#modern lieutenant duckling

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 8/?

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! We just moved into a new house, and at first we didn't have internet. I also felt that every spare moment needed to be spent unpacking and getting the house all set up. I finally escaped to Barnes and Noble to write because I just can't do it at home right now! Anyways, I hope the contents of this chapter make it up to you. We're getting to the good stuff ;)

Is the situation Emma is in as a pregnant foster teen accurate? I really have no idea, but it's in the book Impossible that this is based on. I also have no idea if you can make a shirt like that. Again, I'm going by the book Impossible. I'm not following it exactly, but those two plot points were kind of important, so I left them in. Anyways, things are going to keep getting steamier from here on out, though our lovers are far from out of danger. Plus, we've still got Snow, David, and their kingdom out there somewhere, so hang on, folks! It's gonna be a romantic yet bumpy ride.

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious​

Chapter Eight:

The entire family jumped right in to help Emma solve the riddle that had defeated her mother. Liam dove back into every bit of research he had accumulated about the song Scarborough Fair. He and Ingrid met with the art professor he had mentioned who had done her dissertation on textiles. Elsa talked to the scientists on board ship and zoomed with the family every single day. Even Anna found her niche, taking Emma to the library and helping her check out every book available about pregnancy and childbirth. 

And Killian? He was the rock she could lean on. The one who made her smile or laugh just when things got too heavy. He also ran whatever errands he needed to: taking Emma to her first prenatal appointment, shopping for a long list of different types of fabrics at the craft store to make this impossible shirt, and going for a late night ice cream run when Emma’s cravings started. In some ways, nothing changed.

Yet his declaration of love still hung in the air. He hadn’t brought it up again, hadn’t treated her any differently, hadn’t asked her on a date or tried to get physical. He was giving her space to decide what she wanted, and it honestly was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. 

At the same time, Emma was confused. She had always loved Killian, of course. But was it romantic love? She could even admit she had been physically attracted to him at times, but did that mean she was in love with him? Did she even want something like that right now, when she was processing having a kid of all things and still healing from a violent rape? Did Killian fully understand what he would be getting himself into? Did she want to burden him with all her crap? 

She was just completely and utterly confused. 

Then, as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, Ingrid came home one day from work visibly shaken. The entire family stilled in the process of getting dinner on the table when they saw her standing in the kitchen, her face ashen. 

“What is it?” Liam asked, his voice filled with dread.

“Emma,” she said, her voice choking on her foster daughter’s name, “Liam and I need to talk to you. Immediately.”

Killian found Emma later, sobbing in her bed. When she poured it all out to him, he was livid. 

“This is absolute shit! I can’t believe they would do that!”

“They would, and they can,” Emma explained as she hugged her pillow to her torso. “Because I’m still technically in foster care, my baby automatically is, too.”

“They can’t just take it away from you!”

Emma shrugged. “Ingrid and Liam are no longer licensed to take in infants. I either have to find somewhere else to live, or my baby will be put in a different foster home.”

“Can’t they just get licensed?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s a year-long process of paperwork and visitations from social workers. I’m due in five months! Killian, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

She began to sob again, and when Killian eased into the bed next to her and put his arms around her, he could feel the small swell at her abdomen where her baby was growing. He felt a strong desire to protect them both. 

“We won’t let them take you or the baby away from us. We’re a family.”

“That’s what your brother said. Exactly.”

Killian chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“But Killian,” she choked out, “what happens if I don’t solve the riddle? I was comforted at least knowing my baby would be safe and raised by Ingrid and Liam, but now . . .”

She sobbed again against his chest, and he held her tight. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed. “You aren’t going to go mad, Emma, you won’t. We’ll solve this. All of it. Together.”

*************************************************************************

The only time Emma’s family ever used the formal dining room was on Thanksgiving. Someone always had to actually dust the table and air out the room, but Ingrid always insisted they “do Thanksgiving right,” even down to the old chipped china plates with the maple leaf border. 

So it felt odd to be in here now with the warm summer sun spilling through the window and shining on the ancient area rug. Assorted fabrics littered the table and a sewing mannequin stood in the corner, the headless and limbless torso sending an ominous shiver down Emma’s spine. 

“So this one is probably our best bet,” Ingrid explained. 

She cradled the bundle of scratchy, thick fabric and held it out to Emma who reached out and ran her hand over the coarse woolen felt. 

“That feels like it would make the most uncomfortable shirt in the history of the world.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Does it really matter? You wet this fabric, mold it to that torso over there, and according to Dr. Freemont, when it dries, it will hold together.”

Emma took the fabric and nodded. “So then we have it. A shirt made without needle or seam.”

“Who’s gonna wear it, though?”

Ingrid and Emma whirled around at the sound of Killian’s voice. Emma’s mouth went dry immediately. He stood there, his hair wet with sweat, and his chest bare. Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. She used to think chest hair was gross. She was wrong. Killian’s was thick and dark, and it set her pulse pounding. Realizing just how long she’d been ogling him, she dragged her gaze up to his face. He gave her a knowing grin as he lifted a carton of milk to his mouth and took a swig. 

“Where the hell is your shirt?” Emma snapped.

“Where the hell is your glass,” Ingrid added drily. “You’re not the only one who might like some milk, you know.”

“I just got home from work, and I’m hot,” Killian responded, as if that explained everything.

Emma tried really, really hard not to think of the other connotation of the word hot, but she was failing. Killian hadn’t brought up his declaration since that fateful dinner last week, and Emma was still trying to process it. Yet ever since, she was hyper aware of Killian’s presence. 

His lack of a shirt didn’t help, either. 

“Pour that milk in a glass, Killian, I’m not kidding,” Ingrid said in her rarely used mom voice. 

“Sure,” Killian said, sauntering back towards the kitchen. He gave Emma one more backwards glance with a delighted smirk on his face. Emma’s face heated several degrees. 

“I think I know what he means, though,” Ingrid sighed.

“What?” Emma asked, her head still a little fuzzy.

“Is it really a shirt unless someone actually wears it?” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “So have someone wear it.”

“I’ll do it.”

They whirled back around to find Killian standing in the doorway again. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of Oreos in the other. He still hadn’t donned a shirt. Emma found herself staring again, admiring the way a summer working in construction had toned his muscles. She dropped the fabric she’d been clutching in her hands and swore under her breath as it rolled across the floor. Killian smirked at her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap it off his face or kiss him senseless. 

“Well,” Ingrid said, seemingly oblivious to the sexual tension in the room, “if Killian’s going to wear it, then that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why?” Emma and Killian asked simultaneously. He had stepped further into the room, and his close proximity almost made Emma lose hold of the fabric she’d just stooped to pick up. 

“Well, if we mold the shirt to that torso over there, and it dries, I don’t think it will fit him.”

“So measure me,” Killian said, taking a bite of a cookie. His back was to Emma now as he addressed Ingrid, and it was just as distracting as the front of him. He had freckles across his shoulders, and a few along the small of his back. 

“That won’t work.” Ingrid shook her head. “The fabric doesn’t work that way. Not if we’re trying to make it without needle or seam. We’ll have to mold it to your body.”

Emma gave a little squeak at Ingrid’s words and nearly dropped the fabric all over again. To Killian’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

“What would that entail?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his milk. 

“I’m not sure,” Ingrid mused, tapping her finger on her chin. 

Silence fell for a moment, the only sounds from Killian snacking on his milk and cookies. Then Ingrid suddenly clapped her hands together. 

“I’ve got it! Duct tape!”

Killian’s eyes widened. “If you wrap me in duct tape, you’ll never get it off. Not without taking my skin with it.”

“You could wear a shirt,” Emma said. 

“You made that clear already,” Killian smirked at her. “I told you, I’m hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean for the duct tape. You wear a white undershirt, I wrap it in tape, then I can put the shirt, molded to your torso, on the mannequin. Then I make the shirt.”

“You’d need to be wearing the shirt when she tapes it,” Ingrid clarified. 

“I figured that,” Killian nodded.

Emma’s throat went suddenly dry. She’d have to put her hands on his body. She’d have to be in extremely close proximity to him. She was equal parts giddy at the thought and terrified. She was light-headed just thinking about it. 

“Perfect,” Killian announced with a grin. “When do we start?”

Emma wanted to ask Ingrid if she would do it for her, but she couldn’t risk that. The riddle implied that Emma had to make the shirt herself. She steeled herself and turned to Killian. 

“Shower so you don’t stink, and then we’ll get to work.”

“As you wish,” he told her with a mock bow before he turned from the room.

Ingrid, still oblivious to the fact that Emma was practically swooning and trembling simultaneously, turned away from the dining room table and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair. 

“Since you’ve got this under control, I’ll head to the supermarket. Anything you need?”

Slightly dazed, Emma managed to shake her head “no.”

“Great, I’ll see you kids later.”

In the kitchen, Killian rinsed his dirty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. He hadn’t pressed Emma in any way since his declaration. Whether she shared his feelings or not, he’d told himself, he would still be there for her. Yet the way she’d reacted to him just now gave him hope. Maybe he would win her heart after all. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Sit right here,” Emma instructed, pointing to the dinner room chair directly in front of her. Killian obeyed, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t hold teasing as she’d expected. They were tender and vulnerable. Emma swallowed nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“You’re holding that roll of tape so hard, your knuckles are turning white.”

Emma scowled at him and pulled a long strip of tape from the roll. He blanched, and she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she told him. 

He swallowed, and she followed the motion of his adam’s apple. She licked her lips as she drew closer, touching his arm gently as she raised it.

 “I’ll start with the sleeves,” she explained unnecessarily. 

She had to slip her fingers beneath the fabric to make sure she didn’t accidentally tape his skin. She thought she heard an intake of breath from his throat as her fingers skimmed his bicep, but maybe she’d imagined it. She wound the tape around and around the sleeve of his shirt, but when she began to wrap it around his shoulder blade, she had to step closer to him. He spread his legs to allow it, and she leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his collarbone. The sharpness of breath this time was impossible to ignore. She paused and locked eyes with him - he face was so close to hers . . . 

“Did I hurt you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, so she continued. Was his breathing becoming shallow, or was that her? Was that his heart thumping so fast, or her own? When she wrapped the tape around his chest, she could feel a “thump, thump” beneath her palm. 

“Um, Emma, give me a second.”

Killian grabbed a throw pillow from the wingback chair in the corner of the dining room then resumed his seat. He clutched the pillow in his lap, and his face flamed all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed softly. 

Killian swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Emma said, her own cheeks warm. 

“I just don’t want to freak you out . . . or scare you or anything. You know, because . . . because of him.”

Emma shook her head, tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks where they fell from the messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip as she got lost in his eyes; darker than usual and stormy. She stepped close again, between his legs, and she almost laughed when he clutched the pillow tighter. 

  “Emma,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut. 

“I’m glad,” she said, her own voice deep and trembling, “that I have that effect on you.”

“You do?” 

He opened his eyes, and she nodded. Her hands shook as she lifted them and rested them upon his temples. She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He tipped his head back and watched her intently. She thought of him the other night, stating so matter-of-factly that he loved her. He had said it as something unshakable and infallible. Something as predictable and steady as the seasons. Then they had gone on as they always had, with no demands that she respond to his declaration in any way. 

“And you could never scare me, Killian,” she clarified. 

Then, suddenly, she was kissing him. She was kissing Killian in the middle of the dining room. His torso was half wrapped in duct tape, he was helping her make this crazy, ridiculous, magical shirt . . . 

And she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. He was kissing her back after declaring his love for her at the kitchen table. He was kissing her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, even though she hadn’t said it back.  Or maybe it didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure. After all, this was only the second boy she’d ever kissed. But no, she wasn’t going to think about that or him. Not when Killian was kissing her within an inch of her life.

The pillow he was clutching fell to the floor when he wrapped his arms around her, and Emma could feel his arousal through his jeans and pressing into her. For a split second, fear tried to grab hold of her, but it was banished quickly. He wouldn’t just take her; he wasn’t like that. 

Killian pulled away, and Emma was shocked to hear a whimper slip past her lips, especially when he stood up from the chair and took a step back. Why was he pulling away, when they - oh.

He was sinking down on one knee, and she suddenly wondered if she were dreaming. It all felt so surreal, and he was still half wrapped in duct tape. Maybe Snow had whacked her in the head with one of those bottles after all, and all this time she’d been in a coma at the hospital. It would explain so much, honestly. 

“Emma,” he said, (and were those tears gathering in his eyes?), “I know this is a lot to ask of you, since you haven’t even told me yet how you feel about me. And this is something I think I always knew I would do eventually, just not now.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and continuing. His words reverberated in her soul, and she knew he was right, they were always going to arrive here, somehow. She knew it the same way she knew her own reflection. 

“But with everything going on, I don’t want to wait. I know you face an uncertain future, Emma, but I always want to be by your side. So, will you marry me?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, but plunged ahead. “It makes so much sense, if you think about it. I mean, we’re going to break this curse, Emma, we will. We won’t give up, ever. But, I know you worry, and if I’m your husband, you won’t have to. You’ll know I’ll be there for the baby. It will be mine, legally. It won’t end up in foster care. Not that anything’s going to happen to you, I swear to you it won’t, but if I can ease your burden . . .”

He trailed off, and Emma sank to her knees right along with him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. 

“And if I do go insane -”

“You won’t!”

“But if we don’t break the curse . . .”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said solemnly, “always and forever.”

It would be selfish of her, she knew that it would, to ask that of him. Nevertheless, his vow felt like the sun breaking through the darkest of clouds, and she knew she couldn’t refuse his gift. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, then his arms, and she clasped his hands tightly in hers. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t, she discovered, difficult to say. It was just so true, so undeniable, like how she knew the sun would come up each morning. His smile was bright and blinding, and she smiled too at the sight of his dimples. They had been so rare lately. 

“Does that mean yes?” he asked her teasingly. 

A tear slipped down her face, and she found she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and he understood. Everyone would say they were crazy, of course. He was nineteen, and she was seventeen. It was absolutely insane. Ingrid and Liam wouldn’t like it, she was sure, but she also knew they wouldn’t stop them.

 He dried her tears with his thumb, then traced her lips before kissing her tenderly. The kiss continued as they clung to one another in blissful, shining faith and hope. In that moment, she believed him: They would break the curse. 

Emma and Killian were so wrapped up in one another, they didn’t notice the slight shaking of the house or the rainbow colored light that swept through the room. 

**************************************************

It wasn’t the first time Robert Gold had entered the Swan/Jones home when the family was gone. He had explored every nook and cranny, flipped through photographs, smelled their clothes. He knew this family; every weakness to be exploited had been sifted and examined. 

Yet the house had never protested like it did today, and when he turned towards the dining room, he could clearly see why. 

It was a shirt. Hideous, smelly, and dripping wet, but a shirt nonetheless. When it dried, it could even be worn. 

“Well, well, well,” he muttered, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Almost immediately, he recoiled, the shirt burning him before he’d even grazed it. Magic radiated from it. The glamor spell he always wore faded, and his hands turned a scaly green, nails yellowed and gnarled at each finger tip. It wasn’t just the shirt, he realized. The entire dining room reeked with the magic, and he was in pain from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. 

“Of course you’re in pain, Dark One.”

He writhed on the ground and cried out as a much younger face pulled away from his ancient, twisted one. 

“Stop fighting me!”

“I’m doing all this for you, son!”

“Are you, Papa?”

“I got her for you, didn’t I?”

“But I can’t keep her!”

The Dark One could no longer hold onto the shared body, and the younger man stood to his feet, opened the front door, and walked out onto the sidewalk. Neal Cassidy was the name he preferred in this realm, a name that Rumplestiltskin hated. Baelfire was his name: a strong, powerful name.

“Oh Papa,” Baelfire - Neal - whispered, “settle down and cooperate.”

“You know I’ll take over again eventually.”

Neal didn’t argue. Instead he clenched his jaw and gritted his next words through his teeth. 

“This won’t work forever. You’re losing, and you know it.”

“They only finished the first task. They’ll never complete the rest. Not in time, anyway.”

“But that magic - you know exactly what that was.”

Ah yes, he did. True love. He wasn’t worried. The Dark One had defeated true love before, and he would do it again.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #cs impossible au #cs au #lieutenant duckling #modern fantasy #angst #cs angsty august #captain swan angsty august #impossible au

[snowbellewells]

Birthday Fic Update: “One More” (part three)

Okay, I realize that it isn’t morning anymore (as I promised @kmomof4 Sorry Krystal!) But it is still Monday, and I’ve kept you waiting less the a week after the painful update. This one won’t fix everything, but you’ll have a better sense of what’s going on, and hopefully things will look less bleak. Also, this update marks the halfway point in the story - so there’s a bit of a hinge point with this one - the first half is from Emma’s point-of-view as usuall, and the second part shows us what’s been going on with Killian.

I hope you’ll enjoy (and perhaps feel less likely to keep out your pitchforks) after this one!

Still a Birthday Fic for @searchingwardrobes -- who I hope will trust me just a little longer, despite the momentary pain.

Also available on AO3, if that’s your preference, or from the start here on Tumblr

Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...

by: @snowbellewells

iii. nineteen years old (two years later)

“Just one more good push, Emma!” the nurse at her elbow cajoled, urging her on intently, knowing the young woman was almost out of strength, at the very dregs of her reserves. “You can do it, I know you can.  …Ready? Push!”

Gritting her teeth on a last effort to free the little one inside her, whom she had clung to the hope of meeting, despite the heartache and worry that had hung over her as he grew. She couldn’t fail him now. They would both need every ounce of her resolve to face the world, just the two of them.

Shakily, Emma attempted to give Nurse Green a tremulous smile, though barely able to hold her head upright through her exhaustion. “Just one more, huh?” she huffed, her breath ragged as she exhaled and tried to draw in another. “I think the little guy has other plans, Tink.”

Tina Green, known to many of her patients and co-workers at the small women’s clinic in Seattle where she worked and where she had met Emma as ‘Tink’ for her petite, blonde, pixie-ish looks and chipper manner, merely shook her head. “Whatever it takes to keep you fighting to see him,” she countered stoutly.

The doctor broke into their back and forth from the foot of the bed - matter of fact and as though he had heard none of the women’s conversation that had come before. “Alright, Ms. Swan. The baby’s head is crowning. Now is the time for that final effort. You’re about to meet your son.”

Emma didn’t know that she had more to give; she had been laboring so long now that drawing breath and retaining awareness seemed almost too steep a battle. All the same, she bore down again, praying this truly would be the last push, that her little boy would finally join them. She could only hope she didn’t break Tink’s hand as she clutched it for some minor amount of support.

Over the last several months, there had been so many times; moments when she tossed and turned unable to sleep, when she tried to read maternity books to prepare and only felt inadequate and overwhelmed, or when she stood in the corner market near tears over boxes of cereal, wondering how she would ever keep her child fed and clothed with her meager sole income, when she had almost admitted defeat. She’d considered giving her precious little one up for adoption; thinking even as her heart bled at the idea that he would have to be better off with a family who couldn’t have a child of their own than with her - not even out of her teens, who’d never had a mother herself and could barely keep a roof over her own head. But then Emma remembered her own experience in the system, always alone and never wanted. What if her baby wasn’t adopted either? She simply couldn’t leave him to the same sort of childhood she’d lived through. 

Emma kept herself fighting because, in getting to this point, she and her child were already survivors. They would find a way, because they would have each other. Drawing in a ragged breath and forcing herself to exhale it slowly, Emma refocused on the goal before she was urged to push yet again. If nothing else, she would give her child what she’d only had for a short, golden period in her life - someone to love him unconditionally… a family.

The contracting pain inside her swelled yet again, feeling as if it might tear her apart. ‘One more, one more, one more…” she repeated to herself, almost a mantra that matched her heartbeat, urging her to carry on.

The pressure crested to almost unbearable proportions, and Emma couldn’t hold back the cry torn from her thoat as she gritted her teeth and strained to finally see her baby enter the world, to finally hold him in her arms. 

“There you are, I see the shoulders,” the doctor reported, guiding the newborn on his way. “You’ve got this, Ms. Swan.”

Falling back on her pillow, winded and drained like a deflated balloon, Emma tried to catch her breath, even as she listened intently for the first cries of her little boy, the announcement that he had arrived alive and well.

“Did you hear that, Emma?” Tink’s voice chirped happily at her side, brushing the mussed, sweaty strands of her hair off her forehead and offering her a gentle, encouraging smile. “He’s here! Your little guy’s finally here! You did it!”

“I did, didn’t I?” Emma slurred blearily, her eyelids hovering exhausted at half mast but determined to see the bundle who had caused such worry and excitement before she could fully relax. “Can I hold him yet?”

As if knowing his mother’s voice and prompted to answer it, just then a high, thin wail rang out in the delivery room, the reedy cry of a babe cold and scared outside of the cozy home he had known in his mother’s womb. The plaintive sound reached out as distinctly as an outstretched hand to squeeze her heart. Emma struggled to sit forward, straining to see and comfort her little one in his distress.

Only moments later, Tink moved toward her cradling a white-blanket-swaddled bundle passed on from the doctor as he had finished washing the newborn and clearing his airway. “Here he is, Emma,” she crooned, leaning over to carefully hand the baby off to his eager mother. “He just wanted to see his mama,” she added sweetly. The little boy’s cries lessened the moment he was nestled in Emma’s arms, and the angry red of his tiny wrinkled face lightened as he calmed.

Predictable as it might have been, Emma felt tears welling in her eyes, pooling and streaming down her cheeks. Her joy at holding him in her arms after nine months of waiting - her son, her flesh and blood - overwhelmed and spilled from her in an unchecked torrent. His little upturned nose, chubby cheeks, thin tufts of damp, curling bown hair were already cherished, even as they blurred before her eyes.

Naively, she had feared that he would remind her of the man who’d fathered him; someone she’d met not long after landing in Seattle a year ago, roving blindly in a lost and broken haze, barely remembered beyond messy brown hair, teasing cocoa-colored eyes, and a handful of rushed, less-than-incredible couplings in the back of the stolen car he’d left her with. She fallen in with the older guy almost solely because he’d shown an interest, she’d been running scared, almost starved and out of money to rent a motel room another night, and simply tired - tired of having to figure it all out on her own. When she’d wakened to find him gone about a month after they’d met and thrown their lots in together, she hadn’t even been surprised. She probably should have been hurt, but after Killian’s loss, Neal’s desertion was more like the prick of a thorn than a lasting wound. The positive pregnancy test stolen and then used in the Target bathroom had been the shock that had almost felled her.

Instead, gazing down at her little boy’s placid face, relaxed and nearly dozing once held again in his mother’s soothing warmth, Emma could only see his beautiful sweet innocence. She would give her own life - mere minutes after meeting him - to see that preserved. He should always be able to have the sort of hope she had lost long ago.

Unable to look away, afraid to even blink for fear he might vanish, Emma loved her baby on sight, as if she had never even understood love before. This was one thing at last she knew she had gotten right.

“Henry,” she breathed out softly against his baby soft skin. “Mama’s here… I love you so much, okay? No matter what.” And she vowed then and there, whatever came, Henry Swan - her Henry - would always have his best chance.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

eighteen years old  (not quite three years ago)

When Killian Jones first woke in a base camp mobile hospital overseas, he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened to him. As he tried to regain his bearings, glancing around and intently tamping down the beginning flickers of panic and that blank canvas within his mind, he knew who he was, but who might be missing him, and why he might be lying there injured in the strange bed beneath him were completely beyond his capability to recall.

Thankfully, as he remained conscious, and doctors and nurses came to check on him and report on his condition and what was being done for him, more of Killian’s awareness and memory came trickling back. He had enlisted in the Navy and reported for basic training. He was had hoped to do his duty, to travel, find his purpose, and also pay for his chance to pursue college study for a career that truly inspired him. He’d been thinking of those possibilities, along with the more mundane pleasure of cuddling with some clearly familiar and comforting blonde beauty in some off-campus coffeeshop, humming along softly to some unknown singer, ignoring his school work and hearing of her day, even as he had been going about the tasks of a routine patrol in what were supposed to be friendly waters, when something had gone wrong. He’d been gladly thinking of making his older brother proud and the happy future stretched out before him when their vessel had been struck.

His brother! An alarm blared in his mind suddenly. Liam! How could he have forgotten?! He’d already wasted so much time! He shook his head in agitated frustration as his realizations multiplied. Bloody hell! Would they have already told his brother he was missing? Or dead?

Quickly flagging down the first orderly who passed, Killian urgently attempted to make the person understand just how desperately, how immediately, his message needed to be sent. He needed to find out if he had already been listed as missing, if his brother had already been notified, and if - 

Emma! This second remembrance was like a bolt of lightning slashing right through the center of his being. How could he have forgotten the most important name he had ever known? She was the beautiful girl beside him in his fantasies of quiet afternoons in a peaceful college town; the smile and sparkling green eyes looking back at him in his dreams. They had been nearly inseparable from the moment they’d met, so how was it possible her memory had not been the first to return to him?

Killian’s stomach fell away, gut clenching in fear and regret at how bravely Emma had tried to seem happy for him when he’d told her of his enlistment. How he had promised her he’d be back at her side before she could even miss him. Tears swam unbidden in his eyes, knowing how it would have devastated her to hear he was lost. Of course, Liam would have tried to tell her gently, but she would have assumed the worst. Life had given Emma Swan little reason to do otherwise in her first seventeen years. And he would, for all that she knew, be just one more person to desert her and leave her behind.

