Hello! This is a four-part fic plus an epilogue which had actually started out as a OS but once I hit the 10k words mark and I wasn't nearly finished with the first "act", I had to do the math again.
I'll say this right now: this is a Captain Swan (or Captain Duckling, more likely) fic and a Knightrook one. It's my way of dealing with what happened in 707 to Wish!Killian and that I didn't like one bit. So if you don't like Knightrook, that's the door, goodbye, I don't want hate on here, especially since it's my way to cope with what happened. I believe in the "don't like, don't read" rule so if you just want to drop hateful comments, stay away from here.
This said, this is a kind of canon divergence slash Enchanted Forest AU where the curse never happened and the Evil Queen is trying to get her magic back 20 or so years later in the way we've seen in the Wish Realm, hence Killian - he'll always be Killian, no matter what world he's in, no matter which version of him - going in search of the flower.
Since it's a Captain Swan fic and it's my way of "changing" what happened to Wish!Killian, there's NO rape involved, Emma IS NOT Gothel and that (b)witch will appear very little. And their daughter will be the Alice we came to know in s7 because I love her so much, I love Knightrook so much and I think she'd be perfect as CS' daughter - and her name, too, because yes I hate what they gave to CS' daughter at the end, don't hate me, this is my opinion here.
The title is from The Prayer by Céline Dion, straight from Quest for Camelot and I wrote this story with it on repeat.
There won't be regular updates even though I started it when 707 aired, but I know where it's going, I have it all planned and alla I need is to write it. Besides, this holds a special spot in my heart so I will finish it - as I will my other fics, of course.
Ah, the story might be M-rated, but only for chapter 2.
I apologize for my mistakes - especially when it comes to "hair" which I know in English it's singular but I still might have slipped somewhere.
Come say hi on my tumblr, also because I made an edit for which I thought I lost my eyes :'D Enjoy!
Chapter 1
He stumbled forward, feet tangling up in… was that hair?
Killian frowned, confused while pans and pots jingled rocking against each other. He had dealt with a lot of traps in his long life, but that, that was new. He looked up, noticing how the long the hair was. Who the bloody hell has this much hair?
The place was cosy enough, bright and with paintings on the walls – childish paintings sometimes, but he found himself following a very beautiful beanstalk with his eyes. It seemed real, climbing up the wall and reaching the top of the tower. There were other figures all around him but he couldn't focus on them because he saw a shadow moving, someone lurking in the darkness.
«Who's there? Who are you?»
«Who are you?» called a feminine voice. It was strong, but he could hear a clear hint of true fear.
He stepped forward, mindful of the bloody hair, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl, sword drawn in front of him, a part of him, the same one that just knew that a storm would hit even with apparently a sunny day ahead, telling him that she wasn't a real danger.
«Don't come any closer,» she warned him, a frying pan pointed at him. He would've laughed if it wasn't that painful. She was a harmless girl who was still trying to protect herself. And rightly so, since he was a pirate. Still, she didn't have to fear for her safety or her virtue, he wasn't interested in that.
«Love,» he began, trying to charm his way into her graces. He said he wasn't interested in her virtue, not that he didn't know how to use his devilishly handsome face to get what he wanted, after all. «I don't mean any harm.»
She scoffed. «Nice way to show it, the pointed end of your sword is still pointed at me.»
Killian bit his tongue hard to keep himself from reply with an innuendo that would have him on the floor with a lump on his head. So he sheathed his sword, spreading his arms in surrender.
The girl hummed, the only thing hit by the light the hem of her white dress. Slowly, she made her way towards him. Killian lifted his gaze slowly, following the darkness retreating from the light until blue met green and he was at loss.
She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid his eyes on, a nymph, a siren. Green eyes like the fields his mother talked about when he told his brother and him tales of elves and fairies, a little, graceful nose and pink lips he imagined would be heavenly soft under his own. And her hair, her long, long, very long hair, as golden as the sun cascading on her shoulders in soft waves.
«Killian Jones at your service, milady,» he said breathless, bowing slightly the moment he could manage to make his brain work again, «but most people have taken to call me by my more colourful moniker, Hook.» He locked his eyes with hers again, a part of him ready to bare his soul to her. «What's your name, love?»
She bit her lip, and he glanced at her mouth for a brief moment. «Emma, my name is Emma.»
Killian smiled softly, something he hadn't done in a long time. «It's a beautiful name for a lovely lass such as yourself.»
