Author's note: Okay, so I had this idea and the muse simply would not let it go. I have no idea how good it is, I'm not even expecting anyone to read it. But I'm putting it out there anyway, just for myself. This is a crossover story between Captain Swan of Once Upon a Time and Vicbourne from Victoria (which is Queen Victoria and Lord Melbourne for the uninitiated). OUAT deals in magic and portals and things like that, so there will be an element of that in this story. As far as canon goes, this story is set post season 6/pre season 7 of OUAT and after the Brocket Hall scene from season 1 of Victoria. There are definite historical liberties taken in this story, which is cool because I have two history degrees! LOL Hopefully, I have captured the spirit of Victoria and Melbourne; this is my first time writing them. If you're still reading, thank you? I actually really like how this turned out and I'll be working on it until it's finished. Perhaps 4-5 chapters in total. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I own neither OUAT or Victoria. Hopefully the Queen won't haunt me for this!
Chapter 1
Her son was a slob.
Well, perhaps slob was too strong a word. Disorganized might be better. Henry had been a teenager for some time and Emma was still not used to it. There were times she missed the innocent ten year old who showed up at her door all those years ago. Far too soon he would be leaving home to find his own adventure.
But not yet.
Right now, his bedroom was a mess and she was his mother. Killian would tell her to leave it (in fact, she expected him to call her out any moment), he would tell her that Henry needed to learn to clean up after himself, but Emma wanted to do it. It reminded her that her son was still at home, that she had a little more time before he was a grown up.
She'd missed out on so much time.
So Emma Swan smiled to herself as she gathered laundry, placed books back on the shelf and organized her son's video game collection. She was a mother and a wife, and she planned on enjoying that for as long as she could.
"Swan? Oi, Swan, where are you?"
"Up here!"
Killian's boots pounded on the stairs, his smile melting into a frown as he stopped in the doorway. "Swan…"
"I'll just be a few more minutes."
He shook his head, lovingly exasperated. "He'll be back tomorrow, you know."
"I know. But I'm his mom."
Killian stepped in the mostly clean room, his blue eyes surveying her work. "I was hoping we'd get to spend some time together today, love."
"We see each other every day, Killian. We work together!"
He grinned, unable to resist the urge to wrap his arm around her. "Indeed, but I'd like to see my wife relax. Preferably in the comfort of our bed."
She rolled her eyes, even as a pleasant shiver rolled down her spine. "Just a few more minutes. Then we'll spend the rest of the weekend Netflix and chilling, okay?"
"As you wish." He touched his hook to her jaw and angled her head so he could kiss her. As always, his lips were softer than they had any right to be, soft and sweet. She didn't even try to resist, pressing her hand against his hard chest, moaning softly as he pulled her closer. Years they'd been together now, and Emma never got over how amazing it felt to simply kiss Killian Jones.
And he was all hers.
When they finally broke for air, Emma kept their foreheads pressed together. "Henry would kill us if he knew we were kissing in here."
Killian chuckled. "It would be a good way to go."
Emma's fingers tightened instinctively. Even now, jokes about death scared her. Killian sensed her feelings, not hesitating to kiss her again, love and desire present in every stroke of his tongue. "Apologies, my love."
She shook her head. "Don't worry about it." She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. It never failed to make her feel safe.
But Killian did worry. Emma had been through so much, they'd been through so much; his joke had been in poor taste. He never wanted to take a moment of their life together for granted. They'd fought too hard to get a happy beginning. "I'll make us some hot chocolate," he murmured, rubbing her back.
"Hmm, I'd like that." But her smile was impish, her hands sliding down the curve of her husband's back. His eyes darkened just a fraction as he caught her meaning. He loved her so much, his Swan.
"Coming right up."
Emma bit her lip as she watched him leave. "I certainly hope so." They could use some couple time. She didn't have much more to do; she could join him in the kitchen in a minute. And she always did enjoy watching him leave the room.
Emma picked up another book, large and heavy. Was it a school book? No, it appeared to be from the Sorcerer's house. Another storybook? Was Henry messing around with his Author powers again? Emma still wasn't sure how she felt about her son having such a power. Curious, she opened the book. The pages were mostly blank, but there in the middle there was some text. She scanned it, flipping pages. She found an illustration; was that another of the Author's powers? The illustration was beautiful; a short brunette in Victorian dress was walking away from someone, her pretty face crumpled in pain. Emma didn't know why, but her heart broke for the woman in the picture. In the background a man stood, watching, his face in equal anguish.
Did you know rooks mate for life?
No sooner did she read those words than the book began to glow. Emma dropped it like a hot potato, but the glowing didn't stop. Wind swirled around the room, whipping her hair around her. Magic made the hairs on her arm stand up; she backed away from the book, tripping over the chest at the end of her son's bed. "Killian!"
Killian heard her shout, instantly dropping the saucepan. He dashed up the stairs, fear curling in his belly. He saw the glowing pulse coming from their son's room, heard Emma's cries. "Swan! Swan!"
Emma clutched at the leg of Henry's bed, wondering how things had gone so wrong, so fast. One moment she was dropping the book on the floor, the next a swirling vortex opened under it. The book tumbled into the abyss, which caused it to grow in size. The floor disappeared under her body, making it more and more difficult to hold on. "Get back!" she screamed at her husband.
"Not bloody likely," he snarled, charging forward. He dropped to the floor, reaching out. "Give me your hand!"
Emma shot him a scowl. "Can you listen for once?" she yelled, exasperated.
"Not until you're safe!" The vortex was growing; she was barely hanging on. Killian tried to anchor himself with his hook, all while he reached out with his hand. "Now give me your hand!"
Emma grunted, biting hard on her lip. She uncurled her right hand from the bed and reached out. They fumbled—her hand was sweaty from fear—but she finally grasped Killian's larger one. He pulled with all his might, struggling to pull her free of the magical vortex. But it was getting larger by the second; it would surely swallow them both. "Come on, come on," Killian chanted, giving one final heave. Emma shot forward, landing squarely on his chest, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was in his arms. They clutched at each other, ignoring the growing danger. Killian realized far too late, the floor dropping out from under his legs. He held her tight to his chest, trying to roll them out of harm's way, but he was too late. The ground swallowed them whole, husband and wife clinging to each other as they fell.
