Emma, almost half of her body lying on Killian, was resting her head on her left arm, his right one embracing her back while stroking her ivory skin with his thumb. Her index finger drew tiny circles right under one of his collarbones, its tip almost flying over his hot skin. Her golden hair fell all over her back and messy strains covered some of her face, which he tenderly stroke behind her ear, carefully using the point of his hook. His azure eyes then returned to the ceiling, wearing a warm yet faint smile on his lips, a deep sigh leaving his nose. Killian's mouth opened gently, his eyes half shut.

"Stars have fallen on thy eyes,
Constellating brand new skies,
Building planets, growing life,
This galaxy was made to thrieve.

And in thy worlds I shall resume,
Relieved from darkness, I rebloom,
Found the strength to fight the night,
Thy sky, m'love, will be my guide."

His voice sounded like velvet, Emma thought, soothing her ears with his whispers. When he turned his head to find her gaze again, her peach pink lips had formed a little smile.

"I liked that. Who wrote it?" Her voice sounded husky for she hadn't talked in a while. Killian's eyes fled hers shyly to watch the movement of his fingers, entangled in her hair. The corner of his mouth raised, a sneaky half smirk appearing. Emma side-eyed him, raising a brow.

"Did you write it?" A little laugh escaped Killian's mouth before he answered.

"No, I most certainly didn't."

"Then why the smirk?" His eyes, now serious yet still soft, looked into her jade ones, them sparkling in confusion.

"Because it reminded me, once again, that our heritage is from two entire different worlds. Where I come from, every scion knows this poem. It was written by one of the most famous poets my realm has ever seen."

"Really? What's his name?" Emma felt curiosity sneaking up inside of her chest, yet she still couldn't help looking calm and unfazed, expecting to hear a familiar name.

"Johann W. Right."

"Hm, never heard of him before." Emma blinked, noticing her slight disappointment. She was expecting something like the Grimm Brothers or Hans Christian Andersen or some other fairy tale related writer. Now that she was finally starting to embrace the thought of the possibility that all of it was real, the whole fairy tale world in its entirety, it felt odd to hear a new name, a name she didn't grow up with. Killian noticed Emma's confusion.

"It's alright, love. Now you know how I feel, the majority of the time," he winked and she raised a brow, smiling.

"Yeah, with the difference that you're really catching up with my world's books and stories, aren't you? I've seen you walk inside of the library. What's up with that?"

"I just had a chat with Mrs. Gold, that's all," he half grinned again.

"Oh, really?" Emma mirrored his mocking tone. "Did you have tea with Mr. Gold afterwards, too?" Killian chuckled before he answered.

"No, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you there, love. I went to the library to lend some books. Belle recommended me some good ones, I've actually finished most of them. You have some tempting reads in this world," he said, smiling.

"Which ones did you borrow from her?" Emma wanted to know. Killian gave it a quick thought before answering.

"Well, the obvious ones, Treasure Island and Moby Dick, which were both inaccurate, by the way, Long John never had a parrot, what nonsense, and Captain Ahab wasn't after a white whale, he was after a white pearl, apparently as large as a whale." Emma chuckled, but Killian didn't notice.

"And then there were some volumes of poetry, short stories and a few plays."

"And which one was your favorite, so far?" Emma asked, her eyes locked onto his burgundy lips, which opened without even hesitating.

"'The Masque of the Red Death'."

'Poe,' Emma realized, she had read that short story back in school. She remembered it was about a cowardly prince, a dagger and, as the title revealed, the red death. Red… somehow it made her think of their time back in the Enchanted Forest. Her red dress… Hook's vest, the flames that almost killed her mother… Emma cringed with the thought. Killian noticed her little shiver and pulled her closer to his chest, placing a kiss on her hair.

'Wait a minute,' Emma thought, her eyes widening a little. 'A coward, a dagger and… the red death. This was why he liked this tale? It's the story of his revenge… a successful revenge,' she figured out, a silent gasp leaving her mouth. Emma knew, no she was convinced Killian was done with his urge to avenge her; she knew he didn't want to kill his former foe Rumpelstiltskin anymore. She had seen his former self and she had realized how much this man had changed. He had fought too hard to get here, to find his place in Storybrooke… to win her heart, fair and square… and he wouldn't trade it back again. But he still couldn't forget… he couldn't forgive. Emma looked down his arm and found his tattoo. A slight streak of jealousy ran across her spine, reaching every cell in her body. '300 years,' she thought… 'How couldn't he forget her?' she wondered. 'What made her so special?' She had tried to draw that secret from him before and only weeks had passed since the day they had sat together at that fireplace. Even though Killian had talked about his past back then, it wasn't nearly as much as she wanted to know. She had to try again. She had to know. He had loved this woman for centuries and there must have been a reason for that. 'That's not jealousy,' she told herself, 'it's just… research'. But how to do it, she silently asked inside of her mind before she discovered the delicate white lines all across of his arms and chest. Some had a fleshy tone, some were just small and fair, but they were all scars. Sword scars. Emma's finger gently traced the lines.

"Where did you get these?" she almost whispered. Emma's voice awoke Killian from his thoughts, his eyes trying to find out what she meant. He smiled.

"I'm a pirate, remember?" Emma returned the smile.

"I know, but aren't there some great stories you wanna brag about?" she winked and Killian liked it. His head returned to the ceiling again.

"There are too many to tell, love. I'm afraid you have to choose a specific scar."

Emma scanned his body and her eyes caught a tiny little blue flower on the side of his chest, its stalk entwined around an exalted pink scar. 'Another tattoo,' Emma's brows raised, her finger pointing at it.

"This one," she said, searching for his eyes. Killian smiled a warm smile, as if he was expecting it already. He sighed deeply, remaining frozen for a long moment, before he finally opened his mouth.

"Excellent choice, Swan. It's the best tale I've got to tell. That scar," he took a deep breath again, "is a reminder of the best, most agile and skilled sword fighter I've ever met, in my entire life. I've got scarred with this mark," he gently stroke across the pink line, "while I was teaching my one student I ever thought was worth the time I spent on them. I've got scarred with this mark," his vulnerable eyes found Emma's now before his low voice broke, "by Milah."