She grimaced, as if that wasn't something she wanted to hear. «It's just a name,» she mumbled, the frying pan still clutched tightly in her hands.
«I beg to differ,» Killian said, «a name has a power amidst its letters, and even if I don't believe in love anymore, I know the name a mother gives to her children is always, always filled with love.» He was surprised with himself, it wasn't something he usually did, talking about his mother. He didn't even think about her anymore, but he knew her love for Liam and himself was true.
He knew the look in her eyes, though, he knew she'd been abandoned in a way, that she longed to go home, or to find one. His heart skipped a beat, sensing in her a kindred spirit in a way no one had been since he'd lost Liam, since he'd lost his own home. Not even Milah had made him feel that way.
He winced, his eyes widening at the thought. No, no, that part of him was certainly wrong. He loved Milah, he was going to avenge her. But would it really be a good thing? Even his crewmen whispered, careful of not being close to him, but he knew, he knew they thought she had turned him into a darker version of his self. Killian curled his hand into a fist, remembering one sentence that still haunted him.
«Captain Hook was born the moment he decided to hear Milah's pleads, not when he lost his hand.» Worse than that, that part of him that wanted to answer Emma's call agreed with that phrase.
Emma was looking at him, trying to read him. «What are you doing here?» Straight to the point, it seemed.
«I'm searching for magic,» he replied simply. Still, he felt a sense of uneasiness washing over him as he saw her eyes lose that little spark of hope he hadn't seen until now. His heart ached and he couldn't – wouldn't – explain himself why.
She moved, grabbing a small chest from a table, art supplies on it, clean brushes in a jar with buttercups painted on it. They seemed real. «There isn't magic in here anymore, the flower has lost all its powers long ago. The witch made sure I couldn't revive it. She left it as a reminder of my imprisonment.»
In the chest there was a withered yellow flower; if it were blooming it would've been beautiful. «I don't understand,» he whispered, «I was assured there was magic here.»
«There is,» Emma confirmed, «but not in the tower.» Not anymore were the unspoken words he heard still.
«Why are you here?»
She stiffened, slamming the lid shut. «Why would you care? You're here for magic, I can't give you any, you must find it yourself. You're not here for me.» No one ever came for me. His chest hurt so much, as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and turned into dust in front of his very eyes.
Even if he didn't know Emma at all, Killian couldn't help but feel the urge to free her, to make her see the world, to not let that tower to be her prison anymore. You're bloody going out of your mind, Jones. It wasn't certain she wasn't some witch ready to trick him.
Still… she was an open book, and her pages were filled with anguish and loneliness. She was hopeless, lost as he was even in that moment.
«There's a garden nearby, the flower grows there but it only blooms when it hears someone sing. I don't know why, so don't ask me, and don't ask me what song to use either.»
Killian cocked a brow. «Singing?» he asked in disbelief, slightly amused. Emma shrugged, and he knew she wouldn't answer any of his questions on the matter. But he had to ask one more thing. «What did you mean when you said that this… witch made sure you couldn't revive the flower? Is there another way?»
Her fists clenched at her sides, the white gown now wrinkled. «I had magic, once, suffice for you to know that.»
Now, all that Killian could feel was rage. Not toward Emma, she wasn't lying when she said there wasn't magic in the tower, but toward the witch because she stole not only Emma's freedom, but also a part of her. He knew how it felt, he'd been robbed both of his freedom and a part of him, too.
«I'll help you get out of this bloody tower, Emma. This I vow to you.»
Blue met green, shock-filled green irises staring at him as if he was a ghost, and in that moment he thought he could've been one, her gaze almost seeing right through him, through his heart, his very soul.
«You won't succeed,» she whispered lowering her gaze, eyes looking at her feet, the tips of her shoes peeking out from under the dress. They were white as well. Killian smiled.
«Why, someone else tried to free you before?» He knew no one had, he was probably the only other human being she saw in years. That made him frown: how many years had she been imprisoned in there? Or was had she been raised in the tower? More questions he would never have an answer to.
Emma shook her head vehemently, long blonde hair shaking. It created a strange effect: everything jingled slightly under its movements, as if her gesture had affected all of it. «I can't leave, Killian,» she whispered so softly he wasn't sure he'd heard her. She'd used his real name, something no one had done in a very long time. But it wasn't just that, it was the way she said his name that made his heart break. It had seemed like a prayer.
