’d mentioned their last night in the Depot. He’d made his interest in her clear, but hadn’t yet begun courting her. In the subsequent weeks in between that visit and this one, Mary Margaret had written faithfully to her every week with new developments in their relationship. And now to see the beautiful ring on her sister’s finger, Emma was overjoyed to share in her happiness. 

“When is the happy day?” Emma asked.

“August eighteenth,” Mary Margaret gushed. “Once worship is finished, the wedding will take place.” She grabbed both of Emma’s hands in excitement. “Tell me you’ll be able to come.”

“Of course, I will! I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” Emma exclaimed. “I’m sure Killian wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’m not sure he wouldn’t want to accompany me. Alice as well,” she said. 

“We’d make them most welcome,” Mary Margaret assured her sister, speculative thoughts swirling through her mind. 

She was so excited to share her joyous news, that she almost missed the longing and hopeful look on Emma’s face when she mentioned that Killian might want to join her for the wedding. When they met two months ago, Emma introduced him as Mr. Jones and in her letters, she always referred to him the same way, but that little slip of the tongue made Mary Margaret wonder if there was more between them than what her beloved younger sister had heretofore expressed. Perhaps some subtle questioning was in order. 

“Killian, huh? When did you start calling him Killian?” Emma’s mouth fell open, clearly just realizing she’d called her employer by his first name instead of Mr. Jones. The blush spread across her cheeks and her eyes cut away making Mary Margaret smile indulgently before continuing. “It’s clear from your letters that you are happy there, and that you love Alice, but tell me more about Killian. We only had those couple of hours together when you were here last time. What is he like?”

Emma’s face took on a faraway look. One that told Mary Margaret definitively that her sister was in love. She’d been teased about her own similar look quite enough by her colleagues the past couple of months. Her heart melted at the knowledge and she could only hope Killian Jones shared her sister’s regard.

Emma began telling her about him in fits and starts that only made Mary Margaret’s certainty about her sister’s feelings for her employer all the more steadfast. Emma told her how kind he was, how honorable he was, how well she was treated in his household. The attributes she described reminded Mary Margaret very much of her David and she sent up a prayer that Emma would find love with Mr. Killian Jones. It may have been frowned upon in society, but Mary Margaret believed in love with her whole heart and that love was a part of all happiness. She didn’t want societal norms to get in the way of true love, and so she happily ignored those norms and hoped and prayed for that happiness for her sister, no matter what society thought.

The rest of their visit flew by, including tea with Granny and Ruby back at the Depot. It was the first time the sisters had been back to visit with them since leaving three months prior. Ruby had her own news to share as the General Store owner, Graham Humbert, had finally begun courting her and she was hopeful he’d ask for her hand in the next few weeks.

All too soon, the sisters had to take their leave and Emma had to journey back to Drogheda Station. Tears and hugs between the four were had in abundance as well as promises not to wait for three months before coming back for another visit. Once Emma was safely ensconced in the carriage that would carry her home, she waved out the window at her sister, Ruby, and Granny. When they were out of sight, she settled back and closed her eyes for the long journey. 

It had been a wonderful day, but she was ready to return home to her charge and prepare for Alice’s birthday on Tuesday. Killian would be leaving Wednesday morning for an extended trip into Queensland, New Guinea, and New Zealand to look for new shipping markets for the wool and meat Drogheda Station provided. Robin would be standing in Killian’s stead with the day to day operations of the Station while he was gone. She hadn’t had much occasion to really interact with him over the months she’d been there, but he always treated her like a gentleman should and Emma felt no unease about him with Killian gone. She’d certainly miss Killian though. Which was why she wanted Alice’s birthday celebration to be so special. Both for the child and for her father.

~*~*~

Alice’s birthday was as perfect an autumn day as one could wish for, much like the actual day of her birth. It was Killian’s favorite time of year, both for celebrating Alice’s birth and the change of the seasons. The heat of the Australian summer was now fully behind them but the cold winter months were as yet a way off. Losing his wife, just over a year ago now, had obviously cast a pall over his daughter’s birthday last year, but Emma was determined that they’d make new, happier memories to replace the sad ones from their loss the year before. She wanted to make sure Alice was fully celebrated, as she deserved to be. 

Emma had begun the day foregoing Alice’s regular studies for the special day, and had instead enlisted her help in the kitchen to assist with the preparations for tonight’s celebratory dinner. Alice was thrilled to help and Killian had been unceremoniously shooed out of the room, his ladies insisting he’d only be in the way.

His ladies.

Dangerous thoughts, those. 

But Killian really couldn’t help them. Since Emma had joined his household three months prior, he thought of his beloved Milah- Alice’s mother- less and less. His heartache at losing her had finally begun to heal. 

As he watched Emma with Alice during their lessons, his heart would be fit to explode with happiness at seeing the clear love and affinity between them. Alice positively blossomed under Emma’s gentle tutelage. She was so smart and eager to learn that she excelled in every subject she and Emma had undertaken. Just last week, Emma had come to him to discuss accelerating her studies to keep Alice’s insatiable appetite for learning appeased. He couldn’t have asked for a better governess for his precious daughter.

The more time he spent with them, and Emma in particular, the more he realized that the regard with which he held Emma was not entirely of the type a man like him should have for a woman like her. Her beauty never failed to make his breath stutter and his heart rate to increase dramatically. Her grace and mannerisms endeared her to him in a way he’d not experienced since he’d met Milah. Her love for his daughter, her quiet and gentle spirit, in spite of the circumstances she’d faced in her short life spoke to a strength of character that was astounding in one so young. His heart was in imminent danger of becoming hers forever, but societal norms wouldn’t look kindly upon a romantic relationship between them. He’d be more than willing to throw off the conventions of society- he didn’t have much contact with society in the first place- if he knew for sure what her feelings were toward him.

She’d never turned him away when he requested to watch them during their lessons, though he would have expected her to be a little nervous to have him as such a frequent observer. Thinking back on the last few months, he realized his requests had become progressively more frequent as time went on. Why, this month alone, he believed he’d observed them just about every other day. And as he did, his own regard for the lovely young woman in his employ only grew. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Emma seemed to be quite pleased when he did request to join them. Her smile seemed wider, the sparkle in her eyes just a bit more apparent. Perhaps she did hold some affection for him- and not of the familial type.

Perhaps tonight, after Alice’s birthday celebrations, he could have a private word with the lovely Emma Swan.

~*~*~

The birthday dinner was a complete success. Alice told him all about the different things she’d done to help prepare the meal. Of course, Cook and the other kitchen staff took care of the heavy lifting, so to speak, but Alice was thrilled when she’d been allowed- with Emma’s close supervision of course- to help chop the vegetables for the lamb stew they dined on, and then Emma had taught her how to make the Irish soda bread native to her homeland. The meal was completed by plum pudding that Alice helped prepare by doing all the mixing of ingredients before pouring it into the mold. The single candle in the middle of the pudding for Alice to blow out was as bright as her smile and Killian and Emma, as well as the other staff, all cheered when she successfully blew it out after shutting her eyes for a moment and making a wish.

Once the pudding was consumed, Killian and Emma gave Alice their birthday gifts. Alice was delighted with the new bonnet and hair ribbons and asked if they could have a picnic the next day so she’d have occasion to wear it. The sketch pad and charcoals were received with utter shock. Tears gathered in the corners of the child’s eyes and Emma worried for a moment that she wasn’t pleased with the gift. When Killian explained that it had been Emma’s idea given how well she was doing in her drawing lessons, Alice flung herself into first Emma’s and then her father’s arms sobbing out her joy and elation at having her very own sketch pad that she could use anytime she wanted, to draw anything she wanted.