Mercifully, once Killian calmed himself enough to make the situation understood, and to speak with the right higher-ups to ascertain what had been reported and how he should proceed, it didn’t take long for them to help him contact Liam stateside. The relief and joy in his brother’s voice, at what seemed no less than a miracle to the elder Jones brother, was a balm to Killian’s fraught and anxious soul.

But when Liam balked at taking the call next door, not letting Killian speak to Emma, his insides turned to ice. Haltingly, in a voice full of pained regret - both for Killian’s hurt, and as one who had loved the neighbor girl as an older sibling himself - Liam managed to explain that they had no way to tell Emma of Killian’s return. The moment she had turned 18 and was free of the foster system, Emma had vanished. As if she hadn’t been able to look at Killian’s house next door without him there, Emma had fled; no one had seen or heard from her since.  She was just… gone.

Tagging:  @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @cosette141 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @nachocheese-itsmycheese @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @motherkatereloyshipper @booksteaandtoomuchtv @thislassishooked @blackwidownat2814 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @let-it-raines @justanother-unluckysoul​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @hollyethecurious​ @bdevereaux​ @zaharadessert​ @kday426​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @artistic-writer​ 

#cs modern au ff #cs birthday fic #cs angst #one more #part three #birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes #young emma #young killian #lieutenant duckling #sort of?

[princess-and-the-swan]

Captain Swan Fic Recs

I'm a slut for captain swan fics and for years I've lived off of the cs fic recs and masterlists other people have made so I thought I'd pay it forward and make one of my own. I'll be sure to come back and add more that I think of or happen to stumble upon. I hope y'all enjoy these as much as I have :))

Created: 05/03/2024

*** denotes fics I have/would 100% reread

MC Modern AUs (Misc.)

***Pan Says by HollyELeigh

Rating: E

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: In-progress

Tags: kidnapping, smut, mild dubcon

***Amaranthine by caprelloidea

Rating: M

Summary: In which soulmates are rare, and those that have them stop aging at adulthood. Rarer still – and dangerously conspicuous – are those that have special abilities. Immortality and powers alike fade when soulmates come in close proximity with their other half. In which Emma’s touch heals, and Killian’s kills.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: soulmates

Learning to Love (Again) by captain_k_jones

Rating: M

Summary: In the wake of his crumbling marriage, Killian Jones turns to his best friend Emma Swan for help. Even though Emma had just ended a two year long relationship she is more than happy to welcome Killian and Nate, his eleven month old son, into her home. What neither of them expect is to learn how to love again through each other.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Abandoned (as of 09-08-2017)

Tags: incomplete, divorced!killian, daddy!killian, friends to lovers, roommates

The Trouble with Faking It by nowforruin

Rating: E

Summary: Killian Jones is one drunken mistake from never setting foot on a movie set again. Enter Emma Swan, the woman his manager has paid to pretend to date him and clean up his image. It seems straightforward enough...but there's always trouble with faking it.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: fake dating, actor!killian, pining

Bitter Hearts (middle of the ride) by bookstoreromantic

Rating: T

Summary: Fresh out of prison, Emma’s not a student at Boston University. She’s just using the library while she studies for her GED exams. Killian doesn’t know that though, and Emma doesn’t ever want him to find out. Not when he’s the first friend she’s had in years.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: college au, friends to lovers

Let’s Just Be Us by colormyheartred

Rating: T

Summary: Three-shot. Based upon a prompt about rockstar!Killian and movie star!Emma secretly dating, but those pesky fans figure it out.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: rockstar!killian, actress!emma, secret dating

***Tutor Me by Lovingcsfanfiction

Rating: T

Summary: Killian just got accepted to Harvard and needs to find a way to pay for college. Emma is struggling in her senior math course and needs to raise her grade if she wants to graduate on time. What happens when an academically driven boy winds up tutoring one of the most popular girls at Storybrooke High?

Relationship: Lieutenant Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: high school au, friends to lovers, pining, fluff

***More Than A Memory by always-been-a-pirate

Rating: M

Summary: He didn't remember much. He didn't remember her. The accident changed their lives and sent Emma into a tailspin, desperate for Killian to come back to her. But when he finally wakes up from his coma, the past six years are gone. He has no recollection of their love, but Emma refuses to give up on them. She's got her work cut out for her, but some memories are worth fighting for.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: married, amnesia, light smut

***Counting Down the Days by Montana-Rosalie

Rating: M

Summary: Emma is a time-traveler. Killian is always waiting for her to return.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Tags: Time travel, angst, smut

MC Canon-Divergence AUs 

***Until We Meet Again by searchingwardrobes

Rating: T

Summary: As a joke, Liam Jones pays a gypsy to show 15-year-old Killian his true love in her magic mirror. When Killian looks in the mirror, he falls through realms and time until coming face to face with a 15-year-old Emma Swan.

Relationship: Lieutenant Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: canon-divergence, fluff

***the princess and the pirate by gingergenower

Rating: M

Summary: The curse never happened, and her royal highness Princess Emma is kidnapped by the pirates aboard the Jolly Roger. Neither side realise what they're getting themselves into.

Relationship: Captain Duckling

Status: Complete with separate epilogue

Tags: princess!emma, pirate!hook, light smut, slowish burn, kidnapping

A Toast to What If by HollyELeigh

Rating: M

Summary: Immediately following the end of WWII, Killian Jones and Emma Swan have a serendipitous meeting upon a train platform while each travels to their respective homes. When Emma’s traveling companion fails to arrive, she offers Killian her extra ticket so he isn’t forced to spend the night on a hard bench outside the station’s office. Once aboard, Emma receives devastating news - her lover has abandoned her to face her family alone with the news she is pregnant, and now, without a fiance. Moved with compassion, and a willingness to put off what is (or rather, what is not) awaiting him at home, Killian offers to go with her to face her family. They concoct a scheme to get married then have Killian “abandon” her a few weeks afterward, leaving her with no other option than to seek a divorce. A plan that will cast him as the villain and leave her somewhat blameless in her family’s eyes.

Falling in love with one another along the way wasn’t a part of the plan.

Relationship: Lieutenant Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: fake marriage AU; post WWII setting, historical, unplanned pregnancy 

Somebody that I used to know by I_should_be_doing_other_things

Rating: M

Summary: Emma and Hook’s adventure into the past took a different turn than either of them could’ve predicted, and a small overnight trip turned into two and a half years of bliss. But now they’re back. And things have changed. And he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to survive it.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: time-travel, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, smut

MC Enchanted Forest/No Curse AU

A Sailor’s Tale by Dreamtalker1

Rating: M

Summary: After the Dark Ones assaulted the Enchanted Forest and occupied the Royal Castle, princess Emma and her bodyguard Ruby are on the run. To stay undercover, Emma travels disguised as a boy. By accident, they find themselves on the Jolly Roger in the hands of the infamous Captain Hook as stowaways. To save Ruby's life, Emma trades herself to the pirate as a cabin boy. Keeping her secret among dangerous buccaneers, will push her beyond her limits. In order to survive, she has to overcome her insecurities and stand up for herself.

Relationship: Captain Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: no curse, princess emma, pirate killian, stowaway, ransom, undercover, smut

Only the Beginning by 4getfulimaginator

Rating: E

Summary: When Princess Emma and Lieutenant Killian Jones are shipwrecked on an island that forces you to confront your greatest temptations and deepest desires, the sparks that have always existed between the two are sure to come to an unbridled head.

Relationship: Lieutenant Duckling

Status: Complete

Tags: no curse, shipwreck, castaways au, pwp, smut

her crowning glory by emmaofmisthaven

Rating: T

Summary: The laws are clear: to be crowned Queen of Eala, a princess has to be married. Emma has a month to find a husband, or else the crown will be snatched from her and given to the only other heir to the throne, one Killian Jones.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Status: Complete

Tags: the princess diaries au, princess!emma, prince!killian

One Shots

Theoretically by wtvoc

Rating: E

Summary: Emma's friend Killian has a reputation for sleeping around (and so does she). When he gives her a surprising gift on her thirtieth birthday, something about it unleashes the question she's been wondering for years: is he really as good as they say?

Relationship: Captain Swan

Tags: friends with benefits, smut, friends to lovers, modern au

all i want is the taste your lips allow by bisexual-killian-jones (aelover867)

Rating: M

Summary: Emma and Killian are in a pickle. They have crushes on the Cassidy cousins, but they are none-the-wiser. Enter Killian's idea of pretending to date to make Milah and Neal jealous. This couldn't possibly go wrong.

Relationship: Captain Swan

Tags: friends to lovers, modern au, fake dating

#captain swan #fic recs #lieutenant duckling #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook #fanfic #ao3 #ffnet #ouat #once upon a time #ouat fanfiction #captain swan fanfic

[csgiftexchange]

GIFT GRAB

Participants: @anmylica @captainodonoghue @cocohook38 @cosette141 @everything-person @i-will-sing-no-requiem @jrob64 @kazoosandfannypacks @middlemistcs13 @nachocheese-itsmycheese @sotangledupinit @their-seafaring-ways @totheendoftheworldortime

Gifts:

Giftee 1 WANTS: fanart of one of their fics, cursed!Killian, Movie au of Divergent Harry Potter Jumanji 2017 2019 or Avatar. NO: permanent character death for either Killian or Emma

Giftee 2 WANTS: missing moments, Killian exploring the land without magic, Captain/Lieutenant Duckling. Has no restriction.

Giftee 3 WANTS: pirate princess, canon au, supernatural au NO: angst, character death

Giftee 4 WANTS: fanart of one of their fics, canon compliant or divergent physical hurt comfort, one bed sharing before Emma and killian are together NO: smut, too much sexual innuendo/intention, character death, dark ones, season 5a, AUs, graphic injuries/gore

Giftee 5 WANTS: au fanfic, fanart, christmas anything. NO: smutt, shirtless fanart, no swearing, no villainizing Neal or Milah

Giftee 6 WANTS: one bed modern au, childhood best friends, sick fic au. Has no restrictions.

Giftee 7 WANTS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, captain duckling, cs role reversal. NO: permanent character death, supporting Neal.

Giftee 8 WANTS: gifsets, enemies to lovers, lieutenant duckling, pirate!Killian -princess!Emma, lieutenant duckling or pirate!Killian - princess!Emma fanart. NO: Graham or Neal.

Giftee 9 WANTS: Hurt/comfort, modern AU, Christmas themed CS fluff, must have happy ending. NO: friendship between Emma & Regina

Giftee 10 WANTS: anything set in season 3 or 4, mutual pining, any fanart. NO: AUs.

Giftee 11 WANTS: angst and/or smutt, western/farm/ranch au, any au, fluffy family holiday/winter fic/art. NO: whump, Ingrid

Giftee 12 WANTS: Established relationship, cs family fluff, cs parents, modern au with established relationship. NO: character death, angst.

Giftee 13 WANTS: Enemies/rivals to lovers; fake dating; captain cobra swan. NO: no major character death (I.e., emma or killian), no victor/ruby

#csgiftexchange #captain swan gift exchange #csge #csgiftexchange2022 #csge22

[captainodonoghue]

Ho ho... SECRET SANTA is here 👋

Im super excited to be your Santa this year, so tell me more about what type of fanfiction you read/write yourself. Any favourite tropes i should take in, themes, pairing (aside from captainswan ofcause 🙃😉🥰)

Any dislike to genre etc?

Perhaps you even have a prompt you want to see written?

Im comfortable writing almost anything (smut included).... but I don't usually write heavy angst.

So let me know your thoughts and ill get my thinking cap on.... it's going to be so much fun 🥰

Hey, Santa!! I'm so excited for the event and get to know you!

My favourite tropes are enemies/friends to lovers, lieutenant duckling, captain duckling, modern/canon AUs and all the cheesy stuff! haha Aah also I looove fake relationship/marriage AUs! I usually like when it's just captain swan but I don't mind mentions of other ships that don't include Killian or Emma! haha I don't really dislike any genre, as long as it has a happy ending, I'm good with anything except maybe horror because I get scared easily. Smut is always welcomed if you really comfortable with it though.

I have some prompts here but don't limit yourself to these if they don't inspire you, Santa! I'm sure I'll like it whatever it is!

#csss 2022 #CS Secret Santa 2022 #A pirate in my askbox #Anonymous

[wistfulcynic]

Love Reigns

SUMMARY: On his wedding day, Killian reflects on his life and his future with Emma, and his new role as the crown princess’s husband. 

Part Three of the Modern Misthaven series that began with Error 404: “Little” Brother Not Found. 

Tumblr: Part One | Part Two AO3: One | Two | Three

a/n: The lightest, sweetest Lieutenant Duckling fluff, because writing in this verse is very soothing. Have the dentist on speed-dial. 

Rating: G-ish Words: 3.1k Tags: Lieutenant Duckling, Royalty AU, Modern Royalty, Wedding

-

LOVE REIGNS: 

The flowers are beautiful. 

It’s probably an odd thing for Killian to be thinking at this moment, but they truly are. Mist lilies, the national flower of Misthaven, with their unusual blue-grey colour and subtle fragrance—mid-June is the height of their season and they’re Emma’s favourite flower so there was never really any question as to what time of year the wedding would be. 

The chapel is awash in them, draped in garlands over the chairs and gathered in bouquets on either side of the aisle, bouquets rounded out by sprays of Queen Anne’s lace and the sunshine yellow roses that are their country’s second most populous flower. There’s a lily tucked into his buttonhole, just a small one nestled in a sprig of lacy white. Liam put it there not an hour earlier, his usual jovial smile dimmed by the weight of solemnity and nerves. 

(“Nervous, little brother?” he attempted to joke, adjusting the flower and smoothing Killian’s lapels.

Killian smiled, content to let the nickname slide. Just for today. “No,” he replied. 

“What, not at all?” Liam fiddled with his tie as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m a bloody wreck.” 

Killian turned to examine their reflection in the mirror—both in their formal dress uniforms, though he had technically given up his naval commission when he accepted a seat on the Royal Council. “I suppose it’s because I’ve had such a long time to get used to the idea,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for this day since the first time I kissed her.” 

“How?” Liam shook his head. “How could you know after one kiss?” 

Killian doubted he’d ever be able to fully articulate how it felt, that calm certainty that had settled within him from the first touch of her lips on his, even as the taste of her set his blood racing. It was the certainty of knowing exactly where you belong, and he had known from the first that he belonged with Emma—by her side always, despite how impossible such a thing had seemed at the time. 

He couldn’t explain it and even if he could there wasn’t time. The chapel bell began to chime and Liam jumped, then chuckled at himself. Killian reached up to clasp his brother’s shoulder and give it a reassuring a squeeze. “When you know you know, as they say,” he quipped. “With Emma I’ve just always known.”)

The organ begins to play and the guests rise to their feet. Killian can feel Liam behind him, standing straight and palpably tense. He wishes he could offer his brother some reassurance but he can’t move—every particle of his focus and attention is directed at the chapel doors. When they open a bright flare of sunlight bursts through and then there is Emma, more radiant than any beam, and he catches his breath. 

Her hair is twisted into an elegant updo, and though he prefers it loose and curling around her shoulders for his fingers to tangle in he cannot deny that she is stunning, the graceful curve of neck and shoulder bare and just teased by curling tendrils. Her dress is long and flowing in the traditional style, ivory silk shot through with gold, and he would swear that every inch of her gleams. 

He swallows hard as she approaches, his heart thundering though not with nerves or even excitement. It’s closer to awe; the culmination of years of study and work and dreams, planning their life together and building its foundations, slowly, until the day it could at so long last be realised. 

(“I’d go down on one knee for this,” he said to her on the morning of the happiest day of his life so far. “I probably should, tradition and all, but people kneel to you all the time and I don’t wish to be one of them.” 

He stopped walking and turned to her, tightening his hand in hers. It was a cool day, cloudy but dry, and they were in the palace gardens where the mist lilies were just beginning to fade, making way for the late summer flowers with their richer colours. He looked down at her, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, her posture tense with expectation and excitement. He knew her answer, had known it for years, but the question still required asking. 

“So I won’t kneel,” he continued, “but instead I stand here before you as your partner—if not precisely your equal—to tell you that I love you with everything I have in me, and that I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days at your side. Or two steps behind you, should the occasion require it.” 

She gave a bright laugh, even as a tear escaped the corner of her eye. He wiped it away with a gentle brush of his thumb, framing her face in his hand. 

 “Emma, my love,” he said softly. “Will you marry me?”) 

She arrives at his side and her father lifts her hand to his lips—Killian startles; he was so absorbed by Emma that he forgot the king was there—kisses it gently and passes it to Killian, who takes it in his own hand and kisses it in his turn. 

King David nods and makes a formal bow, and when he straightens his eyes catch Killian’s. Understanding flashes between them, and there in that moment they are not a king and his subject but a father and the man about to become his son-in-law. It’s a brief moment but heavy with meaning, and when it passes David gives a nod and the barest curve of his lips before stepping back and taking his seat next to the queen. 

Killian returns his attention to Emma, tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow and attempts a smile. 

“Swan, you look...” he trails off, for once at a loss for words. 

She gives him a cheeky smile. “I know.” 

His own smile blooms, the breathless tension broken, and they turn together to face Lancelot. 

(The footman announced him and Killian entered the king and queen’s private residence to find them waiting with tea already laid. They looked surprised to see him alone, then comprehension dawned and they sat up straighter, more formally, and he bowed, first to Snow then to David, then waited at military attention until they bade him to take a seat. 

“I know that you know why I’m here,” he said. “We’ve never spoken about it in so many words but I know that you have always understood how much I love your daughter and that my dearest wish for a long time has been to marry her. I believe that now, with my new position on the Council and with Emma officially taking on her royal duties, that it is the... well, the time.” 

He sat as straight as he could, shoulders back, and met their eyes without a waver. “Yesterday I asked Emma to marry me and she said yes,” he continued. “Today I am here to ask for your blessing—not your formal approval as the king and queen, but your blessing as parents. I know I wouldn’t have been your first choice for her, but I promise you that no one could love her more than I do and I will devote my life to her happiness.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, awaiting their reply. They were silent for a moment, sharing that unspoken communication they had, that he and Emma had as well. Then Queen Snow pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes and King David’s stern face softened. 

“Oh, Killian,” said Snow, sniffling. She rose to her feet and he hurried to follow—it was very bad form to sit while the queen was standing—but she waved away his attempts at protocol and took his face in her hands with a tremulous smile. “It’s true you weren’t our first choice but that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best one. You are Emma’s choice and you make her happy, and that’s all we care about. Of course you have our blessing!” 

She pulled him into a hug which he attempted to return both warmly and respectfully—not the easiest balance to strike—and met David’s eyes over her shoulder. The king was attempting to look stern, but Killian knew him too well by now to be fooled.

So did Snow. “David,” she said, turning to him and dabbing her eyes again. “Come greet our son-in-law.”  

David stood and offered Killian his hand. “Welcome to the family,” he said.)

Lancelot’s smile is wide and his voice resonant, but Killian does not hear his words. He is conscious only of Emma beside him, the soft weight of her hand on his arm, the magnitude of this moment. His heart is so full of love for her he fears it may burst, and though he supposes he should listen to the vows he is taking, he doesn’t truly need to. He knows what they say and more importantly he feels them, those words that speak of love and trust and partnership, of solemn duty gladly undertaken, and he has no need to hear the words to promise to uphold them. 

“I do,” he says, when the time comes, and Emma repeats this vow in her turn. Then he is turning to her, his hand firm on the small of her back as he leans in to kiss her. 

And with that, they are married. 

(“Killian!” Emma tapped gently at his door. “Killian, are you there?”

“Swan!” He leapt from the sofa where he and Liam had been lounging, exchanging an alarmed glance with his brother as he approached the door. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“I just wanted to talk to you,” she said quietly. “I miss you.” 

Liam rolled his eyes but Killian ignored him. “I miss you too,” he said. “But—”

“I wish I could see you.” 

Killian sighed. “Love, you know that’s bad luck.” 

“I know you think it’s bad luck.” 

“A seafaring man knows better than to mess about defying superstitions,” he told her sternly. “Even ones that may be foolish. Perhaps it’s not bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding, but I don’t care to take that chance.” 

“I know,” she sighed. “And I do understand, I just—I hate sleeping without you.” 

“I know, darling, me too.” Killian leaned his forehead against the door, knowing that on the other side she was doing the same. “But it’s just one night. Come tomorrow there’ll be no getting rid of me.” 

Emma’s voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. “Promise?” 

“Aye, my love,” he whispered back. “I promise.”)

The organ music swells as he and Emma walk arm-in-arm back down the aisle. The doors swing open as they approach and the glare of the sunlight outside momentarily blinds him. When his vision clears he sees a crowd of people filling up and spilling out of the chapel grounds and into the streets, where traffic has been blocked off for the occasion. A great cheer erupts as they emerge and stand together at the top of the curving steps so the people below can get a good look at their princess and new prince. 

Bloody hell, thinks Killian. Prince. 

It’s a courtesy title that holds no real weight, and he won’t even technically assume it until Emma takes the throne. But the tabloids are already calling him Prince Killian, which makes him blush and Emma laugh, and as the crowd cheers and she smiles and waves as naturally as breathing, Killian feels overwhelmed. This is his life now, he thinks. He is a public figure, a member of the royal family. He has a duty to these people, a responsibility, and—his head begins to spin and bile rises in his throat and then he feels Emma’s hand tighten on his arm. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers, rubbing tiny, gentle circles on his bicep with her fingertips. “You’re okay. I love you.” 

Her touch grounds him and her voice quells his rising panic. He looks down at her and she smiles, radiant with happiness and love and sunlight and he feels himself relax. This is just them, after all. Just Killian and Emma, together, as they’ve been now for more than five years. That’s all that matters. 

He smiles back at her then turns to the crowd and raises his hand in a tentative wave. Cheers swell and cameras flash, and Emma’s voice is low in his ear. 

“You’re a natural.” 

~

The rest of the day is a dizzying whirl of speeches and toasts and hands to shake, people bowing and calling him ‘sir’, Liam’s tight, proud hug and the tears in the queen’s eyes. There is dancing and a meal they don’t have time to eat, and so many camera flashes that Killian begins to think the spots behind his eyelids when he blinks may be permanent. 

Emma smiles through it all but he can see fatigue begin to settle on her shoulders and around her eyes. She’s been awake since dawn at least and moving nonstop, with constant demands on her time and attention. She bears it brilliantly, sustained by a lifetime of royal training, but he knows how much it drains her and wishes he could whisk her away to someplace quiet and private, just for a moment, where they could lean against each other and just breathe. 

Finally the time comes for them to leave for their honeymoon, which they do in one of the palace limousines. One with tinted windows, Killian notes in relief, and comfortable leather seats, quite different from the stiff, open-topped carriages that conveyed them to and from the chapel. Everyone gathers round to see them off, and they muster the energy for one last round of smiles and waves. The instant the car pulls away Emma droops, collapsing against Killian’s chest with a small sigh. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her close. 

“Long day,” he says. 

“You’re not kidding,” she murmurs. “But a good one.” 

“Aye,” he agrees, and lets his cheek rest on his wife’s head. His wife. “The best day.” 

They sit in comfortable silence as the car moves through the streets. People still line them, hoping for a glimpse of the royal couple, but the tint of the windows is dark and Killian is glad of it; frankly he feels no obligation to give the public any more of himself or of Emma today. He’s exhausted and she’s already asleep, snoring faintly into the crook of his neck. 

They drive to the palace and through the grand front entrance, around the main buildings and towards the rear exit and the road that leads to the airport. The limo pauses briefly in a small alcove that’s invisible from outside the palace grounds, where Killian nudges Emma awake and they perform a quick-change operation worthy of a spy film, slipping from the limo—which then proceeds through the rear gates without them—and into an ordinary, unmarked car.  This car Killian drives out a small side exit where no crowds are gathered and down the quiet streets that lead to the coast, as Emma curls up in the passenger seat and dozes again with her head pillowed on his coat. 

It’s quite late when they reach their destination—a small house on a tall cliff overlooking the ocean. The housekeeper is there to greet them, giving them a brief tour of the amenities then showing them to their room, with a curtsey and a reminder that she lives just next door should there be anything they need. 

“Thank you,” Killian says with a smile. “I think we’ll be all right.” 

He turns back into the room where Emma has already shed the sleek dress she wore to the reception and is snuggling into the dressing gown that was laid out on the bed for her. Killian follows suit, pleased to discard his stiff dress uniform in favour of slipping into something far more comfortable. He considers making a quip along those lines to Emma, but considering how tired she is he doubts the innuendo would be well-received. Something like 80% of couples don’t have sex on their wedding night, he reminds himself. And he and Emma have three weeks’ worth of nights to look forward to, alone here on this rocky stretch of shore—one final interlude just for them before they return to their life in the public eye. They can spare this one night just for sleep. 

Their bedroom has a set of wide French doors leading to a balcony that overlooks the beach, and these Killian opens, stepping out into the fading twilight and breathing deeply of the crisp sea air. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to spend much time on the sea in the future and he would be lying if he claimed not to feel a twinge of sadness at that thought. But he’ll have a lifetime with Emma instead, in the face of which joyous prospect all other concerns pale into insignificance.

Emma. His wife. He wonders how long it will be before that word stops making him feel giddy. Possibly never—and honestly, Killian reflects, he’s okay with that.  

Emma’s arms slip around his waist and she rests her chin on his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?” she asks. 

He turns so he can wrap her in his arms. “I’m thinking about how much I love you,” he replies, “and how much I am looking forward to living the rest of my life by your side.” 

“Mmmm,” she says. “Those are good thoughts.” 

