The Princess Bride is my favorite movie of all time so how could I NOT do an AU of it? This brilliant idea was originally conceived between me and always-been-a-pirate during one of our many late witching hour talks and I decided to gift it to her for Christmas (since she has been so patient while I twiddled my thumbs for months, haha). Merry Christmas my fellow Dark One and the House to my Wilson!

As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!

Pulling his black pea coat tighter around himself, Killian Jones paused at the white picket fence that surrounded his home, smiling as he watched the heavy flakes of snow fall from the night sky to rest on the blue house.

He loved all its nooks and crannies - the wide front porch, the bay window that held the perfect seat to watch storms from, the torrent off to the side that reminded him of the castles of old - and the view of the sea just over the white picket fence that surrounded the spacious backyard. But growing up, he had never envisioned having this life. His mother had died when he was young, a sudden illness taking the kind woman before her time and leaving him and his older brother in the care of their father. They had left the only home he had ever known and spent a handful of years moving from place to place so often that they never bothered to unpack their bags upon arriving at the new destination. After his father had abandoned them Liam had tried to make the best out of an impossible situation but life had continued as before with them constantly moving and never knowing where the next meal was going to come from. Now he had a place to call home, a permanent spot no one could take from him and that allowed him to create memories with the people inside.

That had also been something he thought he would never have again.

Liam, the compass that had kept him on the right path and his only family, had died while they both served in the Royal Navy and his sudden death had sent Killian into a downward spiral. There had been drinking - lots and lots of drinking - and he had left the military behind for a much less honorable career. That was when he had met his first love, Milah. His criminal lifestyle had appealed to the woman who had been constricted to the life her husband had chained her to, the freedom and adventure Killian could offer her eventually leading to her walking away from her husband. He had eventually lost her as well, a death that could have been prevented if a madman had only stopped to think of the choice he was about to make.

When he arrived in Storybrooke seven years ago finding love had been the last thing on his mind. He had been content to drown his troubles away with the nearest bottle of rum and continue his very lucrative criminal lifestyle but in had walked one Emma Swan, and everything had changed. She was the little seaside town's sheriff and she made him want to be a better man, the kind his brother had known and the one he had buried under years of criminal activity. Although their relationship had been rocky in the beginning - a result of outside forces and the stubborn blonde's own emotional walls - they had eventually fallen in love and gotten married.

A son had followed a little over a year later and suddenly Killian had everything that had been missing from his life. Emma, their son, and his step-son, Henry, the boy Emma had when she was a teenager, had given him back the family and love he thought long lost with Liam and Milah's death. His heart swelled at the thought of his wife and five year old son tucked safely inside the warm house and the fact that Henry would be arriving tomorrow morning, his first visit home since he had begun college in New York three months ago.

No, he never could have envisioned this life for himself all those years ago. But having it now, he couldn't imagine living any other.

Pushing open the gate with his knee, Killian strolled up the short walk, his black boots crunching in the unshoveled snow. He made a mental note to clear the walkway in the morning before the rest of the family arrived for the festivities. He didn't want a repeat of last year when his father-in-law had went ass over teakettle on the snow filled path, taking the Christmas ham with him. Smirking at the memory of David sprawled out in the snow surrounded by ham and vegetables, he quietly opened the front door so as not to alert his wife to his arrival and tiptoed into their home.

A quick perusal of the living room and dining area told him Emma wasn't there. Looking toward the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't see her there either - trying to explain why he wasn't removing his coat without lying or seeming like he was hiding something would be virtually impossible. He quickly removed his boots and scarf, mindful to set the shoes where the melting snow wouldn't puddle on their new hardwood floors and gently patted the front of his coat to ensure the package nestled within one of the pockets was secure.

His wife was like a child when it came to presents - impatient and a complete meddler - and she had absolutely no willpower when it came to Christmas presents. He had learned the hard way over the years that she was an expert at sniffing out presents; every Christmas to date, she had found what he had bought her, even with his superior hiding skills. It was a trait he couldn't fault her for really, not with how her early life had been.