As Emma and Alice were leaving the room to prepare for bed, Killian cleared his throat drawing both their attentions.

“Yes, Papa?” Alice asked.

Killian smiled softly at them. “Happy birthday, Starfish.” 

Alice let go of Emma’s hand and ran to her father, throwing her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Papa. It was the best birthday ever.”  Killian lifted his eyes to Emma’s and mouthed Thank you to her. She nodded and smiled before turning back towards the door of the room.

“Uh, Emma?”

Emma turned back toward Killian and Alice, who’d released her father and was walking back towards her.

“Yes, Mr. Jones?”

“Could you join me in my office after our evening prayers?”

“Of course.”

Emma couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to see her. She’d have to curb her curiosity for the next hour as she and Alice went through her bedtime routine before Killian would join them to kiss his daughter goodnight and pray with them. Could he perhaps wish to tell her goodbye personally before he left for six weeks? She’d find out soon enough.

~*~*~

Emma preceded Killian into his office and he shut the doors behind them. 

“Please, sit down, Emma,” he invited. She sat down in front of his desk as he moved behind it. He sat down and clasped his hands on top of it, just as he had the day they met.

“You may be wondering why I’ve asked you here,” he said. “I, ah…” he paused and scratched behind his ear. It was a terribly endearing gesture and Emma couldn’t help the smile that broke over her lips at his action. 

“I do have to admit, I am curious,” she replied, still smiling softly.

“Well…” he cleared his throat and reached up to loosen his collar just a bit. “As you know, I’m leaving in the morning and will be gone for about six weeks.” His eyes finally met hers and Emma felt her breath leave her completely. His gaze was so intense. So clear. So blue. She could happily drown in them. She was shaken out of her disjointed musings when Killian rose and came around the desk to kneel next to her chair. Emma gasped as he took her hand in his own and met her gaze again.

“Emma, since you’ve come to Drogheda Station…” He looked down at their joined hands before beginning again. “Emma, your presence here…” he paused again, at a loss of how to continue, “...has been most welcome. You came to Drogheda Station and became a part of my family. Mine and Alice’s. You have fit in with us seamlessly and I have difficulty remembering a time when it was just me and Alice.”

Emma didn’t know what to say, but after a shaky exhale, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve become my family, too. You and Alice.”

He looked down at their clasped hands again, a light blush coloring his cheeks.

“Alice loves you dearly, and I…” His clear blue eyes met hers again and Emma’s chest tightened so much, the gasp she released was more of a sob. “I never thought I’d be able to let go of my Milah. Until I met you.” His voice was just above a whisper and Emma could see tears gathered in the corner of his eyes as he raised his hand to her face. He cupped her chin, and drew her face close to his. “Emma, may I have your permission to court you when I return from my journey?”

Emma’s breath left her on a sharp exhale. She couldn’t believe it. He wanted to court her. All her hopes and dreams were right in front of her and all she had to do was reach out and grasp them.

“Yes, Mr. Jones,” she whispered.

He looked down and chuckled. “Perhaps under the circumstances, you should call me Killian,” he said just before his lips captured her own. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of. It was fire and ice, sweetness and passion, strength and vulnerability all wrapped in a single sensuous package. She’d never been kissed before and had no idea how it could melt her insides and send her soaring at the same time. 

This was affection and tenderness. 

This was yearning and devotion.

This was hopes and dreams for the future.

This… was love.

Long moments later, Killian pulled back and Emma could breathe again. They remained close, the warm breath from his lips caressing hers just as his mouth had moments ago.

“I must insist that you retire to your room now, Emma,” he said. “I am a gentleman, but you are already testing my resolve.” Emma felt a thrill of feminine pride go through her at his words and she rose to her feet, Killian following.

He took her hands in his own again and raised them both to his lips, kissing the backs of her hands and her knuckles before turning them over and kissing her on the center of each palm.

She lifted one hand to his face and gently cradled his chin. “Goodnight. Stay safe. Come back to me, Killian.”

“I will come back to you, Emma,” he promised her. He turned his face into her hand and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, sending a sweet shiver up her spine. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving. Goodnight, my love. Until we meet again.”

He released her hand and she walked to the doors of the room, turning back one last time to look at the man she loved. She left the room, determined to keep the gathered tears from falling until she was in the privacy of her room, where she would begin counting the days until she’d see him again.

~*~*~

Wednesday was another perfect autumn day. Just right for Emma and Alice to be able to enjoy a picnic by the creek at the edge of the pasture. They were up early enough to bid Killian farewell, but once his carriage was out of sight, they returned to the house and began Alice’s morning lessons. 

Having Killian gone was proving to be quite a distraction to her young charge and Emma had to refocus Alice’s attention on her studies more than once throughout the morning hours. When she finally deemed Alice getting close enough to finishing her work that she could be left alone for a few moments, Emma rose.

“I’m going to go gather up our picnic lunch and head on out to the stable to inform them to get the horses ready so we can head straight out as soon as you’re done with your work, alright, Alice?”

Alice looked up and smiled, nodding her head enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Can I trust you to attend to your work without me here? You’re almost done.” Emma hated to ask the question, but with the level of distraction present this morning, she had to have an affirmative answer before she’d leave Alice alone. 

“Yes, Miss Emma,” Alice promised. “I’ll be finished in just a few minutes.”

“Very well, come to the stable as soon as you’re done. Don’t forget your new bonnet,” Emma teased with a smile.

Alice patted the bonnet that sat on the side of her desk and smiled widely. “I won’t.”

Emma left Alice alone and went down to the kitchen to find the picnic lunch Cook had prepared for them. She found boiled eggs, roast mutton, and root vegetables inside the sturdy basket. There was also the left over soda bread from the party the night before. 

She picked up the basket and walked out the back of the house toward the stable. She sat the basket on the ground outside the door and stepped inside. 

It was quiet in the stable and Emma wondered if the stable hands were all at lunch. It was no matter. She had watched the hands prepare their horses many times over the last few months and was fairly confident she could saddle the horses herself.

She’d just finished saddling Alice’s pony when she turned to see the stablemaster standing in the door of the stall. Her breath caught, very much aware they were alone in the stable.

She dropped a small curtsey and then met his gaze. Fear skittered across her skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

“Mr. Cassidy?” she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. One thing she’d learned out here in the bush the last three months, when a predator smelled fear, they attacked. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows slightly, “I need something all right.” His voice was pitched low with an edge of something Emma couldn’t identify. It made her heart rate pick up even more than the initial fright his appearance had caused. He looked out into the main area of the stable. “Where’s Alice?”

Emma swallowed thickly. “She’s just outside waiting for me to saddle our horses for a picnic. She wanted to wear her new bonnet I gave her for her birthday yesterday.”

“Really? I didn’t see her outside when I came in.” He turned back toward her and took a step into the stall, his gaze now lewd, his smile lecherous. “I think you’re lying to me, Emma.”

His use of her name instead of Miss Swan sent Emma into a panic. Alice would be out here any moment, and if she could placate him somehow, perhaps she’d be able to escape with her innocence and dignity intact. 

“Yes, you’re right, Mr. Cassidy,” she admitted on a shaky exhale, her stomach rolling with her fear and anxiety over the situation she found herself in. “Alice is inside finishing up her morning studies. She’ll be out for our picnic lunch any moment.”

“Oh, a moment is all I need,” he muttered, a sneer on his lips. He lunged for her, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside the stall, slamming the gate closed so the pony couldn’t escape. He spun her around and pressed her up against the side of the stall. Emma tasted blood and closed her eyes, lifting a prayer that Alice would be delayed just a few more minutes… for both their sakes.