She leans up for a kiss and he gladly obliges, trying to keep it light and sweet—but Emma is having none of that. She presses herself firmly against him and slips her tongue past his lips and Killian’s body leaps to attention before he can stop it. 

“Are you sure, Swan?” he murmurs. “You’re exhausted.” 

“I had a nap,” she replies, nipping at his lip. “And this sea air is really quite  invigorat—oh!” She shrieks as he scoops her up in his arms and carries her to the bed where he lays her down with a gentleness that belies the fire in his veins. She watches as he slips off his dressing gown, biting her lip in that way she knows drives him mad. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, love,” he purrs. 

“Why don’t you come down here and do something about it?” 

She shrieks again as he pounces on her then sighs into his kiss, and as the rising moon casts the room in a gentle glow they share one last celebration of their wedding and their love. 

___

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @kmomof4 @stahlop​ @darkcolinodonorgasm @katie-dub @teamhook @snidgetsafan @mariakov81 

___

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #royalty au #modern royalty au #modern lieutenant duckling #modern misthaven #captain swan #princess!emma #lieutenant!killian #wedding #lieutenant duckling wedding #love reigns #profdanglaisstuff

[xpumpkindumplingx]

Whatever you do, don’t imagine this precious bean...

coming by to pick up this equally adorable cinnabon...

for their first date.  

And whatever you do, don’t imagine this look on David’s face when he realizes his little girl is in love with the boy who lives down by the bay.

Or how about this darling dork, always so vigilant in his task of keeping his little younger brother out of trouble... 

until the day his eyes land on this delightfully peculiar lass with the hair almost as blonde as the snow itself...

and don’t think for one minute about how this shimmering snowflake will try all she can to not let Liam get to her. She has a duty after all, look after her sister Anna and keep her Aunt Ingrid’s house in order. Elsa certainly has no time to entertain the thought of falling in love with boys. Especially ones with menacing brown curls and eyes as blue as the sea after a storm. 

#captain swan #cs au #modern lieutenant duckling #modern frozen jewel #daddy charming #i've got a lot of feels today #and #i'm complete trash #young killian jones #young liam jones #young emma swan #young elsa arendelle

[writeyourownlifestory]

CS Halloweek: Oct 31st - Spirits and Traditions 

Falling in Love with Moonlight 

Being the new kid in town is hard. Living in a house that is haunted by a long-dead princess is even harder. Killian Jones just wants to take life one step at a time, even if those steps are followed by someone only he can see.

AO3 LINK

#OUAT #once upon a time fanfic #cs fanfic #CS AU #CS Halloweek #Captain Swan #Captain Swan AU #Halloween #CS Halloween #Ghost story #ghost #undead #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Lieutenant Duckling #Modern Lieutenant Duckling

[cutieodonoghue]

guys last night i found some of my old unposted fic and i’m dying because the writing is actually so good? how did this happen and i didn’t share any of it

#definitely not grammatically solid #but the story of this one is amazing ??? #it's a semi-lieutenant duckling au #that slowly turns into a kind of canon divergence au #there are portals #and there is DRAMA #and arranged marriage #and there's also modern au #i would also add it's somewhat like the movie enchanted if you squint hard enough #ugh wow amazing

[idristardis]

CS Fic Formal: “I Found a Love”

A/N: At long lonnnnnng last, I can reveal that I am your CSFF Anon @branlovesouat !! I’m so very sorry that this gift is (literally) a month late, but between juggling two different jobs and my muse taking your prompts and deciding to write roughly thousands upon thousands of words, it...took a while to come together. I thank you infinitely for your patience - it has been wonderful getting to know you over this process - and I only hope that this fic lives up to your expectations and hopes!!

In addition to CS banter and sass, you asked for Ruby and Emma friendship and Belle and Killian friendship, romance that was paced at a “medium burn,” a story more driven by plot than atmosphere, and some way of incorporating Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect.” I hope I delivered on all of those fronts to your liking dear!! The fic’s title is taken from that song, and there are a couple of other ways I wove it into the fic (including the vibe of the next to the last scene) without making it a song-fic, per se.

I also want to give a huge thank you to the @csficformal mods for hosting such a wonderful event and for putting up with me when I kept asking if I could push my deadline back a bit because there were just more words spilling out of my brain. You guys rock!!

Now, without further ado...here are approximately 22K words of modern royalty Lt. Duckling AU. Hope you all enjoy!!

P.S. Rating is low-to-mid T for some swearin’ and some kissin’. Also, I borrowed one line from 10 Things I Hate About You - see if you can spot it. :D :D

“You’ll never guess the news I just received, little brother.”

Killian sighed, automatically muttering younger under his breath before pushing his half-finished lunch to the side and tossing down the report he’d been skimming through while he ate. Looking up, he met Liam’s gaze expectantly. His brother stood next to Killian’s chosen table in the corner of the officer’s mess with a grin on his face that – given his usually serious demeanor – bordered on disturbingly giddy.

When Liam dropped into the seat across from him, practically vibrating with pent-up energy, and yet didn’t immediately speak, Killian sighed. “You’re literally going to make me guess, aren’t you?”

Liam nodded, his grin growing impossibly wider. “Absolutely.”

“Why?” Killian groaned.

“Because this news is amazing, and it’s more fun to have you guess. It draws out the suspense,” Liam replied, leaning over towards Killian’s abandoned lunch and snagging a French fry off his plate. “Besides, you’ll never get it right, and then I’ll get to tell you anyway. Best of both worlds, really.”

“That makes almost no sense,” Killian said exasperatedly, reaching out and pulling his plate back towards him before Liam could pilfer any more of his food.

“Ah, but there’s a vast difference between something almost not making sense and actually not making sense,” Liam said, leveling his gaze on Killian before continuing. “Besides, you’re just stalling while you try to think of whatever invariably incorrect answer you’re going to come up with. So,” he rapped his knuckles on the tabletop for emphasis, “guess.”

Killian stared at Liam in silence for a long moment. He really was at a loss for what the mysterious news could be, but he stubbornly didn’t want to admit as much to his brother. Finally, just as he was about to give in and hazard a ridiculous – and almost certainly incorrect – guess just to get Liam to move the whole process along, Killian’s eye landed on the discarded report he’d been reading when his brother had arrived. The neatly typed date in the corner of the document triggered a realization and he chuckled as a flash of insight raced through him.

Suddenly, he knew.

In fact, it was so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t put two and two together immediately.

Sitting up straighter, Killian regarded Liam with a wide smile of his own. “Alright, let’s see it then,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly.

“What?” Liam said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“The list of new appointments to the Cadre,” Killian replied easily. “That is what you came here to tell me about, isn’t it?”

Astonishment, irritation, and frustrated resignation flickered across Liam’s face in quick succession before he slumped back in his chair. “Y’know, you are bloody infuriating sometimes. How did you do that?!”

“Once I remembered what day it was, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out what had you so fired up,” Killian said with a smirk. “There are only a few things in life that can get you that excited.”

“Oi! Don’t act like you aren’t just as eager,” Liam retorted, digging in the pocket of his uniform coat and pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Killian. “You know as well as I do little brother that getting appointed to the Cadre can be career-making.”

Killian let the nickname slide this time, as he was too busy opening up the paper that could very well change his life. “Did you look yet?” he asked Liam, his eyes flicking upwards to meet his brother’s.

Liam nodded, his smile a bit sheepish. “Sorry, Kil. I just couldn’t wait. But why d’you think I was so damn eager to talk to you?”

Any response Killian was about to make died on his tongue as his eyes fell on the list of nine names marching in a tidy column down the left hand side of the paper. He’d only made it about halfway down when he spotted the names he’d been fervently hoping to see.

“Bloody hell.”

-/-

Misthaven Star-Herald

COMMANDING RESPECT: NINE ELITE OFFICERS SELECTED FOR APPOINTMENT TO CADRE 2018

By Sidney Glass

Star-Herald Royal Reporter

SPERO, MISTHAVEN, APRIL 30, 2018 – Reports from the palace today have confirmed what was long-suspected to be true: Queen Mary-Margaret and King David, in consultation with the Prime Minister and the most trusted members of their Privy Council, have at long last completed the selection process for Initiates to the newest Cadre.

The Cadre, an elite squadron of officers comprised of members from all branches of Misthaven’s military, is personally selected every three years by the King and Queen. The newly chosen members of the Cadre will arrive in the capital city of Spero next week, at which time they will enter into a rigorous training boot camp designed to ready them to serve both as personal guards to the entire royal family and emissaries of the country’s armed forces when they accompany the royal family abroad.

Candidates selected for this rarified group have proven themselves in a variety of ways. They must have graduated in the top third of their cadet class, possess an exemplary service record in their branch of the military, show an aptitude and inclination for officer training, be in peak physical condition, and conduct themselves with honor in their everyday service. Having exhibited extraordinary valor in combat scenarios is also taken into account, but is by no means mandatory.

In addition to boot camp, when each new Cadre is selected, one member of each service branch from the previous Cadre remains in place for the first year of the new Cadre’s term. They are intended to act as mentor and training officer for their service branch within the Cadre and may be called upon to perform Cadre functions from time to time – though their main purpose is to train the newly selected members of the squadron. During the first year of each Cadre’s tenure, the presence of these training officers cause the group to swell to twelve members rather than its typical nine.

The existence of the Cadre dates back almost to the founding of Misthaven. Though its exact origins have been lost to time and the great fire of 1860, which destroyed much of the contents of the Hall of Records for Misthaven’s military, anecdotal evidence traces its beginning back to the kingdom’s fledgling days. Formed to protect the leaders of the small, newly-formed kingdom against the outside forces of its larger and mightier neighbors, over time, the Cadre has also come to serve other purposes – these include fostering community, partnership, and mutual understanding between members of different service branches. Members often maintain close professional ties long after their Cadre years are over. These bonds help to strengthen Misthaven’s military in tangible and intangible ways.

Of course, the Cadre still adheres to its original purpose – providing the highest caliber of protective services to Misthaven’s royal family. This year, the twelve servicemen and women appointed to the Cadre are:

Royal Misthaven Army

Captain R. Locksley

Lieutenant B. French

Warrant Officer W. Scarlet

Lieutenant G. Humbert – training officer

 Royal Air Force of Misthaven

Wing Commander A. King

Flight Lieutenant E. Merlin

Flight Lieutenant M. Fa

Flight Lieutenant L. Dulac – training officer

 Misthaven Royal Navy

Commander L. Jones

Lieutenant K. Jones

Sub-lieutenant W. Smee

Lieutenant-Commander K. Nottingham – training officer

-/-

Emma sighed with relief as the back door of Two Wolves Tavern swung shut behind her, effectively muffling the noise from the street outside. Thankfully, this part of Spero was a good distance from the bars and clubs that lined the streets of the capital city’s small, yet bustling, nightclub district. Two Wolves would get busier as the night went on, but it would be nothing like the sort of chaos that could be found downtown.

The tavern was old – having been in the same family’s ownership for multiple generations – and the inside was a blend of cozy restaurant, warm and inviting bar, and a small space where those who were so inclined could dance. The wood paneling was dark and burnished to a shine, the lights low and soothing, and the furnishings were on the rustic, lived-in side. All of those elements combined to give the tavern itself an uncanny ability to project a sense of comfort and safety every time a person stepped through its doors.

It didn’t hurt that its owners – Elizabeth Lucas and her granddaughter Ruby – were friendly and yet fiercely protective of their clientele. Not to mention that they had been friends of Misthaven’s royal family since the current queen was a young girl. Privacy and discretion were as guaranteed at Two Wolves as they could ever be in a city as infamously gossip-riddled as Spero.

In short, it was perfect.

It was the ideal place for a princess to hide away from the world for a few hours, which was exactly what Emma was determined to do.

She straightened, pushing up from where she’d slumped against the now-closed door, and took a deep breath. Slipping inside the nearby ladies’ room, she took a moment to look at herself – truly look – in the mirror above the tiny sink. Beyond the crack running up one edge of the glass she saw a woman who, while appearing slightly tired, had an invigorated sparkle in her eyes. She loved her family and – most of the time – she loved the life she got to lead. But there were some occasions when the expectations and pressures of being a princess just got to be too much and she needed to get away.

Tonight is definitely one of those times, she thought to herself with a grimace. Especially if the Privy Council is going to be so ridiculously archaic–

Emma cut off her own line of thought with a shake of her head. The situation with the council was exactly what she’d been coming here to avoid. She was hardly about to ruin her own evening by thinking about it now. If she got going, she knew she’d only end up stewing about it for hours and that was not what she wanted out of tonight.

She glanced at herself in the mirror again, pushing a strand of auburn hair from her bobbed wig back behind her ear and straightening the square black frames on her glasses (a relic from her life before contacts). Happy with what she saw, she grinned widely at herself. She was under no illusions as to what would happen when her Cadre guards discovered her missing from the palace. No doubt they’d assume she was at Two Wolves and follow her here. It’s not like it was the first time she’d come here after all. Her parents were (relatively) at peace with her choice of “escape” location, and she always was careful enough to wear a different disguise each visit – though usually, she did bring her guards with her.

But, she’d reasoned with herself as she’d slipped out of the palace unseen, even if she hadn’t brought Humbert and Dunbroch with her, it’s not like Two Wolves wasn’t known as an off-duty Cadre hang out. Surely she’d be safe enough there – and she really needed out of the palace for just a night.

After fussing with the set of her wig a bit more, Emma was finally satisfied that she looked innocuous enough and left the ladies’ room. Entering the tavern’s main room, she immediately spotted Ruby behind the bar and moved to take a seat at the far end – the dark, weathered wooden bar-top curved around there to meet the wall, creating a cozy little nook where Emma hoped she wouldn’t be overly bothered.

Ruby finished with her current customer and headed in Emma’s direction. “Heya, so what can I get–“ the question died on Ruby’s lips as she caught sight of Emma. Narrowing her eyes and darting a furtive glance around the room, she hissed “Emma?!” almost under her breath. “That is you, isn’t it?”

Emma nodded, grinning back at the woman she’d come to consider a true friend over the last several years. “Yep,” she replied brightly. “Though I really do hope no one else will be able to figure it out so easily.”

Ruby shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “You look completely different with that hair. It was just…the glasses, I think. You’ve used them before with a different wig and they looked a bit familiar. But I’m probably the only one who would pick up on that.”

“Hopefully you’re right,” Emma sighed. “I really can’t deal with my cover being blown tonight.”

“Uh oh…that doesn’t sound good. Everything okay?”

“Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Ruby asked, a concerned frown stealing across her face.

“Not really.”

Her friend laughed at that. “Understood,” she replied. “Let me get you something to ease your troubles then. What’ll it be?”

She ordered a glass of rum – something she’d picked up a fondness for a few years ago, much to her mother’s chagrin – and settled in, spending the next hour or so chatting with Ruby when the other woman didn’t need to take care of her other customers. She also got into a spirited, yet good-natured political debate with some of the local regulars – thankfully none of whom recognized her – pleased to find that she held her own even when the discussion delved into some of the more intricately nuanced topics.

This had been exactly what she’d needed tonight. A chance to get away and just be Emma, not a princess, not someone who had to weigh and consider each and every action against some grand standard of courtly behavior. Honestly, she loved her family, and she knew she was incredibly privileged to live the life she led – but there were times when it just felt like no one truly knew the real person she was underneath her title.

Emma just wanted to be seen.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she became aware of a presence settling onto the barstool a couple of seats to her left. Ruby came over to drop off Emma’s second rum and take the newcomer’s order. Before she moved back towards the other end of the bar, she caught Emma’s eye and gave a slight nod in the direction of the stranger, a wicked grin curling her mouth.

When Ruby got that look, it usually spelled trouble – and as much as Emma might want to cut loose and spend a night free from the constraints of her royal duties, she still knew that there was a line that she simply could not cross.

At least not anymore, she thought. She might have been more reckless when she’d been younger, but she’d learned long ago – the hard way – that there were certain things, normal-people things, that simply weren’t in the cards for her.

Getting pulled into one of Ruby Lucas’ madcap adventures definitely qualified as one of those things.

She’d just made her mind up to take her drink over to a quiet table in the opposite corner of the tavern and leave the end of the bar in possession of the new arrival, but she made the mistake of looking in his direction as she moved to stand up.

Sitting next to her, with nothing but one empty barstool in between them, was – quite simply – the most unfairly attractive man Emma had ever seen in her life.

It’s like the universe must be laughing at me, she thought to herself grumpily. Dropping someone who looks like that in my path when there’s no way I can do anything about it. Or, at least, no way that I should.

He was dark-haired, with a slightly lighter scruff dusted along his sharp jawline. From where she sat, it wasn’t hard to discern his broad shoulders, leanly muscled arms, or narrowly tapering waist. His eyebrows seemed to dance expressively along his forehead when he turned to face her, and they hovered over what had to be the mostly unfairly blue pair of eyes Emma had ever seen.

“Lass?” the stranger asked softly. His voice bore the lilting accent typical of those from Misthaven’s southern coastal region. “Are you quite alright?”

Shit!

She must have been staring when he’d looked in her direction. Moving to pick up her drink and take a sip to distract herself, her hand fumbled slightly and the tumbler toppled over, sending rum rippling across the ancient bar-top.

“Dammit,” she muttered, before looking back up at him. “Oh, yeah…yes. I’m fine – just…”

“Here,” he offered, sliding over to sit on the barstool directly next to her and handing her his napkin to help mop up the spill. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked again, his voice filled with more concern than she would’ve thought possible considering they’d literally just met and she didn’t even know his name – and he couldn’t come to know hers.

Not her real one, at least.

She shrugged, looking away from him and concentrating on swiping at the alcohol that had finally stopped spreading and now lay in a thin sheen over the bar top. “Mostly,” she murmured. “I guess I’m just having one of those days, you know?”

He chuckled, and she glanced up to see an understanding grin work its way across his face as he nodded. “Aye, I can sympathize. I feel like I’ve been having one of those days for most of the past month.”

“Oh?” she asked, even as she mentally scolded herself for prolonging the conversation. She knew she should just cut things off – find a quick, polite way to excuse herself, pay up and say good night to Ruby, and make her way back to the palace. If she did that, maybe she’d even make it back before her Cadre guards made it here tonight. But she couldn’t seem to help herself – something about this stranger captivated her.

It wasn’t just his obviously good looks, either – he had a quiet earnestness about him. That, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t immediately tried to hit on her – at least not overtly – made her want to stay in his orbit at least a little bit longer.

“Mm,” he nodded, though Emma had almost forgotten she’d asked him a question. “I moved to the city at the start of the month for…a new position with a heavier workload. I knew it was going to be different, but let’s just say it’s been more of an adjustment than I was expecting.”

She noted the slight pause partway through the stranger’s answer, but when she caught his gaze, he was looking at her with nothing but sincerity. Emma had always had a sixth sense as to when people were being untruthful – her parents and brother always teasingly called it her “superpower,” but it had rarely steered her wrong. Her instincts about people were usually pretty spot on, and this guy, whoever he was, didn’t ring any alarm bells for her.

“That sounds like a lot to take on all at once,” she said sympathetically. “I hope it’s been worth it…” she trailed off, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

He caught on quickly and supplied his name at last. “Killian,” he said with another smile. “And yes, so far it has been…” he said, tilting his head in her direction, clearly waiting for her to reciprocate with her name.

“Anna,” she murmured, hoping if she lied softly it somehow wouldn’t feel as bad as she feared it would. It did though. Emma hated being lied to, and she really hated doing it to someone else – but she really didn’t see any other way to stay there and keep talking to Killian. Which, apparently, is something I really want to do, she realized suddenly.

“Anna,” he repeated, the syllables sounding lovely as they rolled off his tongue, yet making her stomach twist all the same with their falseness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled at that, small but genuine. “You too, Killian,” she said, only slightly surprised to discover how much she meant it.

With that, they fell into an easy conversation – or, at least, as easy a conversation as Emma could have with anyone who didn’t know her real identity. But unlike the political discussion she’d been having with the locals earlier in the evening, the longer she spent talking with Killian, the more she wished she could tell him who she was.

Just when she was thinking that she really had to find a way to extricate herself and sneak back home, marveling that she still hadn’t seen any sign of the Cadre, her luck ran out. Killian was in the middle of a rather absurdly charming story of some childhood shenanigans involving him, his older brother, and a stray dog they’d smuggled home and tried to hide from their parents – but just as he was reaching the heart of the story, Emma caught a flash of red hair over his left shoulder.

It could have been someone else – Lieutenant Dunbroch wasn’t the only person in Spero with bright red hair, not by a long shot – but considering the speed with which said hair’s owner was moving, and the taller figure that had slipped inside after her and lingered in the shadows near the front door, the odds were good that she and Lieutenant Humbert had finally caught up to her.

Keeping her attention on Killian, Emma held out her hand where he couldn’t see it and signaled for Lieutenant Dunbroch to stop. She knew the other woman would no doubt be extremely irritated, but she hoped that she would at least give Emma a moment to say goodbye to Killian without giving away her identity.

“-and then he licked Mum’s nose and cuddled right up to her and she just…melted,” Killian said, huffing out a laugh. “In the end, the joke was on Liam and me – that blasted dog loved her more’n either of us.”

Emma chuckled softly. “Adorable, but apparently fickle,” she teased, before signaling to Ruby to put all of her and Killian’s drinks on her ongoing tab and shifting to stand. She paused for a moment, unsure how to extricate herself smoothly – looking over at Lieutenant Dunbroch, she estimated that she had mere moments before her guard broke up the conversation. The other woman would never cause any scene that would attract more attention Emma’s way, but the Lieutenant would undoubtedly take a much blunter approach to ending Emma’s conversation with Killian than she’d prefer.

While she’d been lost in her thoughts, Killian’s gaze flicked over her, landing on her face. He seemed to notice that she was preparing to leave, and reached out to lay his hand over her free one where it still lay on the bar. “You’re leaving, lass?”

She returned his gaze, a feeling of true regret washing through her. It was something she’d not expected when she’d first met him, thinking him then to be just a handsome stranger – someone good to waste an hour in a bar with, but that’s all. But the conversation they’d fallen into over the course of the evening had shown her that there was much more to him than met the eye.

He was kind, smart, funny, and opinionated – and, she realized with a start, he was shockingly good at putting her at ease. Once they’d started talking, she’d barely given a thought to getting back to the palace or worrying about the Cadre catching up to her. She’d even forgotten about the matter that had originally driven her outside the palace walls that evening.

That’s dangerous, she thought. I can’t afford to be unfocused right now.

Not that Killian knew anything about that – not with the tale she’d spun him of being a scholarship student at the University of Spero, in the capital city from her home in the far northern reaches of the country. And not that he’ll get a chance to know, either – it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.

“Yes, uh…sorry, yeah. I have to go,” she murmured, sliding her fingers out from underneath his, a wave of longing washing over her as the heat of his hand leeched from hers. She ducked her head down and avoided his eyes, afraid of what she might find there, glancing instead at Lieutenant Dunbroch out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve got, um, an early morning tomorrow,” she said. It wasn’t a total lie – it was just that she would be spending yet another day in a rotation of royal duties, which she found beyond mind-numbing, rather than in academic arguments with some university professor, which is no doubt closer to the assumptions Killian must have been making about her plans for the following day.

“I understand, Anna,” he said with a refreshing sincerity. “In fact, I have a rather early one myself – didn’t realize it had gotten so late. It was just very easy to talk to you,” he said, biting his lip after the words escaped. Emma smiled to herself – his slightly flustered reaction was actually really adorable.

And that kind of thinking is even more dangerous.

Emma saw Lieutenant Dunbroch take a step in her direction and knew she had to do something now if she had any hope at all of salvaging a smooth exit. She stepped to the side, putting a bit more space in between her and where Killian sat. “I had a great time too,” she said honestly. “I just have to go-”

“Can I see you again?” he interjected, standing and taking a step forward into her space. She stiffened in surprise – wanting to say yes but knowing it would be playing with fire. Killian seemed to mistake her shock for disinterest though, as his face fell slightly and he started to backtrack. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just thought that-”

“Yes,” she breathed. It seemed as though it was her turn to shock him, if the dazed smile spreading across his face were any indication.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed, feeling her own smile get bigger. “When?”

“Uhm,” He blinked for a moment, as if still startled that she’d agreed, which Emma found just as adorable as his earlier flustered state. “I hate to wait this long, but a week from tonight? Work is going to make the rest of this week kind of impossible, I’m afraid.”

Emma internally breathed a sigh of relief. A week would give her time to figure out exactly how she was going to get away with sneaking out of the palace again so soon after this adventure. “That’s okay. A week is perfect. I’ll meet you here? Maybe at seven?”

He nodded. “Sounds perfect, lass.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” she flashed him a bright smile and turned away before she could say or do anything else impulsive, like kiss him goodbye or something. She thought she heard him call after her as she walked away, but by that point she was bypassing the spot where Lieutenant Dunbroch was waiting, the other woman falling into step behind her, and her attention shifted to planning out how to get out of the trouble she’d be in for slipping away from her guards for the evening.

Still, she thought, it was definitely worth it.

-/-

“Lass! Anna! I don’t have your number!” Killian called after the retreating figure of the woman who’d enchanted him since he’d sat down next to her earlier that evening. Unfortunately, she must not have heard him over the music and chatter of other patrons that filled the tavern because she kept on moving, never breaking stride.

The fleeting thought entered his head that maybe she hadn’t actually been serious when she’d agreed to see him again, and that maybe now she was just trying to put as much distance between them as possible. But he didn’t want to believe it – the connection between them that night had felt so easy, so natural, so real. He couldn’t believe that it had been one sided.