And fell.
And fell.
Neither had any idea what happened, how or why they were falling into yet another magical portal, but as long as they were together, they could face anything.
The ground came up faster than either expected, the air pushed out of their lungs violently as they struck. Killian screamed in pain, his leg crumpling under him. Emma took no notice of their surroundings as she crawled to him, silently praying they'd landed in a place where she could use her magic. The familiar hum and spark shot across her fingertips; she quickly pressed her hands to his leg. Killian groaned as she healed him, the pain leeching away.
Killian coughed, still breathless. "Bloody hell."
Emma laid her hand on his arm, finally taking in their surroundings. The air was thicker than she was used to, the clouds very low in the sky. They were in some kind of park; the grass was just starting to turn brown and the tree leaves were changing colors. It was fall, wherever they were. She thought she heard a carriage somewhere to her right, the distinct sound of a horse.
"Where the hell are we?"
Killian sat up, feeling better. Physically, at least. "How did we even get here?"
Emma shrugged. "I found one of the storybooks, you know, the ones from the Sorcerer's house? I think Henry might have been writing in it. With his Author powers."
Killian closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "What was he writing about?"
"I'm not sure. But judging from the clothes in the picture, it might have been something Victorian?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You know, the clothes. It's definitely not modern."
"I hate the feeling of déjà vu, love, but any idea how to get home?"
"Not a one."
"Great." He hoisted himself up, then helped Emma. "If you're right, then it might be a good idea to blend in. We might be here a while."
"I really hope you're wrong." Even as she said that, she was mentally preparing herself.
"Come on, Swan, where's your sense of adventure?" He smiled, placing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "We'll figure this out. We always do."
She knew he was right, but that didn't make her feel any better. Part of her hoped their days of adventure were behind them. The other part of her missed it. Which was crazy, but so was her life. She was married to Captain Freaking Hook for crying out loud! "Let's go blend in, Captain."
The park they found themselves in was surprisingly close to the road. Unless she was very much mistaken, they were in a city. Smokestacks climbed into the sky, black smoke pouring out of them. The buildings were built close together, almost on top of each other in some places. There was a lot of construction, people everywhere. Many scandalized looks came her way, her pants and turtleneck very conspicuous.
"Good grief, I'm gonna have to wear a corset again, aren't I?" she groaned under her breath.
Killian grinned, not at all put off by that prospect. "Don't sound so enthusiastic, love."
"They hurt!"
"I'll make it up to you, darling. I promise." Selfishly, he knew she would look smashing; she always did.
It was more difficult than either of them expected, finding some suitable clothing. They had to duck into the back of a dress shop and abscond with a dark blue gown, corset and petticoats. They found a quiet shed for Emma to change, Killian helping her. Unlike the last time they found themselves stuck in a foreign land, Emma wasn't shy or modest. She stripped quickly, leaving her old clothes in a pile. She was right, the petticoats and corset were uncomfortable. Killian helped with the laces, cinching them at tight as he dared.
"Alright, love?"
"As okay as I can be with whalebone digging into my spleen."
He kissed her bare shoulder. "You'll look lovely."
She rolled her eyes as she stepped into the gown, tugging it up. Once again, Killian laced her into it and placed the shawl they'd found around her shoulders. "Perfect."
Emma looked down at herself in wonder. The gown and corset forced her to stand up straight and enhanced her chest. Killian would like that. She could almost feel like a princess, which would be fun if she wasn't so worried about how they would get back home. "Your turn, sailor."
Naturally, it was much easier to find suitable clothing for Killian. All Emma had to do to complete his transformation was change his hook into a false hand. "Very dashing."
He shot her a winsome smile. "Yeah?"
She tied his cravat, then smoothed her hands over the lapels of his coat. "Almost like a proper gentleman."
"Oi! I am a gentleman, Swan!"
She giggled. "And here I thought I married a scoundrel?"
He grabbed her by the waist, dragging her flush against him. "You, my darling, are a tease."
Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, able to forget for just a moment that they were far from home. "Only for you, Captain."
"Damn right." He kissed her deeply, smoothing his hand over the material of her dress. Depending on how long they were there, perhaps he might enjoy peeling her out of it as much as he enjoyed helping her into it.
The moment passed; they really did need to figure out where they were. Hands held tight, they stepped back onto the street, seeking answers without appearing too obvious. Now that they looked "normal" far fewer people gave them even a passing glance. The English accents confirmed some of Emma's suspicions; they were in England but where? London? Manchester? York? Liverpool? Her lackluster education didn't really prepare her for something like this.
"Stay here, lass," Killian whispered, eyeing a newsstand across the street from them.
"Where are you going?"
"Back in a tic." He gave her hand a squeeze then marched purposefully across the busy lane. He had to dodge a couple of carriages—Emma was afraid he would get trampled—but it played into his plan. He walked casually past the stand, then doubled back in the crowd. That allowed him to disappear behind it and smuggle one of the papers into his coat. It bulged a little as he made his way back to his wife.
"Good grief, Killian! Be careful!"
He smirked. "I didn't know you cared, darling."
She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. "This isn't a game, you know. We are in serious trouble!"
"We've been in trouble before, Swan. Relax. Try to have some fun."
"I don't want to have fun, I want to go home."
His features softened. "We'll get home, love. I promise you. But at least we're together, yeah?"
She smiled, the tension leeching out of her, just a little. "Yeah, you're right."
"Now let's see where we dropped into." Together, they shook out the paper. It was the London Times. Well, that answered one question. The date read October 1, 1839.
"1839?!" Emma shrieked softly. She glanced around quickly, but no one seemed to notice them.
"Is that bad?"
"Killian, that's almost two hundred years in the past!"
"Well, you did say that the lad was writing in a storybook."
"Are you saying my son's trying to change the past?"
Killian squeezed her hand. "Of course not, love. But you have to admit that we don't know much about the scope of his power. Neither does he. It's not wrong for him to experiment."
"It is if he changes something!"
"But we don't know that he did. We don't know anything yet. All we have to do is find our way out."