~*~*~

Alice skipped out the back door of the house toward the stable to see Miss Emma running towards her. She couldn’t see her very well because of the distance, but Alice realized immediately something wasn’t right. Once she was close enough to really see, she saw Miss Emma was hurt. There was a dark bruise high on the side of her face and her lip was split and very swollen. The beautiful golden hair that Alice so admired was falling out of the braid they’d worked on so carefully this morning, and there was a rip in the bodice of her dress, exposing the shift and corset underneath. Her eyes were red and swollen, like she’d been crying.

“Miss Emma, what’s wrong?” Alice exclaimed. “What happened?” 

“Nothing,” she gasped. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine. I tripped and fell inside the stable, catching my face on the side of Dinah’s stall. I just need to go inside and get this all cleaned up. We’ll have to do the picnic another day. I’m sorry, Alice.”

“Of course,” Alice agreed. She’d been looking forward to their picnic, but taking care of Miss Emma was more important. She took the basket from her and turned back toward the house.

“Don’t say anything to anyone about this, okay, Alice?” Miss Emma asked in a low murmur. If she hadn’t been standing so close to her, she probably wouldn’t have heard it. 

Alice looked up into her beloved governess’ face. There was a look in her eyes she’d never seen before- it almost made Alice afraid- but she knew that Miss Emma loved her and would do anything to protect her. Just like her Papa. In the last year, Alice’s memory of her mother was beginning to fade. She could no longer remember her voice or the color of her eyes. But the feelings provoked in her by thoughts of her mother were now wrapped in the golden light of memory- hazy at the edges, but sharp in their recollection. In the absence of the woman who’d raised her, the love and loyalty and obedience given to her was now being transferred to Miss Emma.  If Miss Emma didn’t want anyone to know what had happened in the stable, then Alice would obey her.

Alice nodded her head slowly, willing to do anything she asked. “Yes, ma’am.”

~*~*~

The six weeks were finally over and her Papa was coming home today! He’d never been away from home so long, and while, of course, she had Miss Emma caring for her, she’d missed her Papa desperately. Getting letters from him every week helped some, but she couldn’t wait to actually see him and hug him and hear the tales of all his travels and everything he’d done and seen. She was absolutely beside herself and Miss Emma finally gave up trying to keep her focused on her studies. Alice glanced at her and saw the paleness that had been so evident the last week or so was even more pronounced today.

“Miss Emma, why don’t you go lie down and rest?” she asked. “I’ll draw in my sketchbook and I promise that I’ll wake you as soon as Papa arrives home.”

Miss Emma put a hand on her stomach, closed her eyes, and sighed. “You know, my sweet Alice, I think I will do exactly that. As excited as I am that your Papa is coming home today…” Her statement was interrupted by a huge yawn, “I am exhausted. You’re sure you’ll be ok on your own here for a little while?”

Alice grinned, eager to set Miss Emma’s mind at ease. “I’m sure. You go rest.”

She nodded and moved into the next room, leaving the door open so she could wake quickly if she was needed. Alice could see her lie down on her bed from where she sat and in moments, Miss Emma was snoring softly.

Alice got out her sketchbook and charcoals and began to sketch as she waited for her Papa to arrive.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion outside. It may have felt like it was only a few minutes, but it must have been at least an hour given how much of the picture she was drawing was completed. Miss Emma always laughed at how caught up she’d get in her sketching that she wasn’t aware of any time passing at all, and that had certainly happened again today. The picture of Miss Emma asleep on her bed was nearly finished, but the sound of a carriage outside was difficult to miss. Alice looked out the window and flew from the room, her promise to wake Emma completely forgotten.

“Papa, Papa!” she cried, bursting from the door and flinging herself into his arms. He laughed and spun her around, hugging her tightly. 

Killian pulled back and looked into his daughter’s face. Oh, how he had missed her. It had been a productive and successful trip, but he couldn’t tolerate being away from the ones he loved that long ever again.

“You know, Starfish,” he said, “I do believe you’ve grown a foot since I left!”

Alice smirked, recognizing his teasing tone, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks.

“Oh, Papa,” she scolded lightly. “ You know I haven’t.”

“Where’s Miss Emma?” he asked, searching the front of the house for her, eager to see the woman he loved again.

“She’s lying down and resting, Papa,” Alice informed him.

“Resting?” he asked, confused. “At this time of day?” He looked at his daughter and caught her furrowed brow. “What’s the matter, Starfish? Is there something wrong?”

He moved toward the front of the house and Alice clung to his neck as he carried her inside. He walked straight to his room and deposited her on the bed. He pulled off his boots and sat next to her.

“Did something happen, Starfish? Why the furrowed brow?” He smoothed his thumb over her forehead until the lines disappeared and she looked up at him with love and happiness at his return shining in her eyes.

“I missed you so much, Papa,” she said, hugging him tightly again.

Killian returned her embrace. “I missed you too, my love. Now tell me what’s troubling you.”

Alice pressed her lips into a thin line, almost as if she was hesitant to say what was on her mind.

“Alice,” he urged, using her name instead of her nickname to impress on her the seriousness of his words, “You can tell me anything.”

Her blue eyes met his and Killian found himself a bit nervous to hear what she had to say. He hadn’t said anything to her about courting Emma before he’d left. Could Emma have said something to her? And perhaps Alice wasn’t as happy as he’d thought she’d be?

“There’s something wrong with Miss Emma,” she said. It was the last thing he’d expected to come out of her mouth and Killian had to double check to make sure he’d heard her correctly.

“Something wrong? With Miss Emma?” Alice nodded. “What is it?”

“She hasn’t been feeling well.”

“How has she not been feeling well?” Alice shrugged, and Killian pressed. “What exactly makes you say she hasn’t been feeling well?”

“She’s tired all the time,” she explained. “She hasn’t been waking up with me in the morning, I’ve had to come in and wake her to help me with my hair. She’s been sick, too. She tries to hide it, but I know that she’s been sick in the morning after breakfast. And sometimes after lunch and dinner, too.”

“How long has this been going on, Starfish?”

Alice shrugged again. “Since not long after you left.”

“And you say she’s asleep now?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. 

“Ok, as soon as she wakes up- don’t wake her up yourself, understand, Starfish?- tell her I’d like to see her in my office.” Killian gathered his daughter in his arms and hugged her tightly. “Let me get unpacked, and you go down and ask what Cook has planned for dinner.”

“Yes, Papa.” Alice skipped out of the room and Killian frowned. 

After stating his intentions before leaving, he was sure she held him in the same regard as he held her. He had a lot of trouble believing that she would betray him. But, if what he suspected was going on with Emma was correct, he was going to need some answers. Answers that only Emma had. 

~*~*~

It was another hour before a knock sounded on his office door.

“Enter,” he called.

The door opened and Alice bounded in followed by Emma. It was a very good thing that Alice was here to distract him slightly, because if she hadn’t been, his jaw would have dropped in shock and dismay.

Emma was sick. 

There was no doubt.

She looked to have lost a stone since he’d been gone. The dress she wore hung on her overly thin frame. Her skin was pale and her hair hung limply around her face. Even though she’d just awoken, it was clear that she was utterly exhausted. She looked like a stiff winter breeze would blow her over.

“Thank you, Alice,” he said, giving her a big hug and kiss. “Would you go ask Cook to prepare some ginger tea and some sandwiches for myself and Miss Emma?”

“Yes, Papa.” 

She skipped out of the doors of his office leaving Killian alone with the woman he loved.

“Emma,” he breathed, moving toward her, his hand outstretched.

“Killian.” Her smile trembled, her tear filled gaze holding all the love and longing he hoped to see. She took his hand and he pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms. He held her tightly, turning his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent, imprinting her on his soul. This was his Emma and whatever had happened, he was sure she hadn’t betrayed him.