He sighed, sinking back down on his barstool and running a hand through his hair. There was nothing for it – he’d just have to show up at Two Wolves next week and hope that she’d be there. He’d hated having to ask her to wait that long, but in Cadre training, he and his fellow Initiates only received one night off each week – there was nothing else he could have done if he’d wanted to see her again. And he definitely did.

Resolving to put the uncertainty over whether he’d really see Anna again out of his mind and focus on his training for the next week, he moved to flag down the bartender so that he could pay and get back to base. She came over but waved him off when he tried to settle his bill. “Already taken care of,” she said with a wicked grin. “By your lady friend there,” she gestured to the seat where Anna had been with a flourish. “Thought you knew.”

Killian shook his head slowly, putting his wallet away as the brunette sauntered back down to the other end of the bar, not waiting for him to respond. He felt a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, it seemed like there was a much better chance that Anna would show up next week.

-/-

Emma fidgeted in her seat, twisting the hem of her sweater absently between her fingers as she tried – with little success – to pay attention to Elsa, her private secretary, as the other woman ran through the calendar of Emma’s upcoming public appearances and social obligations. Though she knew it was expected of her to absorb as much of this information as possible and engage in making decisions about how she would participate in each event, she just couldn’t seem to focus today.

If she were being honest, for the last three days it had been a struggle to concentrate on her royal duties – she found herself staring off into space more often than not, having an unusual amount of trouble banishing a certain pair of blue eyes and a deep, rich laugh from her memory.

It was ridiculous – she should never have gone to Two Wolves in the first place, and she certainly shouldn’t have gotten into such a deeply engaging conversation with someone she’d never met before, and she absolutely should not have agreed to see him again.

But…she had done all of those things.

Moreover, she was actually plotting ways to follow through on her promise to meet Killian again without arousing suspicion from her Cadre guards – or, worse, her family.

Thankfully, the guard detail changed every week, and Lieutenants Dunbroch and Humbert had already handed off to Lieutenant MacIntosh and Flight Lieutenant Dulac. Though the Cadre members of course informed each other routinely of any issues with their royal charges, Emma hoped that the change of guards would at least give her more of a chance to elude them when the time came. Surely, they wouldn’t expect her to sneak out two weeks in a row – whenever she’d had one of her “normal Emma” nights in the past, they had been spaced months and months apart.

She’d never dared to be so brazen before, and she wasn’t quite sure why she was risking it now.

There was just something about Killian she couldn’t shake.

More to the point, she didn’t want to.

Emma was pulled from her thoughts by the noise of a throat clearing, and from the tone of the sound, it wasn’t the first time. She looked up, a sheepish expression on her face, to see Elsa staring at her, one eyebrow arched inquisitively. “I’m sorry, your highness. Would you prefer to resume at another time?” Her words were proper and correct, but her tone was slightly pointed, as though there were something she wanted to say but was holding herself back.

It was a more appropriate tack for a friend to have taken, rather than an employee, but Emma never had been very good about keeping firm boundaries between herself and her staff. She’d always treated them more like friends and colleagues than employees, and encouraged them to do the same. (Out of public view, at least – her parents took a similar stance in private but of course royal propriety had to be observed in front of the masses).

“Oh���no,” she said, shaking her head in an attempt to dismiss the last of her wandering thoughts. “I know I drifted a bit there, but I promise I’m with you. Where were we?”

Elsa smiled sympathetically at her. “The ribbon cutting for the new equestrian center in Norton on Friday, followed by the christening of the Royal Navy’s new ship in Fair Isle Bay Saturday morning.” Emma sighed and, while she didn’t exactly roll her eyes, something of her displeasure must have shown in her expression because Elsa chuckled softly. “I know how you feel about these events, your highness. But you know that-”

“It’s all part of my duties,” Emma cut in. “Yes, I do. I just wish that sometimes those duties could include something more meaningful than standing around in a pretty dress and waving at the crowd as a ribbon is snipped or a bottle of champagne is flung against a ship. I want to do something with my life. What good is the power my position grants me if I can’t do anything useful with it?!”

Elsa looked at her like she didn’t quite know what to say. This was a conversation they’d had often enough since Elsa had become her private secretary, but they’d pretty much exhausted the topic long ago. Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone softening. “None of this is your fault…I just. The Privy Council has been especially tiresome recently.”

“Ah,” Elsa’s expression morphed from slightly shocked into something much more understanding. “Minister Gold still harping on the same old things?”

Emma nodded, slumping down in her chair and leaning her head back against the overstuffed upholstery. “With a few new bits,” she replied. “He’s still very much of the opinion that my parents wasted both Misthaven’s time and resources by allowing me to go to college, let alone grad school, and that my efforts would have been far better spent courting the attentions of one of Europe’s eligible princelings. In the last council meeting, he actually said that if I were so bound and determined to make a contribution to Misthaven’s future, I ought to speed up the husband-hunt so that I could get down to the business of producing the next heir. He didn’t actually add the phrase ‘before you’re no longer of child-bearing years’ but the meaning was clearly implied.”

Elsa looked aghast. “He’s a pig,” she declared (triggering a surprised snort of laughter from Emma), before continuing. “Besides, you’re the next heir. Has he somehow forgotten that?”

“Oh no,” Emma replied, the edge in her tone belying the false brightness of her words. “That’s the fun new twist to his ravings. He’s putting a bill before the council promoting the revocation of the reformed succession laws. He’d have it so that he’d reduce my father’s standing due to his so-called ‘common’ birth status, and bump Leo up the chain – until and unless I had any male children.”

“But, but, but,” Elsa sputtered. “There’s just so much wrong with that, I don’t even know where to begin!”

“Trust me, I know,” Emma sighed as Elsa started to pace back and forth. “But I doubt that pointing out his logical flaws would slow Gold down.”

Elsa’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “But your father isn’t of common birth! He was a Prince of Glowerhaven-”

“A title used only ceremonially for the past century, despite its connection to Glowerhaven’s ancient royal house,” Emma pointed out.

“And Leo’s eight! Even if Gold succeeded, your brother wouldn’t be of age for another thirteen years – what’s the country supposed to do in the meantime? Wait?!” Elsa was working herself up into a state the likes of which Emma had rarely seen from the usually cool and composed blonde. “These laws have been on the books for nearly thirty years! He cannot possibly think that he’ll get this out of the council, much less to the floor of the parliament.”

Emma laughed, but it was a short, dry sound. “No, not even he’s that crazy – but he’s plotting something. I just don’t know what.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is too obvious. You said it – it’s not something that will pass the council’s vote, and the parliament will never even see this bill. But before it’s all over, the news of his ideas will leak out and he’ll be able to create enough of a controversy that public opinion will be whipped up and debating it all for months. He then gets to back off and make his real play while everyone is distracted with the succession issue, even though that’s just white noise.”

Understanding dawned on Elsa’s face. “But you don’t know what it is he really wants,” she replied. It wasn’t a question.

“Not a clue,” Emma said, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. “But whatever it is, it won’t be good.”

-/-

All things considered, she really shouldn’t have gone back to Two Wolves the next week to meet Killian.

The situation with Minister Gold continued to be tense, and Emma’s parents hadn’t exactly been thrilled when her Cadre guards had reported her previous week’s adventure. But despite spending most of the week twisted with indecision over the matter, she found herself slipping out of the castle yet again the following Monday evening, heading for the stables.

Her auburn wig and glasses were tucked into a small satchel that bounced at her hip. She’d slip them on once she was behind the stable and before she scrambled over the wall separating the palace grounds from the quiet road that ran in one direction towards the forest and the other down into Spero.

She really shouldn’t have gone, but when she got to the tavern and caught sight of Killian’s face – he didn’t see her at first and she spied him scratching nervously behind his right ear before checking his watch and glancing around – she knew she’d made the right decision. The brilliant smile that bloomed across his features when he caught sight of her didn’t hurt either.

By the time the end of the evening rolled around, they’d spent several hours wandering hand in hand through a street carnival in the heart of downtown and sitting and talking over coffee and pastry at an out of the way café Killian had spotted. The conversation had flowed easily between them, as had the teasing and laughter, and every moment made Emma more and more certain she wanted to see him again, damn all the risks.

When he walked her back to the spot where they’d met earlier in the evening and pressed lingering kisses first to the ridge of her knuckles and then to the inside of her left wrist, she was absolutely sure of it.

Pressing up on her tiptoes and gripping his shoulder for balance, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Give me your phone.” He handed it over with a quirk of his eyebrow and she programmed her actual, private number into it and sent herself a text before she could think better of her actions. Brushing a whisper of a kiss along his jawline, she pressed the phone back into his hand and stepped back. “I had a great time, Killian.”

“Me too, lass,” he breathed, looking at her with a kind of intense wonder that made his eyes seem lit from within.

Emma had the sneaking suspicion she was looking at him in much the same way, but she also needed to take a literal and metaphorical breath – this was all rather a lot to process – and she really needed to get back to the palace before she was missed. (She was kind of marveling at the fact that her guard detail hadn’t caught up to her tonight – although she supposed it was because they’d moved around so much at the street fair that they’d been hard to find, especially if the Cadre would have put their focus on Two Wolves. Still, she wasn’t going to take her luck for granted – the last thing she needed was another lecture from this week’s detail about the perils of sneaking out).

“I’d better get going,” she murmured, glancing up to find him still gazing at her with that semi-awestruck expression. “But, uh, text me, yeah?”

He smiled slowly, and leaned closer, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek. “You can bet on it, love,” he whispered as he drew back.

Emma smiled all the way back to the palace.

Neither of them took any notice of the camera snapping photos from the shadowy corner across the street.

-/-

The sun shone brightly and the sky was an endless blue expanse, broken only rarely by the puffiest white clouds. A cool breeze blew inland off of the water, and off in the distance – perhaps on one of the public beaches further down the coast – several kites in an array of vibrant colors bobbed and wove their way through the air.

In short, it was a perfect day – made even more so by the warm weight of Anna’s head where it rested against his shoulder. They were sitting on a blanket on a grassy hill overlooking the bay, sharing the remains of a picnic lunch he’d brought. When he’d texted her earlier in the week to propose their next meeting (Or were these, officially, dates by this point? Killian knew what he wanted them to be, but still wasn’t completely sure of what Anna was thinking), he’d suggested doing something a bit different and had been thrilled when she’d seemed excited about a mini-break to the seaside.

He’d met her at the train station closest to Two Wolves at mid-morning and they’d spent the railway journey once again in companionable conversation – with the notable addition of a bit of hand-holding and, for the latter part of the ride, Killian’s arm slung round her shoulders. They’d played at sight-seeing as the Misthaven countryside had slipped by the windows – though, he noted, they were both fairly well versed with the route. It made sense for him, having spent most of the years of his naval training and service based in Fair Isle Bay, but he made a mental note to ask Anna later if she’d spent much time by the coast, given her northern upbringing.

They’d arrived at the coast just before noon, spending the first hour or so poking into the little shops up and down the boardwalk of one of the small villages not too far from the naval base. He knew he was taking a risk bringing her here – anyone from his old detail who was off-base on liberty could spot him. That wouldn’t please his Cadre training officer one bit, given that Cadre members weren’t meant to broadcast their status as such – it was one of the first things that was drilled into every Initiate during boot camp.

(It was part of the reason why the newspapers only published the Initiates’ rank, first initials, and last name when the new Cadre was announced – and didn’t use any photos. From the point they entered Cadre boot camp, new Initiates were meant to keep as low a profile as possible – bringing a date (if that is what this was) to the Royal Navy’s backyard was just tempting fate. But Killian had to show her the coast – it was so much a part of him, of who he was. He needed to share such an intrinsic part of him with this woman who was – with startling rapidity – coming to mean a great deal to him).

After having some ice cream at a quaint little place on the edge of the town – Anna’d bargained quite convincingly with him that they should get dessert before they had their lunch – Killian beckoned Anna to follow him up one of the public walking trails that snaked over the low hills separating the town from the beaches and the coastline proper.

They’d found a relatively flat spot with a brilliant view of the water that wasn’t too far off the path, but was sheltered enough for a bit of privacy, and had set about enjoying their lunch. Now, bellies full and conversation – for the moment – exhausted, they were simply enjoying the moment. Sitting together, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. Every time the wind shifted in a particular direction, Killian smelled the enticing apple and cinnamon scent of Anna’s shampoo over the salt in the sea air. He curled his arm around her shoulders again and tugged her ever-so-slightly closer. She hummed in contentment and nestled ever further into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He wasn’t quite sure how this had happened – wasn’t even sure exactly what to call what they were doing – but Killian had never expected to find anyone like Anna when he’d gone to Spero for Cadre boot camp. She was passionate, brilliant, funny, and could argue politics with him until they both needed to catch their breath. She challenged him, and seemed to delight in their verbal sparring matches as much as he did – but that was far from all. When she spoke of her studies, and her desire to help those who were less fortunate in life, her compassion shone so brightly it nearly took Killian’s breath away.

Not to mention she was beautiful – her physical attributes were…captivating…and he couldn’t pretend they’d gone unnoticed – but her gently dimpled cheeks, alabaster skin, deep green eyes, and lustrous auburn hair meant less to him than the beauty he could see in her heart.

“I wish I could have this all the time,” she murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

“Hmm?” Killian hummed, pulling himself out of his wandering thoughts and tilting his head so that he could look down at her.

She peered up at him, blinking slowly as if she’d been nearly on the brink of falling asleep on his shoulder. “This…this kind of day. It’s so peaceful, and calm…and just…real.”

He chuckled at her turn of phrase. “D’you have many days that aren’t real, then?”

She huffed out a dry laugh. “You’d be surprised,” she muttered. He waited for her to explain, and after a moment she shrugged. “It’s just…a lot of the time, I feel like I’m not fulfilling my…true purpose, I guess. Or, well…I’m following the path that was laid out for me, and I don’t really have a lot of input into how to make it a better path. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. D’you know what I mean?”

Her words make him think of his own youth, and the choices – or lack thereof – that had been offered to him and Liam. Sitting up a little more fully, he looked away from her, out over the water, and began talking. “My Mum died when I was barely ten, Da left a year later – couldn’t hack tryin’ t’raise two boys on his own. Liam – my brother – worked and scraped and saved and did everything he could to give us a better chance-”

“Killian, you don’t have to-” Anna tried to cut in.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I want to.” He took a deep breath in and then let it out slowly. “He worked, he got into the Royal Naval Academy, and then when I was old enough, I followed him. I’d follow him anywhere – he saved me when our family fell apart – and I really have come to love the Navy. I love the sea, and the structure and purpose of the work is fulfilling…”

“But?” this time Anna prompted him when he trailed off.

“But,” he said, glancing back at her, smiling genuinely at the concern he saw on her face. “Much as I’ve come to adapt to it and find meaning in it, it wasn’t my own dream. It was really Liam’s. But it’s where I’ve found myself, and I’ve tried to make the most of it that I can – I’ve found ways to make that dream mine and I work hard at making it meaningful to me every day. I’ve found parts of it that I can latch on to and really connect with. Then, my finding purpose in it makes it possible to do something meaningful for others.”

“And does that work? Is it enough for you?” she asked him, a genuine curiosity flickering over her features.

He caught her gaze and held it earnestly. “I think so,” he said honestly. “Some days, I feel more connected, more purposeful, than others, if I’m being honest. But even on the days when I feel like I might be slacking off on the whole ‘fulfilling my maximum potential’ thing, I do feel like I’m making a positive difference for my country,” he ducked his head, feeling a flicker of embarrassment. “Sorry, that sounded a bit overly patriotic and rah-rah, I know.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “It makes a lot of sense. Thank you for sharing all that with me,” she said with an earnestness that made him smile softly at her.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just trying to say that even if you don’t have a lot of options in terms of choosing the actual direction your life is headed in right now, you still have the power to shape the path that lies ahead. You still have choices you can make and ways you can focus on the things that are important to you. You just have to be patient – pick your moments and your metaphorical battles and before you know it, you’ll have wrestled this challenge into submission and be on to conquer the next one.”

She chuckled wryly. “You really think so?”

“Aye,” He replied. “I know I’ve not known you long, Anna, but as it stands I think you’re brilliant, and believe you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. To hell with anyone who says you can’t.”

Her eyes flicked up to his and he was caught in the fiery determination he saw in her gaze. Before he could say anything else – in fact, before he’d really processed what was happening – she’d circled one arm further around his waist and her other hand had slid into the hair at the nape of his neck and she’d pulled him into a kiss that rivaled any he’d ever had in its sheer intensity.

Cliched as it might have sounded, time seemed to stop in that moment.

The muted sounds of the seashore – gulls crying in the distance, waves breaking on the beach far below them, the far off strains of another tourist’s radio playing what Killian was fairly sure was an Ed Sheeran song – melted away the instant Anna’s lips met his. His own arms wound around her back, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap – a move that pulled a low moan from her that Killian felt as much as he heard it.

He turned his head, the tip of his nose pressing into the apple of her cheek as he deepened the kiss.  She mirrored him, parting her lips readily and making a happy little noise Killian swore he’d remember the rest of his life when his tongue darted inside and curled around her own. They spent endless minutes getting progressively lost in each other – hands wandering, breath stuttering, hips shifting restlessly – until Anna finally pulled back, a ragged chuckle tumbling from her lips as Killian instinctively followed her movements. “Wow,” she breathed.

“I heartily agree, love,” he mumbled, his eyes dropping shut as he leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. “Not that I’m complaining in any way – but what brought that on?”

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “You believed in me, Killian…Killian…Killian?”

“Killian!”

He sat bolt upright in his chair as his attention snapped back to the present moment and he realized Anna was nowhere to be seen and he wasn’t on a mini-holiday to the coast. Rather, he was in one of the Cadre’s briefing rooms and the person who’d been calling him – for quite some time judging by her slightly irritated yet concerned expression – was one of his fellow Initiates. “Lieutenant French…er, Belle,” he said, “I’m sorry. I must have been lost in thought.”

Belle just arched an amused eyebrow at him and moved past him to take the seat next to him. “I’ll say,” she replied dryly. “You were staring off into space when I came in – you’re just lucky the rest of the group is running late. Is everything alright?”

Killian nodded sheepishly. “Yes…more than, actually.” He hesitated for a moment, wondering if – without getting into the more personal details – he could share any of his happiness with Belle. Since the beginning of boot camp, they’d been paired together on several training exercises and instructional projects. Their training officers had indicated that they’d been paired because they had complimentary skill sets and aptitudes and would likely be detailed together within the Cadre once boot camp was complete – beyond that, though, Killian had grown genuinely fond of the diminutive yet fierce woman and as she seemed to feel the same about him, a warm friendship had sprung up between them. If he could tell anyone about Anna, he could tell Belle – Liam would likely warn him against getting “distracted” during his training, and what he needed right now was a listening ear, not his brother’s well-meaning but sometimes rigid stance on the rules. “I met someone a couple of weeks ago…”

“Oh really?” she asked, a note of interest coloring her voice. “Must be a really special someone – you were completely somewhere else when I walked in here.”

“She is,” he nodded, unable to keep the smile off his face even though he felt slightly like a teenager talking about his first crush. “I’ve seen her on every off day we’ve had so far, and I can’t stop thinking about her-”

“Clearly,” Belle interjected with a laugh.

“Ha ha…I’m serious, Belle. I feel like I’ve been knocked off my feet by her. I never expected this, much less that it would happen during boot camp – it’s getting harder and harder not to tell her what I really do. I know I can’t,” he rushed to say when Belle looked like she wanted to remind him of the Cadre’s need for secrecy. “But I don’t know how much longer I can go on seeing her and not tell her – it’s a big thing to keep hidden.”

“And you definitely want to keep seeing her?” Belle asked.

Killian shot her a look. “Clearly. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you might want to-” Belle began, but was cut off when the rest of their Initiate class began to file into the room, followed by Flight Lieutenant Dulac. She looked over at Killian, chagrined. Later, she mouthed and he nodded.

“Good morning Initiates,” Lieutenant Dulac’s booming voice greeted them. “Thank you all for being so punctual this morning,” he paused to stare pointedly in the direction of another Initiate, Warrant Officer Scarlet, who had barely made it through the door before the class had begun. “Welcome to the beginning of your Surveillance and Reconnaissance unit.”

Killian forced himself to stop thinking about anything but the class, pushing both Anna and his conversation with Belle to the back of his mind as he listened closely to Dulac’s lecture. Of all the officers who were guiding the Initiates’ training, Killian had quickly grown to admire Dulac the most and had gotten a great deal out of any session he led.

“…now, as we see here,” Dulac clicked through several slides in the PowerPoint presentation he was using for this class session until he found the one he wanted, “low-light photography can be a challenge even in this digital age. This photograph,” he gestured to the slide up on the screen, “was taken last week and though you can see Princess Emma quite clearly under the streetlight at the left of the image, her companion is unfortunately cast in shadow and it’s not possible to make out enough of his features for facial rec.”

“Not even with enhancement, sir?” one of the other Initiates – Locksley, an army Captain Killian had come to like and respect – asked from the far corner of the room.

Dulac shook his head. “No. The officer doing the recon work here was, by necessity, too far away to get a shot that would give us the right angle.”

“Well he shoulda got closer then, shouldn’t he?” this was from Scarlet, before Locksley elbowed him in an attempt to keep him quiet.

Dulac kept his cool. “Officer Scarlet, while it would have been ideal to get closer, one also must think about whether one has adequate cover to do so – it does no good to get the right photo and reveal yourself in the process. Showing that you are shadowing one of the royal family too closely tips off onlookers to the fact that they are the royal family, which immediately increases the dangers – especially in situations like this where the princess has ventured out incognito.”

Killian’s head snapped around at that, and, for this first time, he took a good look at the photo in Lieutenant Dulac’s slide – and all the breath seemed to rush from his body.

He recognized that street, and the tavern in the background.

Moreover, he recognized the man that Dulac said couldn’t be identified. Killian could identify him easily and immediately – because he was the man.

But what didn’t make sense was Dulac’s statement that this was a photo of Princess Emma, because this photo clearly showed his Anna kissing a mystery man on the cheek – you, his brain helpfully supplied – outside Two Wolves a week ago. For a moment, Killian simply stared at the photo, his brain refusing to fully process the information.

When the truth finally clicked in, he realized that he had far bigger problems than having to keep his place in the Cadre a secret from the woman he’d rapidly been falling for – she’d been keeping a far bigger secret of her own.

-/-

“Emma, a word,” her mother’s voice – soft but commanding – came from the other end of the corridor just as Emma was stepping out of her bedroom. She’d not seen her mother standing there and jumped at the unexpected sound of the older woman’s voice.

“God, Mom, don’t do that,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You nearly scared me to death.”

“I’m sorry,” the queen said, her tone softening a fraction. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I do need you to come with me.” Without further explanation, she turned on her heel and began walking towards her private offices.

Emma fell into step behind her, as she knew was expected, hurrying to catch up before her mother got too far ahead. “Is everything alright, Mom?” she asked after a few moments of walking in a somewhat stilted silence that was far from their usual easy camaraderie.

Her mother didn’t answer immediately, waiting instead until they’d reached her private offices and slipped inside. The queen shut the door behind them and moved over to her desk before responding. When she did, her words were not at all what Emma was expecting, and they caused the bottom to drop out of her stomach.

“Have you been to Two Wolves recently?” her mother asked, shuffling through a few papers on her desk before looking up at her expectantly.

Emma considered – for the briefest of moments – denying it outright, saying that it must have been someone who looked uncannily like her. But she knew that that wouldn’t hold up – particularly if, as it seemed, Queen Mary-Margaret already knew the answer to the question she was asking. Sinking down into one of the plush guest chairs that were placed in front of the desk, Emma nodded. “Yeah…a couple of times,” she muttered. “But you and Dad have never had a problem with it before.”

Her mother sighed. “We don’t have a problem with it now…not exactly. It’s just…it’s a little careless, Emma. The timing is not ideal.”

She sat up straighter in the chair, a wave of indignance flowing over her. She knew that perhaps she hadn’t made the best choice given the political climate of late – and maybe you’re feeling a bit defensive about that, she thought to herself – but she didn’t think it warranted her mother treating her quite so much like a child. “It’s not like I went out clubbing and got blitzed – Two Wolves is just about the safest place I could go, Mom. That’s been true since you were going there when you were my age,” she finished, crossing her arms over her chest and staring up at her mother with determination and a small touch of defiance. She hoped her mother didn’t have any further information about her evenings at the tavern – but just in case, deflecting her attention couldn’t hurt.

“My youthful indiscretions, such as they may be, aren’t the issue right now Emma,” her mother replied calmly, taking a seat behind her desk and sorting through yet another pile of papers until she pulled out a slim manila folder. “You know that this kind of behavior is against protocol – and while your father and I might have been inclined to turn a blind eye in the past-”

“So did Grandma, thankfully, or you might not have met Dad and Leo and I wouldn’t be here right now,” Emma cut in, refusing to feel bad about taking just a small bit of precious time for herself when her mother had done exactly the same thing when she was young.

“Be that as it may,” her mother carried on almost as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “We’ve got to enforce every bit of protocol right now. With Minister Gold picking at us and scrutinizing every choice the monarchy makes we can’t afford to give him any more ammunition for his schemes. So for a while, I am going to need you to put a halt to this kind of adventure,” she said briskly, opening the folder and pushing it across the desk towards Emma. “And, whoever this may be,” she gestured in the direction of the contents of the folder, “it would be best if you ended it for the time being…at least.”

