I was requested, and I quote, "I'd definitely say something mostly fluffy/domestic with a little bit of hurt/comfort or discussions of the past, etc. would be ideal! Maybe something with Emma, Killian, sweet little baby Hope, and Henry would be cute? Oooh, or a very normal domestic morning at the Swan-Jones house! Basically anything with CS interacting with Hope would be a DREAM!"
I hope it's what you were looking for!
Killian jerked awake with a harsh breath, the freezing night air instantly chilling his sweat-soaked skin and clearing any vestiges of sleep that might have lingered. His body was still shaking in the aftershocks of his nightmare.
It had been months since he had had one, but he couldn't find it in himself to be surprised, given what had happened the night before.
"NO I DON'T WANNA TAKE A BATH!"
He could hear the petulant shout as he pushed open the front door and winced. It appeared that his darling girl was going through one of her stubborn streaks, when she refused to cooperate with anything that either he or Emma asked of her.
As he made his way up the stairs towards the master bedroom, where he was sure the shouting was coming from, the lights flickered. He paused a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, because the flickering was a clear indication that one of his two lasses was on the brink of losing control, and he honestly couldn't be sure which one it was going to be.
Since she had been born, Hope had been as gifted as her mother, her cries regularly causing blackouts in the house and there were numerous char marks from where candles and other flames had blazed brightly in one of her sudden fits.
And he had loved every minute of it. The tantrums and the sleepless nights, the horrible spills and even worse diaper messes. Every time he felt his endurance being to run out, he took a moment to sit and remember where he was in life. Married to his True Love, who had willingly carried and born a child with him, in a home that he and his stepson had chosen, in a town that surrounded him with family.
And he would remind himself exactly what he had endured to make it to that point.
And suddenly the trials didn't seem nearly as arduous. Even when his daughter could throw a tantrum that could fry any electronics in a twenty meter radius.
Emma had been forced to put a spell on their phones after the second time it had happened, and a town wide panic had ensured when Swan didn't respond quickly enough to her mother.
But even though it could be Hope making the power flicker, it could very well be his Swan.
His heart swelled as he started to ascend the stairs again. His marvelous wife had agreed, after they had discussed it, to consider carrying another child. Hope was almost four and they figured it would be a good time, Hope young enough to not resent the presence of another child but old enough that she wouldn't require the same level of attention as a newborn or toddler might.
But with that decision came consequences. And at seven months pregnant with their second child, Swan's moods were as fickle as the winds.
He knew he couldn't help it. She had come crying to him more than once during Hope's pregnancy because she was out of control of her own mind, unable to stop her reactions, even if she knew they were unwarranted. Unfortunately, she had been experiencing the same phenomenon during her current pregnancy.
She would scream at him for closing the door too loudly, and right in the middle, it was like she would suddenly register what she was doing, and immediately fall into a spiral of guilt, profusely apologizing to him. And the effects of the pregnancy had only been exacerbated as of late.
There had been several issues that had arisen, jurisdictions clashing between the joined realms as each of the various rulers tried to settle. It had been almost four years since the realms had been united, but things still had not completely settled. The most recent issue being a case of several magically assisted crimes that only she could investigate, as the lone magic wielder on the force. She had begun pulling double and triple shifts at the sheriff's station to lend as much assistance as she could to have the perpetrator caught.
He knew that today would be particularly bad because he father had forced her to come home, all but ordering her to get some rest. And if there was one thing his Swan hated more than anything, it was being bossed around, especially when it's done because she is appearing weak.
Her exhaustion, combined with what was probably a stewing irritation with her father, was probably in making it difficult for her to manage her emotions in the face of Hope's hardheadedness. Which, he would point out in less emotionally fraught a situation, was entirely from her.
"Hope Swan Jones, you will take a bath. I don't want to hear another word about it."
Swan's voice was hard and clipped and Killian braced himself as he walked into the bedroom. Hope was standing just inside the bathroom, her legs apart and her arms crossed with a child's ferocious frown upon her face.
He may have been the guilty one for that particular trait.