He gathered her in his arms and sat in the chair in front of his desk, still holding her closely on his lap.

“You’re with child.” It was a statement, not a question. With the evidence in her body before him and Alice’s observations, Killian had no doubt.

Emma buried her face in his neck, unable to meet his piercing gaze. He may have said he loved her and wanted to court her, but with the reality of him knowing that she carried another man’s child, there was no way under heaven that he would still want her. That he would still allow her to remain as governess to his daughter.

“Emma, look at me.” She felt his finger under her chin, exerting subtle pressure, urging her to lift her gaze to his. She allowed him to lift her chin, but once he stopped, she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. To tell him the truth. “Emma, please.”

It was the pleading in his voice that finally broke her resolve. She opened her tear filled eyes to behold the same in his.

“Tell me what happened.”

Taking a deep breath, the entire thing spilled out of her. She’d kept it bottled up, buried, never again to see the light of day. But with the growing certainty that she was with child, she knew it was only a matter of time before Killian found out and her life as she knew it would be over. Killian would surely send her away and she’d lose her family again. But as she told him everything, he continued to hold her close, stroking her hair tenderly even as his eyes cycled through sorrow, fury, dismay and finally settled on controlled fortitude. 

He looked her in the eyes, love and devotion swirling in their depths, and cupped her face in his hands. “Emma, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that this happened. I never should have left. If I’d been here, this never would have happened.”

“Killian, no,” she replied. “You can’t blame yourself. This trip was necessary for your and Alice’s future.” She paused for a moment, her unsure gaze meeting his. Did he still love her? “For our future,” she stuttered, haltingly. 

He smiled gently. “Yes, Emma. For our future. I love you and you have nothing to fear. Either from the future or him. I will stand by you. I will marry you, and claim the child as my own. If you’ll have me.” 

At his words, Emma could hold back her tears no longer. 

“I love you, Killian,” she sobbed. “And yes, I will be yours forever. I want nothing more than to be your wife, and a mother to Alice.”

“You can stay here with me while I confront him, or you can wait outside,” he told her. “I will not force you to remain in the room with him, unless you wish it.”

Emma shook her head. “I’ve stayed as far away from him as I could since it happened. And I’d just as soon as never lay eyes on him again.”

“Very well, then. Wait in the parlor while I send for him. I’ll come to you when he’s gone.”

Emma nodded, rose, and left the room.

~*~*~

Killian sat behind his desk when there was a knock on the doors.

“Enter.”

The door opened and Neal Cassidy walked in.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Killian didn’t look up, but continued to peruse the correspondence in front of him. After waiting for several long moments, he finally met Cassidy’s gaze with a hard stare. He didn’t invite him to sit. He wanted the man to be on his feet for what was about to happen.

“I understand from Miss Emma…” He paused for a moment to see if the mention of Emma’s name provoked any reaction from the man in front of him. He wasn’t surprised to see nothing but a slight widening of his eyes and a muscle tic in his jaw. “That you violated her in a most disgusting and vile manner. What have you to say for these charges?”

Neal snorted in derision. “You’re going to believe some Irish whore…”

Killian rose from behind his desk and slammed both his fists down on the surface. The move was so sudden, Neal choked on his words.

“Don’t you ever say such things about my intended.” His words were low and deadly and Neal Cassidy got just a glimpse of how much trouble he was truly in. “Yes, I believe her. Because she is the epitome of honesty and integrity. The authorities have already been notified. They’ll be here within the hour. If you are not off my property by then, they’ve been given leave to shoot to kill. I’d hurry, if I were you.”

“I’ll hurry all right.” 

Neal reached for the gun at his hip, but Killian was ready for him. He got his shot off first, hitting Cassidy in the gut. He fell to the floor, but still got his own shot off, just grazing Killian’s left bicep. A hiss of pain left his lips as Killian walked around his desk to see the man writhing in agony before him, his pistol on the ground. He knew the wound he’d inflicted was deadly, but that it could be hours, perhaps even days before it would eventually kill him. And as pleased as that would have made him- for Cassidy to have just a taste of the suffering he’d inflicted on Emma, and thus on him- he knew that as long as that gun was within reach, he was still a threat. Killian leveled his own pistol in front of him and shot Cassidy right in the middle of the forehead. A thin trickle of blood leaked from the hole, down the bridge of his nose, his sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The door to his study crashed open as Emma ran in, followed by Robin.

“What the hell happened?” he cried.

Emma flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his neck. 

“I’m alright, Love. You’re safe now.”

Emma sobbed into Killian’s neck barely conscious of him lifting her in his arms and going around to his desk chair where he sat down, holding her close and murmuring words of comfort in her ear. She only knew that when she’d heard two gunshots in quick succession, she’d feared the worst. She’d run from the parlor and had heard the third gunshot just as she’d burst through the doors. She was hardly aware of Robin wrapping the body in a white sheet and dragging him out as Killian continued to hold and comfort her.

She felt something wet under her hand. She drew back, her mouth dropping in a horrified Oh when she saw the tear in Killian’s shirt from the bullet and the blood soaking into the fabric.

“You’re shot!” she cried.

“Tis merely a scratch, darling.” He smiled disarmingly at her. “I got him first.”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed, quickly unbuttoning his shirt so she could get a better look at the wound. Once she got the shirt open and off him, she looked at the injury with a critical eye. “It doesn’t need stitches, but it does need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

She turned to Robin who’d returned from disposing of the trash and asked for a few items that would help her accomplish that. As soon as he left, she turned back to Killian.

“I wish it hadn’t come to that, Emma,” he said, sorrow and apology obvious in his eyes and tone. “But there’s nothing I won’t do to keep you safe. To keep the ones I love safe.”

“I know, Killian,” she breathed. She dropped her forehead down to his and closed her eyes. “And I’m so thankful to be counted among those you love.” 

Her lips found his in a gentle caress designed to show him everything in her heart that she couldn’t put into words.

As he held her close and deepened the kiss, Emma’s heart soared. This was her Killian. The man she loved. She was his forever and an orphan girl no longer.

The End ~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think!

#orphan girl #krystal writes #art by krystal #inspired by the song

[resqectable]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[nanowrimo]

How to Write a Quality First Draft

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. ProWritingAid, a 2023 NaNo sponsor, helps you turn your rough first draft into a clean, clear, publish-ready manuscript. Today, author Krystal N. Craiker shares some tips on how to make sure your first draft has some good bones to start with:

One question I often hear about National Novel Writing Month is, “Won’t my novel be of terrible quality?”

It’s true that writing 50,000 words in 30 days won’t give you a polished manuscript. And it’s always great to embrace the creative mess of the first draft.

However, there are some tricks to ensure that your first draft has plenty of usable content. These tips are also a great way to move your story along when you get stuck.

1. Have a Plan

Pantsers, this might be hard to hear. But having even a basic outline of your story can ensure you stay on track. You don’t have to sacrifice creativity when you outline. After all, you’re still the author creating a story. 

A detailed outline can even act like your messy first draft. The more work you put into planning, the better your first draft will be. When I spend more time plotting, I spend far less time cutting things from my later drafts.

2. Make Every Scene 3D

Okay, I get it. Not everyone is a plotter. Luckily, there are other things you can do to ensure your first draft is good quality. One is adding enough sensory detail to bring your story to life.

I like to use a 3D method: have at least three of the five senses in every scene. It’s a great trick to improve the flow of your scene. Take a few minutes to immerse yourself in your story and write what your characters are experiencing.

You might change it or move it around in your final draft, but you’ll save yourself time during revisions if you add sensory detail from the beginning. 

3. Reword Your Writing

Sometimes we get stuck after one bad sentence. The imposter syndrome kicks in, and the scene just falls flat. 