«I will find a way,» he vowed, placing his hand on her shoulder, his fingers brushing her hair. The pots jingled slightly again.
She tried to smile, a sad smile gracing her lips, more like a frown, but the real change was in her eyes. He saw a spark.
A spark of hope.
He'd sung his mother's lullaby. He was surprised, he still remembered the lyrics. But, more than that, he still remembered his mother's voice as she sang it to him, to Liam. Liam had sung to him too, sometimes Killian joined him during the stormy nights on the ship they were enslaved on, trying to calm down their thunderous heartbeats.
Still, he had the flower, and that meant that he could go seek revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he could finally avenge Milah… So why was he feeling so empty? For centuries, he'd been filled with desire for revenge, and now he just… couldn't.
He looked up at the tower. He could see shadows moving, a faint melody coming out of the window. Emma was singing, he realized in awe. If she was beautiful – and she was more than that, she was heavenly – her voice was angelic.
No, he couldn't betray her, he just couldn't. He knew he wouldn't come back once faced the crocodile, if he went on with his revenge now, he wouldn't be able to save Emma. And she deserved to be happy, to be free.
He brought his hand to his chest, where the flower was hidden in a pocket of his coat. He would give the Evil Queen what she wanted and he would get her help in his quest.
Not bothering looking if Smee was following him, Killian turned his back to the tower, the sound of Emma voice the only thing he heard as he made his way toward the town, ready to make a new bargain with the Evil Queen. One that didn't end with his death, but his freedom.
Killian Jones had been a violent man. He'd robbed, fought, killed a lot of people during his life. The rage he was feeling then, though, was nothing compared to what moved him right now. No, this was pure, blind fury.
The Evil Queen didn't have magic anymore, that he knew, of course, but she didn't have a spell or something he could use either. The only sorceress still alive she knew had disappeared from this earth to search for her missing daughter. He had wondered briefly if Emma could've been that daughter, but it seemed unlikely.
Still, she knew magic, and after a brief tour to the tower – he'd been careful not to alert Emma of their presence – Regina had said that the spell was so dark and twisted she wouldn't have been able to break it even if she still had had her magic.
True, she also said that maybe True Love's kiss could break it, but she wasn't sure. There was something in the spell that made it unlike anything she'd ever seen before. The witch was powerful, even more powerful that she was, and having her as an enemy wasn't wise. He didn't care, though, he needed to save Emma.
He would find a way.
But first, he had to tell Emma that he would try again and again. He couldn't let go, he just… couldn't.
She was on her bare tiptoes, facing the wall while she painted something he couldn't see, lot of blue and green around her and on her gown. She was humming, moving – no, not moving, swaying – on the thick wooden beam as if she was dancing all by herself. His heart sank when he wondered how many times she'd done that.
He also noticed her hair, now not all around the tower, but a little loosely braided down her back, swinging with every movement she made, and pooling on the floor right under her. It was beautiful, like a waterfall of pure liquid gold, something his greedy self would've wanted to take away from her once upon a time.
Sitting on the windowsill with his leg spread, elbows propped up on his knees, he kept watching her. In a way, she was freeing herself, she was allowing her imagination to run free, to move her hand and paint what she'd never seen before or what she remembered. He felt the urge to make her see whatever her heart desired, to make her see the whole world.
«You know,» he heard her say, startling him, «I remember the sea.» There was longing in Emma's voice, the desire of being able to see it again. «Actually, I was born in a palace by the sea, my room had this balcony and I used to spend hours looking at the sea, at the horizon and the ships coming into port. Now, all I can see are trees.»
Killian stood, walking towards her, eyes focused on the painting she'd revealed when she'd put the last touch on the black flag of the pirate ship. A pirate ship that looked exactly like the Jolly Rogers. It was almost impossible, but somehow she'd managed to paint her perfectly.
Then, it hit him. «You're a princess?»
«I was,» she replied hastily, as if she was angry with the word itself. «I'm not sure I am anymore. I am not.» Slowly, Emma moved on the beam, her hair moving with her, following her every movement. She jumped on the floor with grace, not bothered by the height as if she'd done that more times than she could think of. She probably had.
Killian, though, was still confused. He couldn't help but wonder why they didn't search for her. Or did they? Worse, had there been a deal with the witch? He knew some parents didn't love their children, and selling them was nothing new for him, but Emma… Emma wanted to go home, she wanted to return to someone who deeply cared for her.