And facing away from him, blocking the bathroom door to prevent Hope from escaping was the disheveled silhouette of his wife, fly away hairs clear from the light pouring out of the bathroom, one hand pressed to her back and the other hidden by her head, but he could easily tell she was pinching the bridge of her nose.
His dalring baby girl caught sight of him behind her mother and her whole demeanor shifted. The pout vanished and a beaming smile took its placed as she threw her hands up in the air.
"Daddy! You're home!"
"Aye, my little cygnet," he murmured, unable to keep the smile off his face as he closed the distance to the pair, stepping up behind Emma to wrap his arms around her and she immediately sank into him. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, before he opted to resolve the situation peacefully.
"And I cannot believe that you knew!" he said, lending an air of amazement to his words.
Hope's brows furrowed as her little nose scrunched up, her head tipping to the side as she puzzled his words. That one she learned from Henry.
"Knew what Daddy?"
"I can't believe you knew that the first thing that I wanted to do was take a bath, as soon as I got home. And here you are, getting everything all ready for me!"
He felt Emma suck in a deep breath and sag against him further, the tension that drew across her shoulders slowly easing as she understood his ploy. Hope blinked and tilted her head in the other direction as she processed what he was saying. She picked that up after they had puppy-sat Robyn and Alice's dog while they went on their honeymoon.
He had to stifle his chuckle against Emma's neck as he watched understanding click into place on his baby girl's face. Her whole face brightened. "YEAH I WAS GETTING THE BATH READY FOR YOU DADDY!" she screeched, now bouncing enthusiastically on the bathroom tiles.
"Well thank you darling cygnet. I'm just going to put my stuff down and get ready for my bath and I'll be right in, aye? And you'll be joining me?"
She nodded enthusiastically, then flopped down on her butt to start struggling with her shoes. He gave her one last affectionate look, before he murmured, "Come on my beautiful Swan."
She turned in his hold to stand up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before she wearily made her way to the rest of the bedroom. She sat on the bed with a sigh, and started to press her hands into her back, massaging what he knew were twisted up and knotted muscles.
"Thank you for that," she sighed, removing one hand from her back in favor of scrubbing at her face. He studied her for a moment, still as radiant as the day she first looked upon her from beneath a pile of bodies. But he could see the deep lines of exhaustion around her eyes and the frown lines that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the corners of her lips.
"I am glad that I was able to help, rather than making things worse. With her, who knows?" he brushed aside her gratitude.
Emma scoffed, but a small smile had taken up its place at the edge of her mouth. She didn't seem to be up to any other conversation though, as she slowly schooched herself onto the bed, then lowered herself onto the comforter. He turned away, pulling out a pair of water shorts that Emma had gifted him with for their honeymoon, when they had finally managed to go on it. He moved into the walk in closet, shutting the door lightly, and stipping down before pulling on the water shorts.
Elastic was truly one of the most remarkable inventions in Emma's world, keeping pants tight on his hips without requiring any ties.
Once he had them on, he reached for the buckles on his brace, methodically loosening the leather that criss crossed his upper body. It had taken a long time for him to be comfortable baring his incomplete arm to his daughter, but he was glad he had finally managed to overcome the fear that had held him back.
He opened the door and stepped back out into the room, shivering slightly at the cooling air, padding his way across the room. He paused at the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to Swan's shoulder, "You just rest easy love." Then he continued on to the bathroom, where Hope had just pulled off her pants, ready to jump into the warm water of the massive tub.
He closed the door most of the way, in case Hope got loud, before he smiled at his baby girl as she beamed up at him.
"Are you ready, little love?" he asked softly.
She nodded quickly as an excited giggle escaped her, reaching her hand up to him. He put his right hand under her arm, while she lined up her forearm with his left one, making sure that his stump was firmly under her arm, holding on to his upper arm, helping him lift her with his only hand. Then her lifted her up, swinging her over the edge and into the tub, dropping her down slowly among the bubbles and the several rubber duckies he could see floating through the foam.
He quickly stepped in after her, settling down into the shallow water, his back pressing up against the freezing porcelain, facing the bathroom door, just in case Swan needed to get his attention from the room beyond. Hope settled in, delightedly splashing about with her toys for a bit before he decided to get the show on the road, so to speak.