Ideally, we completely turn off our inner editor during NaNoWriMo. But when you encounter that one pesky sentence, it’s okay to rewrite it. 

You can use a tool like ProWritingAid’s Rephrase. Just highlight your sentence, click Rephrase, and select a new sentence. Rephrase uses your own words and enhances them. And don’t worry about security and privacy—ProWritingAid never uses your writing to train AI.

4. Embrace the Chaos

Of course, the most important thing about National Novel Writing Month is to embrace the messy creative process. It’s okay not to have a perfect manuscript at the end of the month—no one will. 

Everyone will need to revise, edit, and rewrite after November ends. That’s why NaNoWriMo includes "I Wrote a Novel... Now What?" resources. And when you’re ready to turn your mess into a masterpiece, ProWritingAid will be there to help.

Krystal N. Craiker is the Writing Pirate, an indie romance author and content writer who sails the seven internet seas, breaking tropes and bending genres. She has a background in anthropology and education, which bring fresh perspectives to her romance novels. When she’s not daydreaming about her next book or article, you can find her cooking gourmet gluten-free cuisine, laughing at memes, and playing board games. Krystal lives in Dallas, Texas with her husband, child, and basset hound.

Top photo by No Revisions on Unsplash

#nanowrimo #writing #first draft #writing advice #writing tips #by nano sponsor #firstdraftpro #krystal n. craiker

[thoughtkick]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[surqrised]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[stay-close]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[perfectquote]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[nightlyquotes]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[perfectfeelings]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[zaharadessert]

Sacrificial Lamb

for CSSNS 2023

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: cultism, demons, kidnapping

Length: ~6k

Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven's coming out ball does not go as expected

Notes: Thank you so much to @kmomof4 for both betaing and making me art! It's awesome! Also thank you to the @cssns mods for running this event again.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart

Also on AO3

- - - - -

Emma’s head felt foggy, and she was shivering with cold.

As she opened her eyes, they struggled to comprehend the space through the darkness around her.

She felt weak, as though she wasn’t in control of her own body, but she tried to sit up. The harsh wooden bench beneath her dug into her hips and snagged at the delicate white lace of her gown.

She blinked in confusion as her hair shifted around her shoulders. It had been coiffed to perfection, hadn’t it?

The last thing she remembered was dancing with the Captain of the Guard at her coming out ball…

But then the memories started to filter in.

The windows shattering and covering the entire ballroom with coloured glass.

Dozens of figures in black cloaks almost floating across the floor as they overtook the room. One, wearing a robe edged in gold, pushing through the main doors and making their way directly towards her. A hand flashing out to freeze everyone else where they stood. Her parents eyes darting frantically between them as they met in the middle of the room, Graham’s sword frozen in place, half drawn in her defence.

Her own magic sparking to life in her palms. And then…

Powder blown in her face, making her stumble and sway before her eyes fell closed and she hit the floor.

That was why the hard bench hurt so much.

She swung her feet to the floor, drawing them back from the cold stone with a hiss at the feeling of ice-cold stone beneath her feet. Her shoes had been removed, as had several layers of petticoats, causing the layers of skirt to tangle around her legs and making the material far too long. It was now nothing more than a cumbersome mess rather than an elegant sweep of fabric.

It was then, too, that she noticed the jangle of chains, connecting her feet to one end of the bench and her wrists to the other.

The echo of footsteps started to float through the air towards her, but she couldn’t tell from where.

She sat up on the bench as best she could, and concentrated on finding her magic so that she could free herself and get out of here before the men in cloaks- because she couldn’t imagine who else would be walking down here right now- came back.

But nothing happened.

She couldn’t feel anything more than an itch under her skin.

The footsteps got louder, closer, and Emma started to yank frantically at the chains.

With the nearing footsteps came a glow of light, illuminating a long rocky corridor with moisture glistening on the walls. It crept closer, highlighting the uneven walls and the hoods of the cloaks that bobbed as the people contained within walked.

She could feel panic start to rise in her chest, pushing away the remaining fog from the enchanted sleep the powder had put her into.

The light flickered and danced, torches held above the heads of the procession.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emma snapped as the figures started to surround her.

The figure in the gold-trimmed cloak walked right up to her, his face shadowed from view, but his hand reached out, fingers pale and cold as they clasped her chin, turning her face this way and that.

“Yes, the Demon we seek should be very pleased with you, Princess,” he said, his voice as cold as his fingers. “It will be a delight to watch him devour your virgin soul in return for the resurrection of the Dark One.”

Emma’s eyes widened in horror. She’d heard tales of the Dark One her whole life. Everything she knew about magic cast him as the cautionary tale in how high a price it required. She’d heard, too, about the cult that had sprung up in his absence, the men obsessed with returning Darkness to the realm.

“No!” she cried, pulling her face out of his grip and struggling against the chains once more, doing her best to summon her magic but only feeling a fire start to burn under her skin which made her cry out in pain.

“Your magic will do you no good down here. There is too much darkness, no true light can survive. Not for long, anyway.”

He flicked his hand at the chains, which released themselves from the bench. The ones attached to her ankles formed a shorter chain between them that would allow her to walk. The ones around her wrists snaked up over her shoulders and met around her neck.

The man pulled her to her feet by yanking on her arm which tightened the chain around her neck noticeably as she struggled to stand.

“You will walk.”

Emma scoffed. “To willingly assist you in returning Darkness to this realm? Never.”

Another twist of his hand and the chain between her wrists started to shrink, drawing her hands up towards her throat. The chain tightened around her neck, making her choke as she struggled to breathe. She could feel her eyes starting to bulge. Emma sank to her knees, clawing at her neck, and shivering even more as her head swam with dizziness.

Suddenly, the chains lengthened and she could breathe again.

“Do as you are told, and I’ll make this relatively painless. And the Dark One might even spare your kingdom for your assistance in his return. Get up.”

Emma realised that there was no way to fight this, not now. She would have to wait.

She struggled to stand. The long skirt of her dress, now wet with the damp filth from the floor, was heavy in her hands as she lifted it to allow her to walk.

Hands closed around her upper arms, guiding her through the torchlit gloom, preventing her from slipping on the slick ground.

They entered a chamber, rocky walls painted black with gold symbols, the same as adorned the hem of the golden edged cloak.

In the centre was a large stone altar, and Emma found herself lifted onto it, the chains at her wrists and ankles moving as commanded to secure her to it.

She struggled and cried out in protest but there was nothing to be done. The chill of the stone crept into her body. She could feel it sapping her strength and making it harder to concentrate on fighting what was being done, stealing away the hope in her heart.

All her parents had done to train her to protect herself, and… it was all she could do to lay there. Like the pathetic damsel in the stories princes and knights loved to tell.

Despair joined the fear encasing her heart as the cultists moved around her, painting more symbols on the floor.

Emma’s eyes flicked frantically around her, looking for anything to help her escape.

The cult leader arranged her dress- making the sleeves lie perfectly around the chains- splayed her hair around her head in a fan of gold, and smoothed down the wrinkles in the dirtied lace. Every time she tried to move the chains tightened a little more. He rounded the altar and stood by her head, drawing from the depths of his cloak a distinctive dagger, the edge curving wickedly like waves and held it over her body. He started to chant and she struggled against the chains until she couldn’t hold back the tears of pain any longer.

She let them fall, the heat of them almost burning her cold skin as she let out one desperate whisper as she closed her eyes.

“Please, help me.”

Emma didn’t know who she was asking or what the chanting around her meant. All she knew was that as much as she thrived on being able to save herself most of the time, she couldn’t help herself this time and her parents wouldn’t have any idea where she was. They’d been trying to rid the realm of the cult of the Dark One for years and they’d never found them. It was most unlikely they’d be able to do so now, even with the added motivation of finding her. They could still be frozen in the ballroom for all she knew.