After being found abandoned on the side of the road when she was only a few hours old Emma had grown up in foster care. Shifted from one temporary home to another and never adopted, Christmas had always been hard for her. There was never anyone who cared to give her a gift past the few unemotional necessities such as a toothbrush or a pair of socks and to his knowledge she had never received a proper birthday or Christmas present until she found her birth parents eight years ago. Now that she had a loving family who took the time to buy her personalized gifts she was reliving a bit of her lost childhood, playing the part of a child that couldn't wait until Christmas morning to find out what lay within the festive wrapping paper. Generally he looked the other way when it came to her present meddling ways but this year he really wanted to surprise her.

And this year would be different.

He hadn't bought her gift like in years past but had instead enlisted Henry's help with having it made. The idea had come to him on a chilly October night a few months prior as they were snuggled on the couch flipping through Netflix. He knew The Princess Bride was her favorite movie - they practically watched it once a month at minimum - but that night she had casually mentioned that Westley and Buttercup's love story was her favorite and it had gotten him thinking. Why not rewrite the famous story to include them?

Henry had assured him it was the perfect idea and had been more than happy to help his step-father execute it in between his classwork. Killian had been stealing away for a few hours every week to video chat with Henry as the lad used his talent as young writer to rewrite the classic love story. He had picked the package up from his mother-in-law's house after work - there was no way Emma wouldn't have opened it if Henry had sent it to their house - and now it was just a matter of finding a place to hide it so his present sniffing wife wouldn't find it before tomorrow morning.

Glancing around the first floor of his home, he quickly weighed his options. Putting it beneath the Christmas tree was out of the question. Emma was a clever lass but more than that she was observant and he knew she would notice a new addition to the pile already beneath the tree. Moving presents to hide it was also not going to happen - not when he couldn't remember which festively wrapped boxes contained the toys that made noise when you barely touched them - and again, Emma's investigating skills would notice which presents had been shifted around. He briefly considered the little writing desk beneath the birch tree forest painting but one look at the intricate Christmas village sprawled atop it told him there was no way he would get the drawer open without rattling something. Inside the fireplace was an option but with the way his luck went tonight would be the one night Emma decided to light it and she'd send his carefully thought out present up in flames.

There was the window seat behind the tree, however…

Genius. Stepping over the floorboards he knew creaked, Killian quickly moved around the massive pile of presents to wedge himself between the tree and window. Avoiding the lighted string of garland that he knew was temperamental and would sound with the most ridiculous Christmas tune if touched, he carefully lifted the padded top of the window seat. Even if she went into the built in cubby hole before tomorrow there was no way she could suspect a Christmas gift lay beneath all the blankets they kept there. Leaning forward, he reached into his coat pocket and grasped the green and red wrapped parcel. He just needed to slip it under the blankets and she would be none the wiser...

"Killian?"

Letting the present fall back into his pocket Killian whipped around at the sound of his wife's voice and found himself with a face full of brightly decorated Christmas tree. Cursing under his breath as he fought to disentangle himself without knocking any ornaments or the tree itself over, he ended up grabbing a few less decorated branches at the back to steady himself before looking up. Emma stood at the foot of the stairs, clad in a simple white sweater and black leggings with her blonde hair tumbling over one shoulder and eyeing him in confusion.

"Yes, love?"

"What are you doing?" she asked as she made her way toward him.

"I-"

Bloody hell. He couldn't say nothing - Emma had always had a way of telling when someone was lying - and it wasn't like holding onto their Christmas tree was something he normally did. He had to tread carefully here. "I was… just admiring the present stockpile we have accumulated. Or, more accurately, that our son has accumulated. And fetching a blanket for when we put the fire on later," he quickly replied, letting go of the tree and bending to retrieve one of the many blankets from the window seat. By the time he shut the lid and extracted himself from behind the tree - more colorful curses escaping him as his shoulder hit the lighted garland and an instrumental version of Jingle Bells sounded - Emma was standing in their living room, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter at his escapade.

"And whose fault is that, Mr. Jones?" she asked, waiting for him to stop in front of her before she grasped the labels of his jacket. Looks like the half-lie got past her. "You only bought out every shop in town."

He smiled, his mind instantly going to the blue eyed little boy who had claimed a permanent piece of his heart from the moment Emma had brought him the pregnancy test.

"Nothing but the best for my boy, Swan. Even if he does believe half of them came from the man in a bloody red suit," he grumbled.

"It's tradition, Killian," Emma said, tugging gently on his jacket to bring their foreheads together. "How was work?"

