For my darling CSSS over on Tumblr, Liz. Hope you enjoy this little fic that started as a 'build-a-fic' because we were both stumped for ideas, and grew into this little gem. I had such a fun time writing this, thank you for giving me the opportunity to and for being such a lovely CSSS to hang out with in this deathly hiatus! Can't wait to talk without the mask now :)
…
Call it Magic. Call it True.
…
The day Liam dies is the first day of his self-inflicted exile. The burden of the kingdom's needs fall heavy on the shoulders of young Prince Killian but, with his parents long gone and the loss of his brother, the prince simply wishes to hide.
There's a castle up in the mountains, beyond the edge of his land's purview. It's safe and quiet and a perfect place for someone to grieve. His kingdom doesn't need him – it needs a leader, someone to pull them from the darkness of their losses and he is simply not the man.
The castle is quiet when he arrives, just as he had expected. No one has lived here in a long time, the grounds vacated long before the great ogre wars. Liam had once told him a tale of an enchantress who had found her home here, a lost girl from a neighbouring kingdom who had been taken from her family at a young age and raised in isolation, taking lost souls into her care and helping them to forget their woes. Upon stepping foot in the castle, he almost dares to hope he will be greeted by such a sight, however it isn't to be. Any hopes of his enchantress have perished as his brother's life has.
He finds some kindling and starts a fire in one of the smaller rooms, hoping that it'll heat up faster in this icy winter. There's a bed in here too and he thinks this will do nicely for the night. Though raised in prosperity, he knows how to fend for himself – long days and nights of sailing with his brother on the beautiful sea their kingdom had bordered had taught him well – and has brought enough provisions to last him a few days before he has to start hunting for game or fishing in the nearby rivers.
It's quiet here and, for that, he is grateful.
…
He wakes in the night, the glowing embers in the fireplace still taking the chill off the air, to the sound of footsteps. Sitting up in the spacious bed he looks around the room, the light of the moon and the fire illuminating the room in a mix of blue and orange shadows.
"Hello," he tries softly, his heart racing. There are a few wooden planks near the bed that will suffice as weaponry until he can get to his sword but, if his attacker is smart, they will have picked it up themselves on the way in.
Only silence greets him in answer though and he breathes a sigh of relief. He puts it down to exhaustion and grief and lays back down, shaking his head at his ridiculous fears.
But, as he sleeps, he dreams of a beautiful blonde woman, her smile soft and caring, her eyes mysterious and haunting. And when he awakens in the morning, his heart is filled with a longing that has nothing to do with the loss of his brother.
…
To say he is distracted as he walks through the woods the next day is a huge understatement. Every sound he hears in a memory of the curious woman from his dream, every branch snapping underfoot takes him back to blonde hair and cherry lips and he has no idea why or how to escape it. She has taken over every thought in his mind, every sense of his body. He pines for her without knowing a damn thing about her.
Except that maybe the enchantress of Liam's stories lives.
The thought that that could even be true shakes him a little and he wonders if he's going mad. He wonders if his dreams and thoughts could just be a figment of his need to feel his brother close again. But then he catches a glimpse of blonde out of the corner of his eye and knows that she is close and that she is real.
…
His heart is pounding, blood rushing in his ears, when he wakes up this time, a yell dying on his lips, a name half called into the night.
"Emma," he whispers, the name still wanting to escape him. He knows of no Emma, but still can't help his tongue forming the word. He tries it again, bolder this time, louder, "Emma."
There is movement to the left of him and he spins around, searching the dark walls for any trace of this woman who is haunting him. The shadows move in eerie patterns across the curtains and stone and he swears he can feel a presence there, his body practically vibrating with sensitivity.
"Please," he asks, "Please just come out."
A rush of wind comes from the dark corner of the room where the fire's light hasn't touched and, just like that, the glowing embers of warmth are extinguished.
He can hear everything, his breath coming out in sharp pants of fear, the low creak of the old bed he resides in as he slowly moves towards the edge, preparing to flee if he needs to, the crackle of dying flames in the fireplace. But he can't hear her. And that terrifies him.
His eyes won't adjust to the lack of light, the new moon cycle having started this evening and plunging the world into darkness. He wants to beg for his life, but somehow knows that this woman, this Emma, won't hurt him. If Liam's stories are true, she wants to help.
But even still, he's not prepared when he feels a soft breath against his lips and the smell of buttercups and spring fills his nostrils. Suddenly everything is still and quiet, his breath held, his movement stopped. There is nothing but them in this world. He wants to reach out and grab her, make her his, but his arms are firmly by his sides as though being held there by some invisible force. The air is charged between them, anticipation building and burning as the heat of her breath moistens his lips.