The sinking feeling that had invaded Emma’s stomach at the beginning of the conversation only got worse – it now felt as though her heart were somehow simultaneously in her throat and on the floor somewhere near her shoes. Even before she looked where her mother had pointed, she had a good idea of what she’d see.

Closing her eyes in resignation, she sighed. It was completely stupid of me to think I wasn’t followed that second night. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Even as she reprimanded herself for not suspecting her Cadre guards had caught up and surveilled her on her return trip to the tavern, she bristled at the constraints her royal duties were once again placing on her.

(But all the same, she repeatedly and silently thanked whatever divine influence had kept them hidden – both from photographers and that week’s Cadre detail – when they’d gone to Fair Isle Bay).

All I’d wanted was something normal. Something just for me. Just for once. Looks like I was just fooling myself – God, I’m an idiot. How did I ever think this was going to work?

As she opened her eyes, they landed on a photo in the manila folder – the image was dark, and a bit blurry. If she had to guess, she’d say Lieutenant MacIntosh was the photographer – his handiwork was always a bit unfocused when he took long distance shots at night – but whoever had taken them, the photo was clear enough to show her pressing a kiss to Killian’s cheek before bidding him good night.

The only saving grace was that it was nigh on impossible to tell who Killian was, given the angle and distance of the shot. Even if her chances of seeing him were imploding with every minute that went by, she didn’t want him to get drawn into a messy background investigation by the Cadre for getting so close to her or, worse, pulled into the public eye by Misthaven’s rather voracious paparazzi.

“Emma?” her mother prompted, and she realized that she’d been silently staring at the photo for longer than was probably reasonable. She looked up at her mother, catching the older woman’s eye – her mother’s regal mask slipped for a moment and a flicker of understanding and empathy crossed her face. She smiled softly. “Believe it or not, I do understand the predicament I can sense that you find yourself in right now…but you need to end it. Now. Or at least find a way to pause things until Gold has settled down and backed off. Understood?”

Emma took one more lingering glance at the photo, thoughts of bright sun, warm breezes, and comforting embraces running through her mind. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and nodded. “Understood.”

-/-

“You did what?!” Belle’s incredulous question echoed down the long corridor they’d found themselves in after their class had finished. They were tucked at the end, in an alcove, but her voice had risen enough that if someone were passing by, they’d be overheard. He didn’t immediately respond, simply looked at her for a moment, until she seemed to understand that she hadn’t misheard him. Her eyes widened until they looked impossibly large. “Killian, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Sshhhh,” he hissed, making a keep it down gesture with his hands. “In my defense, I didn’t know.”

Belle laughed – it was a sharp sound that seemed to burst from her almost involuntarily. “How could you not know?!”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to lash out at one of the only people he felt he could confide in about his predicament. Besides, he understood. If he were in Belle’s position, he’d probably be reacting the same way to hearing this kind of news. “I’ve only been out with her a few times, and she was wearing a bloody disguise – if you’re not actively expecting someone to be doing something like that, it’s a little hard to catch,” he retorted, not entirely successful at keeping the self-loathing edge out of his tone.

The truth of it was, he realized as he spoke, he’d been very free with his heart and he’d not known the woman he’d thought was Anna for very long. Or very well, apparently, he thought with a touch of bitterness. He was angry at the princess for the deception – and at himself for not seeing through it. Observation and deduction were part of his training – he was supposed to be good at them. What kind of Cadre guard would he make if he got fooled as easily as this?

It’s not the same thing, and you know it, his inner voice tried to reason with him. You weren’t on duty, you were just spending time with someone you cared about and who you thought cared about you. You weren’t expected to be on your guard. He didn’t know if he believed his own reasoning, telling himself that a better officer would always be on his guard – but before he could fall further down the rabbit hole of his own internal debate, he realized that Belle was asking him a question.

“I can see your point,” she said, her tone gentling a bit, though Killian felt he didn’t truly deserve her kindness. “But what are you going to do now that you do know?”

He shook his head and exhaled harshly. “I don’t bloody well know, do I?”

Just then, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it at first, but it continued to go off, buzzing three more times in quick succession. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and was startled to see four texts from Anna’s number. He let out a noise of surprise and showed Belle the phone. “Interesting timing,” she murmured. When he made no move to open them, she pointed at the phone. “Aren’t you going to read them? They might help you decide what to do.”

He felt like he was moving underwater as he nodded, everything slowing down as he swiped his thumb across the screen and brought up the message string he’d been sharing with Anna. Emma, he mentally corrected. The princess.

Killian, I’m so sorry to be doing this at all, but especially in a text.

I got news very suddenly, a family emergency – I have to go up north for a while.

I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be able to come back. I’ve enjoyed our time together more than you will ever know, but it’s not fair to ask you to wait around for me.

I’ll treasure these few weeks forever…goodbye, Killian.

He stared at his phone, disbelieving this latest turn of events, for so long that Belle finally jerked him back to the present moment with a gentle shove to the shoulder. “Well?” she asked expectantly.

“Here,” he mumbled, thrusting the phone into her hand so she could read the messages for herself. He scrubbed both hands over his face and back into his hair, trying to think of anything but the way that the princess’ fingers had felt as they’d traced the back of his neck, or the warmth of her as her mouth had opened easily under his. He wanted to hold onto the anger he’d felt at her deception, but her texts had reeked of sadness and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same.

Despite all the things they’d kept from each other, what they’d felt for each other was real. They’d each seen the truth of the other’s heart underneath everything else – he was sure of it. But he didn’t have any idea what to do about it now. He just felt hollow and tired.

“Well,” Belle said when she finished reading the messages. “I guess that answers that.”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he agreed.

“It still sucks though,” she said, slipping her arm through his and pulling him down the corridor in the direction of the mess hall. He’d been so engrossed in his revelation and subsequent meltdown he’d not realized they’d almost missed their chance at lunch.

“Yeah, it really does.”

-/-

In the week that had passed since Emma had, effectively, put an end to things with Killian via text, she’d been fairly miserable – and that had been putting it mildly.

The depth of her disappointment had taken her by surprise – she’d only gone on a few dates with him, after all. They’d barely begun to be something, but so abruptly losing even the possibility of figuring out what they could have been still hurt.

Even if you have no idea if you could have made it work once you’d revealed who you were, it still would have been nice to have the chance to figure that out on your own, she thought to herself bitterly. She was angry with Minister Gold for his ridiculous political intrigues and irritated with her mother for bowing – even temporarily – to the pressure he was putting on the monarchy. But most of all, she was upset with herself for putting herself in this position in the first place. She knew better than anyone the pitfalls of opening your heart up too soon.

This isn’t like that, she chastised herself. Killian didn’t turn out to be some foreign diplomat’s secretly skeezy son only looking for a good time with ‘rebellious royalty,’ and he isn’t a self-important Duke who just wanted to use my title to advance his own social status.

As she thought of her unfortunate prior romances – if you could have even called them that – she continued to argue with herself about whether trusting Killian, and starting to have real feelings for him, had been a mistake.

Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter, she realized. It’s not like you’re ever likely to see him again.

After a couple of days of wandering around the palace, thinking over the same internal argument again and again, she decided that the best thing she could possibly do would be to get away for a little while. She decided to go to Glowerhaven. It was north of Misthaven – at least then your messages to Killian would be less of a lie, she thought – and spend a few days at her grandmother Ruth’s country estate. It would do her some good to get away from the city, and she always enjoyed the chance to spend some time with her grandmother in the place where her father had grown up. If anyone could put her current predicament into perspective and give her some much needed good advice, her grandmother would be able to.

With one last thought spared for what might have been, she retreated to her rooms to call her grandmother and pack.

-/-

Killian didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous in his life.

Even when he’d been waiting to find out if he’d gotten into the Naval Academy and if he’d be able to join Liam in the service he’d not been this twisted up inside.

But when the morning of the Cadre Installation Ceremony arrived, and there had been no further word from the Princess after her texts ending the whatever it was that had been brewing between them, Killian realized that he’d stalled for as long as he possibly could on deciding how to handle the little matter of having secretly dated the Crown Princess for a few weeks.

(And snogged the hell out of her on a hillside in Fair Isle Bay, but no one else would learn about that anytime soon – or ever – if he could help it).

When he’d had the realization in the middle of surveillance training that his mysterious “Anna” was actually Princess Emma, his first impulse had been to confess absolutely everything to the officer in command of all Initiates and throw himself on the mercy of his superiors. Belle, however, had convinced him that he should keep quiet about it – at least for the time being. He cast his memory back over the rest of the conversation they’d had that day the week before when everything had gone sideways.

“Listen,” she’d said, a determined look crossing her face. “As far as we know, the only three people who know about this are you, me, and the Princess, correct?”

“Yeah,” Killian nodded, his shoulders slumping as the weight of everything that he’d done settled over him – even though he’d been unaware of “Anna’s” real identity, he still felt a responsibility for what had happened. He should have been more aware, been more on his guard – despite Belle’s protestations to the contrary. “Well, and the entire corps of Cadre Initiates who saw Lieutenant Dulac’s presentation just now,” he continued, a weary resignation creeping into his tone.

“Ah ah ah, no,” Belle said, pointing her finger in his direction with each syllable she uttered. “They know the Princess was with someone – not that it was you.”

“I fail to see how that’s going to help me in the long run,” he retorted. “Despite what Dulac thinks, someone will probably be able to clean up that image enough for facial rec, and even if not, Emma knows and she’s going to have me booted out of the Cadre – if not out of the military altogether – the next instant she lays eyes on me. You want to be entertained by the sight of me being hauled away by the palace guards? Just wait for the Cadre Installation and you’ll see.”

Belle shook her head decisively before he’d even finished speaking. “I don’t think so, Killian. I think you’re reading the situation the wrong way round – she’s not going to want to say anything about it any more than you do.”

Killian wasn’t sure about that – he wasn’t sure about much of anything at the moment – but the stress of the situation was making him blank out on finding a solution, and he trusted Belle. He nodded for her to continue. “Why d’you think that?” he asked, a seed of optimism cautiously taking root in his gut. Belle seemed so certain of everything – he could only hope that that confidence came from some viable insight into how to fix this mess.

She sighed, moving off to his side so that another group of Cadre Initiates could pass by them as they made their way out of the mess hall. She waited until they were out of earshot to turn back to him, diving right back into their conversation as though there had never been a pause. “Because,” she said firmly, “if she did anything to get you kicked out of the Cadre, she’d have to attest to why…and she’s not going to want to admit that she was sneaking out of the palace to run around with a strange man-”

“Oi!”

“-in downtown Spero all the while intentionally trying to evade her guard detail. It would be difficult enough for her to admit to that kind of recklessness under any circumstances, but now? With Minister Gold scrutinizing everything the royal family’s doing – trying to make some case for changing the order of succession or some other nonsense – she’s really going to be following protocol to the letter, and she’s going to want to give off the appearance that she’s always done just exactly that. So…do you see why she wouldn’t say anything about you to anyone?”

After a moment of thought, Killian nodded slowly. It was a slim chance, but it was better than nothing – admitting his entanglement with the Princess would be a sure way to get kicked out of the Cadre, and losing the chance to be part of this elite group was simply not an option. Saying nothing and hoping that Belle’s assessment of the Princess’ mindset was correct was a bit dicey – it didn’t give him the chance to get out ahead of the story if it ever did come out – but he couldn’t see any other way to proceed. At least this way, he’d have a chance of things working out in his favor – a small one, to be sure, but that was better than nothing.

Killian snapped his attention back to the present when a trumpet flourish sounded and the heavy doors at the opposite end of the throne room were pulled open. Queen Mary-Margaret and King David entered, following a few steps behind by Princess Emma. They proceeded to the raised dais at the front of the room and stood facing the row of soldiers and sailors who awaited them – the nine new Cadre Initiates and three training officers – all in their dress uniforms, pressed and polished to a shine.

He knew the precise moment during the installation ceremony when the Princess became aware of him. Her gaze landed on him while her mother was giving a speech of welcome to the group and when their eyes caught, Emma’s widened noticeably and her entire posture went rigid. She looked away almost immediately, and though Killian kept his gaze on her for quite some time – until he was forced to turn his attentions back to the ceremony for their individual inductions into the Cadre – she never looked at him again.

He’d known that this was the likely outcome – in fact, it pointed to Belle’s being right about how the Princess would react to the entire situation – and yet his heart sank. This should have been one of the best days of his career, and, to tell the truth, he was still ecstatic about officially joining the Cadre – but what should have been a purely happy day now had something of a cloud hanging over it. He didn’t know until precisely that moment how much he’d still been hoping that she’d look at him the way she had that day in Fair Isle Bay. The fact that she couldn’t bear to look at him at all made him feel like a knife was twisting in his gut.

If this was how it was going to be, it was going to be a long three years.

-/-

For the next week, they barely saw each other.

After the installation ceremony, Emma’s first guard detail had been a friendly, sandy-haired army captain named Robin Locksley and a quieter, more reserved air force flight lieutenant named Mulan Fa. Emma had breathed an internal sigh of relief when Killian hadn’t been immediately assigned to her detail, though an almost equal pang of disappointment had twisted in her gut.

Make up your mind, Emma – you either want to see him or you don’t. Either you’re angry at him for hiding who he was or you understand since you did the same thing. You miss him or you can’t deal with being around him. Pick a damn feeling and at least try to stick to it, she chastised herself. All this emotional back and forth isn’t getting you anywhere productive, and it’s absolutely exhausting.

But despite giving herself several rather stern pep talks over the course of the past week, she hadn’t been able to figure out what to do about this thing with Killian other than just make herself scarce and avoid him whenever possible. Even though he wasn’t on her personal detail, she still did see other members of the Cadre from time to time in the palace – she simply learned which detail he was on and crossed paths with it as little as possible.

Very mature, Emma. Real leadership material you are if you can’t even take charge of your own love live, barely existent though it is.

Rolling her eyes at her own inner monologue, she stepped out from underneath one of the porticos that ringed a small courtyard on the residence wing of the palace. It was one of her favorite places in the entire royal dwelling because of the fountain and the small row of rosebushes tucked at one end of the neatly trimmed green lawn. They were abloom with a pale pink variety of rose that had some complicated Latin name, but that the people of Misthaven had long ago dubbed “the Middlemist.” They were Emma’s favorite flower, and this spot – part of the palace, but still semi-secluded – was often the place where she’d go to get time alone when she needed to think.

This morning, she was supposed to meet her new detail – since the guard details changed weekly – and then head out for her daily morning run in the royal park. It was something she was really looking forward to – her morning exercise routine was usually the only time she got during the day where she could fully clear her head. Her detail was usually already there when she came to the courtyard, so she was more than a bit surprised not to see anyone when she arrived there that morning.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was only a few minutes past the time when she was meant to meet them, and decided to stretch while she waited. If they weren’t here by the time she finished, she’d have to go and let someone know, but with the new Cadre so recently installed, she didn’t want to have to get anyone in trouble for something so insignificant.

After a few quiet moments of stretching and planning her route for that morning’s run, she heard footsteps and muffled voices at the other end of the portico. She straightened up and glanced in the direction of the noise, and it suddenly became crystal clear why her guard detail had been late that morning.

A petite, dark-haired woman who Emma was fairly sure was an army lieutenant – though she was a bit fuzzy on the woman’s name – stood next to one of the portico’s columns, dressed in running clothes and doing her own stretches. She was – very pointedly – not looking at the other member of Emma’s new detail for the week, but Emma herself couldn’t look away.

It was Killian.

Of course it was Killian.

Because, clearly, the universe hated her and she couldn’t catch a break.

They stood there for a moment, an awkward silence billowing between them, before Emma shook her head as if to clear it. Addressing them both, but looking more directly at the woman, Emma said the first thing that came into her mind. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “but can you remind me of your name, please? The installation ceremony was a bit of a blur.”

The other woman smiled softly and bobbed her head in a brief nod. “Understood, your highness. Lieutenant Belle French, Royal Misthaven Army, and this,” she gestured to Killian, “is Lieutenant Killian Jones, Misthaven Royal Navy.” Emma’s eyes flicked over to Killian and he nodded at her as well, but unlike when Belle had done it, the motion seemed stiff and slow. He continued to gaze at her intently – the blue of his eyes boring into hers as though he wanted to say something to her, but didn’t quite know the right words to use.

I know exactly how you feel, she thought grimly.

“Are you ready, your highness?” Belle asked, pointing towards the end of the courtyard nearest to the exit they would need to take to get outside of the palace walls and into the royal park.

“Um, yeah…yes, I guess,” Emma replied, before a thought occurred to her. “But why are you both dressed like that?” she pointed towards the workout gear that Belle and Killian were both sporting. “Usually, I run and my detail follows a little bit behind in a golf cart.”

Belle and Killian looked at each other for a moment, before Killian turned back to her, his face serious. “We know…your highness,” he said, and hearing his voice directed at her for the first time in weeks caused a traitorous swooping sensation to spring to life in Emma’s stomach. She tried to tamp it down as she listened to what he was saying. “But Lieutenant French and I thought it might be beneficial to try something a bit different.”

He paused expectantly, and she nodded for him to continue.

“Well, we think we should run with you your highness. One of us out in front and one just behind – it keeps us closer to you, should any threat surface, and lets us respond more quickly. We’ll have means of contacting the rest of the Cadre should there be a need, and, of course, we’ll be armed.”

It made perfect sense – though none of Emma’s previous details had ever taken the time or initiative to think of it. They’d always just used the cart and carried on with the task exactly as it had been done before. She thought about it carefully for a moment. On the one hand, it would be very awkward to go running with Killian (and Belle – her mind supplied helpfully – which could make things even more awkward) after everything that had happened – on the other, if she were being honest, she missed him. Besides, the idea made too much sense to disagree with.

Nodding, she turned and headed for the exit Belle had previously indicated. “Sounds fine to me,” she tossed back over her shoulder in an attempt to keep her inner turmoil over the entire exchange concealed – now is not the time to deal with what happened between us, she reminded herself. She moved quickly, itching to just be outside and underway. “Just try to keep up, okay? I like a certain pace.”

-/-

The first part of the run sped by in uneventful silence.

Belle – the traitor, Killian thought mutinously – had taken the advance position. Her discreet, grey and black patterned running outfit was visible about ten yards ahead of where the princess was keeping a steady, but not punishing, speed. He was close behind the princess, only about three feet back, and he’d been making a valiant effort not to let his eyes skim down to where her leggings clung sinfully to her trim form. It was extremely difficult – in no small part because he remembered what it felt like to hold her, and to have her lithe hips pressed into his as she maneuvered herself closer and urged him to wrap his arms around her more tightly – but instead, he watched her sleek ponytail swing back and forth for a few strides before tearing his attention away to scan the countryside. Nothing seemed amiss, but one could never be too careful – that’s literally why he and Belle were present.

After roughly twenty minutes, though, the princess broke the quiet hush that had fallen between them. Though she was just far enough ahead of him, and had spoken softly enough, that he had a bit of trouble making out what she’d said.

“Sorry, what?” he asked, finally tearing his gaze away from scrutinizing the expanse of low, rolling hills that faded off to their right and speeding up slightly to fall into step beside her.

After a brief pause during which the princess continued to stare straight ahead and Killian began to think he’d hallucinated her ever speaking to him, she repeated herself. “I’d imagine you have questions,” she said, her tone surprisingly matter-of-fact given the situation they’d found themselves in, and he couldn’t help but allow a snort of surprise to escape him.

“I might,” he replied swiftly, trying to keep his tone light, though he felt a bit taken aback that she was actually addressing – even obliquely – what had passed between them over the last several weeks.

“Well, go ahead and ask, then,” she said, a touch of tartness creeping into her voice. “I can feel you staring at the back of my head as we’ve been running – it’s incredibly distracting.”

They continued for the space of a couple of heartbeats in near total silence before he found his voice. She’s giving you an opening – you might not get another one, and you have to know, he told himself while looking off to the other side of the path to examine the area for any unexpected threats. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just start with the thing he was most curious about. “Did you know I was in the Cadre? Did you know who I was?”

He was watching her carefully when she responded. The shake of her head was almost immediate. “No,” she replied, her breaths coming a bit faster as they picked up their pace a bit. “My mother and father always pick the new Cadre Initiates, in consultation with the Privy Council only. The full names aren’t shared with anyone in the palace, not even me, until the installation ceremony.”

Killian thought over the newspaper article that had come out at the start of training, and what he knew of the Cadre’s privacy policy in relation to the general public. It made sense, he just was a bit surprised that the same thing went on inside the palace walls. “I see,” he murmured, pondering what that might imply about the princess’ actions towards him.

“Yeah,” she said, more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. “It’s tradition that only the King, Queen, and council may choose – just another case of clinging to the old ways even though it’s the twenty-first century.”

He couldn’t help it – he chuckled a bit at that. Her fire now reminding him of when he’d thought she was Anna and that day at Fair Isle Bay – her desperation to find her own way, and the intense way she’d looked at him when he’d told her he’d believed in her, were being echoed in the here and now. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to realize that maybe there was some of that spark still between them even though their circumstances had changed so radically since they’d last had time together one on one.

But she seemed to take his laughter the wrong way, looking at him sharply and biting out a question of her own. “How about you? Did you know who I was? Were you thinking that you were so smart, seeing past my disguise and having a bit of fun with the princess when no one else knew?”

Killian felt as if the breath had been knocked from him, but was opening his mouth to answer – though, truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he would have said – when she leveled yet another pointed question at him.

“And if you did know, were you going to…” here she seemed to falter for a moment, but she regrouped, steeling her expression as she turned to look at him. “Were you going to do something with that information?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, partly insulted by the insinuation but even more than that, he was shocked that she could think that he was capable of something like that. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, it was true, but he’d believed that in that short time they had truly known one another.

Apparently not.

“Your highness, if you are implying that I was intending to blackmail you in some way,” he replied, his words clipped, “I must assure you most vehemently that I was not.” She’d stopped running a moment after he had, and he quickly closed the small distance that had opened up between them. “We might not each have known who the other really was, but I know that what I was starting to feel was real. I had thought – I’d hoped – that you’d felt the same.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open but she said nothing for a long moment. When she finally found her voice, she’d barely breathed a remorseful-sounding “Killian,” before he cut her off. He needed to step away before he completely imploded and said something he’d regret.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, since we’ve stopped I’m going to take the opportunity to switch out positions with Lieutenant French. She’ll be with you in a moment and I’ll take point up front until we return to the palace.” He inclined his head automatically – the training to show respect to the royal family still deeply ingrained even though his own personal feelings were in complete turmoil – before stepping away and jogging up to where Belle was waiting.

Though his better sense knew that Emma wouldn’t call after him, it still stung a bit that she didn’t.

-/-

She watched him cover the short distance up the road to where Lieutenant French had paused, unable to hear what they were saying and grateful for the few moments alone – before the other Lieutenant reached her, she needed to have pulled herself together.

What had she been thinking, practically accusing Killian of setting her up for blackmail? He was right – she might not have known everything about him during their short time together, but she did know what kind of person he was, and it wasn’t the sort who would sell someone out for their own gain. He wanted to earn everything he was given, and his code of honor was far too strong. With a sharp pang of longing, she remembered teasing him about what he’d called his “good form” during one of their earlier conversations.

You should have known better, Emma, she chided herself. Though, really, that seems to be true of everything you’ve done lately.

She knew she was careful, guarded – the paparazzi had dubbed her Misthaven’s “Prickly Princess” for her notoriously tough attitude – but she’d had to be. One mistake, and the court of public opinion would eat her alive, and by extension, have ammunition to use against her family – which could then be picked up by opposition politicians and used to leverage anti-royal sentiment in the parliament and Privy Council.

She’d learned that the hard way several years ago when the son of a visiting dignitary had seemed to take an interest in her. She was young and – though she hated to admit it – more naïve than she was now. He was a few years older than she was, and he’d seemed charming, experienced, exciting. She’d thought he’d been serious about her, that he’d actually wanted to get to know her, and so she’d let him woo her a bit – gone on a few public dates with him, which had all been fine and respectable and aboveboard. Her parents had been cautious, but as nothing had seemed amiss, they hadn’t objected when she’d wanted to keep seeing him. They’d stolen a bit of time together every time he’d accompanied his father when the older man traveled to Misthaven on political business, and he’d even flown in a few times just to spend time with her.

But then, after dinner one evening in the restaurant of one of Spero’s best hotels, he’d gotten on the wrong side of tipsy and tried to take her up to a room he’d rented. She’d not been ready for that step in their relationship and his rather aggressive attempts to change her mind had been ended quite abruptly. He’d proven himself to be either brazen, an idiot, or both, because her Cadre detail had been surveilling from a discreet distance but were still there, witnesses to everything that happened. But when he’d grabbed her by the arm and attempted to haul her into the hotel elevator, the Cadre guards hadn’t even had time to intervene before Emma had taken matters into her own hands – in a manner of speaking.

It was a very good thing that all the paparazzi photos had been confiscated immediately by the crown. It would have been an extreme scandal, after all, for the Princess of Misthaven to have been photographed kneeing her otherwise well-esteemed date in the crotch. Her parents, backed by the most trusted members of the palace staff, had made absolutely sure that every copy of every photo – along with every digital file and print negative – disappeared.

But despite their best efforts, when her former suitor and his father were suddenly persona non grata at the palace, the story had come out – even if not in full detail. The palace’s official press statement had given just the bare bones, and kept the focus on Emma’s companion’s bad behavior and downplayed their budding relationship as much as possible. There had been whispers of the more salacious details of that final date – rumors, nothing of substance, but just enough to fuel the tabloids. They’d run headlines like “Royal Rebel” and “The Highness’ Hijinks.” The scandal had been fairly limited, and had blown over quickly, but it had given just enough material to the opposition party at the time to create difficulties between her parents and certain members of the Privy Council.

