a/n: So, I did it, my first fanfic in years. There is a blatant shout-out to another one of my favorite fandoms (hint: it's not Frozen). It is un-betaed at the moment, so please forgive the mistakes.
For lady-silverblood (because she is awesome and go follow her NOW)
She barely manages to leap out of the way before the ice crystal splinters into millions of shards against the tree.
"Emma!"
Huffing in disbelief, she lifts herself up from the ground and examines her now shredded blouse. "Really?"
"Emma, love, are you all-" The clashes of swords shattering the crystals drown out his voice and after a magnificent roll between two soldiers who have now turned to ice he manages to stand by her side, shielding her. He looks briefly at her torn clothing. "Emma," he grits.
"Killian," she mocks. And honestly, it's just a scratch, the tip barely managing to scrape her skin, but she already feels the cold beginning to seep through her ribs, freezing her lungs into place. She flicks her hand across the wound and watches the skin knit itself together, the ice disappearing before her eyes. The potion Regina had managed to brew on such short notice only delays the inevitable and only strong magic can undo the smaller injuries. She looks at the soldiers around them, crystal statues in a white wonderland. She shivers.
She stands up next to her husband and they continue their assault, wind howling, snow flurries sticking to her face, and she thinks that it couldn't possibly get any worse (who is she kidding?) because there are fucking snowmen who are hurling icicles at them from their mouths and as much as she loves the cold weather, she loathes snow and everything to do with it. They are almost to the Snow Queen's castle, its crystal turrets visible in the distance, which meant the Ice Generals were nearby and if someone had asked her before if ice cubes could move with such grace she would have clocked them over the head with her gun. But she's a fairytale princess and this is bullshit.
It's the unearthly screech, like the sound of bells mixed with the sound of compacting metal, and the drop in temperature (which seemed impossible) which alerts Emma and Killian of their presence. They were magnificent creatures, beautiful marionettes in the form of ethereal nude beings, the only indication that they possessed any semblance of a face were cruel, iris-less eyes that glowed with malice. The screeches came when they would gather their dark magic, snow and ice swirling in their palms that shot outward at blinding speeds. Everything their ice touched froze almost instantly. Fortunately, it took time for the beings to summon their key attack and instead often used hand-to-hand combat. Their harsh blow was enough to remove a limb.
Emma and Killian continue their own wild dance of swords across the frozen landscape, ducking shards, back to back, fluid in their movements, each anticipating the other's attack. It is as Emma is decapitating a particularly annoying general that the hit comes from seemingly nowhere and she is thrown several feet in the air.
"Emma!" Killian yells and dodges the same blow. He turns swiftly, slicing cleanly through its arm before viciously removing its head. It is the blinding rage that keeps him from noticing the other general gaining momentum, running towards him, the screech reverberating through the air, the eddy of magic gathered in a ball in its hand…
It raises its arms in the air, ready to release the ball of energy when an arrow glides neatly through its eye and the being explodes into a burst of sand crystals.
"Really daddy," a husky, teasing voice says and they both turn to the young woman standing behind them, quiver gripped firmly in her hand. "Mom has handled worse than that." She chuckles and flips her dark hair out her face. She is dressed from head-to-toe in black: leather breeches, collared shirt with velvet vest, and a long leather coat. She is the spitting image of her father, with clear blue eyes and a shit-eating grin, but her upturned nose and small lips are her mother's.
Her smirk is infectious and for a moment she stares at her parents in admiration before her next comment dies on her lips. Swiftly, as if she had never paused at all, she loads her quiver and unleashes a torrent of arrows at their approaching foes. Killian quickly helps Emma to her feet and they are once again carving through the ice.
"Sarah!" Killian yells over to his daughter who is busy dropkicking an Ice General. "Where is your brother?"
"I don't know!" Sarah yells back, sticking her dagger in its eye. "But he's fine! Roland, Henry and Mal are with him!" She is backhanded across the face by another general and she proceeds to punch it into the ground. "But I know Liam's okay! I can feel it!"
Killian nods grimly and returns to concentrating on his fight. He supposes that he will one day have to get used to the fact that his son prefers the company of the Imp's son but if his daughter said he was okay then he knew it to be true. Sarah and Liam had been attached at the hip since birth, sensing each other's emotions and feelings in a way that he supposes only twins can. Despite their shared womb, brother and sister are nothing alike. Where Sarah is dark and lively, Liam is quiet and fair-haired (annoyingly like his charming grandfather), their only shared feature being his blue eyes. But his children have their mother's fighting spirit and his sense of adventure and it pains him that because of who they are they would always be in the face of danger. If someone had told him twenty years ago that in a few short years he would be married to his Swan, a father, proceeded by years and years of battling ogres, evil witches, and bloody snow people, he would have laughed in their face. The bloody prince had not lied when he had said that true love meant always fighting for their love.
He is sticking his hook in the belly of a general when he realizes that their numbers are dwindling. The flying icicles are more sporadic and he sees only a handful of the generals left. Killian does not feel optimistic. The Snow Queen guards her castle well and because he was the captain of a ship for over three hundred years, Killian knows exactly what the calm before a storm entails.
"Killian," Emma says after a few minutes where their blows have now begun to cease. "I think… I think we should rest." She nods towards the other soldiers who have managed to survive the offense on the Snow Queen's arsenal. "The signal should be here soon."
Killian wipes his brow and looks towards his lovely wife, still as beautiful as the day she found him underneath the pile of dead, heartless bodies. Her eyes have now crinkled with age and there is a grey streak in her hair that she refuses to be rid of. Killian thinks that aging is a beautiful thing, something that he had found unfathomable when his heart contained nothing but a lust for vengeance. His hair is now peppered with grey and though he tires more easily, he is as swift with a sword and a hook as ever.
Suddenly a hum fills the air, and there is streak of green shooting across the sky. It strikes the invisible dome around the castle with a loud bang and the night sky illuminates in an eerie green glow.
"Okay," Emma says, sheathing her sword in its hilt. "It's done."
"Are you sure?" Killian asks, eyeing the castle warily.
Emma scoffs. "Yes. Just because you're tired doesn't mean we should wait any longer. My parents are probably in there already and Regina and Robin already have the mirror. Now let's go. No dillydallying!"
Killian grins and snakes his arm around her waist, pressing a kiss against her temple. "Oh, I think there are a few minutes we can spare, love."
She closes her eyes against the heat furling in her belly. Centuries could pass and she would never be able to control the sensations he stirs within her. Wars, realms, lost memories could separate them but this would always be hers. It would always be theirs. You've got to look for the moments. "Killian," she whispers, and it takes all her strength to push away from his embrace. "We should go."
He smiles that smile that he only reserves for her and their children and he bends to kiss her chastely, his hand gripping her hip tightly before letting her go. "I'll follow you anywhere."
She looks into his eyes and sees the truth (always). "Good," she says.