She felt the soft, hot tracks of her tears across her face before they splashed on the stone.

Blinding pain radiated up her arms as knives sliced into her skin, burning as blood started to pour into the grooves on the table, staining her dress immediately as the tears, too, turned into a flood.

Emma screamed in agony and defiance.

But through the pain she felt a soft weight on her head and at her waist, a warmth gently passing over her hair.

“Fear not, My Queen. All will be well,” a voice like liquid velvet intoned softly next to her ear.

Her head started to swim as the blood drained out of her body, but with each weakening heartbeat, the hand on her head and at her waist felt more real.

“Can’t save…” she whispered back, shaking her head. “Dark One…” she tried again, needing him to understand.

“Isn’t that why you called on me?” the voice replied, and now she could feel breath across her shoulder and cheek as he spoke.

Emma forced her eyes to open and she looked up into brilliant blue fire. They were his eyes, of course, but in her drowsy state she could have sworn they danced with real fire. His gaze filled her with warmth, and she blinked lazily as she smiled up at him. She’d never looked into a face like his before and she found herself immediately entranced by his dark beauty.

The chanting stopped, and cries of joy rang against the walls instead.

“Who are you?” she breathed, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with fingers that almost burned her skin with their heat.

“Foul Demon, I have summoned you…”

The demon, Emma now had the wherewithal to notice the horns poking out of the top of his head, looked up at the cultist still holding the knife over Emma’s head.

“Who summoned?” he asked coldly, and Emma felt his thumb ghosting over the wound on one of her arms, could feel warmth creeping back into her limbs as her heart started to beat a little surer once more.

“We cast the spell, we sacrificed…”

“I think you’ll find it’s her blood on the table, but interestingly, it wasn’t that which summoned me.”

“I command you to resurrect the Dark One in exchange for this sacrificed soul!”

The demon sighed and looked down at Emma. “I’m sorry, My Queen. Explaining this gross incompetence might take a moment,” he told her apologetically.

“Can’t go anywhere…” She breathed sleepily.

The demon grinned roguishly, and with four deft flicks of his clawed fingers he shattered the chains holding her down, but Emma still didn't have the strength to move. The demon sat down on the altar beside her, his fingers now trailing over the wound on her other arm and healing that one, too.

“Now, I’ve seen some truly ridiculous cults in my time, but you lot? You really do take the biscuit,” he drawled. “Firstly, this altar accepts any liquid, and you let her cry, which hit the table before her blood. So. As you were intending to use the blood, she used her own tears to summon me. Secondly, if you’d wanted her blood to work you had to partake of it somehow, because even if her blood had worked to summon the demon you intended to summon, she’d still have had control over it. Lastly, and most importantly, you’ve ended up saddled with the demon responsible for condemning the Dark One to the deepest, darkest depths of hell where his mortal soul will face its darkest fears for eternity. So… do you really think I’m going to be the one to let him out? All in all, you’ve gone and fucked this up royally…” He glanced down at Emma and grinned. “With a very pretty royal, too,” he added, and she shivered as his eyes looked her over and part of her wished she had the strength to do something to hide herself. But then his gaze flicked back to the cult leader and darkened with anger once more, his casual, instructive tone fading into menacing darkness. “So, while I appreciate the effort to find me such a delectable offering, I’m afraid… You’ve hurt My Queen…”

Emma watched as demonic darkness overtook his features. His skin turned red and his eyes turned to flame and the reality of the world around them seemed to crack as he rose to his feet, growing in height, muscles bulging, forked tail whipping back and forth in anger as a language of darkness rolled off now black lips and tongue. The long coat he wore furled out into enormous black wings which sliced the two closest cultists in half, exposing his muscled chest and drawing her gaze despite her predicament. Flame speared out of previously nonexistent slices in the very air, wrapping around the cultists and setting them aflame as he sat up and grabbed the cult leader around the throat.

“So I’m afraid it’s your souls I’ll be consuming in her name.”

The man seemed to burn alive from the inside, screaming in agony until he exploded in a shower of embers that made Emma flinch.

The demon turned back to her, his features fading back to the handsome, tempting human she’d first seen when she’d opened her eyes.

She felt a sob of relief, of gratitude rising in her chest despite the fact that she was now slightly terrified of her saviour.

He settled himself back on the side of the altar and pulled her to him, cradling the back of her head and running his hand up and down her spine, his warmth seeping into her and bringing her back to shivering rather than weakly numb with the cold.

“Fear not, My Queen. You are safe now,” he said, soothingly.

For some reason, Emma believed him, and allowed herself to sob into his shoulder as she let the fear that had plagued her since the moment the windows in the ballroom shatter subside.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly.

The demon seemed to stiffen in surprise.

“Demon or not,” Emma reasoned as she pulled back, “I should like to know the name of my rescuer so that he may be properly acknowledged.”

The demon looked suddenly unsure of himself.

“You may not think so kindly of me in a few moments,” he replied, sounding almost sad about it.

“You were part of the vanquishing of the Dark One, and you just saved me from helping bring him back,” she pressed.

“Aye,” he replied, his voice strained.

“There are conditions to your summoning that I am unaware of,” she replied. It was a statement, not a question and he nodded in confirmation.

“The altar may not be fussy, but I’m afraid Demonic Law is,” he replied carefully.

“You still need blood.” He nodded again but she sensed there was more. “My blood.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied again. And despite his being a demon, she believed him.

“So I still have to die?” she asked, shrinking back from him a little.

“Ay…” The response had been on the tip of his tongue, but he suddenly pulled back, rising to his feet and pacing.

Emma watched him curiously as he muttered to himself, reciting something in the dark tongue she’d heard him use before. The way his lips curled around the words made her squirm a little on the cold stone and she shivered once again, the absence of his heat allowing the chill of the stone to creep back into her bones.

“Apologies, My Queen,” he said briskly, returning to her side and encouraging her to lean against him.

“Emma,” she said with a sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

“Ah, then… I daresay no one is going to like the alternative much better,” he said as his fingers trailed up and down her arm, making her hum in contentment. He smelled amazing, far more appealing than anyone- let alone a demon- had a right to. She let herself breathe it in, getting a little lost in it.

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice sounded dreamy and sultry, even to her own ears.

“Your Highness, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“Make it harder for me to not claim what I am owed without explaining myself first,” he managed to grind out through gritted teeth. There was no anger in his words, only a possessive spark in his eyes as he looked her over.

Emma straightened her spine, her eyes wide and startled as her breath stuttered in her throat. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he replied with a warm smile. “The other option to spilling your blood and claiming your soul for hell now, since I have fulfilled the task you summoned me for, is to take an… alternative virgin blood.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat immediately with embarrassment and she looked away.

He hooked his finger under her chin, and looked into her eyes.

“I understand what this would mean in human terms, but you would need to understand this in demonic terms. We would be bound to each other. I would relinquish my immortal calling and live by your side as your protector and… lover… until your soul and your mortal body part ways. At which point, we will return to hell, and you are bound to me for eternity.”

He was being honest, that much she could tell.

“But that isn’t always the case, is it? I mean… don’t demons regularly defile virgins?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend him.

He chuckled, low and deep and it rumbled in his chest making her breath catch.

“It’s complicated. But most cults realise that virgin blood simply means from a vessel that has never been used for a sacrifice before,” he explained.

Emma frowned, looking down at the hands clasped in her lap. “But then… my blood wouldn’t work that way, anyway.”