"But how?" They had no clues, aside from the illustration Emma had seen.
"But being our usual resourceful selves, Swan." He kissed her temple.
She sighed at the feel of his lips on her skin. He always knew how to make her feel better. She looped her arm through his; they needed to find a place to stop and think. Plus, she was starving. They found a nearby coffee house and got a table. They got some odd glances; the shop's clientele was exclusively male, but Emma didn't care. Her glare practically dared someone to demand she leave. No one did. Killian continued to peruse the newspaper, hoping it would give them some further clues. After about an hour, he tossed it down in a huff. Emma set her tea cup aside, intrigued by an illustration in the paper. She unfolded the broadsheet, leaning in to see the woodcarving better. It was a young woman, pretty, very regal looking. She wore a tiara. Why did she look familiar?
The caption read: Her Majesty the Queen.
Her heart dropped. No. It couldn't be. It made no sense. Why would Henry be interested in her? Why would he be writing about a queen who died long before he was born? She thought he was interested in fairy tale characters, not real people.
Emma looked white as a sheet, almost like she'd seen a ghost. "Emma, love, what's the matter?"
It took her a moment to realize he'd spoken. She pointed at the picture. "I know who the woman in the picture is."
"You do? Who is she?"
"Killian, it's Queen Victoria."
His eyes went wide as saucers. In his time in Storybrooke, he'd taken to reading up on the history of his new home, especially naval history. In doing that, it was impossible not to acquire some knowledge of the British Empire and the Queen who reigned over it. "Are you sure?"
"Who else could it be?"
"But why would our Henry be interested in her?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. But I have a feeling that she's the way we get out of here."
Victoria stepped into her study, trying to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. What did she have to be nervous about? She'd met with her Prime Minister hundreds of times. Possibly thousands. This should be no different than the rest.
Only it was different. She was different.
Only days ago, she'd been heartbroken, bereft. She believed that she would never be happy, never have the kind of love she craved. Foolish, always so foolish. She'd placed her heart in another's hands and watched him shatter it. So tenderly, so sweetly, yet shattered all the same. Lord M looked in her eyes and lied to her. She knew that now. She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. She knew he was doing what he thought was best for her.
He just happened to be wrong.
Because she knew now. She knew he felt as she did. The flowers didn't lie. And his costume! He'd come to her ball dressed as the Leicester to her Elizabeth! Young she may be, unwise in the ways of romance too, but there was no mistaking his words. He loved her. Her dearest, most beloved Lord M loved her. That simple knowledge kept her warm, filled her chest with glee. The odds were most definitely stacked against them, but she was stubborn and resourceful. More importantly, she was Queen.
If there was a way for her to have her Lord M, she would find it. Mama, Uncle Leopold and Parliament be damned.
"The Prime Minister."
The door opened; Lord M stepped through it. Victoria felt her heart literally skip a beat as she drank him in. He was dressed in her favorite brushed green velvet jacket, so handsome. The jacket brought out his eyes, which lit up as they locked with hers. She held her breath as he knelt in front of her and kissed her hand. His lips seemed to burn against her skin; Victoria struggled to keep her face impassive.
She wasn't sure she succeeded.
"Ma'am."
"It is good to see you, Lord M."
He gave her that secret smirk that she loved. "It is good to be seen, Ma'am. I trust you slept well?"
"As well as can be expected."
He tilted his head, curious. "Is there anything I can do, Ma'am?"
Marry me? She thought. "I thought I might go riding this afternoon. It has been some time. I find I miss it."
Melbourne stared at her intently for a moment, his green eyes bright and on fire. It made her breath catch. "Indeed. The weather is fine and quite warm for October."
"Perhaps you would like to accompany me?"
"If that is your wish, Majesty."
She smiled, triumph shining in her eyes. "It is, Lord M."
"Then I shall do my best to be a worthwhile companion."
There it was again. That word. Companion. Lord M was more than her Prime Minister; she'd come to rely on him. He taught her so much about the business of being Queen; she would have been quite lost without him. He had a way of explaining politics and state policy without making her feel slow or stupid, something Victoria was quite sure Sir John and her own mother had wished her to be. So they could control her.
Victoria hated it.
Lord M never made her feel that way. He respected her as his monarch, as a person with at least some intelligence and good sense. Victoria knew she was young, had a tendency of impulsiveness. Her mistakes so far were entirely her own. Why could people not see that? Lord M had only ever given her sage advice; it was her fault that she did not always heed it. Queen she might be, but she was not faultless.
Lord M was the only person who loved her despite those flaws.
How could she not want him? How could anyone not see how happy he made her? Did her royalty mean that she had no right to be happy? Lord M had been right about one thing. She needed to be loved. She craved it. She wanted to be loved as a woman, not as a Queen. She did not want to be Elizabeth.
She wanted to be Victoria.
They spent a pleasant few hours at her boxes, going through her voluminous correspondence and dispatches. She signed papers, read more, listened to Lord M describe the latest news from the House. Victoria liked to be kept apprised of the news; she thought it made her a better Queen. More importantly, these hours were precious to her, these hours with Lord M. She could admire him without comment, soak in his handsome face, his witty stories. All without the disapproving glares of her mother or Uncle Leopold.
They made her want to scream with frustration!
Did they not think she knew her duty? Just because she wasn't in any great hurry to marry, did not mean she did not understand that she must. However, her marriage wasn't solely about England. She needed it for her own domestic happiness. How could she be a great Queen if she was paired with someone that did not suit her? Victoria knew the history of her family, too well. Some she gleaned on her own, listening to the whispers of Sir John back at Kensington. She learned more from Lord M, on their long walks through the palace. Buckingham Palace and Windsor were filled with portraits of her ancestors; Lord M answered her questions about them. The lack of happiness depressed her and made her even more determined not to suffer such a fate.
Somehow, she would find a way.
"Shall we, Ma'am?"
"Hmmm?" She'd gotten distracted, watching the way her Prime Minister's hands moved, so graceful.
Melbourne smiled. "I thought you wanted to go riding?"
"Oh! Yes! Thank you for the reminder, Lord M."