"Hey little cygent, could you help me wash my hair?" he asked, and when she nodded excitedly, he leaned forward, smiling softly as he felt her tiny hands pressing soap bubbles into his hair, while she babbled about the rivetting events of what happened at her daycare that day.
He gasped and agreed at the right points, but was content to just let his little girl carry the conversation. When she had clapped, "Ok, Daddy, all done," he sat up and smoothed, feeling the foam prickling against his scalp and knew he was going to have to properly wash his hair after he'd put his wee one to bed.
"Alright, little love, turn around for me, it's your turn."
He smiled triumphantly as she easily acquiesced, and he worked shampoo into her hair, before picking up the cup they kept on the rim to scoop up water to rinse it out. "Make sure to close your eyes and mouth little one," he reminded her, before he slowly removed the shampoo. She continued to chatter as he repeated the process with conditioner. She had slowly fallen silent, and he figured that her day must be catching up with her so he was surprised when she spoke up just as he was about to start rinsing the conditioner out.
"Hey Daddy?"
"Yes, little love?"
"You said that the scars on your arm came from a bad man who wanted to make sure you didn't get your happy ending, right?"
He was completely thrown by the randomness of the question and, unsure of where she was going with the line of questioning, he replied cautiously, "Aye, that's true."
"And your other scars are from people like that right? The ones on your back?"
He was completely thrown, but he remembered that conversation, when she had seen him after a shower, his scars clear against his skin. He couldn't tell his daughter the real story, so he had found the best way he could to convey the origins of the scars, telling her they were from bad men who tried to keep him from being happy when he was younger.
He answered her again, "Yes, cygnet."
She was quiet for a moment, so he quietly warned her about the water before he methodically rinsed her hair. He was in the process of returning the cup to its usual position on the rim of the tub when she turned to face him, her green eyes holding the same solemnity that her mother's did when she spoke of something serious.
"Henry said that people who try to stop other people's happy endings are evil."
He blinked, brow furrowing as he felt a slight irritation at his stepson. Why on earth would he tell her such a thing?
"Is that right Daddy?" Her voice was earnest, the absolute belief she had in her big brother clear on her face. And he couldn't find it in his heart to be the first to plant the seed of doubt in her brother's knowledge of the world.
"Aye, little love, I suppose, in a way, that's true."
She nodded at his confirmation, then dropped her eyes down to his abdomen. She schooched forward and he held still, puzzled by his little girl. As she moved, he thought he could hear movement from the room beyond, and was pleased that his Swan might be up to being up and about again.
His attention was forcibly returned to his daughter when her hand pressed against the three inch puckered scar that resided just below his third rib, an ugly mark that refused any attempt at healing.
"You have never told me the story to this one here."
And the next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion in his mind.
He saw the door open and Emma step through, her mouth opening in a question as she stepped over the threshold, but her eyes taking in Hope's current point of focus. And as he watched Emma register that Hope was touching that particular scar, he heard his beautiful, innocent, and curious baby girl.
"They must have been really evil to try and stop you from getting your happy ending so hard."
The effect was immediate and completely expected. Every light in the house flashed brightly before burning out as Emma spun out of the bathroom, a horrible gut wrenching sob reaching his ears as she fled.
"Cygnet, stay here and don't move." He could not help his sharp tone as he leapt from the bath, immediately giving chase to his wife, fear blocking out all thoughts except reaching her before she did something else, by accident or intentionally.
He managed to catch her as she tried to escape the house out the laundry room door, grabbing her arm and spinning her to face him. She immediately yielded, spinning directly into his chest as her shoulders heaved with sobs.
It took nearly an hour to get her to calm down, her violent breathes turning into dry heaving over the kitchen sink. As she slowly fell silent he had a feeling it had less to do with her breakdown abating and more the fact that she just had no energy left in her body to sustain it anymore.
His belief was confirmed when he realized she had fallen asleep hunched over the sink. So he carefully maneuvered her into his arms, her protruding stomach making a bit more difficult than it used to be, and carried her up the stairs. He noticed that that act was not as easy as it used to be either, and made the vaguest of mental notes to spend more time on the Jolly.