“Technically, their ritual was not completed so your blood remains viable. I could still just kill you. But Princess, you’re far too lovely to waste on such a thing when I can have you for eternity…” His tone was laced with hunger that made a shiver run down her spine. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her neck again and making goosebumps rise across her skin. “Let me seduce you, My Queen. I promise you won’t be disappointed in the result. We’ll rule your kingdom together, you light magic balancing out my darkness and when we get back to hell you can torture every soul who ever hurt those you care for into madness.”

Even his offer was seductive, and Emma’s eyes slid closed, her head tilting away from his, almost offering him her neck. His forked tongue flicked out to caress the shell of her ear and she gasped, her eyes snapping open as she pulled back just a little. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“I smell good, don’t I? Your body knows what we could have. It’s a rare opportunity. Not everyone can even hope to make this attempt. You are unique, Emma. I can feel your soul calling out to mine and it’s taking everything in me not to claim it.”

She could feel it too, the want, the need to let him have what should have been promised to the prince of another kingdom. Something she should be guarding with more fervour than her own life. But who was there to stop her? There was no other heir to the kingdom, if she died today…

“My kingdom will need an heir,” she found herself muttering.

“Then we’ll give them more than enough to pick from,” he promised without hesitation.

“They’ll be… human?”

“As much as it matters. Like I said, my darkness and your light will create a balance within them. They will likely have magic as you do, and they may be stronger than other humans, live longer, I mean. But… is that such a curse?”

Emma absorbed this. Why she was asking him this, turning this into some kind of negotiation she wasn’t entirely sure, but here they were. She needed to think of her kingdom and not let the need singing in her blood overpower her just yet.

“Tell me your name,” she replied, looking up at him, determinedly.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not going to agree to eternity with someone who won’t even tell me their name,” she declared, almost haughtily.

“If I tell you my name…?”

Emma held his gaze, and smiled. It was small, almost seductive.

“Then I shall be yours. For eternity.”

“My name is Killian Jones,” he told her, in a way that suggested he hadn’t spoken it aloud in a very long time.

“Be gentle with me, Killian,” she requested, suddenly nervous.

With a groan, Killian hooked a finger under her chin once more and tilted her head up, bringing his lips to meet hers.

Emma felt a rush in the pit of her stomach as the warmth of his lips brushed hers and her eyes slid closed.

His hands moved to cradle her face, holding her exactly where he wanted her as his lips caressed hers, pulling back and changing angles, guiding her as his fingers threaded back into her hair. His lips peppered kisses across her cheek and down onto her neck.

Her eyes snapped open as she gasped at the sensation sparking through her entire body. Her hands curled around the lapels of his now returned coat, soft leather and velvet warm under her palms.

One hand moved around to her back, hand splaying across her spine and pulling her into his lap where she shuddered at the way his warmth seemed to wrap round her. Her own hand moved, threading into his hair, silky and soft and she pulled back a little to look at him again, breathing ragged, chest heaving, before she pulled his lips back to hers, moaning softly as he responded with a groan that made her core clench with need.

She kissed him harder now, taking back a little control and letting instinct take over.

The sticky dampness of her skirt forgotten, pain wiped from her mind, Emma kissed him like her life depended on it. He responded by holding her tighter against him and she could have sworn her skin was burning where the lace of her dress was thinner.

And then she felt calloused fingers on her back, not having noticed that he’d been undoing the delicate buttons down the back of her dress. She gasped as she pulled back to look at him, eyes wide and unsure.

“Don’t back out now, Darling. I don’t think I could restrain myself,” he said, his tone soft but his eyes full of dark promise.

Her core clenched again at his words. “I’m not, I…” she swallowed, trying to gather words that could explain. “Touch me more,” she requested, shyly.

“Gladly.” He grinned back at her.

A sweep of his arm and a twist of his claws tore the encumbrance of the sodden lace from her legs. Winding his other arm around her waist, he lifted her just enough that it slipped from her form and onto the floor, leaving her more exposed in front of a man that she had ever been in her life and she found herself revelling in the thrill of it.

He set her down so that she was straddling his thighs, exposing her and making her flush with excitement and self-consciousness in equal measure. His fingers barely grazed her thigh, but it felt like a spark of magic across her skin.

“More, My Queen?” he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice before she even looked up at his face.

The moment she met his gaze, his fingers started a teasing dance across her skin and she couldn’t help but moan, her eyes falling shut and her head falling back into his hand, just waiting to cradle her head.

“Such perfect, delicate skin…” he murmured, watching as his claws raised red lines on her pale flesh, and she whimpered at the hint of pain through the burning pleasure she was already feeling. His hand splayed over her thigh, gripping and squeezing as his other hand slipped down from her neck to continue to unbutton the back of her dress.

“That’s it Darling, let me hear you,” he murmured just before his lips found her neck once more. Kissing down towards her collarbone, his pointed teeth grazed her skin, always followed quickly by the soothing heat of his tongue.

And Emma gladly sang the pleasure of it towards the ceiling of the dim cavern, moans and cries and gasps spilling from her lips until the dance of his fingers ran through the slickness between her legs. Her hand twisted in his hair, making him hiss in pain and growl, delivering a slightly sharper nip to the skin of her shoulder.

“I won’t be able to be gentle with you if you can’t reciprocate, Darling,” he told her, firmly, speaking right into her ear and nipping at her earlobe.

Emma responded with a moan and a roll of her hips that had his fingers brushing that spot again. “Killian, please,” she whimpered.

“Do you really think I’m going to stop?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Oh, Princess, you have no idea just how much I have in store for you.”

“Show me,” she replied breathily.

“As you wish…” That was all he said before his head dipped, his teeth catching the neckline of her dress and twisting his head to tear the lace and the silk chemise from her chest, exposing her corset.

Emma shivered as the cool air of the cavern hit her skin, but the cold didn’t last for long as Killian’s lips found the tops of her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking and nipping as her chest heaved with panted breaths and the fingers below started to caress in earnest.

Her hips rolled into his fingers, her back arched to bring her chest to meet his mouth and the angle caused her corset to slip just enough that the next sweep of Killian’s tongue wrapped around her nipple.

Emma bucked in his arms, and as he growled with want, his assault of pleasure on her body was renewed. He seemed intent to torment her with it, to ensure that she thought of nothing else ever again other than the next time he could put his hands on her body.

With every sweep of his tongue or caress of his fingers, Emma was sure this was it, that it could not get any better. But with every frantic beat of her heart, he proved her wrong. She was babbling incoherently while he murmured encouragements into her skin. Emma didn’t think she would ever tire of hearing his velvety dark voice telling her how beautiful and perfect she was, that she was made for this, for him. He was relentless and determined, and she didn’t care how wanton she might look, all she wanted was for him to keep going, to drive her higher, to…

“Come for your demonic prince, My Queen,” he commanded, his lips just below her ear, pressing a kiss to her pulse point before dropping back to wrap around her nipple, sucking hard as his tongue flicked over it just right.

And then her whole body seemed to freeze in place, stars dancing behind her eyes as her muscles started to tremble and he pulled her more securely into his arms, his lips now caressing her hairline, his murmurs calming, soothing, reassuring.

She let herself breathe into his neck, shallow breaths coming out on satisfied hums as each muscle in her body seemed to relish in the slow drift back from the peak of her pleasure.

“That was…”

“Remarkable to behold, but we’re far from done,” he promised.

“I’m not that naive,” she protested, pulling back to frown up at him. Okay, so she’d never been told details, but animals did the deed, too, and…

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow that made her eyes narrow even more. “Then would you like to tell me what I plan on doing with my tongue, next?”

Emma flushed scarlet and dropped his gaze. With a soft chuckle he hooked a finger under her chin once more and made her look into his eyes.

“I’m going to lick your pussy clean, and then I’m going to make a mess of you all over again,” he promised, his hand dropping from her chin to press the fabric of her dress into the wetness still dripping from her.