Sitting down on a chair, legs bent and feet under her, Emma looked like a child. She couldn't be more than twenty, but she seemed so much younger. «When I was born, the Evil Queen was about to cast the dark curse but somehow my parents defeated her, I don't know how, but they did, and we lived happily for years. But, on the morning of my eighth birthday, the witch came and kidnapped me before my parent's eyes. She is powerful, even more powerful than Regina ever was, almost as powerful as the Dark One. And greedy of power.»
Killian was still standing behind her, the story that was coming out from her lips unbelievable. The Evil Queen wasn't that much old, he couldn't believe that she'd been without her powers for twenty years or so. And then there was the Dark One. He gaped at her, part of him glad she couldn't see him, his eyes darkening with thoughts of revenge. She knew him, or knew of him.
«She brought me here, saying she needed more power and that the product of True Love was a very powerful source of magic.»
Her eyes were closed, and when he took a few steps towards her, he saw tears imprisoned in her dark gold eyelashes. He longed to wipe them away, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her. He clenched his fist at his side, his anger making him want to destroy everything around him. Emma had been used by the witch, she was still being used by her, and didn't have any chance of freedom.
«She stole my magic, it now flows through her veins, but she still needs me alive, or my magic will die with me.» There was emptiness in her words, as if she was empty, and he knew that, without her magic, she felt empty.
He'd come to loathe magic, but the rational part of him knew that some people had white magic and, like the fairies, didn't use it to hurt people. Suddenly, he remembered Tinkerbell: she'd been stripped of her magic, just like Emma.
«Oh, and let's not forget about the hair,» Emma laughed bitterly, shaking her head. «She's ordered me to not cut it. Ever. I tried, once, to cut it, but the blade of the knife I used just turned into dust the moment it touched my hair. I don't even know if it's about my magic or some kind of weird… obsession she has.»
Kneeling in front of her, Killian covered her hands with his over her lap, the dress now smeared with blues and greens. He looked up at her, pure rage towards the witch flashing in his irises, determination, too.
«Before coming here last night, I had made a deal with the Evil Queen,» Killian said slowly, watching as she opened her eyes, fear washing through her. She moved back, removing her hands from under his. He wished it didn't hurt like it did. «She wants to go to a place where she can have her magic back, to Oz. I won't do that, not now that I know what she did to you.» Emma was still looking at him with tears in her eyes, afraid of being not only the target of the witch, but Regina's as well. His heart was about to break. «Without her magic I can easily defeat her, she won't find someone who'll help her, she has nothing to give to buy herself a passage to Oz.»
It took one moment to see a change in her expression. Now there wasn't just fear, there was anger, too. «What's your price?» she spit out with so much venom his heart could've been poisoned with it at the mere sound of that question.
«Revenge,» he finally said, his eyes looking away from her. «A crocodile took someone very important away from me, he deserves to pay.»
«Then why are you still here? You have the flower, go.»
Dumbfounded, Killian looked at her, eyes blown wide at her words. «I can't,» he heard himself say, and in that moment he knew he really couldn't. «I vowed to you I would find a way to free you, I won't betray you.»
She shook her head, if her hair was still everywhere it would've cause the pots and pans to make a terribly loud sound. «You're already betraying your first vow, Killian.»
At that, Killian frowned. Yes, she was right, he had vowed to Milah he'd never stop to seek revenge on the crocodile. So why didn't that bother him as much as the thought of breaking the vow he made to Emma did?
Incapable of finding an answer to that question, Killian just shook is head. «The Dark One is immortal, I can defeat him after I free you.»
It wasn't illogic, after all. For a brief moment, he wondered if the crocodile would've been able to break the spell on the tower, but it didn't last long. The Dark One was greedy as well, he'd find a way to take Emma's magic from the witch and have it within himself. He couldn't risk that, he couldn't risk Emma's life.
He watched as she frowned slightly. «The Dark One?» Emma asked slowly, more relaxed than before, and he used that moment to take her hand in his once again. «He's… last I knew of, he was imprisoned in one cell of my castle. And he has been in there since before Regina tried to cast the curse.»
That the queen did not share with him. His eyes flashed with anger, but it wasn't about him or the queen, now, it was about Emma. «Good, so he'll be there when I'll take you back to your parents.» He forced a smile, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her hand.
For the first time since he'd entered the tower that night, he was graced with her smile. It shined brighter than a star.
The tower stood at the center of the clearing, wrapped in the darkness, the only light coming from the window. He'd been back from Agrabah for a day and a half spent tending the ship, but now his only focus was Emma.