Melbourne smiled indulgently as she left to put on her riding habit. He knew exactly where her attention was; he'd always been keenly attuned to her. It was exhilarating and depressing all at once. An exquisite kind of torture, to be so close to her, yet so far. Outwardly, nothing had changed. He was still her Prime Minister, her teacher and her friend. He'd done something unforgiveable, lied to her, let her believe that he felt less for her than he did. It was for her own good, or so he told himself.
In truth, he was protecting himself as much as her.
He was a bloody coward.
And yet, he knew she deserved better. More. He loved her, oh how he loved her, but how could he make her happy, even if they could be together? He was so much older, had already lived his life. She made him feel young again, breathed life into his staid existence. He adored her for it, his little fiery Queen. But she deserved someone young, someone she could grow old with.
He was already old.
She met him by the stables, the grooms looking discreetly away as he helped her on her horse. Victoria beamed at him, her whole face alight with happiness. It made his heart clench; he had no right to her smiles. Yet he would cherish them as long as they were directed his way. Melbourne mounted his own horse, kicking the beast into an easy walk.
"Where to, Ma'am?"
Victoria shrugged. "Is a destination always a prerequisite?"
"Not necessarily. Some prefer it."
"Do you?"
"I find I'm enjoying a burst of spontaneity of late, Ma'am."
"I am glad to hear it." Then, with an impish grin, she kicked her horse into a quick trot, shooting away from him. Her pleased laughed caught in the air; Melbourne couldn't help but smile back. He hurried to follow, not wishing to let her out of his sight. She was young enough to be carefree, secure in the knowledge that he would follow. He was helpless to resist her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
It was frightening, how much he longed to bask in her fire.
Victoria let out a whoop, a quite undignified sound, but she found that she didn't care. She loved the freedom, the way the wind swept over her skin, the fluid movement of the horse under her. She'd become a very accomplished rider of late; it was one of her great joys. The lane started to give way to trees; she reigned up gently, heart racing. Lord M was at her side in seconds, his green eyes deftly taking her in from head to toe. She felt her heart flutter in her chest, his look far from chaste.
"Lord M?"
"Enjoying yourself, Ma'am?"
She smiled. "Very much." She patted her horse's neck tenderly. "It's been far too long since we've ridden out, Lord M."
He didn't want to remind her of all their mutual heartache in recent weeks, so he let her comment pass. "Perhaps we should let the horses rest for a few moments, Ma'am?"
"An excellent idea." Victoria watched in utter fascination as he dismounted, throwing his leg over the head of his horse! She recalled vividly the first time she saw him, doing precisely the same at Kensington. How young and naïve she'd been then! Victoria was still young, but she felt so much more now. He appeared at her side, holding his arms out. Victoria willingly placed herself in his hands, the warmth of him soaking through her riding habit. She fought to contain her flush as he moved to tie up the horses, securing them to a thick tree.
"Shall we?"
Victoria looped her arm through his, relishing how scandalized her family would be if they knew. She loathed causing anyone distress, but she did not wish to be ruled. She was Queen, but more importantly she was a woman. A woman who did not believe that happiness and duty were mutually exclusive.
"I do love this time of year."
"The fall, Ma'am?"
"Yes. Do you not agree?"
"I hardly take notice of such things anymore, Ma'am."
"Well, perhaps you should. It's beautiful."
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "It is that."
They were quiet for some time, simply enjoying each other's company. Victoria's heart beat with hope; could this be a glimpse of their future? Where he was no longer Prime Minister, but her husband? She would miss him dearly as the former but craved him as the latter. She was certain he could make her happy, he already did.
Melbourne couldn't stop looking at her, secretly thankful that she did not seem to notice his gaze. He was trying to burn this moment into his memory for the lonely days without her. For he would have to give her up. He'd already tried but failed. He could not fail again. When the time came he needed to give way to her future.
They were two people utterly absorbed in each other, neither noticed the rocky road ahead. Victoria felt her foot slide, the ankle twist, her arm instinctively clutched at her companion's. She cried out as she lost her balance; Melbourne caught before she could fall. Victoria winced in pain, her ankle smarting.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?" Melbourne asked urgently.
"I think…ow…I think I turned my ankle a bit." She didn't miss the way he held her, cradled against his chest. He was so warm.
"Do you think you can stand?"
"I'm not sure."
Melbourne nodded, glancing around for a place to set her down. Selfishly, he enjoyed holding her—she was so small—but he needed to see to her injury. There was a soft patch of grass to his right; he maneuvered them slowly, not wanting to hurt her. Melbourne knelt, gently depositing his Queen on the ground.
Victoria hissed, a flash of pain shooting up her leg. In an instant, Melbourne's large hands cradled hers. "Ma'am?"
"Really?" she whispered. "You're going to call me that right now?"
"I have no right to call you anything else. Ma'am."
Boldly, she curled her fingers around his. She couldn't dismiss how right it felt. "What if I wanted to give you that right?"
Melbourne swallowed; this was neither the time nor the place. His first concern was her welfare, regardless of his own. She was hurt, and he needed to tend her. Perhaps, just this once, he could appease her. Perhaps, just this once, he could give her what they both desired. "Victoria," he said softly. "May I?"
It felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. How much had she longed to hear her name on his lips? It took her a moment to realize he wanted her permission for something. Absently, she nodded. "Yes, Lord M. Please."
Unable to believe his luck, Melbourne tugged her skirts free to reveal her riding boot. He picked her leg up gingerly, turning it to see how badly she was injured. Victoria was brave, so brave, sitting completely still as he examined her. "I believe it is lightly sprained," he said quietly, biting back "ma'am" at the last second. "It should heal quickly." She was young, her body resilient. Don't think about that, he scolded himself. You have no right to her body.
"I am sorry, Lord M," Victoria murmured. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"I don't think either of us were. But perhaps we should."
"Lord M?"
He released her and drew her skirt back in place. "Ma'am…" He locked eyes with her, drawn into the brilliant blue depths. "Victoria."
Somehow, she knew what he was going to say. He was going to break both of their hearts. Again. She gripped his hand, tight. "Don't. Don't tell me I'm being silly or that I'm too young to know what I want. Who I want. Lord M, William."