He carefully lowered her onto the comforter, tear stains glistening in the moonlight pouring through the window, her brows pulled low in her sleep, as if her anguished had followed her into her dreams. He ran his palm across her forehead, hoping to smooth out the furrows or comfort her in some way, but she gave a light whimper, frown deepening.
He sighed, pulling his hand away, reaching for the heated blanket from the bottom of the bed, and pulling it up over her, making sure to turn it on. He was glad to see that the indicator light came on, which meant that Swan hadn't inadvertently fried the electricity again.
It was as he finally allowed himself a moment to breath that he realized he was still wet from the bath.
Hope.
Cursing quietly, he rushed back to the bathroom to get her. But he was shocked to find that not only was he daughter nowhere to be found, but the water had been drained, her clothes put into the hamper, and her towel missing. Confused, he made his way out of their room and down the dark hall to Hope's room. Sure enough, he heard rustling coming from her room and the inconsistent light of a flashlight being swung around.
He heard a drawer close, and then the squeaking sound of her mattress springs as the light steadied out and stopped moving. He reached her doorway and quietly poked his head into her room, his heart just about beating out of his chest at the sight.
His little baby girl was sitting up in her bed, using a flashlight to read one of her picture books, her hair neatly brushed and tucked behind her ears, pijamas on, and her window curtains pulled shut.
She had never gotten herself ready for bed by herself before.
He knocked gently, and she looked up at him, but didn't give him her usual smile.
"Hi Daddy."
"Hi little one. May I come in?"
She nodded, closing the book and putting the flashlight on the bed, looking at him with a slightly worried expression. He stayed quiet, unsure how to explain the happenings of the last hour. But his daughter, as usual, cut to the heart of the matter.
"Grandma told me a story once, of a princess who had to kill her pirate to save everybody. She didn't want to hurt him, and he didn't want to be hurt, but because of the choices they had both made to protect the people they loved, they were the ones who had put everyone in danger in the first place. It was their responsibility to fix it, even if they wanted to choose anything else."
She went silent as he processed her words. He could not believe that Mary Margaret had told her that story, and was going to have to talk to her about what he deemed appropriate for his four year old.
Hope seemed to read his frown, however.
"Don't be mad at Grandma, Daddy. I overheard her talking and wanted to know what she was talking about. So its my fault for asking."
"Oh darling," he sighed, reaching out to tuck a few wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. "Its not your fault at all."
She raised a dark eyebrow at him in a so reminiscent of his own expression, he couldn't help the tiny smile that crept across his face. Hope gave him an tiny answering smile before her face grew serious again. "I'm sorry I didn't stay in the tub like you told me too. The water got cold. And then mommy wasn't feeling well, so I decided that I could help by getting myself ready for bed."
"Oh my cygnet," he sighed, reaching out and pulling her to his side. "Thank you for being so helpful. Its alright that you didn't stay in the water. Are you alright?" He could only guess how distressing all this had been for her, having her mother react to a question the way she had.
He felt Hope nod against his chest before her little hand slid across his skin to cover the scar again. "Momma gave this to you, didn't she? That's why you don't talk about it. That's why she got so sad. Because she had to take away both of your happy endings."
He felt the hard pressure of tears behind his eyes as he pressed a fierce kiss to her head.
"When did you get so smart, little love?" he whispered, not really sure if he meant to ask it out loud or not.
She shrugged, "It's like when you yell at me for doing something that might hurt me. I'm sad that you yelled at me, and I know you don't like doing it, but we are both better because you did."
He couldn't fight the tears anymore as he gave a breathless laugh against her hair, the anguish of those memories warring with his absolute devotion for his marvel of a daughter.
"I don't know what your mother and I did to deserve you, little one."
She pulled back, her brow furrowing as she studied him. He was almost disconcerted by how clearly her eyes seemed to perceive him.
"Well that's easy Daddy. You loved me."
He spent several moments trying to stead out his breathing. Once he wasn't struggling to draw air into his lungs, he turned to check to see if Emma had woken from the movement. But he was disconcerted to find that she wasn't in the bed beside him.
Quickly, he threw off the covers and headed out into the hall, grabbing his robe as he went and wrapping it around him to stave off the cold. He tried to figure out where Swan might have gone and noticed that Hope's door wasn't open, despite him leaving it so when he'd gone to bed.