That was difficult enough for the royal family to deal with, but what was far worse for Emma was feeling like she’d let her parents down. They’d assured her that it wasn’t her fault, and had nothing but anger and disdain for the former object of her affections. They placed the blame squarely on his shoulders, but Emma saw herself as responsible for letting him fool her into thinking he’d cared in the first place and had retreated into herself for a long time, becoming the “Prickly Princess” instead of the “Royal Rebel.”

Until Killian, her thoughts traitorously reminded her. He got right through those walls of yours without even trying at all.

She swiped away the frustrated tears that had slipped from her eyes after he’d walked away, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly in an attempt to pull herself together. She was mostly composed by the time Lieutenant French joined her, but the other woman still regarded her quietly for a moment when she stepped into place next to Emma.

“Is everything alright, your highness?” she asked politely, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble while waiting for Emma’s response.

“Fine,” Emma managed, though her voice sounded rough and choked up to her own ears – Lieutenant French must have heard it too, for her attention quickly snapped back to Emma, her eyes sharp and her mouth pulling into a tight line, but she made no comment.

“As you say, miss. Do you wish to continue or turn back?” she asked, her tone slightly flatter than it had been a moment earlier, as if her thoughts were elsewhere – or, perhaps, as though she’d judged Emma and found her lacking somehow. The idea was disconcerting and Emma wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Uh, um…let’s go just around the next loop,” Emma said, gesturing towards the road beyond where Killian now stood. It twisted through Emma’s favorite section of the royal park before turning back to connect with the road they were currently on at a point that was closer to the palace. She hoped running in one of her most loved places would soothe her, but she wasn’t too optimistic.

“Yes, miss.” Lieutenant French replied in that same flat tone before signaling to Killian, who set off at a jog before slowly picking up the pace. They fell in step behind him, Lieutenant French keeping up with Emma easily as they regained their earlier speed.

For a few moments, the two women ran together in an awkward silence. Somehow, Emma thought, it was even moreso than the one she’d just been sharing with Killian before their fight. After several minutes of this, Emma found she couldn’t take it anymore. “Lieutenant, can I ask you something and will you answer me honestly?”

“Of course, miss,” came the immediate and brusque reply, though the lieutenant didn’t look in Emma’s direction.

“How well do you know Lieutenant Jones?” she asked as quietly as she could, given that she was mid run and didn’t want to break stride again.

Lieutenant French’s head turned swiftly in Emma’s direction, the woman’s gaze catching Emma’s own briefly before she turned back and focused on the road. “We were training partners, and now we’re detailed together, miss.” She said before glancing back at Emma again with a hesitant look on her face. She seemed to want to continue, but didn’t move to speak, so Emma gestured for her to go on. “But, what I think you’re really asking me is…what kind of person is he?”

Emma nodded, taking her own turn to stare down the road and avoid her companion’s gaze.

Lieutenant French remained quiet for another moment before speaking softly yet intensely. “He’s honorable and kind. Brilliant and funny. Everything a good officer and a good person should be,” she waited for Emma to look back at her before she continued. “I trust him completely, and you can too,” she said. “Is that what you wanted to know, miss?”

Breathing hard, and not just from the exertion of their run, Emma managed another nod.

They ran the entire rest of the way back to the palace in silence.

-/-

Emma went straight to her rooms immediately after they returned to the palace – she took a shower and pulled on her most comfortable pair of pajamas, curling up among the soft pillows on her still-made bed. She knew she should put in an appearance at dinner – there were no formal state events on the calendar for the evening, but her parents still expected her to dine with them in the private family dining room – but she wasn’t hungry and she couldn’t bring herself to go down and go through the motions of acting like nothing was wrong.

So she called Elsa and asked her to send word to her parents that she was tired and that she’d be having dinner in her rooms that evening, and that she’d call the kitchens herself if and when she was ready to eat anything. After hanging up, she sank further down into her pillows and drifted into a haze of memories. She mentally sifted through everything that had led her to this current moment – all of her interactions with Killian, certainly, but everything else as well. Her romance with that diplomat’s son, her habit of sneaking out and visiting Two Wolves incognito from time to time, the whole “Prickly Princess” reputation, Minister Gold’s latest power-hungry schemes, and the deep desire she had to carve her own path and be more than a royal figurehead. She wanted to be able to lead her people in a way that would truly make a difference to them, but – given Misthaven’s somewhat traditional stance on “appropriate” roles for a Princess to play in matters of state – she wasn’t sure how to begin, or even if she’d be able to.

She wasn’t really aware of time passing, lost in her thoughts as she was, until a soft knock pulled her out of her reverie. She sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears and leaning back against the small mountain of pillows behind her. “Come in,” she called, a bit surprised by how scratchy her voice sounded.

The door swung open slowly and her mother’s head peeked through the gap. Concern flickered across the queen’s features when she took in Emma’s rumpled state, and she quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?” she asked as she came over to sit on the edge of the bed near Emma’s feet.

Emma sighed, a somewhat nasal sound. Must be left over from crying earlier. “That seems to be the question of the day,” she muttered.

The queen quirked a curious eyebrow in Emma’s direction, her gaze so penetrating that it seemed to peer directly into Emma’s heart, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. They were quiet for a moment – Emma making at least an attempt to pull herself together and look a little more composed – before the queen spoke. “This is about that young man, I’d gather. The one in the photographs?” It sounded like a question, but Emma knew that it wasn’t.

She nodded anyway. “Yes,” she murmured, her gaze shifting down to where her hands were playing with the edge of her duvet. “I know you told me to end it…and I did…but…” she trailed off, searching for the right words to explain. “I just…” she petered out again, emotions choking her and rendering her unable to speak until her mother’s fingers laced with her own and squeezed tightly.

She looked up, finding the queen’s gaze and seeing no trace of the formal monarch, but only her mother – the woman who’d hugged her tight whenever she was hurt or upset as a child, who’d always encouraged her to follow her dreams, who was perhaps the only other person Emma knew who had experienced the pull between public duty and private emotions in quite the same way. She wasn’t sure if it was the wisest idea to tell her mother all the details about Killian – she wasn’t sure how the queen would react, especially since she’d not seemed keen on Emma seeing someone when the surveillance photos had surfaced – but she had to tell someone. She couldn’t take bottling everything up anymore.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop talking – the entire tale spilled out easily. The feelings of frustration at Gold’s latest political intrigue, her hopes to do something meaningful with her position and despair that she might never really be allowed to, sneaking out to Two Wolves, meeting Killian, being charmed unexpectedly, getting to know him better over the last several weeks (though she thought it prudent to leave out the mind-boggling kisses from their picnic), then breaking it off only to find out he was part of the Cadre. She told her mother everything, all the way up to their fight earlier in the day, and when she’d finished she felt oddly better and lighter. A calm settled over her – no matter what happened next, at least she’d been honest with herself about all of her feelings.

The queen was quiet for the space of several heartbeats, and Emma cautiously raised her eyes to meet her mother’s gaze, unsure of what she’d see. The look of compassion and understanding that was shining back at her was an incredible relief for Emma – also a bit of a surprise, if she were being honest.

“Oh, Emma,” her mother started, her voice clearly laced with deep emotion. “I’m so sorry that you ever felt as though you didn’t have a place in leading Misthaven – your father and I have been so focused on strategizing how best to hold our own against the more aggressive members of the council and the more discontented factions in parliament, that I fear we’ve fallen back on relying only on each other out of habit.”

“It’s alright, Mom, I understand,” Emma murmured – and, on some level, she did. She’d been raised on the stories of her parents’ epic love match and brilliant political partnership. The most memorable tale had been the one in which they’d defeated a coup attempt shortly after their wedding. It was a sometimes daunting legacy to live up to.

“No, my darling girl, it’s not – and you shouldn’t have to.” Her mother leaned closer and brushed a strand of Emma’s hair back behind her ear before cupping Emma’s cheek with her free hand. “We’ve been so wrapped up in handling current issues the way we would have in the past, that we haven’t been thinking of the future – of you – as much as we should have. We’ll be fixing that immediately.”

“Really?” Emma asked, a note of hope creeping into her voice. “I have so many ideas-”

“And your father and I would love to hear them,” her mother replied. “I’ll clear our calendars tomorrow morning and we’ll start the conversation, alright?”

Emma nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Absolutely.”

“Now, as to the other matter,” the queen said briskly. “We need to discuss what to do about-”

“Killian,” Emma finished for her mother. She chuckled dryly, a sound with no humor in it. “I didn’t think that anything could be worse than what happened the last time I let myself open up to someone – at least there were no paparazzi this time around, or else it would’ve been an even bigger mess.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself for what happened with that diplomat’s son, sweetheart,” her mother said firmly. “He was an entitled, arrogant braggart who brought every bit of that shame on himself, and, frankly, I’d probably have kneed him even harder than you did if I’d been in your position. I really wanted to do it anyhow,” she finished matter-of-factly.

“Thanks, Mom,” Emma said, a small smile finally causing the corners of her mouth to twitch upwards – it was a very brief thing, but it made her feel better nonetheless. “But as I told you that night, I still contend he kneed himself in the balls.”

The two women stared unblinkingly at each other for a moment before both breaking out into soft, but uncontrollable, laughter. “That should have been the official press statement,” chuckled the queen. “Why didn’t we think of that at the time?”

Emma shrugged. “Don’t know,” she replied with a laugh before her current predicament sobered her mood once again. She squeezed the hand that still held her mother’s. “But it doesn’t really help me to figure out what I do now.”

The queen regarded her for a few moments, and though Emma’d tried to guess at exactly what her mother might say, she wasn’t able to predict the words that the queen actually uttered in that moment. “Emma, you’re the only one who can make that choice.”

“But what about the council’s reaction? And Gold? And-”

“Sweetheart,” her mother said firmly, now squeezing Emma’s hand in return. “None of that matters. The only important thing is how you feel. I know now that the burdens of your royal position have been weighing on you rather keenly lately – and I am so very sorry that I hadn’t realized how much – but nothing that’s going on with that changes anything about this. What’s important is what you want.”

“I want to fix things with him, but I don’t know how,” Emma murmured, slightly stunned at the fact that her mother seemed to be advocating for her pursuing some sort of relationship with Killian. Not that there is a relationship to advocate for right now, given the way that we left things the last time we saw each other she thought regretfully, flashes of their fight replaying themselves in her mind.

“Oh, I have no doubt that you can,” her mother said, a note of mischief entering her voice. “If he’s half as taken with you as you are with him – and given what you’ve told me, I think he is – I don’t think it will be a problem.”

Emma shook her head slowly, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her mother wasn’t more concerned. She’d expected more skepticism, or caution, or something – not this rather unabashed positivity and upbeat attitude. She’d thought she’d have to work a lot harder to convince her mother that a relationship with Kilian was a good idea, and the fact that the queen had gotten on board so quickly was kind of throwing Emma off-kilter. “I don’t know…it’s going to be really complicated. Maybe it’s simpler to just let it go.”

Her mother shook her head decisively. “It is simpler to do that, but that doesn’t mean it’s better, sweetheart. Anything worth having – really worth having – must be fought for. And you, my dear, have always been a fighter. Besides, fighting for love is the most worthwhile thing of all.”

She sat up straight, nearly dislodging several of her pillows with the sudden speed of her movements. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa, Mom. Who said anything about love? Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?”

“Not really.” The queen leveled a knowing look at Emma, squeezing her hand once more before letting go and standing up. “Not if those surveillance photos are anything to go by, at any rate.”

Emma sat speechless as her mother brushed off her skirt and headed across the room. The queen had swung open the door and was about to step through when Emma finally found her voice. “You’re not worried I’m making a bad decision?”

Her mother shook her head and turned around, locking eyes with Emma when she did. “Emma, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your instincts and how they lead you to make good decisions – most of the time, at least,” she said with a teasing arch of her eyebrows. “Trust your gut – listen to what it’s telling you. You’ll do the right thing for you, and whatever that is, your father and I will support it,” she promised, turning and stepping out of the room.

“You don’t think Dad will object?” Emma asked incredulously. “He took the last guy I was even remotely interested in down to see the royal armory and made vaguely menacing comments to him the whole time! I never heard from the guy after that! And what about the council?!”

Emma was still staring at the quickly closing door when it suddenly swung back open part of the way and her mother’s head popped back into view. “I’ll handle your father, don’t you worry. And don’t you worry about the council – your father and I have just figured out a few things that should put a halt to Gold’s machinations for the foreseeable future. Now,” she paused and pointed a finger at Emma as if to underline her final point. “You just try to be discreet while the lieutenant is finishing his Cadre cycle – I’m not saying put a halt to…things…” at this, she thought her mother blushed slightly before recovering. “…just try your best to keep the press from getting too interested in you both as a story, alright?”

Emma nodded. “I think I can manage that,” she said, a small seed of optimism taking root, despite her very real worry that Killian wouldn’t forgive her.

“Oh, and one more thing,” her mother said casually as she turned again and began to leave once more. “I meant what I said about the way you make decisions, Emma, but don’t forget, proposed Cadre Initiates each receive a thorough background check as part of their selection process. Your father and I have read enough about your Lieutenant Jones to know he’s as honorable as they come. I think I can speak for us both when I say the only concern we’d have would be if he’d care well for your heart.”

“He would,” Emma said softly, but with conviction, the tears from earlier threatening to make a reappearance. “That is, I haven’t ruined things between us.”

Her mother shook her head, a fond smile on her face. “Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t worry about that.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Emma to try to process everything that had just happened. She couldn’t deny that she felt better than she had when she’d initially come back to her rooms, but everything she’d been sure of had just been turned upside down yet again. Her mind was whirling and she was torn between thinking about which of her plans and projects she wanted to cover with her parents during their strategy session the following morning and trying to come up with a way to fix things with Killian.

An idea for the latter began to take hold in her mind – it was a simple plan, so hopefully it would have the best chance of working. A grin spread across her face slowly.

Now she just had to wait for the perfect moment to set it all in motion.

-/-

Three days.

It had been three bloody days since he’d fought with Emma – with the Princess, he mentally corrected himself – and continuing on her detail had been nothing short of torturous. They’d been near each other constantly over the past several days, but without any opportunity to speak to each other beyond basic pleasantries.

Though you’ve got no idea what you’d say to her anyway, so maybe that’s for the best, he thought, a frown stealing across his face in response to that realization.

The princess had been extremely busy in the last three days – starting with a meeting with her parents the morning after their fight. When the door to the queen’s private rooms had opened after the meeting, he’d been sure that he was about to be dismissed – the king was looking at him with thinly veiled suspicion, he’d been sure of it. But the queen seemed to be regarding him with an inexplicably fond look, before she’d threaded her arm through her husband’s and drawn him away down the corridor. Emma had flicked the briefest of looks in his direction before she’d taken off at a brisk pace in the opposite direction and he and Belle had fallen into step behind her.

Since then, Emma’d been embroiled in a succession of meetings and other palace business practically non-stop. In her few free moments, she’d been eating, sleeping, or deeply engrossed in research – though on what, he couldn’t say. It had made the idea of approaching her to apologize for his behavior very difficult to put into practice, and the further they’d gotten from their fight, the harder it was to bring it up again at all. Not to mention that she’d been so busy that she’d been skipping her morning run, eliminating one of the best opportunities for him to speak to her alone.

They’d settled into a sort of uneasy half-truce, or at least that’s what it felt like to him, where they didn’t really avoid each other – though given that he was assigned to her detail, she couldn’t very well avoid him altogether – but they didn’t interact very much unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is why hearing her voice at nearly midnight, coming from the shadowed expanse of the courtyard to his left, was a bit of a surprise.

“Killian?” her voice calling his name floated towards him out of the near-total darkness. “Can you…can you come here…please?”

He hesitated a moment before stepping onto the grass, recognizing it as the same space where he and Belle had met Emma the morning of their fateful running session. She was seated at the far end with one leg tucked underneath her on a low, raised stone wall that encircled a small fountain. In the corner, near a line of Middlemist bushes, an old hanging lantern that had been retrofitted for electricity dimly illuminated that she was playing absently with the cuff of her left sleeve as he approached.

She looked up at him as he drew closer and opened her mouth to speak – but suddenly, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear whatever it was she had to say. “Princess, I do hope you’re having a delightful evening,” he began, falling back on hyper-formality to cover the insecurity that had flared to life in his gut. “But if you’re not in need of anything, I’m going to go consult with Lieutenant French about a few matters.”

He’d taken only a couple of steps towards the covered portico that ran along one side of the courtyard before Emma’s voice brought him up short. “You can’t.”

“Pardon?” he sputtered, his reply far less eloquent than he’d have preferred. “Why not?” he asked – he couldn’t think of a single reason Emma would have for barring him from speaking with the other member of his detail.

Emma stood up and crossed the grass to where he was standing. She looked up at him, her beautifully green eyes seeming even larger when they caught and reflected the moonlight. “She’s not here – I sent her back to Lieutenant Humbert to make the nightly report.”

“She agreed to leave you alone?” He knew that they were on the palace grounds, and there were likely no immediate threats to the princess’ safety, but he was still stunned that the normally rule-abiding Belle would have broken protocol so blatantly.

“I insisted, and I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be,” Emma said, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I knew you’d be along shortly for shift change, and I wanted to speak with you alone.”

“Oh?” Killian’s pulse kicked up a notch and the sense of trepidation he’d been keeping at bay for the last several days increased. Perhaps he was going to be dismissed, and the princess just wanted to do it herself. He kept his face impassive and his words formal as his gaze fell to hers. “How may I be of service, your highness?”

Emma simply looked at him for several long moments, her eyes searching his and her expression far too soft for someone about to make a pronouncement that would ruin his career. She opened her mouth a second time as if to speak, but closed it again before stepping closer to him and starting over. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and tinged with regret, “for everything I said to you the other day. Killian, I…you were right. What was starting to happen between us was real, but you have to understand,” she looked up at him pleadingly, “it’s not easy to know who to trust when you’re in my position, and I’ve…I’ve been burned before by exactly this sort of thing. I got scared when we discovered each other’s real identities, but I shouldn’t have been…in my heart, I always knew what kind of person you are, and you didn’t deserve my suspicion, or my accusations. I’m so sorry.”

She finished and took a step back, her eyes flitting away from his while he stood staring at her, dumbfounded. Of all the things he’d expected when he’d found her alone in the courtyard, this turn of events wasn’t anywhere on the list. It took him a few moments to find his voice, and even as he began speaking he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was going to say. He wasn’t at all surprised, though, when he heard himself saying, “It’s alright. I owe you an apology as well-”

Her head whipped up and she shook it vehemently. “You really don’t-”

“I really do,” he insisted, taking a deep breath and scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. “I was being selfish – I knew I couldn’t tell you who I was because of protocol and I kept seeing you anyway. I put you in a difficult position and when the truth came out, I spoke very harshly to you – and I was more than a bit of a hypocrite about it all. I’m sorry, Emma.”

He’d barely realized that he’d used her given name for the first time since he’d found out she was the princess when the air between them seemed to take on an electric charge. “Say that again,” she whispered, stepping back closer to where he stood.

“What? That I’m sorry?” he said, a note of teasing creeping into his voice as he mirrored her, moving close enough that they were almost touching. “Because I am, you know.”

“No,” she shook her head, smiling at him as she pressed up on her tiptoes and her arms crept around his neck. “Say my name again – please.”

A slow grin spread across his face as he leaned down, murmuring Emma against her mouth before his lips covered her own. This kiss was so unlike the previous ones they’d shared on the day of that fateful picnic – those had been filled with the urgency of newness and, he realized now, it was more than likely that Emma had thought it might have been the only one they’d ever share. By contrast, this one was slow, languorous, unfolding as lazily as if they had all the time in the world and intended to spend it solely with each other.

When they finally pulled back, his arms had wound fully around her waist and her hands were firmly entangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He imagined that his expression mirrored hers, dazed but so very happy.

“Well,” she said on a laugh, sounding delighted and far more carefree than he’d ever heard her in the short time he’d known her. “That makes this next part easier.”

“Next part?” he asked absently, more focused on trailing one hand slowly up and down her back, tracing random patterns as he went. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the sensation before she blinked and focused on him again.

“Yes,” she nodded decisively. “The part where I ask you out on a date – where we both know who the other person is, Killian.”

“A date?” he repeated, feeling as dizzy as though he’d been whacked over the head with something rather large and heavy. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. “How would that even work? With you being…well, you and me being in the Cadre. What would it even look like?”

She grinned – brightly enough to light the whole courtyard without electricity – in response. “Well,” she murmured, scratching her fingernails lightly against the back of his neck in an extremely distracting way. “I don’t exactly know yet. I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to help me figure that out.”

He looked down at her, mind still reeling with everything they’d said – not to mention getting to kiss her again – and fully aware of the challenges that would lie ahead for them both if he accepted. But as he stared at her happy, hopeful expression, and felt a similar one on his own face, he knew there was only one answer in his heart. “With pleasure, Emma.”

Her happy laugh rang through the courtyard for a moment until they lost themselves in each other once again.

-/-

Misthaven Star-Herald

ROYAL REBEL WITH A CAUSE: PRINCESS EMMA SET TO OPEN NEW CHARITIES TO PROMOTE ADVANCEMENT OF MISTHAVEN’S WOMEN AND SUPPORT AT-RISK CHILDREN

By Sidney Glass

Star-Herald Royal Reporter

SPERO, MISTHAVEN, MAY 30, 2023 – Today, Princess Emma of Misthaven finally realized a long-held dream. With her husband, Commodore Killian Jones, at her side, the princess – who is expecting the couple’s first child late this summer – presided over the openings of two new organizations of which she will serve as patron.

The first, Move Forward Misthaven, is a group dedicated to supporting the advancement of women in all industries and areas of study, but with a particular focus on the fields of business, political science, and education. “The goal with Move Forward Misthaven is to elevate talented women in all fields and cultivate them for the leadership roles they are eager to inhabit,” the princess related when asked about her reasons for founding the organization. “We are dedicated to broadening Misthaven’s horizons as we look to the country’s future as a player on the world stage.”

The second group, Stand Up Misthaven, will tackle the much-needed task of providing aid and resources for at-risk children – ranging from educating teachers on how to prevent bullying in schools, to coordinating with youth shelters to provide better care for homeless teens, to evaluating the Misthaven foster system to overhaul its quality of care. “We must speak, we must stand up, for those who cannot do so for themselves – and there are few who are more in need of aid than children, those who look to us for care, for love, and proper direction.” The princess stated in an impassioned speech she gave at the organization’s opening. “Stand Up Misthaven will advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves.”

Princess Emma has long been an unusual figure in the Misthaven royal family, far more concerned with active public service than traditional diplomatic endeavors, though it is only in recent years that the royal protocols have been altered to allow her a more hands-on role in public leadership. This personal approach will continue with both of her new organizations – the princess will serve on the board of both, but will also make use of her graduate degree as a political science course leader for Move Forward Misthaven. She is also set to speak in front of parliament next week on behalf of improvements to the Misthaven foster system in support of Stand Up Misthaven.”

Ever marching to the beat of her own drum, the princess likewise bucked tradition with her marriage to the common-born Commodore Jones just over a year ago. Jones, who had been a member of Cadre 2018 – and who declined the offer to stay on as training officer for Cadre 2021 two years ago in favor of returning to Misthaven’s Royal Navy – has gained distinction at every turn and has accumulated a service record littered with honors and promotions, starting well before his romance with the princess began.

It is too early to speculate on the potential success of either of the princess’ new organizations, but with her clear determination and boundless energy, and the obviously mutually supportive bond shared between her highness and the Commodore, it isn’t an exaggeration to say that far from the “Royal Rebel” or “Prickly Princess” she was once deemed to be, Princess Emma is the face of Misthaven’s future.

#csficformal #branlovesouat #cs ff #captain swan #my fic #lieutenant duckling #modern royalty au #i can't believe it's finally finished!! #i hope you enjoy it dear #i'm so sorry it took so long!!

[grimmswan]

Devious Delights

Law enforcement Officer Killian Jones catches Emma Swan in a car that is obviously not hers. But the seductive thief shows him that breaking the rules are more fun than abiding by them.

In other words, this is a modern Lieutenant/Duckling Au With Killian and Emma having lots of consensual sex all over the town of Storybrooke.

Chapter One: The Police Station Jail Cells

“That’s strange, Gold is never out this late?” Lieutenant Killian Jones thought to himself when he saw the unmistakable Mercedes owned by the richest man in town.

He followed the car to an out of the way place, then saw a blonde woman emerge from the driver’s seat.

“Turn around and keep your hands where I can see them.” Killian commanded.

He nearly forgot to breathe when she turned around and he saw her face.

“Since when did angels steal cars?” He thought to himself.

He didn’t bother calling it in. There was no one at the station and there wouldn’t be all night.

He got the woman in the back and drove to the station

“What’s your name?”

“Emma, Emma Swan. And you are?”

“Killian Jones.” He replied automatically. “I mean, it’s Lieutenant Jones.” He quickly added to correct his mistake and sound more professional. Something about the woman was throwing him off his stride. He was usually able to maintain an air of authority, but Emma was making him feel like a teenager encountering his first pretty girl.

“Oh, you’re one of the Jones brothers! Everyone’s been talking about how sexy and bad ass the two new cops are.” Emma exclaimed, not helping Killian’s composer at all. “You guys are former military, right? But I thought your brother is usually with you?”