A warmth washes over him, magical and entrancing and he knows she is mere moments away. And then he feels her, her lips just barely touching his, hardly a graze. He hears a gasp and then nothing. Throwing all caution to the wind, he leans into her kiss, but finds the air empty, her slight figure already having vacated the room. His breath leaves him in a heavy sigh, hardly aware that he's been holding it to start with. "Gods," he whispers as the sun crests over the horizon, revealing to him an empty room. He truly is a wreck.
…
He doesn't so much as catch a glimpse of her for a week following that night, busying himself with cleaning up the castle and hunting for his dinners. Messages from his knights begin to arrive asking when he's coming back, telling him of turmoil in the kingdom, the people in despair after the loss of a great leader. He wishes he could find the words to say he's simply not coming back, but they won't come. He understands his weakness, his selfishness in walking away from his kingdom – Liam's death has rattled him and made him face his own mortality. He is the only one of his family left now and that's a bigger burden than he knows what to do with.
So he continues to work, restoring his new home to its former grandeur. And if he catches himself looking down a hallway too long or spinning around at the slightest hint of noise that is entirely nothing to do with the blonde woman still haunting his dreams.
…
She comes by night again, but this time he can see her. "Hello," he says, sitting up in bed and staring in wonder at her, "Emma, right?"
He has an overwhelming urge to hold out his hand and introduce himself, but he pushes that back in fear of frightening her.
She nods at him, tilting her head, "Your kingdom needs you, you know?"
Of all the things to come from her pretty mouth, he had not been expecting that. It takes him aback slightly, his defences coming up without him having any say in the matter, "And what do you know of my kingdom?"
She glares at him with defiance, her odd timidness all but gone, "I know of their grief and I know of yours. You are braver than you are letting yourself be, you must return to the kingdom for your family."
Killian remembers the stories of the mysterious enchantress and her lone existence and wonders aloud, "And what would you know of family?"
She flinches away from him, eyes darting to the ground as she utters, "Nothing."
And he feels instant regret. She has done nothing to him but made him feel less alone, which is exactly what he needs in this time. "I'm sorry, lass," he whispers, climbing out of the bed and walking across the cool floor to meet her by the window. He immediately wishes he wore more than cotton pants to bed as the chill of the night reaches him, but he doesn't stop his steps towards the enchantress, knowing this is important, "I didn't mean…"
She looks up at him, eyes fierce, "It matters not what you meant. You must see."
Her hands reach up, forming a circle in the air, the room melting away in that spot as his kingdom comes into view. "How did you…?"
She hushes him and indicates that he should just watch. And what he sees breaks his heart. His kingdom was once filled with dancing and singing and joyous seaside events. And now, even in the depths of night, he can feel the change, can feel the sadness pouring through this magical portal. It makes him shiver and he turns away from it, wanting to erase the image from his mind. But he can't, it's burned there by witchcraft and he knows Emma is doing this to him.
"You have to make it stop. Go to my kingdom, give them what they need and let me live in my grief."
The portal shrinks away into nothingness as Emma moves to his side, "That is not my endeavour."
He turns to face her, finding her much closer than he had anticipated. He can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the quiver in her bottom lip, the crinkle in her brow and he realises that she really doesn't know what to do with him. "And what is?" he asks.
Her eyes flicker down to his lips and back up again, her resolve wavering, "With you, I don't know. You're not like any man I've met before. I have never been unsuccessful in my quests to return men to their kingdoms, to face their families and loved ones. They cast their eye on me and they have a moment where I make them see. But you, Killian Jones, you don't run from me, you don't see me as a bigger threat than your problems at home. And I don't know what that means."
She's so close that he can feel her breath again and it terrifies him, but she's right – he won't run. "I don't want to go back if you're not with me," he says honestly, realising it a moment before he opens his mouth.
It's ludicrous because he doesn't know her but he is sure, within his heart, that she is his future.
She really is finding it difficult to keep her eyes trained on his, the need to slide shut and lean into him nearly overwhelming. But she remains strong, pulling back from him to catch her breath, "I am what I am, Killian. I live this way because I know of nothing else."
He's never been clearer on anything before in his life though and he steps into her space again, delighting over the fact that she is magnetised to him and doesn't turn away, "Then let me teach you. Give my life purpose again."
This is not how she imagined her life in any way. It's been a long time since anyone cared for her, or put her first. But he has intrigued her from the moment she saw him. Somehow, he is different than the other men who have sought comfort in her home. She inclines her head, seeing only truth in his blue depths and, realising what she is about to do, whispers the most terrifying word of her life, "Okay."
He smiles and she can see it then, can see the same look she sees on the other men, the enlightenment, the courage, the sudden knowledge of what to do. And now she understands, though she'll still let him figure it out on his own, that she is his moment. And now he can see.
…
Thoughts?