Carefully he crept to the door and quietly opened it. To his surprise, it was not his daughter occupying the bed but his wife, tucked in with Hope's favorite stuffed animal ticked in her grip. He looked more closely and saw that her face was peaceful. He was about to shut the door and go in search of his daughter when he noticed a ceramic mug on her bedside table that hadn't been there earlier.
He silently crossed the room to pick the mug up, and when he peered inside, he felt tears press at his eyes again.
In the cup was cold milk with clumps of chocolate powder sitting in it and cinnamon sitting on top of that.
He could just picture it. Emma had come to their daughter in the night, maybe to watch her sleep or apologize. But he was sure, when Emma got their, Hope had awoke, and seeing her mother's distressed state, had taken it upon herself to provide all the necessities to make anyone feel better. A stuffed animal, a nice tuck into bed, and hot chocolate. It was clear that she'd tried to make the drink with cold milk, probably not understanding how to heat it up.
He was certain that Hope had then had a conversation with her mother that brought that easy look of peace to his wife's face as she slept.
Putting the mug back on the table with a shake of his head, he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him, before making his way downstairs. With the first look through, he couldn't locate her, and he was about to head back upstairs to check if he'd missed her in the bed with Swan when his foot his the squeaky stair and a sleepy voice called out, "Mommy?"
He turned back towards the living room to see Hope peering over the side of the couch, and he realized he'd missed her because she'd been lying down on the couch.
"No little love, it's me. Momma's upstairs sleeping. But what are you doing down here, cygnet? It freezing."
Her head disappeared as she, he assumed, layed back down on the couch. "I'm ok, Momma brought her hot blankie into my room. Since she didn't need it, I filpered it."
He let out a small chuckle, "It's pilfered little love." He made his way around the couch. "Are you alight little one?"
She nodded, and although it was dark in the room, he could see her well enough that he could tell that she wasn't trying to placate him. She really was undisturbed by the events of the night.
Then she asked, "But why are you up Daddy?"
He sighed, sitting down on the couch next to her curled up form. "I had a bad dream cygnet. That's all."
She shifted, sitting up again. ANd her words near about killed him with his love for her.
"Do you need my strength for tonight Daddy?"
It was the question he always posed to her when he heard her crying out in her sleep, usually waking herself up in the process. He'd pull her to him, hold her tight, and whisper to her, "Do you need my strength for tonight, little love?"
He managed to get out a choked up, "Yes little love," before she reached out and tugged him to lie beside her. He settle up against the back of the couch, laying on his back. Hope squirmed a bit, until she was curled up on his chest, the heated blanket pulled up over both of them, the heat of the fabric paling in comparison to the deep warmth that was seeping into his bones at his daughter's weight on him.
They both settled, each breathing quietly, and he actually felt his mind start to slow, the shadows of his dreams not gone, but no longer enough to distress him.
Then he heard his daughter's voice, soft and sweet as a summer's breeze.
My young love said to me,
"My mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you
For your lack of kind."
He breathed in deeply, letting the lullaby wash over him. Every scar, ever agony, every tear shed, every single struggle he had ever faced was worth it. To have his two truest loves.
He simply breathed as her song reverberated across his skin and drew him down into a peaceful slumber, his daughter's gentle voice echoing in him mind and settling in his heart.
And she stepped away from me
And this she did say:
"It will not be long, love,
Till our wedding day."
As she stepped away from me
And she moved through the fair
And fondly I watched her
Move here and move there
And then she turned homeward
With one star awake
Like the swan in the evening
Moves over the lake.
The people were saying,
No two e'er were wed
But one had a sorrow
That never was said
And I smiled as she passed
With her goods and her gear,
And that was the last
That I saw of my dear.
Last night she came to me,
My dead love came in
So softly she came
That her feet made no din
As she laid her hand on me
And this she did say
"It will not be long, love,
Till our wedding day."
I hope you liked your gift!
The lyrics to the lullaby are the ones used by Killian Jones in Season 7 to sing baby Alice to sleep. The poem is called "She Moved Through The Fair" by Padriac Colum.