“Liam got food poisoning. I told him to let the chicken cook longer, but he never wants to listen to anybody.” Killian felt he was perfectly entitled to be annoyed with his brother. The doctor had assured them that all Liam needed was to rest, stay near a toilet, and drink plenty of liquids. Had the older Jones listened to the younger one, he would not currently be turning their shared apartment bathroom into a biohazard station.

Emma laughed at the clear exasperation in his voice. Killian thought he had never heard anything more beautiful.

When they got to the station and he had to take her picture for records, she removed her red leather jacket.

Killian forgot how to breathe for the second time that evening.

The white tank top she wore was as thin as tissue paper. Underneath she wore a bra of black lace that molded over plump breasts. Every line and every curve of her was clear to his eyes, since her jeans were fitted snugly over her hips and backside. There was no question that Emma Swan was an alluring woman.

Emma noticed the hot officer staring at her body. The look of desire was unmistakable. In fact, she had never seen it reflected in someone’s eyes so strongly before. It gave her the confidence to have some fun.

“That’s quite the weapon you have there, officer. I have just the holster for it.”

Killian forgot to press the button on the camera.

Becoming flushed and heated under the collar, Killian removed his own jacket, giving Emma the opportunity to check him out.

“Ooo, Lieutenant Jones, that black sweater you have on is making my clit throb.”

The thing was molded to his body, as were the tight black jeans that looked painted on.

Killian chose to ignore her. He was not going to be distracted from his responsibilities again.

He had promised his brother that all of the foolishness of his youth was over and done with. That is why Killian had joined Liam in the military, and that is why he had followed him to the town of Storybrooke and gotten a position in law enforcement.

To give himself time to cool off and get under control, Killian placed Emma in one of the cells and sat at his desk to do paperwork.

Unfortunately for him, his desk faced the cells. There was no one else in the entire station. And the biggest problem for officer Jones was that Emma figured that out before he did.

He was first alerted that something was happening when he heard Emma breathing heavily. He looked up to find her watching him with hooded eyes and her right hand down her pants, the left hidden under her shirt, over her breast.

The erection he had been ignoring since bringing her in started throbbing, painfully.

Telling himself that he was going to make her stop, that he was going to reason with her and explain why what she was doing was a bad idea, Killian grabbed the keys and unlocked the cell door.

Coherent thought left him the moment he touched her bare skin. His voice came out much more gentle and tender than it should have been.

“Emma, you are going to be accused of car theft. How will you plead, darling?”

“Eagerly. Oh please Lieutenant Jones! I plead for your cock!”

“That’s not what I,, oh okay.”

Emma dropped to her knees and reached for Killian’s belt, pulling the leather strap from his jean’s loop with her teeth.

Killian was so stunned that he could only stare in awe as she did whatever she wanted to him. The strongest lust he had ever felt overwhelmed him, and he became totally at her mercy.

The appendage was straining against the confines of the fabric, springing free the moment it was released.

Emma was impressed. Lieutenant Jones was certainly packing.

Sultry eyes staring up at him, she opened her mouth wide and slowly engulfed the organ.

She let herself be choked. Her eyes watered and spit dripped around the shaft.

Ever the gentleman, he tried to push her head away, but she resisted, moaning around him to show she was enjoying herself.

The softness of her lips around him made him forget about everything but the pleasure she was giving him.

When she pressed her tongue on the other side of him and traveled over his length, Killian was sure he had forgotten how to breathe for the third time that night.

Emma could not describe the thrill of taking the man into her mouth and having him at her mercy, even while she was on her knees before him.

Adding to the fun was how vocal Lieutenant Jones was. Though Emma wished she was wearing a skirt, so she could slip off her panties and stuff them in his mouth in order to muffle his constant moans and praises. She feared if he got any louder, the whole town would know what they were up to.

Still, it was exciting, and she had to admit a real turn on. She felt herself growing wet the more he expressed his pleasure.

“Any chance you’ve got a box of condoms stored somewhere around here?” She moved her hands over his shaft to continue his pleasure, which caused him to be unable to answer her question.

Emma was good at reading people. And to her, Lieutenant Jones looked like the type to be prepared for anything.

She let go of his manhood and stood up. When he made a choked sound of protest, she pushed him to sit on the cot in the cell and assured him, “Don’t worry, sailor. I’m not done with you, yet. But we can’t continue without a sheath for your sword.”

His eyes stayed on her the whole time as she hurried to his leather jacket and pulled out his wallet.

Emma smiled in triumph that sure enough, there was a condom tucked inside.

On her way back to the cell, she noticed Killian had left the keys in the lock. The practical and logical part of her suggested slamming the door shut, locking him inside and making a quick getaway, but every other part of her wanted to experience what the Lieutenant had to offer.

There was also something about the way he looked at her, practically pleading with her to return to him.

So instead of doing the smart thing, she continued with her risky behavior.

Emma tossed the condom packet at Killian, who remarkably caught it. Then, keeping a few feet from him, she tucked her hair behind her ears, looked at him seductively, then peeled her shirt off.

“Bloody hell, you’re beautiful.” Killian breathed.

Feeling empowered by his words and the look of wonder on his face as he gazed at her, Emma swayed her hips, turned around, and bent over, giving him a much closer view of her jean clad ass.

Holding onto the bars for support, Emma removed her boots, then shimmied out of her pants, giving extra movement to give her admirer a little thrill.

WIth her back still toward him, Emma unfastened her bra, then allowed that too to slide from her onto the floor.

When she turned to face him again, she was caught off guard by his lightning quick reflexes. Killian pulled her onto his lap and claimed her lips with his own. His hands were everywhere, splayed on her back at first, then one moving into her hair while the other moved to cup a breast.

If Emma thought she was turned on before, it was nothing compared to now. His kiss was lighting a fire inside her that had never been so hot. Her own hands were digging under his shirt, encouraging him to remove it so she could better explore him.

Reluctant to pull away, Killian stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to push off his shirt, before his hands and lips were back to touching her.

When his mouth began to trail down her neck, Emma reminded him with a moan, “If you want to do more than kiss me, you have to let me up to remove my panties.”

But Killian was not about to let her go again. Luckily for him, what she wore was a thong made of delicate lace, and Killian was in great shape.

Emma let out a gasp and a giggle when he simply tore the garment from her. She could feel the muscles flex on his arms.

She had never been wetter or more turned on in her life.

“Hand me that condom packet, now.”

Killian did as she commanded. Emma ripped the wrapper open with her teeth, then insisted on sliding the prophylactic over his impressive length herself.

They lifted her up and moaned in unison as her wet heat engulfed his throbbing cock.

Their movements were slow and tentative at first, giving her time to adjust, but soon need won out and they began to rock their hips with more force.

She draped her arms over his shoulders. His hands held her hips and waist. Their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled. In that moment, they created a world of euphoria.

Emma whimpered, trembling moans escaping as the pleasure began to build.

Killian pinched and pulled at her nipples, trying to get more of those lovely sounds.

Her fingers buried in his hair and gripped tight. She cried out a high pitched plea, “Don’t make me come alone. Come with me, please.”

Killian’s arms wrapped tightly around Emma and he stood from the cot to drive into her with hard deep quick thrusts.

His incredible strength would have impressed her, if she wasn’t at that very moment having a toe curling orgasm.

His grip on her tightened and he buried his face into her neck as his own release exploded from him.

He sat back on the cot, continuing to hold her tight and kiss every place his lips could reach.

Neither spoke a word, there didn’t seem a need to. There was simply the instinct to brush hands, fingers, and lips over each other as they caught their breaths.

When the bloodrush began to still, Killian pulled Emma with him to lay on the cot.

The bed was too narrow for two people. And even though Killian had pulled Emma on top of him, she still found herself sliding from him.

“I’m just going to clean us up.” She whispered to him when he reached for her.

He nodded and closed his eyes. She went to the bathroom, wet some paper towels, and returned to clean him up.

She kept her lips closed to muffle the giggle that threatened to escape when she saw his boots and pants were still on. Though the pants were around his boots.

Once she got the condom removed and him cleaned up, she buried the evidence of their encounter in the trash.

Emma didn’t want the lieutenant to lose his job.

She had had a great time with him and hoped the experience could be repeated. Maybe at a different location?

But for the moment, she needed to get out of there before someone came in and started asking questions.

So she pulled his pants back, covered him with the blanket, and got redressed.

When Killian awoke, the thing he noticed was that he was alone. He felt a sickening ache stir in his chest until he realized he was holding something; Emma’s torn underwear, and a note that read:

Dear Lieutenant Sexy,

It was a lot of fun being arrested by you. We should definitely do it again, sometime.

But I think I better not wear underwear, since you seem to not have much patience for them.

Just remember to replace the condom in your wallet.

Sincerely,

The girl whose photo you forgot to take.

P.S.

Your security system stopped working and hasn’t recorded anything all night.

He remembered that he had also never reported to anyone about Emma driving Gold’s car. There was nothing to indicate that the two of them had even interacted that night. Except for, of course, her note, and her torn underwear currently in his grip.

Lieutenant Killian Jones realized he was completely screwed, in two totally different ways.

part twohttps://grimmswan.tumblr.com/post/672979232182484992/devious-delights-part-2

part 3https://grimmswan.tumblr.com/post/676138499819356160/devious-delights

#killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #once upon a time #cs ff #cs ff au #cs smut

[searchingwardrobes]

No Wives, No Mothers, No Lovers : 5/7

Yes, finally! An update! @snowbellewells​, I'm sorry this fic is taking me so long to finish. I hope you enjoy this chapter, especially the characters that appear in it, even though it ends on a cliffhanger. Yes, I said a cliffhanger. On the bright side, this fic is near completion. Yay! Love ya, Marta, and I hope this summer is full of sunshine and rest.

Summary:   He must be hallucinating. Because Emma Swan is supposed to be in Miami, Florida where he left her. Emma Swan isn’t supposed to be on this rocky stretch of beach, completely drenched, and wearing a ball gown of all things. A Lieutenant Duckling AU (sort of) in which Emma is a siren who isn’t supposed to fall in love with a human.  

Length: about 3k in this chapter

Rated: T

Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three  | Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @winterbythesea @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert​ @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare​ @onceratheart18​ @sparlecorn93​ @sals86​ @pirateprincessofpizza​ @xarandomdreamx​ @zaharadessert​ @huntressandlioness1​ @iverna​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​

Chapter Five:

Killian gasps and coughs, his chest burning and his head pounding. He’s trembling all over, soaked to the bone, and the rain is pouring down again. Everything is blurry; he can barely see through the storm and rain, but he thinks he sees Emma’s blonde hair. Thinks he feels its soft, silky strands caress his cheek, which is odd. Her hair should be wet. But maybe every bit of it is a dream because his eyes slide shut, and then darkness surrounds him again . . . 

The next time he awakes, he can’t keep his eyes open, no matter how hard he tries. He only gets glimpses of the people around him, and a bright light above. The light hurts. The sand and rocks scrape his skin. Someone calls his name . . . 

He awakes the third time in a hospital bed. The light still hurts. So does his throat. Its silent except for the beeping of machines. Liam is asleep in the chair beside his bed, but the moment Killian turns his head, Liam is awake and reaching for his hand. 

“Emma,” Killian manages to rasp out, his throat like sandpaper. 

Liam frowns, shaking his head. “You were alone on the beach when we found you.”

Killian struggles to speak, but his throat feels like it’s closing up. Liam tries to get him to stop talking, to calm down. 

“Must . . . find her . . . help her.”

Liam has a difficult time meeting his gaze, but he finally manages to tell him the truth. “Killian, it stormed that night. The tide was strong. The shoes Emma was wearing washed up on the beach, so . . .”

And just like that, a piece of Killian dies. At least, it must, considering what comes as the months slip by . . . 

The doctors can’t explain any of it. There seems to be no purpose for the fevers that rage, the pain that afflicts different parts of Killian’s body: sometimes his throat so he can not speak, sometimes his legs so he can not walk, sometimes his head so he can not tolerate the light. Things get worse as the days turn to weeks, the weeks into months. At times he struggles to breath, at others he doubles over in pain. He has no appetite, but he tries to eat whenever he sees the fear in Liam’s eyes. The food only comes right back up again, though. He’s slowly wasting away, and nothing can explain why. Every test comes back negative. There’s no cancer, no autoimmune disease, no tumors, no explanation whatsoever. Killian jokes that he’s a gift to medical science. Neither Liam nor Elsa laugh. 

He never thought of himself as important in the town of Storybrooke, or even well-liked. Yet, all of a sudden, he seems to be the town's beloved son. The church’s pray for him every Sunday, fundraisers are thrown to cover his medical costs, a wheelchair and a ramp are donated by the nuns in town, and they have enough casseroles in the freezer to feed them for an entire year. 

He has visitors often, even from “the dwarves.” When Liam and Elsa push him along Main Street in his wheelchair, everyone stops to talk.

One afternoon, Killian shouts for Liam to stop. 

“What is it, little brother?”

Killian peers at the boardwalk along the shore, his eyes narrowed. A flash of bright red hair is the last thing he sees. Killian sags in his chair. 

“Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew.”

*******************************************************************

Miles away, a strange procession walks towards the shore. Three beautiful young women carry the emaciated body of a fourth young woman. Though the fourth one is unable to keep her eyes open and sags in their arms, she is easy to carry.

The women walk right into the sea, floating the sick woman’s body upon the water. Her blonde hair fans out around her. It was once sparkling gold, now it is a sallow, dirty yellow. Her once pink, fair skin is now a ghastly gray. Her full cheeks are now sunken and dark circles line her eyes. 

The eldest of the women, a woman with auburn hair named Belle, takes charge. She has served Mother Ocean for fifty years now. Not as long as Emma, but half her sentence. Mother wouldn’t appreciate the word “sentence,” however. She would call the last fifty years her “gift” to Belle. 

“Mother! We need your help, Mother!” Belle calls. 

The ocean ripples around them, shimmering as it curls around to caress them. Though no words can be heard with human ears, the four sirens can understand Mother Ocean as she speaks. 

Well, at least three of them can now. The blonde may be past the ability to hear anyone, even the ocean. 

What is wrong with my daughter? Why is she sick? Sirens can’t get sick!

“Obviously they can,” mutters Ruby, her dark hair cascading about her, still full and dry though it is halfway in the water. Ruby has served Mother Ocean for thirty years and can still be a bit rebellious.

“Careful, Ruby,” Belle warns. 

“Emma is dying!” Ruby snaps. “I don’t give a damn about protocol.”

The Ocean calls herself their Mother. Calls the sirens her daughters. Says she loves them. But she can also be a cruel and capricious master.

My Emma can not die while in my care! 

Mother Ocean rages, ripping Emma’s body from the hands of her sister sirens and plunging her beneath the waters. 

“No!” the other three shout. 

Mother Ocean releases the blonde siren in mere moments, however. Emma pops up out of the water, choking and gasping for breath. She sags, struggles, then goes back under. The other three grab her and hold her aloft upon the water once again. 

“See!” The siren with bright red hair weeps. Her name is Ariel and she has only just begun her sentence as a siren two years ago. She still has 98 years of service ahead of her. 

I don’t understand. The Ocean’s voice echoes in their heads. Why can’t she breathe underwater anymore? Why can’t she swim?

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Ruby replies. 

Suddenly, the waves grab the brunette. Tendrils of watery tentacles wrap around her neck, and Ruby begins to gasp for breath, her fingers clawing at the watery strands about her neck. 

Perhaps I have tolerated your insolence for too long, daughter!

“Please, Mother,” a sickly voice rasps, “spare her. She is only worried about me, her sister.”

Mother Ocean drops Ruby with a splash and envelopes Emma in a watery cradle. 

My dearest Emma, what is wrong?

Though she is gasping for breath, Ruby still speaks the truth. “Perhaps it’s the fifty years you added to her sentence. She only had twenty more to serve!”

She vowed she would do anything if I only saved that boy. She defied me by going to him at all! She knew the rules! I had mercy upon her. And him. 

It was the way of the sirens. No wives, no mothers, no lovers. Mother Ocean would not rescue a woman from drowning if she was any of those things. And when a woman made the deal - salvation from drowning in exchange for one hundred years of service as a siren - she also agreed to never fall in love. 

“Honestly?” Belle says quietly. “She was never the same after the cruise ship.”

She has always been tenderhearted. Sighs Mother Ocean, as if it is a character flaw. Yet she defied me too that day!

Belle, Ruby, and Ariel exchange hesitant glances. It’s true. Mother Ocean has to be fed, and it’s up to her sirens to fulfill her appetite by luring people to their deaths with their song. It isn’t a pleasant task for any siren, but it has always been especially difficult for Emma. Maybe because her family died the day she was rescued. Or maybe because there had always been something special about Emma. A sense of compassion and justice. That fateful day when Mother Ocean had called them to the cruise ship, Emma had stopped singing when she saw the bride in the water, frantically searching the waves for her groom. Emma had been tempted to save that bride, and Mother Ocean was not happy. 

Then Emma had disappeared. They all knew she was heartbroken. They didn’t know she had swam towards Killian - the boy she’d fled from in Miami. 

“She tried to forget him, you know,” Ariel tries to explain. “She said she didn’t even mean to go to him. She didn’t even know where he was. She said she felt a tug in her middle, and she swam where it was tugging her.”

Mother Ocean trembles. What did you say?

Ariel, new at this and still terrified of crossing Mother Ocean, gives her sisters a terrified look. 

“A tugging,” Belle takes over. “She felt a tug telling her where to swim, so to speak.”

And after I saved the boy?

“She was depressed at first,” Belle explains sadly, “and then there was the day you called us to that yacht. She did her job, same as always, but halfway home, she was struggling to breathe and swim.”

I remember that. I carried her home. 

“And it’s only worsened since then,” Ariel continues. “She felt like she had a cold, which should be impossible.”

Sirens are immortal during their hundred years of service. They can’t get sick or hurt. They don’t even get tired or need sleep. Then, after their service is fulfilled, the immortality is lifted, and they are a human again at the same age they were when called: 17, 18, or 19. Each girl gets to choose where to live out her new human life. Her sisters help her plan, get settled, and then . . . Her memory of a siren is erased. 

One hundred years, then a clean slate. It seems an easy choice. At first. When all you're thinking of is death by drowning. 

“I’m telling you,” Ruby says, voice still raspy from Mother Ocean’s threat, “you broke her heart with your punishment. She’s tenderhearted about our job, yes, but she’s always loved you, Mother.”

She is a good daughter. Mother Earth caresses Emma again, rocking her in a sweet embrace. And I love her. Which is why I don’t understand. If she loves me, why should fifty more years with me matter? I confess, I was relieved to have her longer. I don’t want to give her up. 

“That isn’t love!” Ruby shouts. In a perverse way, maybe she wants Mother to destroy her. 

What do you mean? 

Tears stream down Ruby’s face. “Love wants what is best for the other person. Love doesn’t demand affection. Love doesn’t threaten. We fear you, Mother!”

“Ruby,” Belle whispers with concern. 

As you should!! Thunders mother ocean. What power on earth compares to mine? 

“None,” the girls answer.

“Please, Mother,” Ariel begs, “heal Emma.”

I - I don’t know how. This . . . shouldn’t be possible. The boy - No, it couldn’t be. It’s never happened.

The three sirens exchange glances, then they nod in agreement.

“He’s sick, too,” Belle tells the Ocean.

What?

“We tracked him down,” Ruby explains. “We thought maybe if Emma knew he was okay, she would get better.”

Ariel picks up the story. “But when we found him, he was dying. With the same symptoms Emma has.”

“Is it because Emma kissed him?” Belle asks. 

If that were the case, Ruby would have died a long time ago.

Ruby shrugs with a self-deprecating smile as the Ocean ripples with her version of laughter. 

I suspected when you mentioned the tugging Emma felt. It’s incredibly rare, but Emma has found her true love. They are now connected. 

“Then why are they dying?” Ariel asks. 

Because I have separated them. The only way either one will survive is if I let Emma go.

“Then do it!” the three girls shout.

I won’t let her go! She is mine!!!!

“Exactly like I said,” Ruby says sadly, softly, “you don’t know how to love.”

It is eerily silent for several long, tense, moments. Then the tide sucks at Emma’s body, ripping her from the arms of her sisters. The girls cry out, tears streaming down their cheeks. 

Give her to me. It is the only way.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #lieutenant duckling #sort of #they're younger but still have trauma #modern fantasy #sirens #emma as a siren #au of siren by kiera cass

[snowbellewells]

Finished Story!! : “One More”  {part five}

This birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes took me way too long to complete, but here it is at last. The final chapter, and hopefully the happy ending to make up for the sad along the way.  Melanie, I hope this makes you smile, and I hope anyone else reading this enjoys as well.

From the beginning, here on Tumblr, or on AO3...

Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...

by: @snowbellewells 

v. 24 years old (two years later)

“One more night,” Emma murmured against his lips breathily, shaking with desire, but forcing herself to pull away, if only slightly. “Can you believe it?” The words were whispered, but as she ran the tip of her tongue across her lip, her eyes fairly cried out her joy and relief. “This time tomorrow, Killian… we’ll be married.”

Gazing down at her open face, green eyes drinking him in as if it were still that moment two years past when they had been reunited after tragedy, Killian felt the very same sense of awe. It had seemed their chance was lost forever not so very long ago. He could not fathom how he merited having Emma return to him, their being together once more, but he would never take even a moment for granted.

They were standing outside Emma’s room at the cozy little B&B which had hosted their rehearsal dinner, and where they and many of their friends and loved ones were staying before the wedding tomorrow evening. Out by the water, just a few hours before, their rehearsal had gone flawlessly - without a single hitch - everyone present just marveling at the second chance they had been given and counting anything else that came along as a bonus. The Owl’s Head Light made a stunning background against the sand and breaking waves, and Emma could still feel an echo of the overwhelming notion that soon Killian truly would be hers forever, and she would be his.

Henry had stood so proud and tall at Killian’s side, raptly attentive and determined to be the best ringbearer any of those gathered had ever seen. Much of the past two years had been spent with Emma and Killian getting to know one another again certainly, but also in Henry and Killian becoming acquainted with each other. There had been a very short period of uncertainty while Killian had feared that Henry might think he was stealing his mother’s affection, or that the boy just might not like him, but as soon as Killian had expressed a genuine interest in Henry’s favorite story and asked if the boy would share it with him, they had been as thick as thieves, granting all of Emma’s fervent prayers.

Watching Henry stand so tall and straight with his little pillow that tomorrow would hold their rings, had given Emma such a rush of motherly pride. He might be only five, but he was so serious and still in his khakis and suspenders, like a miniature of the man who had chosen to be his father. Both of her men, the two people in this world who had showed her what love was, waited for her at the end of of the aisle marked in the sand by a border of driftwood, shells, and luminary candles, made her want to sprint to its end by their sides, even as she forced herself to rehearse what she hoped was a stately walk.

It hadn’t been so very long ago that she had believed herself cursed, sentenced to always be left behind and alone. Her birth and abandonment, followed by her growing up shuffled from one place to another that never became home, and even Henry’s father leaving her without a backward glance, all had reinforced that belief. But the loss of Killian - that devastation had cemented the awful illusion, had nearly closed her heart for good. If she hadn’t had Henry, Emma knew it would have. How they had gotten here, to where she now felt somehow blessed instead, still felt unreal. 

Leaning back against the door to her room for the night in the little seaside inn, Emma felt her heart thrill as Killian’s body instinctively followed her, leaning in to press against her front. She was more than grateful for the solid support as her knees wobbled like jelly. The warmth of his smile, first making her blush to the roots of her hair, and then causing butterflies to take flight in her stomach as he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, was as effective as it had ever been; all it took to charm her completely  and make her love him all the more.

She hummed contentedly, low in her throat, bringing both arms up to circle his neck and twine her fingers into his thick, dark hair, not wanting to be parted from him even for a moment, much less the whole night. “Hmm,” she smirked up at him with the arch of a brow and lazy, knowing curl of her lips, “sure you don’t want to come in with me, Jones?” she purred, equal parts tempting and hopeful.

His forehead fell to rest against hers, a strangled groan reverberating from deep in his chest which she could feel where she had begun to toy with the buttons of his shirt and then clutch at his lapels in her own need. “You’re killing me, Emma Love,” he managed to grit out through tightly clenched teeth. She could see the muscle working in his jaw, which only set her pulse to pounding faster as she held her breath - the temptation she was offering too much for her as well. 

Still, her handsome sailor - best friend, fiancé, love of her life - exhibited the same patience and determination he had always shown when it came to her; whether it was chipping away at the hard shell of attitude and snark she had built around herself at fourteen, in order to get to know her as few ever had, or the traditional wisdom that the bride and groom-to-be not share the same bed the night before the wedding or see each other at all on the big day until she came down the aisle to meet him. She didn’t know how he managed such resolve, but somehow Killian sucked in a steadying breath, mastered his own desire with impressive restraint and took a step back, putting enough space between them to cause a small whine of desperation to escape Emma’s throat involuntarily.

“Nope,” he pronounced with certainty, popping the consonant with added emphasis just to torment her, knowing it made her want her lips back on his all the more. “You’ll not change my mind now, irresistible siren though you may be. I think we’ve pushed our luck and tempted the Fates more than enough already, just to be standing here together, like we always should have been.”

His blue eyes changed from deep and dark with lust to a warm, melting blue in his sincerity. He returned to her to brush his nose lightly along her cheek before nuzzling hers. “I’ll do nothing to risk it again, silly superstition or not… not when tomorrow we’ll finally be joined forever.”