His eyes shot to hers, stunned at her use of his Christian name. She was the Queen; he couldn't gainsay her, even if he wanted to. And he did not want to. He'd fantasized about her using it far too many times, in far too many compromising circumstances. He hated himself for it, but she was so beautiful, and he loved her. He was only a man, after all. Belatedly, he opened his mouth to protest, to bring them both back to reality, but she surprised him again. Always surprising him, his Victoria.
She didn't think. She couldn't think. If she thought too much, she would ruin the moment. She needed him to understand that she was serious, that she wanted him and only him. Ever. Before she could stop herself, Victoria leaned in and pressed her lips to his. She'd never done this before, aside from polite cheek kisses, family only. It was obvious she'd taken him by surprise; he hesitated for the briefest second. She almost pulled away, convinced she was doing it wrong, that she was some how offensive to him. No sooner did her mind decide than she felt a gentle hand cup the back of her head, drawing her closer. A surprised sound caught in her throat, his lips warm and firm on hers. Her heart raced, blood rushed in her ears. Victoria reached out blindly, her fingers curling in his riding jacket.
Melbourne knew it was wrong, horribly, terribly wrong, but he could not find the strength to push her away. Her kisses were too sweet, too innocent. Everything he he'd imagined and more. His hand dropped to her neck, mindful of her bonnet, his fingers lightly caressing the back on her neck. Victoria made a deliciously needy sound and he was completely lost.
Victoria still had no idea what she was doing; as always, she relied on her beloved Lord M to guide her. He gently tilted her head, breaking the kiss for a moment. Then he was back, mouth back on hers, sending tingles all over her body. An ache she didn't recognize began to build, she clung to him. She could feel his heart racing under her palm. She was dizzy, she was happy, she would never forget this moment.
Then it was over.
Melbourne mustered the last of his good sense and pushed her away. Not forcefully, still so gentle, but Victoria did not miss the determination in her Lord M's eyes. She felt bereft, cold, but she knew this was the time for her to be brave. She would not let him steal the happiness of this moment from her, even though she knew he thought it was best. She would fight for this, fight for him, even if he would not fight for himself.
"My apologies, Ma'am," Melbourne said, the heartbreak clear in his voice. "I forgot myself."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Lord M," she said briskly. "I loved every second."
So did I, he thought. Still, he shook his head. "We can not," he bit out. "You know we can't." If anyone had discovered them…Melbourne shuddered to think. A constitutional crisis would be the least of their worries. Leopold would probably skin him alive. "You're the Queen."
"Am I not also a woman? Am I not flesh and blood?" She looked determined, pressing her palm flat against his. Melbourne swallowed, astonished by her, yet unable to pull away. "Am I?"
"You are," he croaked finally. "A very beautiful one, Ma'am."
Victoria ignored that and slid her fingers between his. "Is that not enough?" When he did not reply, she tried again. "Tell me you feel nothing," she pleaded. "Tell me you do not want me, as I want you. But do not lie, William. Not to me. Please."
"You know I can't. I can't give you what you want."
"There is no one here but us," she whispered. "I simply need to know. It is so upsetting, believing you are alone."
She was going to be the death of him one day. He was on a road straight to hell, without the benefit of good intentions. He wanted her too badly. He must resist. He must. For her own good. And yet…and yet…he could not lie. He could not shatter her again. To do so would be to destroy all that was good and pure in her. And that, he could not do. "Victoria…you are not alone. I promise you."
She bestowed him with a happy watery smile. "Thank you."
They stared into each other's eyes for a few more precious seconds; complete understanding and love shined clearly. The moment was broken by distant shouts; the Queen's equerries searching for them. Melbourne released her hands and moved, helping her to stand. He slid back into the mask he wore in company, the one that he used to protect her. "Here, Alfred!" he shouted. "The Queen has taken a fall!"
"Hardly a fall," she muttered. She clung to his waist, even though she didn't need it to support herself. In fact, her ankle felt much better. "I'll be fine."
"If you keep complaining, Ma'am, I'll be forced to summon the physician."
"You wouldn't!" she cried, affronted.
He smirked at her. "I assure you, Ma'am. I am most serious."
Victoria paused, holding his eyes. Could he mean what she hoped he meant? Would he fight for them? She prayed that he would. She wanted that, more than anything. It would serve Mama and Uncle Leopold right, trying to force her into a marriage she did not want or desire.
She never got to ask him more about his intentions; Lord Alfred was hurrying forward. "It's just a sprain," she complained as four strapping stable boys brought a litter. Melbourne and Alfred helped her into the litter, ignoring her complaints. "I'm fine!"
"You should stay off your feet for a few hours, Ma'am," Melbourne soothed, his voice washing over her like a balm. "Just to be sure."
"Fine." She didn't like it, knowing it would take him away from her. Victoria felt different, reborn somehow after their precious time in the forest. She was certain the change shown in her eyes, but no one seemed to notice. No one aside from Lord M. He kept glancing at her as they carried her back to the palace, his face unreadable. She could not tell what he was thinking, and it frightened her. She could not bear it if he came to regret their stolen kiss.
"Majesty!" Skirts held high, Lehzen dashed down the back stairs, her stern German face awash in worry. Victoria did not have a chance to reply before her mother followed. "Drina! Drina! How many times have I warned you about going riding!"
"I am fine, Mama, Lehzen," she assured them. "Lord M was with me."
Both women shot him a nasty look; Victoria did not appreciate it one bit. "Lord Melbourne's help is what I am afraid of, Drina."
"Really, Mama! This must end. I am Queen and may go riding with whomever I wish, whenever I wish."
"But Drina! Think of Albert! What would he say about you…carrying on so!"
The surrounding servants discreetly averted their eyes, not wishing to be privy to the argument between Queen and Duchess. "I do not give a fig about what Albert thinks!" Victoria cried. "You would love nothing better than a husband to rule me!"
"Drina!" The Duchess looked utterly shocked and Victoria knew she'd gone too far. Her mother hated Lord M; fighting with her was not the best way to get her on her side in the battle that was coming. And Victoria, the soldier's daughter, knew that a very great battle was coming.
"I am tired," she said finally. "And my ankle is sore. I am sorry, Mama."