Almost two months had passed since he'd left her. The Evil Queen had been infuriated and had attempted to choke him with her magic. Thankfully, she still didn't have any. Killian hadn't told her the reason why he'd broken the deal, Emma's identity still safe from the person who'd tried to hurt her. It was strange to think that it was all connected, but that was the Enchanted Forest, stranger things had happened.
Emma had said that the witch came the first day of every month, mostly to infuriate her, gloating about how she used her powers. She didn't bring her any food, Emma had a magical stock of nourishments that never ended and water, too, but mostly, she wanted books. Not even clothes or jewels – no, she longed for knowledge. And maybe a bit of romance, too.
In one night, he came to know that she loved romantic tales, something about immortal love that called to her and she couldn't just resist it. She loved poetry, too, but not every poem pleased her. And, of course, she loved to paint, but he couldn't bring her anything in that regard, no new brushes or colours.
What he could bring her, though, was a book he'd never heard of, something he knew she would love. And bad news.
He sighed, dropping his shoulders. He was supposed to find an answer in Agrabah, and oh, he did find one, but not the one he was seeking. And he couldn't bear to see her eyes saddened by what he would say to her.
When he reached the top of the tower, Emma was nowhere to be seen. Killian felt fear grabbing his heart and hurried inside, searching for her but not daring to call her name. He suddenly saw her hair on the floor at the foot of the bed right in front of him and someone under the thick blankets.
Oh. He blushed, the tips of his ears surely red from embarrassment. Of course. It was quite late, probably one in the morning, but he couldn't stay away from the tower any longer.
He left the satchel on one of the tables, then folded his leather coat on the back of the armchair before grabbing a book from the library. There weren't many books, and most of them were tragedies as if the witch could sense what Emma loved just to take it away from her.
Quietly, in order to not awake her, he settled himself on the armchair, suddenly tired. It had been a long journey, his stay in Agrabah too long, but he had to help the princess and her husband – what exactly was he? A sultan? Prince consort?
Unfortunately, his help had been for nothing. There weren't any more genies that could grant Emma a wish, the only one she would make. He'd failed her, but he wouldn't stop fighting. After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wanted, deserved what he got. And he wanted Emma's freedom.
His next trip would be to Arendelle. He'd heard about its trolls, and even if the kingdom was slowly recovering from a war with the Southern Islands, he'd gladly face the ire of hundreds of ice queens in order to speak with the trolls.
He wasn't even paying attention to what he was reading anymore, and soon sleep claimed him, dragging him into a slumber of darkness.
Next thing he knew, a thick woollen blanket had been draped over him and the room was filled with the scent of something freshly baked. He recognized the unmistakable flavour of chocolate.
«Good morning, sleeping beauty,» Emma called from behind him, cheerfully. Killian hated himself in that moment, her good mood wouldn't last long after he told her what he'd learnt in Agrabah.
«I wonder how you always know when I'm here even if you're not looking at me,» he mumbled, standing up and making his way towards her. She was standing near the stove, her fingers smeared with chocolate as she tried to bake some cookies, her hair glowing as if she had a halo on her head. She seemed an angel. She is.
Emma shrugged. «You are just very loud when it comes to climb my tower,» she said arranging the cookies she'd just baked on a plate. They were a little burned around the edges, but otherwise they seemed good.
Killian forced himself to not reply with a saucy remark, she probably didn't even know her words were affecting him. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't deny that Emma was beautiful, every man would've done unspeakable things just to lay with her once. But Emma deserved more than a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem to be her first. So why the thought of her with another man infuriated him so much?
«And then there's the mirror. » She gestured to the tall mirror that reflected the armchairs and the small table in front of them.
«Oh,» he said, flushing slightly. Brushing off his embarrassment, he stole a cookie from the pile, its heat nearly burning his fingertips. Bloody hell. «They seem edible.»
Gasping indignantly, Emma threw him a glare. «They are, sorry if they don't reach your standards,» she grumbled, and he knew he'd touched a sore spot. In fact, he'd seen her pantry, he'd seen fruit and vegetables, a little bit of dried meat and any kind of fish to speak of. Besides, he knew she had learnt to cook all by herself, without anyone but herself to give her tips or teach her. Killian sadly wondered how many times she'd burned her meal or forced herself to eat it even if it was disgusting.