"Entertaining. I had to keep Leroy from throttling another fishermen for the seventh time this week."

Emma smirked at him. "So business as usual then."

Killian chuckled as his left arm wrapped around her waist. "Aye. How is our son? Still working on that rather large stash of Christmas candy his grandfather thought he could sneak to him without us knowing?"

Emma leaned back at the mention of their little boy, her face suddenly serious. "He's sick, actually."

Killian's heart clenched at his wife's words, a million horrible scenarios racing through his mind. Although it wasn't the first time Liam had been sick, every instinct as a father was screaming at him to bundle their little boy up and brave the snow that currently blanketed the town to take him to the hospital. During his years at sea he'd seen how quickly a simple fever could turn into something deadly.

"Is he okay? Is he running a fever?" he asked urgently, tossing the blanket he had grabbed for cover onto the couch as he moved toward the stairs. "How long has he been ill?"

"Killian-"

"Do we need to call Doctor Whale? Bugger that, that man takes forever to make a house call. We'll take him to the hospital ourselves-"

"Killian!"

He was stopped at the base of the stairs by his wife's firm grip on his arm. Turning him toward her, she looked up at him and gently grasped the lapels of his coat again and smiled softly.

"Killian, he's okay, there's no need to whisk him off to the hospital on Christmas Eve. He just has a slight tummy ache, probably from all the candy he's been sneaking over the last few days."

He looked at his wife hard. "Are you sure, Swan?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with worry as he tried to remind himself to breath.

"Yes, I'm sure. He started complaining after wolfing down half a box of candy canes so I made him some chicken noodle soup for dinner and he's in bed now."

Killian let out a relieved breath. "Okay."

Emma's hands moved up from his jacket lapels to cradle his face, her thumbs gently stroking his jaw. "He's fine, Killian. No fever, no throwing up. Just a five year old who inherited his grandfather's sweet tooth."

Killian smiled at that as he wrapped his arms around her. "Sorry about overreacting, love."

She stood on her toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "Hey, if you being overprotective of our son is the worst thing I have to deal with being the sheriff of this town, I can handle that." She nodded toward the stairs behind him. "Go see your son."

He shook his head. "I don't want to wake him-"

"Killian." Dropping her hands to his chest she raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You know all that kid wants when he is sick is his papa. He's not going to go to sleep until he's seen you. Trust me, I've threatened that Santa won't come until he's asleep and he was still insistent on waiting up for you."

Killian grinned at the thought of the little boy who had without a doubt inherited his uncle's stubbornness and his mother's determination, nodding his head in defeat. "Very well, Swan. Will you be joining me?"

Emma shook her head, the light from the crackling fire catching her blonde waves and coloring them in shades of amber and gold. "No, I've still got a few presents to wrap before the big day tomorrow. You go on ahead."

He widened his eyes in mock horror. "You mean there are more presents to be put under the forest dweller that is currently shedding needles all over our floor?"

She gave him a playful shove towards the stairs. "Go, now."

Before she could completely move away, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush to his chest. Careful to keep her from pressing against the package hidden within his coat, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss. She moaned against his mouth at the sudden movement, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair as the other grasped his arm for balance. It was unhurried, lips moving against each others in a familiar dance with just enough heat to their movements to set his heart racing - not that every kiss with the beautiful woman in his arms didn't make his heart race and he pulled away when he felt her hands begin to wander beneath his coat.

"What was that for?" she breathlessly whispered, her fingers tracing the black buttons of his peacoat.

"Can't a man give his wife a kiss with no ulterior motive?"

She rolled her eyes before giving him another playful shove. "Go tend to your son, Casanova."

He grinned as she disappeared into the brightly decorated living room, the smile remaining on his lips as he ascended the stairs to the second level of their home. Coming to the door at the end of the hallway, he smiled at the painted blue plaque that had Liam's Room written on it, absently running his fingers over the childlike writing before pushing the door open and smiling at the sight before him.

He immediately had to sidestep a Star Wars toy - a Millennium Falcon - that was lying just inside the blue painted room but managed to find the one lone Lego with his foot in doing so. Biting his lip to keep from swearing at the infernal plastic that felt like it had stabbed him, his eyes moved to the bed where his very awake son lay. Liam was tucked beneath a dark blue comforter with red anchors embroidered on it and Killian could just make out the red plaid pajama top his son wore.