"Of course, my darling. You must rest." But the Duchess did not look entirely appeased. However, she chose not to argue the point. She ducked a curtsey, then took her leave. Victoria was so wrapped up in the fight with her mother that she missed Lord M's departure. She had no choice to but allow the servants to take her to her apartment, where her ladies were waiting. Emma and Harriet commiserated with her while Lehzen fussed; would her loyal governess ever see her as a woman grown and not a child?
"Will you be taking dinner in your room, Ma'am?" Emma Portman asked, her eyes sympathetic.
"I believe I will," Victoria replied, feeling a little sorry for herself. She wanted to see Lord M, to relive that magical moment in the forest. Alas, she could not. Then she had an idea. "Could you do something for me, Emma?"
"If it is in my power, of course, Ma'am."
Victoria stood too quickly; pain lanced up her leg. She ignored it. Her ladies watched as she hobbled over to her writing desk and selected a clean sheet of parchment. Victoria paused, gathering her thoughts, her pen poised over the ink. What should she say? Were there any words to describe the feelings that swirled in her chest? She was not good with words; that was much more Lord M's area of expertise. But she had to try.
Dearest Lord M,
I pray this note finds you well. My ankle is very much on the mend and I wished to thank you for your selflessness at my lack of grace. I hope you can forgive me for the scene with my mother; I missed you the moment I realized you had gone. As always, our time together is the sunshine in my days. I very much hope that sunshine will return soon.
Yours,
Victoria
If such a note fell into the wrong hands…but she trusted Emma. Emma Portman was her friend as well as Lord M's. She folded the note carefully once the ink dried, sealing it with her personal seal. Then she pressed it into Emma's hands. "From your hands to his," she said quietly. "No one else."
Emma's eyes widened for a moment, then she nodded. "It shall be done, Majesty."
"Thank you."
All she could do was wait.
"This is crazy!" Emma hissed at her husband.
"Nonsense, Swan. It's well documented that Her Majesty rides in this very park."
"You read too much."
"Never at your expense," Killian shot back with a saucy grin. In fact, he knew how much his wife loved when he read to her, his voice doing positively wicked things to her. It was a pity that this wasn't such a time.
"What are we even supposed to do? Say 'Hi, Your Majesty, but we need you to marry some stuffy German so we can go home?'"
"Of course not. And you don't know that's what needs to happen."
"It's October 1839," she countered, as if he was being deliberately obtuse. "You said this is when she gets engaged to that Albert guy."
"It is, but something about it never quite sat right with me."
Emma looked askance. "What's to 'sit right'?" she demanded. "You're not even from this world!"
"Neither are you," he pointed out. "This might not even be the exact history I've read. We don't know what Henry's done to this point."
Emma frowned. Killian had a point. Henry's powers were so undefined; he might have created a whole other universe, like Isaac did. Only with real people rather than fairy take characters. Hell, the fact that her powers worked in this world was a sign all was not as it should be. She really needed to have a stern lecture with her son about the unpredictability of magic. If they ever got out of here. No, when they got out. If she didn't get some relief from this corset soon, she could not be held responsible for her actions.
"Swan," Killian hissed. "There she is."
Emma swiveled her head, catching sight of the carriage. It was an open air carriage, black, pulled by two pairs of large bay horses. The woman from the illustration was unmistakable now, more petite than Emma expected, with dark hair coiled neatly on top of her head under her bonnet. Victoria glanced from side to side, drinking in the waves and cheers of her people, occasionally waving back.
"She's pretty."
Killian shrugged. "Perhaps. A bit young though."
Emma smacked his arm. "Says the man more than two hundred years older than his wife!"
Killian grinned. "Aye, but I've preserved my youthful glow."
"I'll give you youthful glow, Mister."
"Captain, Swan. We're in company."
Emma rolled her eyes. Yes, Killian looked fantastic in the period garb, but she wasn't about to have him go all Victorian aristocrat on her. Not her pirate. "What do we do? We can't just walk up to her!"
Killian never took his eyes off the carriage. There was some jostling in the crowd; his instincts warned him that something was amiss. "Perhaps we won't have to." He knew very well that the Queen had been shot at numerous times; if this was one such time, that could give them the chance they sought. "Follow me, Swan."
Emma wondered what he was about until she saw it too. She was the Sheriff, after all. There was a suspicious looking character following the carriage, average height, a bit chubby. He wore a hat low over his eyes and Emma nodded at Killian. They saw the man reach for something in his pocket at the same moment; they moved as one, Emma cursing her skirts.
"Down!" Killian screamed.
"Everyone down!" Emma called out in her loudest Sheriff voice. People all around them seemed to freeze, but it only lasted a heartbeat. A second later, there was chaos. The Queen's companion flung themselves over her; men, women and children dashed in all directions. All but one moved away from the carriage. Their prey fought his way through, arm raised. Killian made a wild dive, taking the man's legs out at the last second. Emma flung her hands out, using her magic to bind the perpetrator; ropes wound around his wrists. The man writhed in pain, Killian's knee on his chest.
"Check on the Queen," Killian growled.
Emma didn't need to be told twice. She was only going to get one shot at this. "Your Majesty? Are you alright?"
The young woman pushed herself up, scowling at her protector. "I am fine, Lehzen," she snapped. Her bonnet was in disarray, her shawl askew, but the Queen looked surprisingly calm. Emma was impressed. This wasn't the old sad woman she knew from photographs. This was a young woman, vibrant and alive. And brave. Victoria locked eyes with her savior, then widened in shock. "You're a woman."
"Um, yes, Your Majesty." Emma didn't know what to do; it occurred to her she should curtsey. She wasn't sure she did it right, but Victoria didn't seem to mind. "Are you alright?"
Victoria found herself smiling at the odd woman. She couldn't pinpoint what made her so odd, perhaps her forthright nature? "I am perfectly well. Thank you for your assistance."
"It's what we do," Emma replied simply. "My husband and I, that is. We help people."
"I am most grateful." Police were arriving from all sides, quick to relieve Killian of his prisoner. Emma was grateful when he joined her, bowing elegantly to the Queen. Bastard. "What are your names?"