Emma whimpered, her eyes sliding closed and blushing even harder.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he praised, pressing a kiss to her lips. “It’s intoxicating.”

“Am I?” she murmured back, her lips blindly chasing his for another kiss.

“Let me taste you, Emma,” he replied, nudging her nose with his own before capturing her lips again. His tongue pressed them apart to caress hers and she welcomed him into her mouth with a moan.

“I take it that’s not how you meant?” she queried when he ended the kiss with a soft peck to the tip of her nose.

He shook his head with a salacious grin. “Lie back for me.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at the stained and bloody table before looking back at him.

But it seemed she didn’t even have to voice her discomfort at that idea, and with a roll of his shoulders, the leather vanished from under her fingers and was once again transformed into wings which curled around her and easily took her weight as she sank back into their warmth with a hum of contentment.

The intensity with which he looked down at her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before and it made her blush.

He grinned. It was toothy, and hungry and it was only a moment before he leaned in, pulling the soiled white dress from her body as he kissed his way over each revealed inch of skin. He pushed apart her bare thighs and she squirmed under the heat of his gaze as he licked his lips salaciously before lowering his head, his eyes meeting hers as he brought his tongue to her core.

It was Emma that broke eye contact with him as her back arched with pleasure and her eyes closed with the potency of it. The heat of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever imagined. The graze of his fingers on her thighs was intoxicating. She could feel the vibrations of words she couldn’t hear through the rush of blood in her ears, could feel the hoarseness of her voice increasing with cries that she couldn’t comprehend.

He built her up quicker this time, the feelings so overwhelming she could feel her consciousness wavering. She could feel herself teetering on the brink of an abyss that part of her longed to welcome, but he kept licking, caressing, sucking on her until she came back to herself with another wave of pleasure as he shifted above her. His mouth found hers, kissing her hard and then she became aware of a slight burn and pressure down where his tongue had been.

Her eyes snapped open as she squeaked with the discomfort, building towards pain. “Relax, My Queen, the pain will be over soon,” he purred into her ear. “Let it happen,” he encouraged, his fingers finding her clit once more and making her back arch.

She felt him slip further in, and then something inside her seemed to break and she cried out at the sensation. She didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure in that moment but she had never felt so full.

Above her, he let out a strangled groan, his muscles tense as his eyes fell shut for a moment before they snapped open, burning with blue fire once more.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Yes,” she choked out. “Killian…”

He kissed her again, and started to move. It burned slightly, but with each thrust of his hips the discomfort turned to pleasure and she found herself moving with him, meeting his hips with her own as her legs curled around his waist.

He littered her neck with kisses and nips as she cried out his name into the darkness around them. She embraced the peak of her pleasure once more, fingers tight in his hair, lips sealed against his as she tried to keep herself moving for him, so that he could finally join her.

“This will be a little hot…” he warned as his thrusts sped up, hips stuttering a little before Emma felt a rush of heat inside her. It was strange, but she fell in love with the feeling, knowing she would want more of it before long.

“I feel so…” she started, searching for the right word to convey everything. There would never be anything like this, wrapped in his arms, filled with his seed, feeling his breath across her neck. “Complete,” she settled on.

Killian raised his head and smiled down at her, brushing his nose against hers.

“Incredible,” he murmured, shifting to pull out of her. Emma felt the flood of his spent leave her body and he glanced down, shifting his wings to let the mix of his cum and her blood fall onto the altar. “And now all immortal planes are satisfied, as well as us,” he said, looking back up at her.

With the sweat cooling on her skin, Emma felt suddenly self-conscious and looked away.

“Regretting me already, Princess?”

Emma’s eyes snapped back up to his face, to find disgust starting to settle in his features. She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers across his brow.

“No, I… I’m sore… and almost naked with a demon, and… I don’t know what to…”

“Your demon,” he corrected, a hint of a smile starting to curve at his lips. “We can be completely naked, if you would prefer? Or maybe you’ll make me wait for a human wedding night to have that final prize?” he teased, making her blush all over again.

“I can’t go back home without a corset. I’m already severely lacking in the rest of my attire,” she reasoned, embracing the chance at levity.

“Well, for the moment, that is a sacrifice I am happy to watch you endure,” he commented, taking a good look, his fingers tracing the edge of her corset.

“You’re incorrigible,” she commented with a sigh. “But I really would like to get out of here if that’s all the same to you.”

“We’ll find you some clothes on the way out.” He offered his hand to help her sit up, gathering her into his arms.

“Just get me out of here, and I can summon something from home,” she said with a smile as she laid her head against his chest.

“As you wish, My Queen,” he replied as he stood from the altar, wings melting back into his leather coat. Shadows curled up around them as the cavern melted away, but even once they were out in the open again, there was no chill strong enough to reach her. Not with her demon by her side.

#captain swan #cssns23 #zaharadessert writes #demon killian #princess emma #art by krystal

[quotefeeling]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[kmomof4]

Tag List Reset

Taking a page out of hollyethecurious and xarandomdream’s books, it’s that time of year again!!!!

As we get ready to turn the calendar, it’s time to reset the tag list. If you’d like to remain on it or be added, please dm me, comment on this post, or you can reach me on discord, same username. If you’ve moved on from CS fandom and no longer want to be tagged, no need to do anything. When I post my next fic in the next couple of weeks, I’ll take you off.

Let’s set sail into the new year, shipmates!!! Tagging the usuals!

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza @tiganasummertree @anmylica @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 3 @kymbersmith-90 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @wistfulcynic @mie779 @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda @aprilqueen84 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @pirateherokillian @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @justanother-unluckysoul @poptart-cat-78 @myfearless-love @goforlaunchcee @searchingwardrobes @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @djlbg @cocohook38 @cs-rylie @thisonesatellite @donteattheappleshook @deckerstarblanche @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @fleurdepetite @alexa-fangirl-forever @bluewildcatfanatic @qualitycoffeethings

#tag list reset #kmomof4 #krystal writes

[umbraastaff]

i knew the thb would be referenced bc ive seen people talking about it but it was very funny to hear griffin responding to the taako by sounding like hes going to explode. not in any kind of emotional way but just like his body was about to combust for real

#steeplechase liveblog #anyway as i was writing this krystal mentioned the direwolf and i nearly yelled

[resqectable]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[thoughtkick]

When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.

Krystal McLean, My Darrling

#Krystal McLean #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[fortunatelylovelytyrant]

Accepting All My Sorrows

A/N: The Bravely Default AU has come back with a vengeance. Do I now know anything about the games? No, and I never will.

"I used to be human once," Shadow said once he was alone with his Archduchess. He met her gaze, swallowing as she looked at him with pity. "It was a long time ago," he continued, shrugging as she shut the door to their lodgings.

"Do you remember your family?" she asked, sitting on the bed.

He sat beside her, clasping his hands together in an effort to make them not shake. "All the time," he answered. He remembered being young and going with Maria to the market on Sundays. He remembered the taste of Gerald's stew and longed for those days.

Shadow was quiet for a too long moment, jumping as Sandy took his hand in hers. She put her head on his shoulder. "Well, you have me now," she said. "We can make new memories,"

Shadow simply nodded in reply. What would happen once all this was over? Would she change alongside him to stay?

"Will you stay with me?" he asked, hearing her breath hitch for a moment.

Sandy thought about it. She couldn't just abandon her party, not when they were so close to finding the last elemental crystal, but she didn't want to leave Shadow alone again.

"Yes," she replied, squeezing his hand.

If he could stay for just a bit longer, that'd be fine.

#iwa writes #bravely default AU #shandy #shadow the hedgehog #sandy cheeks #static animal crossing #krystal mccloud