Emma swallowed hard, blinking back the quick sting of tears as emotion welled up in her at his words. She easily nodded her acquiescence - how could she do otherwise in the face of such fervent devotion?

Murmuring in her ear, just before he truly did pull himself away to head for his own room down the hall, he purred, “That doesn’t mean you don’t call to me, haven’t already gotten in my blood. I could happily drown myself in you just as one would be caught in an enchantment by the most powerful siren. This time tomorrow, I shall drink my fill of you, and never stop.”

Emma gasped at his words; his implication clear and her hands grasping for him once more. He had, however, wisely escaped her reach, knowing they both had reached their limit of endurance. 

There was nothing she could do but retire to her own room and attempt to sleep. Wired and anxious as she was, Emma couldn’t imagine true rest would come, but even in her frustration, she loved how Killian guarded their future with all that was in him. This second chance they had been granted by finding one another again was precious, and she could abide by his wishes and honor tradition for one more night. What he had promised her so long ago would now finally be true; they had the rest of their lives together stretching out before them.

Entering the room, Emma unzipped and shimmied out of the simple sheath dress she’d worn for the rehearsal dinner and let down her hairdo from the updo into which it had been twisted, and pulled on her pajamas, roomy shorts and an older shirt of Killian’s. She smiled affectionately at her little boy, already sprawled across the bed and sleeping soundly after she and Killian had carried him up and tucked him in when he conked out some hours before. Emma crawled in under the blankets with him and curled up around Henry carefully. She was filled ot the brim with love for her sweet little man, so happy and proud to play his part in their big day and to stand up at Killian’s side. He already loved Killian as though he had always been his dad. And he always would be now. She didn’t want to wake Henry though; he’d struggled as hard as he could to seem mature and stay up as late as all the adults around him who were chating and catching up. He was growing so fast, and as full of joy as she was, she did feel the tiniest pang, cuddling her child close as he slept. It had been just the two of them since Henry entered her life, and it wouldn’t be anymore.

More than anything though her heart thrilled pleasantly as she settled in for the night. Tomorrow, she would walk down the sandy beach toward Killian on Liam’s arm, before he handed her off and took his place with Henry at his brother’s side. She would look into Killian’s eyes, wide and blue and hypnotic and vast as the ocean behind him, say her vows before their friends and mean it with every fiber of her being. They would kiss and be announced husband and wife, and they would be family - irrevocably, unbreakably, and forever.

Tomorrow night when they at last reached their bedroom and entered it together, she wouldn’t have to spend one more night trying to sleep without him by her side. She would never have to wake up alone again.

Tagging a few who might enjoy:  @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @cosette141 @anmylica @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @lfh1226-linda​ @gingerpolyglot​ @gingerchangeling​ @thislassishooked​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @scientificapricot​ @tomeandflickcorner​ @winterbaby89​ 

#cs modern au ff #lieutenant duckling #sort of #birthday fic #one more #part five #cs angst #cs fluff #the demanded happy ending

[mariakov81]

Hello Maria, here is your Santa again. Thank you so much for your last answer, I already had a few ideas and now I know in which direction I will go. Do you even like this season or do you prefer any other season of the year? Are there any tropes you really like to read or you avoid? I really want to create something wonderful for you. Until soon. Yours, Santa

Hi, Santa! So glad to hear from you again!

You know, I think that CS is beautiful in any season. No matter how much I fancy summer season personally, we can't deny the beauty of a snowed-under-with-one-bed-enemies-to-lovers fic. Or good autumn angsty story with some dark revelations from the past. Spring and summer are perfect for vacation, travelling .. maybe a one night stand, which turns out to be not very much one night.... So, my point is that I just love reading CS fics no matter of the season. 😁

And maybeeee I like angst a little bit more than fluff, and prefer modern CS to lieutenant ducklings.

As to characters, I just want to say that my second broTP is captain charming, and basically there are no characters I aggressively try to avoid, I let everyone live 😁

Hope I didn't confuse you with my answers.

And I have no doubt you create something amazing 😉

Look forward to!

#csss2020 #cssecretsanta2020

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Whimsicallyenchantedrose’s Christmas Compilation

Hi everyone!  It’s Christmas Eve, and despite the weather not cooperating (near-spring temperatures?  Really??!), I’m in a festive mood.  Here’s a list of all the Christmas/winter holiday themed stories I’ve written for the OUAT fandom so far:

A Christmas Miracle (2013) [ff.net]: With the new curse broken and everyone back in Storybrook, the whole town is in a festive mood. Mary Margaret decides to throw a Christmas party for the whole extended family. Emma isn't so sure that's a good idea, but when she impetuously asks Hook to attend...and he agrees...she knows things are about to get very interesting.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (2014) [ff.net][ao3]: Killian is perplexed by all the lights and music and hustle and bustle that starts to appear around Storybrooke just after Thanksgiving, but luckily Henry helps him figure out what this "Christmas" is all about. He makes it his mission to help Emma overcome the pain of her past so she can truly get into the spirit of the season.

First Snowfall of Winter (2015) [ff.net][ao3]: Lieutenant Duckling story about best friends Princess Emma of Misthaven and stable boy Killian Jones and their tradition of always spending the day of the first snowfall of the year together.

Home For Christmas (2015) [ff.net][ao3]: Canon Divergence where Emma tries to find the perfect gift for Killian for Christmas.

Santa Claus is Coming to Town (2015) [ff.net][ao3]: In an attempt to gin up Christmas spirit in the town, Henry inadvertently casts a very musical curse. Now it's up to Emma and Killian and the rest of the family to break it-before it drives everyone crazy.

A Pirate’s Christmas Carol (2016) [ff.net][ao3]: CS Christmas Future Fic. With only a month to go before the birth of his and Emma Swan's first baby, Killian begins to fear he doesn't have what it takes to be a good father. Three ghosts—from Killian's past, present and future help him see that he is ready for the adventure that is fatherhood.

New York Christmas Serenade (2016) [ff.net][ao3]: CS canon divergence. A re-imagining of what New York City Serenade might have looked like if Killian had found Emma's NY apartment just before Christmas. Can the music of the season help Killian bring back Emma's and Henry's memories?

Cold Winter’s Light (2017) [ff.net][ao3]: CS and the Charmings celebrate the traditional Enchanted Forest holiday, Winter's Light during one of the worst blizzards Storybrooke has ever seen. During the festivities, a visitor they were not expecting shows up.

The Yuletide Challenge (2017) [ff.net][ao3]: CS au. Mary Margaret devises a plan for the family to spread Christmas cheer: the Yuletide Challenge. What will happen when the challenge pairs Emma with Killian for the season?

The Matchmaker (2017) [ff.net][ao3]: CS Modern AU. Mary Margaret Nolan knows Emma and Killian would be perfect for each other, so she takes it upon herself to make sure Killian gets Emma's name for the office Secret Santa exchange.

Christmas at the Farmhouse (2019) [ff.net][ao3]: Season 3b canon divergence.  While on their way to the farmhouse to confront the Wicked Witch on Christmas Eve, Emma and Killian get caught in a blizzard.  This is not at all the Christmas Eve Emma was looking forward to.

#cs christmas stories #my fics #fic compilation list

[wistfulcynic]

Error 404: “Little” Brother Not Found

SUMMARY: Liam Jones loves his little brother, he truly does. And if that love takes the form of good natured teasing, well, what’s the harm in that? Sure it annoys Killian but that’s kind of the point, and anyway Killian’s still just a lad. Liam’s sure he only just started shaving last year at the earliest. So when he stumbles on Killian mid-dalliance with a certain blonde princess, Liam is forced to reassess a lot of things about his “little” brother, many of which do. not. compute. 

a/n: ahahahahaha yeah. So this sprang, as so many mad things do, from a discord discussion about how Liam might react to the discovery that his little brother, the awkward, blushing, nerdy Lieutenant Jones, is in actual fact not so awkward anymore and involved with Princess Emma. Involved, in multiple senses of the word.  

I have never been a huge fan of Liam, full disclosure, and I particularly dislike it when their interactions infantilise Killian and take away from his own qualities and accomplishments. So while Liam in this fic does not die or get hurt in any physical way, he does have a few fairly painful revelations. And of course the full DOES NOT COMPUTE meltdown. NOT SORRY. 

This is modern Lieutenant Duckling. Imagine Misthaven as a 21st century minor European kingdom. 

-

Rating: hard-ish T/soft-ish M Words: 3.5k Tags: Modern AU, Modern Royalty AU, Lieutenant Duckling, Brothers Jones

On AO3

-

Liam Jones likes to think of himself as a reasonable man. He’s an honest man, and an honourable one. Those two attributes have never been in question. He’s frequently an impatient man, and sometimes a judgemental one, as his little brother Killian tells him frequently. Killian also calls him a stubborn arse, and Liam has to admit that this might also be valid, but when Killian accuses him of being unreasonable, well, that’s where he draws the line. 

He’s perfectly reasonable. Perfectly. What’s unreasonable are Killian’s objections to a) being called ‘little brother’—he is little, after all, by comparison to Liam’s greater height and broader shoulders—and b) his refusal to allow his older and wiser and bigger brother to help him find a girl. 

“I do not require your input on that subject, thank you very much,” Killian snarls. “Kindly back the fuck off.” 

“But Tink is really nice,” wheedles Liam, as they walk from where his ship is moored in the harbour and into the town to have some lunch. Killian no longer serves on the same ship, having accepted a secondment about a year ago to work on a highly specialised project for the Royal Council. But whenever Liam is in port they make a point of spending as much time as they can together. 

“I’m sure she is,” Killian sighs. “Not interested.”  

“She’s pretty, too.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Still not interested.” 

“Look, Killian, I’m only trying to help—” 

“No, you’re trying to control me as you always do. I’m twenty-four years old, Liam! I’m an officer in the Royal Navy, same as you, and trust me when I tell you I am more than capable of finding my own women!” 

Liam scoffs at this. Killian only just started shaving, he’s sure of it, and the last time he witnessed his little brother trying to interact with a female Killian stumbled over his own feet and spilled his drink down the front of her dress. 

He still brings that one up. 

-

The next day he goes to visit Killian at the project’s headquarters in the palace library. On his way there he runs into Princess Emma—almost literally, as she’s not paying any attention to where she’s going, strolling along with a sort of dazed, dreamy look in her eyes, and he does his best to catch her as respectfully as possible by the elbow before she slams into him. 

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness,” he says, with a small bow. 

“Oh! Captain Jones!” Emma blinks in surprise. “Er—I apologise, my mind was wandering.” 

Liam bows again. “No trouble at all, Princess.” 

He stands aside so she can pass and watches her go with a smile on his face, wondering if he should tease Killian about it now or wait until later. Liam flatters himself he has a good relationship with Princess Emma; he served as a member of her personal guard for a short time and they have always got on well. Killian on the other hand, always flushes bright pink whenever her name is mentioned and makes stuttering excuses for why he has a pressing need to be anywhere that she is not. 

It’s adorable, Liam thinks. Killian has a little crush. 

He finds his brother in the palace library, leaning against a bookshelf like he needs it to hold him up. His colour is high and his hair is sticking up at the back. 

“Lieutenant Jones!” Liam barks. “You are out of uniform!” 

“I—what?” Killian scowls. “What are you on about, Liam, there’s nothing wrong with my uniform.” 

Wordlessly, and with crisp, precise movements, Liam withdraws a comb from his uniform coat and hands it to his brother. Killian’s scowl deepens but he takes it and carefully tidies his hair before handing it back. 

“What have you been doing in here that got your hair all mussed up?” Liam teases. “Research got you excited?” 

“Something like that,” Killian mutters. “I—must’ve tugged on it when I was thinking.” 

“Mmmm,” says Liam, and decides the best time to torture little brothers is always. “I ran into the princess on my way here,” he says casually, biting back a grin when Killian’s ears go pink. 

“Did you?” He’s clearly trying hard to be casual but his voice comes out as more of a croak. 

“Yep. It makes sense, I suppose. Her private apartments aren’t too far from here.” 

Killian clears his throat. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” 

“Do you ever see her? Or do you hide in the bushes when she goes by?”

“Liam—” Killian growls warningly.

“I’m surprised you accepted this posting, actually, seeing as it means you’re working so close to where she lives. What are you going to do if she stops by to check on your progress? Stammer like a schoolboy in front of the rest of the project team? Run away?” 

Killian’s eyes flash. “I expect I’d manage,” he snarls. “As I keep telling you I’m an adult—” 

“—an adult, yes—”

“—and I do actually know how to speak to women!” 

Liam smirks. “Somehow I don’t think Ariel would agree.” 

“That was eight years ago, Liam! I was sixteen! And you know Ariel and I are friends now. You are literally the only person who ever talks about that anymore.” 

“Well—” 

“Do you know what your problem is?” Killian interrupts. 

“I only have one?” 

“The biggest of your many, many bloody irritating problems is that you refuse to see me as anything but a child. Not that you can’t you just won’t.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I wish I knew how to make you.” 

Liam feels a pang of guilt. He does rag on Killian quite a lot, it’s true, but it comes from a place of love. He’d been solely responsible for raising his brother from a time when he was barely more than a boy himself, and he loves Killian fiercely. He just doesn’t quite know how to express it. 

“Hey,” he says, hooking his arm around Killian’s neck and ruffling his hair again. “Don’t be like that, little brother. I’m sorry.” 

Killian pulls out of Liam’s grip and makes an ostentatious show of smoothing down his hair. “Sure,” he says. 

Liam feels bad, and he doesn’t like it. “So, um, why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on?” he says, hoping this will distract Killian from the previous teasing. 

It does. Killian brightens instantly. “Really?” he says. “You actually want to see it?” 

“Of course I do.” 

Liam doesn’t quite understand Killian’s project; it involves lots of complex equations and research into things that he never had the chance to study, but he’s immensely proud of his brother for being chosen to work on it. Killian is the youngest member of the team by a good ten years and his selection was a tremendous honour. Liam nearly burst with pride when he heard of it. 

Not that he would ever tell Killian that. 

Killian’s face is eager as he shows Liam the research he’s been doing and the presentation he’s preparing for the King and the Royal Council. Liam smiles and nods and lets him talk, his mind wandering.

-

Two days later Liam is back at the palace on business and he decides to see if Killian is free for dinner. He knocks on the door of the quarters his brother shares with the other members of the research team, who inform him that Killian isn’t there. 

“He’s not around here much,” one of them says, with a knowing smirk. “I mean, I wouldn’t be either, in his shoes. Lucky git.” 

“Can’t remember the last time he actually slept here,” adds another. “He ‘works late’ a lot.” The man makes quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “I’m guessing right now he’s busy ‘working’ real hard, you know?”

Liam does not, in fact, know. He has no idea what they could be talking about but it’s clear they think he does and so he plays along. 

“Right. Well, er, better luck next time, I guess.” 

He walks back to his ship, wondering what on earth Killian could be doing with his evenings if he’s not spending them in his quarters. Surely he’s not actually still at the library? 

That lad needs to get himself a girl, Liam thinks. If only he would agree to a date with Tink.

- 

The following Thursday is the day of Killian’s big presentation to the Royal Council. Liam arrives a few minutes early, thinking he might have to help calm his brother’s nerves. He takes a seat in the council chambers and looks around for Killian but he is nowhere to be seen. 

Then the door opens and Killian arrives, quite at his ease as he greets the council members and bows to the king. Liam frowns. He expected his brother to be cripplingly nervous, flushing and stammering through his presentation, but the reality could hardly be more different. Killian stands confidently at the lectern, looking older than his years—when did his facial hair get so thick, Liam wonders—and when he begins to speak his voice is deep and calm, with a note of authority Liam has never heard in it before. 

The crowd is riveted, hanging on his every word. The other members of the project team, the Royal Council, none can take their eyes off him. The king is actually taking notes, nodding to himself as Killian speaks. 

Liam catches a glimpse of Princess Emma sitting near the back of the chamber. She’s not officially on the Council though of course she is heir to the throne and so he’s not surprised by her presence at an important event. He is a little bit thrown by the look on her face, though. It’s soft and a bit awed, with shining eyes and flushed cheeks and a sweet smile on her lips. He’s never seen her look like that before.  

Killian concludes his presentation and opens the floor to questions from the audience. There are many, more than Liam anticipated, but Killian handles them all with aplomb, giving knowledgeable, definitive answers and not flinching even when the king himself challenges some of his conclusions. Killian stands straight with his shoulders square as they debate, and Liam gets the strangest feeling that both he and the king are enjoying themselves. 

Liam is proud. He’s always been proud of his little brother, of course he has. Of course he knows that Killian is smart and tough and hard-working, but this—this is a new kind of proud. Like he’s seeing his brother as a peer, for the first time. 

When the presentation is officially over Killian mingles a bit in the crowd and Liam debates going to speak with him. He wants to tell his brother about this new pride he’s feeling, but he’s not sure if he can find the words or if this is really the time or place. But then he sees Killian heading off through one of the council chamber’s side exits and thinks he might take the opportunity to catch Killian and have a few words in private, and so he goes to follow his brother out the door. 

So does Princess Emma. Liam bites his lip to stop his smile when he sees her heading for the same exit through which Killian just disappeared. Because yes, he did just realise that he might need to start treating Killian as more of an equal but that doesn’t change the fact that he’ll always be a big brother and he can’t help wanting to witness Killian stammer and blush when he runs into the princess. 

He slips through the door and follows Emma until she turns a corner, then hurries his pace a bit so as not to lose her.  

“Well,” he hears her say as he approaches the corner. “Fancy meeting you here, Lieutenant.” 

Liam halts just before the turn, waiting for Killian’s stammering reply. Instead he hears something that has his jaw dropping in astonishment. Killian’s voice, pitched lower than usual and with a flirtatious note in it that Liam has never, not even in his wildest dreams, imagined he might hear from his own little brother. 

“What a remarkable coincidence,” Killian replies. 

“Isn’t it just.” 

“Whatever shall I do with you, princess, now I’ve discovered you here in this very dark corridor?” Killian growls. 

“I’m sure you’ve got a few ideas.” Emma’s voice is breathless. “Brilliant man like you.” 

“Oh I do love, I absolutely do. Though I confess they all require you to be wearing rather fewer clothes.”

“Those are my favourite ones,�� Emma gasps, then Liam hears the unmistakable sound of kissing. 

They’re kissing. His brother and the princess. They’re just around the damned corner bloody well making out and flirting and talking about sex. 

Sex. 

His brother. 

And the princess. 

The princess. 

The king’s daughter. 

Is talking about sex. 

With his brother. 

What 

What 

Whaaatttt

Liam’s jaw lolls and his throat works, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously, but no sound comes out. He doesn’t know what noise he’d even make if he could, he certainly isn’t capable of forming any words. He sidles up to the edge of the wall and pokes his head around the corner, just far enough to get visual confirmation of what he still can’t believe he heard. And there it is. There they are, wrapped up in each other with her back pressed against the wall and their mouths fused together. 

Liam was almost hoping that it had all been some insane mistake, that maybe there was another lieutenant waiting in the corridor for the princess and speaking with his brother’s voice. But no. That’s Killian, unmistakably him. It looks like him and sounds like him, everything is him except that this man—yes, man—is kissing and flirting and making some pretty damned blatant allusions to sex. With the princess. Sex that he—that they—ack

Argh 

Ermmmbbgggggghhhhhh

Liam’s brain makes a noise like an old dial-up modem as he watches Killian’s mouth leave Emma’s to trail sucking kisses down the neck she arches back for him, watches as his brother’s hand slides up the bloody royal thigh and under the hem of her dress and between—no. No, he can’t. He can’t see that. He can’t think it. He. Just. Can’t. 

“Fuck.” Emma gasps, rolling her hips against Killian’s hand. “Fuck, Killian.” 

“That is definitely the aim here, love.” 

“Oh, God,” Emma moans. “We can’t do this here.”

“Can’t we?” 

“No, we can’t.” 

No you bloody well can’t, Liam’s brain screams. Please, please, please stop doing this here! 

Emma pushes Killian away and he takes a step back, giving her a smirk that is positively lewd as he slowly licks his fingers. She smirks back, completely unfazed, and saunters towards him with a swing in her hips, hooking her own fingers under the waistband of Killian’s uniform trousers. Trousers that Liam absolutely, positively refuses to notice are tented. Impressively tented. Like perhaps Killian is right to object to being called little brother.

WHYYYYYYYYY wails his brain. 

“Why don’t you come back to my place, sailor, and ravish me properly,” she purrs, and Killian puts his hand on her arse—her arse—his brother’s hand is on the princess of their bloody realm’s arse—(it was someplace far worse a minute ago, but his brain shrivels a bit and warning klaxons begin to shrill in his head before he can think too much about that)—and Killian’s fingers are tracing the curve of the arse in question and curling around the princess’s hip as they head off towards her apartments, bodies moving together in the kind of perfect harmony that suggests that when they fuck it’s hawt. 

Nonononononononononononononooooooooooooooo Liam’s brain is in full meltdown mode now, alarms shrilling and screens flashing error messages and he just. Cannot. Compute. 

He was prepared, almost very nearly prepared, to acknowledge that Killian is a grown man now, one well on his way to an impressive career and who has earned the respect of his colleagues and his king. But this—when—how did his shy and nerdy little brother become smooth enough with women to pull a bloody princess? 

Where is the blushing? The stammering? The tripping over his own feet? 

Where???

-

The next day Liam visits Killian in the library again, finding him sitting quietly at a desk with his brow furrowed as he reads from a large, leather-bound book. His uniform is pristine and his hair tidy, and his reading glasses are slipping down his nose. Liam clears his throat and Killian looks up, his face creasing with a grin. 

“Liam! I was hoping you’d drop by. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the presentation yesterday.” 

“No. I, er. Um. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s all right.” Killian waves his apology away. “I left a bit earlier than I was anticipating, actually. Something came up.” 

Liam looks at him carefully to see if this is meant to be a joke, bitterly recalling how twenty-four hours ago it would have never even occurred to him to wonder whether Killian might be making a crude innuendo about his penis. Such a thing would have been as inconceivable as the idea of his brother even carrying on a conversation with Princess Emma, much less—

Killian’s smile begins to fade and Liam pulls himself together, claps his brother on the shoulder. “You did well yesterday,” he said. “I was proud of you.” 

Killian flushes with pleasure. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “It means a lot to hear that from you.” 

That blush is what does it. It’s so familiar, too familiar, and with everything Liam now knows about Killian he simply cannot reconcile these two versions of him, his easy-blushing brother and Princess Emma’s lover and—

“You’re sleeping with her.” 

“I—what?” 

“The princess. You. I saw—and her. Kissing, and—and—how long has this been bloody going on?” 

“Ah.” Killian removes his glasses, folds them up, and places them in their case. He sets the case on the desk and stands, giving Liam a cool look that the elder Jones absolutely cannot meet. “I think perhaps we’d best discuss this someplace more private,” he says. 

He does not blush. 

Killian leads Liam out of the library and across the small, grassy quad that separates it from the royal living quarters. He nods to the guard at the entrance as they go inside and strides confidently through the maze of corridors to a door which he opens with a key that he selects from his own keychain. 

“Emma’s visiting hospitals today,” he says. “She won’t be back until late. We can talk here.” 

“This is—” Liam gulps. “This is the princess’s private apartments.” 

“Yes.” 

“To which you have a key.” 

“I live here. Not officially, of course, for the sake of the optics, but for all intents and purposes they are my apartments too.” 

“So then it’s not—not just—” 

“Not just sex?” Killian smirks. “No. We’ve been together about three years and it’s serious. I plan to marry her.” 

“But—you can’t marry a princess! You’re a—” 

“A lowly lieutenant in her father’s navy? Aye. And I certainly couldn’t marry her in that capacity. But as a valued and trusted adviser on the Royal Council? That would be rather a different story.” 

Liam feels comprehension begin to dawn. “That’s why you wanted to work on this project,” he says.  

“That’s why I wanted to work on this project,” Killian confirms. “And of course, it gives us a chance to live together normally, without attracting attention. Just to be absolutely certain this is what we want.” 

Liam collapses onto a sofa, utterly gobsmacked. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he whispers. 

“Would you have listened?” Killian sits down next to him. “Would you have believed it? All you ever do is tease me and treat me like I’m still sixteen. How would you have reacted to the news that I was dating Emma if you hadn’t seen us together with your own eyes?” 

Liam is silent. He’s ashamed of himself and for once he allows himself to fully feel that shame. Killian is right. He has treated his brother as a child, even though he clearly isn’t one anymore. Not just because of his relationship with the princess but because of his accomplishments in his career and the impressive future he has ahead of him, as a Royal Councillor and someday the Prince Consort. 

Liam could not be prouder. 

“You’re right,” he says after a long silence. “I wouldn’t have listened, and I wouldn’t have believed it. But I will now, both those things. Will you tell me the story? How you met Emma and how you fell in love? And—when you have time I’d love to see more about your project.” He clears his throat. “Actually see it, I mean, and do my best to understand.” 

Killian smiles, wide and delighted. It’s the smile of the boy Liam solemnly promised to take care of all those years ago, and it’s the smile of the man that boy has become. 

“I’d love to, brother,” he says. 

-

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @stahlop @mariakov81 @katie-dub @kmomof4 @teamhook @donteattheappleshook @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @snidgetsafan 

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #modern au #royalty au #modern royalty #captain swan #lieutenant duckling #brothers jones #error: 404 #profdanglaisstuff