It was Emma who spoke. "Emma Swan-Jones," she said. Killian elbowed her, and she finished. "Ma'am."
"Captain Killian Jones, Your Majesty."
"I truly can not thank you enough," Victoria said, smiling. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest from surprise, but she wasn't afraid. "Is there anything I can do?"
"The pleasure was all ours, Your Majesty." Killian shared a glance with his wife. "We are just happy you are safe."
Victoria watched the police take her would be attacker away. It was highly unusual, but she never met anyone as fascinating at the pair in front of her. Aside from Lord M, of course. "You must come to Buckingham Palace," she offered. "I insist."
"Ma'am, we couldn't impose…"
"Believe me, there are more than enough rooms. I would like to thank you properly."
Lehzen shook her head. "Majesty…"
"It is my palace, Lehzen. Would you have me put my saviors out on the street?"
"Certainly not, Majesty."
"Then it is settled." She returned to Killian and Emma. "Captain Jones, would you accept my invitation for you and your wife?"
"We would be honored, Your Majesty."
"I will see you soon then." She smiled at them as the carriage began to roll away; Emma didn't know what to think. The Queen certainly wasn't anything she was expecting. It made her think again about the illustration she found in Henry's book. Victoria appeared so heartbroken in that picture. Had anything changed? Why was she so sad in that moment? Who was the man behind her? Did that have something to do with how they got here?
"Swan, are you alright?"
Emma curled her arm through his. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."
"Well done on the restraints," he murmured as they followed the Queen's carriage. "Bastard never stood a chance."
"I had to do something. No handcuffs."
"A pity, that is." He waggled his brows at her suggestively.
"Seriously?"
"What? You love a good adventure as much as I, darling."
"No, I don't."
"You keep telling yourself that." Emma rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the voice that said he was right. She met Queen freaking Victoria! And not the old one everyone saw in the statues and stamps and stuff. This woman was young, just coming into her own. Emma felt a little envious, recalling her life at that age. Emma had come so far since then, with a husband and a son she adored; she wondered what the future held in store on their journey home.
No matter what, she knew that she and Killian were in it together.
"Lord Melbourne! Lord Melbourne!"
Melbourne turned, surprised at the near hysterical summons. "Yes?"
The young man skidded to a stop, panting with his hands on his knees. "My lord…there's been an incident. With the Queen."
Melbourne's hackles instantly went up, dread seizing his heart; his voice, however, was deadly calm. "Where is the Queen?"
"Buckingham Palace," his secretary replied, still out of breath. "She's safe."
Melbourne relaxed, just a fraction. He couldn't describe the fear that gripped him, bone deep and cold. If he lost her…he would never recover. She was his reason to go on. "What happened?"
With shaking breaths, the young man described the situation as he knew it. The Queen had been out for a drive with that German watchdog of hers. An unknown man tried to accost her carriage, but he was stopped by a pair of bystanders. Most miraculous escape. Melbourne knew his Queen, she was young, resilient, brave to a fault. Still, he could not shake his need to see her, to confirm with his own eyes that she was safe and unharmed.
"Melbourne!"
Melbourne inwardly groaned; of course, it was Peel. How many connections did the man have? Then again, the Metropolitan Police force had always been his baby. Melbourne should consider himself lucky he heard the news from his secretary and not his political rival. "I already know, Sir Robert."
"My men have the, ah, assailant in custody," Peel said quickly, more worry in his face than Melbourne expected. It was no secret Peel was not an admirer of Melbourne's close relationship with the Queen. "He's being questioned now."
"Do we know who he is, or why he wanted to harm Her Majesty?"
"We're not sure he truly wished to harm her," Peel said, completely baffled. "But he did carry a pistol."
Melbourne's hand shook with barely suppressed fury. Peel was utterly useless. He needed to see Victoria. Now. "Then what other explanation can there be, Peel? Her Majesty has had a close escape!"
Peel was taken aback by Melbourne's tone. The man could be infuriatingly calm. Not so now. "Are we not a nation of laws, Prime Minister?" Peel shot back. "Innocent until proven guilty."
Melbourne forced himself to relax. He was dangerously close to giving himself away. He simply could not fathom a world without Victoria. "Very well. I expect an update the moment you have information."
"You have my word." Then Peel's face softened, just a fraction. "You are not the only one who cares about the well being of our little queen, Melbourne."
"Thank you, Sir Robert."
"Perhaps we should gather more facts before enlightening the House? I'll take care of my people."
Melbourne nodded gratefully. He could send his secretary on the same errand for the Whigs. Wild speculation was the province of the newspapers. There was no reason to cause a panic. The Queen was safe in her palace, as she should be.
After sending his secretary on his way, Melbourne summoned his carriage. He cursed the fact that he had not ridden in this morning; there hadn't been a pressing need at the time. As he made his way toward the palace, Melbourne couldn't help the twinge of guilt that settled in his belly. Was this his fault? He visited the Queen almost every day, but he'd begged off today, citing pressing business in the House. The truth was much more selfish. He did not trust himself. Now that he had a small taste of her, wanted more. He wanted her, Victoria, a woman so beautiful it made his chest ache.
She was the one thing he could not have.
Even if he wasn't over twice her age, he would be utterly unsuitable! A lowly viscount, barely of the aristocracy! A man who had more than one scandal attached to his name! A man who'd been unable to make his first wife happy, weighed down with the knowledge that it was his own fault. Caro was a wild spirit, vibrant, and he'd ignored her. No wonder she flew into the arms of Byron.
He needed to stop this. He couldn't have Victoria for his own. He needed to be content with things as they were. Soak in these last days before she was married and out of his reach. Just a few more days in the sun was all he truly wanted.
The palace guards knew his carriage well; they opened the gates readily. Melbourne found himself scowling at that; he could have been anyone! Perhaps he should talk to her about tightening the palace's security.
Melbourne could just picture her face if he suggested such a thing.
As he descended from the carriage and headed inside, something else niggled at him. What of these bystanders? Could a pair of random citizens take down an attacker? Where were the Queen's soldiers? So many questions. Too many. As a political figure, he could accept danger for himself. But not her. She was light and beauty, wanting nothing more than to serve her people to the best of her ability. How could anyone not love her?