"Papa!"

A warmth he would never tire of spread through his chest at the sound of his little boy calling for him. "Hello, lad," he greeted, careful to avoid any more plastic assassins as he crouched beside the bed. "Momma told me you weren't feeling well."

Liam nodded, sniffling softly. "My tummy hurts."

Killian feigned confusion, frowning as he gently rubbed his son's stomach over the heavy blanket. "Why does your tummy hurt?"

The little boy shrugged. "I don't know."

Killian hummed thoughtfully before raising an eyebrow. "It wouldn't have anything to do with all the candy you've been eating, now would it?"

Liam quickly shook his head. "Candy tastes good, Papa. It wouldn't hurt my tummy."

Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, Killian nodded his head. "Of course, lad."

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"Will you read me a story?"

Killian sighed. "Liam…"

"Please, Papa," the little boy pleaded, his blue eyes going impossibly wide in a look that Killian was sure he himself had used on Emma more than once over the years to get something he wanted. He tried to be strong, he truly did, but the hopeful look on his son's face coupled with the slight pout caused his resolve to crumble.

"Alright," he conceded, smirking at the triumphant grin his son was unable to hide. Moving from his crouched position he took a seat on the edge of Liam's bed. "What book shall we read from? How about Alice in Wonderland?"

Liam shook his head, the dark locks he had inherited from Killian falling over his forehead at the movement. "That one is silly."

"Beauty and the Beast? You like that one because the lady in it and Aunt Belle have the same name."

Liam's small nose scrunched adorably. "I've heard that one before, Papa."

Killian looked over at his son's extensive book collection, his eyes quickly perusing the many spines. "Lad, there isn't a book on those shelves you haven't heard before."

"Papa," the little boy whined. "A new one, please?"

Killian tilted his head as he mentally catalogued his own book collection. Most were not appropriate bedtime stories for his five year old son. He was about to gently let the little boy down by telling him they would have to read one he'd already heard when Killian shifted and felt something press into his leg. Blinking down in confusion, it took him a moment to remember that he still had Emma's Christmas present inside his coat pocket.

As an idea came to him, he smiled at Liam. "I think I have just the thing." Reaching into his coat pocket he removed the carefully wrapped present and didn't miss the way Liam's eyes lit up at the sight of red and green wrapping paper.

"What is that, Papa?"

"This, my boy," Killian began as he slowly unwrapped the gift, mindful to not tear it so he could reuse it later, "is a special present for your mother."

"Why isn't it under the tree with all the others?"

Killian chuckled softly, setting the still-intact paper on the floor. "Because your mother is hard to surprise, lad, and I didn't want her to find this one before tomorrow."

Liam sat up, his little brows furrowing in thought as he looked at the object in his father's hands. "What book is that, Papa?"

"This is a special book: your mom's favorite fairytale."

Liam looked at him warily. "This isn't a kissing book, is it?"

"Of course not," Killian replied, removing his peacoat and laying it across the bottom of the bed before rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt. Moving the rocking chair closer to Liam's bed, he threw a quick glance at the door to make sure his wife wasn't there. He was bound and determined to surprise her this Christmas come Hell or high water but Liam wanted a new story, and he couldn't think of a more appropriate one to read his son.

"What's it about?"

Killian smiled as he sat down in the rocking chair, carefully propping his socked feet by his son's pillow. "It has all the things that make a good fairy tale, lad - fencing and fighting, a little bit of torture and revenge. There are mad men and pirates, chases and escapes. But most importantly, it has the greatest thing you can ever find in this world - true love."

Liam contemplated his father for a long moment before he nodded. "Okay, we can give it a try, Papa," he conceded, scooting back so he could prop himself up against the headboard of his bed.

Getting comfortable in the old rocking chair, Killian looked down at the book in his hand. The leather was dark brown, lovingly stretched and stitched to create the hard outer cover, the material smooth as he ran his fingers over it. The words on the front cover sparkled beneath Liam's bedroom light almost as if they were imbued with magic, the gold-leafed letters imprinted into the leather with care. It really was a work of art, one his step-son should be proud of.

Opening the book, he bypassed the loving dedication he had written for Emma in his own hand earlier and went to the second page, clearing his throat as he started to read.

"The Princess and the Pirate, chapter one…."