«My apologies, love,» he said ashamedly, biting down on the cookie. It was good, really good, more than he had imagined. A moan escaped his lips, and if he saw her cheeks redden, he didn't say anything, simply smiling to himself.
With a wink, he grabbed another cookie and made his way to his satchel, grabbing it with his hook. «I've brought something for you. It's not much, but I didn't want to come here empty handed.» It was absurd, Captain Hook was embarrassed. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt like this, heart beating fast and cheeks flushed and hurting from the smile he had on his face. It definitely was when he was in the Naval Academy, when he'd started to notice lasses for the first time in his life.
Emma was silent, eyes trained on the satchel dangling from his hook. She was surprised and maybe even a little overwhelmed, it had been years since someone had gifted her something. Slowly, she reached him, grabbing the satchel and keeping it close to her chest for a brief moment, looking at him as if he was something magical, a miracle. His lips parted, and he felt the desire to kiss her. It was wrong, he was a pirate, she was a princess, but to his heart it didn't matter.
Before he could do something he'd later regret, Emma opened the satchel, revealing small bags of exotic spices, a vial of perfume and a book. The latter had a blue cover and golden designs on the back, the title one he'd made sure she hadn't.
«The Arabian Nights,» she read aloud, frowning, «I've never heard of it.» She seemed so lost his heart hurt. He was about to say something when she lifted her eyes, looking at him with a soft smile. «Will you read it to me?»
Her question took him by surprise. When he was little, his mother and then Liam used to read to him but he never had someone to read to. Until now, it seemed. And he couldn't – wouldn't – deny her anything.
«Of course, love, I'll be glad to do it,» Killian said, fingers itching to caress her cheek. In a way, he was glad he was still holding the cookie, but oh, how he wanted to feel how soft her skin was under his fingertips.
«Good,» she smiled, cocking a brow just a second later. «Did you bring me a vial of perfume because I stink?»
At that, he laughed heartily, joined by her not a moment later. «No, love, of course not,» he said, eyes flashing as he leaned towards her and inhaled her scent. Gods, magnificent, he thought with a shiver. «You definitely do not stink, but this is for, ah, your bath.» He would've gladly scratched behind his ear, but he still had that bloody cookie between his fingers and so he popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly and averting his gaze from her but not before seeing her cheeks tinging a deeper red. He did not wonder if that flush extended to other parts of her body as well. He didn't.
«Thank you,» she murmured, quickly going to put the vial on her vanity and the spices where she kept the few other she was given by the witch. «You didn't have to, of course, but thank you.»
Killian clenched his jaw. «I'm afraid I had to, Emma,» he said following her with his eyes.
«No, you didn't,» she bit out sternly, turning to face him, her shoulders tense. «I know why you did it, to try and cheer me up because you didn't find a way to break the spell. And I don't blame you, Killian, at all. On the contrary, I must thank you. You… you did so much for me, you went to Agrabah for me when you didn't have to.» She lowered her gaze to her feet. «You came back.» You came back to me.
His heart shuddered in his chest. He came back to her when he could've never returned, turning his back to her without a second thought. Emma must have passed many a day during his absence in fear that he wouldn't come back.
«I'm here, now, Emma,» Killian said gently, vowing with those words that he would always return to her.
Emma locked her eyes with his, green irises digging their way into his bared soul, and smiled. «Good,» she repeated making his heart wanting to explode. Maybe it already had.
Not more than ten minutes later, he found himself sitting on the hearthrug, the fire cracking gently in the background as his voice filled the room, Emma tucked into his side with a blanket draped over them. Two mugs of hot chocolate sat on the small table; next to them, the plate of cookies was already almost empty.
He had read no more than twenty pages when her voice interrupted him. «When will you set sail?»
Pursing his lips, he kept his gaze on the book. «I want to make it to Arendelle before winter comes. A week from now the Jolly will be fully restocked and ready for the journey.»
She nodded against his chest, the tips of her fingers slowly drawing the flowers on his vest. «We still have time,» he heard her mutter; time for what, he wouldn't know. For him to search for a way to break the spell? For them to spend some more time together? Was it a week enough?
This last question surprised him, because no, a week with Emma wasn't nearly enough. He was afraid an entire lifetime with her wasn't enough, and that thought scared him. Had he really forgotten about Milah? About his revenge? For Emma?
«Aye, love, we still have time,» he murmured pressing his lips to her hair, knowing in his heart that now Emma mattered more to him than his revenge ever would.