Don't go down that road, he scolded himself. You can't, no matter how much you may wish it.
Melbourne waited impatiently while Penge went to announce him. Court formality was keeping her from him! He needed to know she was alright! "The Prime Minister!"
Victoria's shout surprised him. "Lord M!"
Quickly, Melbourne entered the room, his eyes seeking Victoria's. Her cobalt blue irises shined so bright, clearly happy to see him despite her fright. He knelt at her feet, brushing his lips over her outstretched hand. "Ma'am, I came as soon as I heard. Are you well?"
Victoria felt herself settle, Lord M's presence most welcome. In truth, he was the only person she wished to see right now. But the proprieties must be observed. "I am quite well, Lord M. I hardly knew what had happened until it was over."
"What did happen, Ma'am? Reports are incomplete. However, I can report that the police do have your attacker in custody."
"That's certainly a relief. As for what happened…"
Emma saw the Queen struggling to sort out her thoughts. Something about this man—handsome, no doubt, if older, not that there was anything wrong with that—made Victoria nervous. No, perhaps not nervous. At least not from fear. It reminded her of how Killian made her feel, back on the beanstalk. Like he could see right through her.
Oh boy, they were in trouble.
"Perhaps we can help," Emma said quickly. She rose from the settee she'd been sharing with the Queen. She bowed her head respectfully. "Prime Minister."
"Oh! Where are my manners?" Victoria cried, shooting Emma a grateful look. Everything happened so fast; Lord M had been all Victoria could think about since the incident. She needed to see him. She thought she did an admirable job concealing how out of sorts she felt but having Lord M there was throwing off her composure. It was their first meeting since their ride. She got the distinct impression he was avoiding her. And now, to see him after her very life had been threatened…she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her.
She wanted something that was impossible.
"Lord M, this is Emma Swan-Jones and her husband, Captain Killian Jones. They rescued me."
Killian moved to stand at Emma's side and extended his hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Lord Melbourne."
"Her Majesty's Government is most grateful for your assistance, Captain." The other man had a surprisingly strong grip; Melbourne didn't quite know what to make of him. Or why Victoria felt compelled to bring the pair to the palace. Gratitude, he supposed.
"Truth be told, my wife did all the hard work." Killian looked fondly at his wife; it was obvious that they were very much in love.
Emma wanted to roll her eyes but fought the urge. They needed to make a good impression. After spending time with Victoria, Emma was even more certain the Queen was connected to their way home. How? She had no idea. It was just a feeling. But Killian always encouraged her to trust her gut. Right now, it was telling her that the little queen was the key to finding a way home. "Don't be modest, Killian. You spotted the trouble first."
Melbourne glanced between the pair. "There is an investigation under way. If there is anything you can tell us that will help…"
"We were just walking along the Mall, weren't we, Killian?"
"Aye. This bloke, he kept staring at Her Majesty, following the carriage down the lane. I saw him reach for something and reacted."
"You were very brave," Victoria said earnestly. "I noticed nothing. Thank you, Captain."
"Long years at sea make one wary, Ma'am."
"You're a sailor?" Melbourne asked, surprised.
"Long ago," Killian replied, noncommittal. "I am happily married these days."
"You simply must stay," Victoria said. "For a few days, at least. I know no other way to thank you."
"We didn't do much," Emma protested, even though sticking around would give them more time to figure things out.
"You saved my life," Victoria said firmly. "I insist. Please." Victoria genuinely like the pair; she never got to meet anyone outside of her circumscribed circle. She wanted to learn all about them.
Emma nodded. "Thank you, Ma'am."
"Lehzen! Please have a suite made up for the Joneses!" she ordered, using her most regal tone. Lehzen did not like her plans one bit, Victoria knew. But she was determined to have her way. "Provide them with anything they require."
Lehzen curtseyed deeply. "As you wish, Majesty."
No tension there, Emma thought. She hadn't meant to cause trouble; hell, she didn't even want to be here! Her corset was killing her, her feet hurt from the damn shoes. Killian looked at her like she was stunning, but he always did that. It didn't make her feel all that better. Emma just wanted to go home.
Killian wrapped his arm loosely around his wife's waist, coaxing her back to the settee. "Alright there, Swan?"
"As okay as I can be with whalebone digging into my ribs."
He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You'll be free soon. We're getting our own suite."
Emma allowed herself to lean against him; she was tired. She forgot how exhausting adventures could be. "What would I give for a long hot bath?"
"I'm sure we could ask for one."
"What's this 'we' stuff? You'll get us kicked out of here!"
"Pirate, darling," he reminded her. "And you, dearest wife, look utterly delectable in this gown."
"You're just upset you haven't gotten laid in a few days."
"Now who's scandalizing us, Swan?" He took her hand in his, his strong fingers massaging her tense muscles. Emma didn't want to relax—they were in a serious fix—but she couldn't resist his touch. "I don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying ourselves while we're here."
"We'll see, sailor. We'll see." She felt herself melting into him; with everything that happened, she almost forgot about their original plans for the weekend. Spending an ungodly amount of time in bed. Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.
Victoria glanced meaningfully at her Prime Minister. With her new friends being taken care of, she hoped to steal a moment with Lord M. He gave her an imperceptible nod, following her to the bay window. "I am glad to see you well, Ma'am," he murmured once they'd separated themselves.
"It happened too quickly for me to be frightened," she admitted, equally quiet. "That happened after."
Lord M's eyes softened, the concern for her clear. She knew down to her very soul that he cared about her, Victoria, not the monarch. She saw his hand twitch, reaching for her for just a split second. Then he pulled away, remembering himself. "I am very sorry you had to go through that, Ma'am." I am sorry I wasn't there, his eyes said.
Victoria ignored his hesitation, curling her hands around his larger ones. "You're here now, Lord M. And that is all I want."
"It is all I want too, Ma'am." He let her squeeze his hands before gently letting her go. They needed to be careful, especially now.
Emma stared the pair for a long moment, then turned to Killian. He shared her worry. They'd both been around too many True Love couples not to see what was right in front of them. What the hell were they supposed to do now?