I am completely blown away with your response for the Prologue and even more excited to share this story with you; it is going to be a little bit different from the rest of my stories because all the chapters are going to feature both Emma's and Killian's POV, and I hope you are going to enjoy it! Next chapter will be up on Wednesday, like an early Christmas present from me to you.
Seventeen years later
The anticipation for the dowager Duchess of Tulgey's ball has been steadily rising for the past few weeks and Emma can hardly believe that the time has finally came for her to attend it. She had never been one to get ridiculously excited about a ball, finding much more satisfaction in discussing politics with her father or going to visit the poor and unfortunate with her mother, but Lord Neal is going to be there, and if she is not quite mistaken, he might at long last offer for her.
It has been almost a year since she had first seen him, and fate would have it that it was also at the dowager Duchess of Tulgey's ball; it was Christmas and Emma cannot recall any night that was more magical than that one. She had always been popular with the men but none of her acquaintances had ever made her feel anything beyond friendship until Lord Neal practically bowled off her feet while dancing with one of her friends. He had, of course, apologized profusely and she had graciously let him write his name into her card for the next dance, which they danced quite vigorously.
A few balls later they had taken a turn around the garden and shared an embrace in its darkest corners, and since then they had done the same whenever an opportunity presented itself, until that night last week when they had gone further than an embrace.
Much further.
Emma blushes at the memory and smiles to herself as her father hands her down from the carriage in front of Tulgey Hall, a sprawling mansion at the outskirts of London.
Tonight has to be the night when everything changes, and Emma feels as jittery and excited as she used to be when she was a child of six about to go playing with her neighbours. Her thoughts run away from her and she is suddenly assaulted by the memory of one stolen kiss and a summer that ended with her in tears because her parents did not want to take her to the Duchess of Storybrooke's funeral, and she suddenly feels chilled despite the mellow spring air.
She had not thought of Killian in years, and she wonders why she is doing so now until she remembers that she had used to think that they would end up marrying some day, that she would meet him at one of the balls and that they would fall madly in love, but that had never happened.
He had joined the Navy a year before the Peninsular War started, which was before Emma was introduced to society, and since then he had not made a single appearance in London.
They say he is a hero, and one of the youngest Captains in the history of the Empire, but Emma prefers not to think about where he is and what he is doing because she had seen the consequences of that war from up close and she does not even want to entertain the thought of her childhood friend being another victim of it.
The ballroom in Tulgey Hall is enormous, and it seems that all of ton has gathered in it tonight, Emma's gloomy thoughts scattering at the sight of all the glittering chandeliers and brightly-coloured dresses.
The orchestra is already tuned in and barely moments after Emma and her parents take their refreshments the music starts playing, but since Emma's dance card is empty for the first dance she sits down next to Lady Ruby and Marchioness of Arendelle while her father leads her mother into the opening waltz.
"Is he here?" Ruby whispers against Emma's ear and she shrugs, doing her best to stop craning her head in search of him.
"He will be here, do not worry", Elsa says and squeezes Emma's hands, then elbows her when she is reluctant to allow cousin Jefferson to write his name in her dance card.
"You cannot dance just with Lord Neal, Emma", Ruby says sternly once cousin Jefferson moves away and Emma does her best not to shudder.
"He makes me uncomfortable", Emma says petulantly and smiles at another gentleman, inclining her head when he bows and inquires about her dance card.
"He is most awkward, is he not?" Elsa giggles and Ruby joins her as they watch Jefferson twirl some unfortunate girl around the dance floor.
Emma looks at Neal's name on her dance card next to the waltz and practically trembles with anticipation because she had never waltzed before and he had promised her it would become her favourite dance as soon as she tried it.
"Oh, there is Lord Neal", Ruby exclaims when the crowd parts and Emma finally sees Neal, leading Lady Regina into a country dance while the Dowager Countess titters from her seat at the highest point of the ballroom.
A feeling of premonition takes over Emma fast, freezing her blood and making her avert her eyes because Neal is smiling at Regina the way he smiled at Emma just a week ago, the buzz of the ballroom suddenly becoming too much.
Things go from bad to worse when the dance ends and Neal's father, the Marquess of Gulch steps up on the podium to announce the betrothal of his son and Lady Regina Mills, and the ballroom spins around Emma, her cheeks burning because it seems that everybody is staring at her instead of the happy couple, women whispering behind their fans and men throwing her pitying looks.
Luckily, Emma's card is empty for the next dance too so she excuses herself, waving away Ruby's attempt to go with her when she rushes out into the garden.
The room had felt small but the garden is not much better, Emma's chest feeling too tight because she had just been thoroughly and properly ruined.
She tries to breathe deeply, and nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand rests on her shoulder because she knows who it belongs to.
"I do not want to talk about it", Emma says without turning around and walks away, but Neal is nothing if not persistent.
"Emma, just let me explain!"
"I do not thing it is proper for you to address me so liberally anymore, my Lord. After all, you are betrothed now", Emma says, attempting to sound unaffected even though she is fairly certain her heart is shattering.
"Emma, come on. You did not really think my father would let me marry below my station", Neal says and Emma blinks furiously, every word tearing the chipped fragments of her heart into even smaller bits.
"Below your station", Emma repeats softly, and even though she had never fainted in her life, she thinks she might do so tonight. "You told me you loved me."
"He threatened to disinherit me!" Neal says as if that explains everything, and Emma guesses that it does in the end.
"You do not have to say anything more, Lord Neal", Emma whispers, her throat closing up and her hands balling into fists as she tries to contain her emotions.
"I am sorry, Emma. I never meant to hurt you", he says and she whirls around, planting him a facer square in the jaw, only now noticing how very weak that jaw really is.
"I do wish you best of luck", Emma spits out while he looks at her with wide horrified eyes, then walks around him and returns to the ballroom with her head held high.
She might be broken, but she will not give anybody the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Even if her chances of dancing the waltz are ruined.
Killian exits the coach and pauses in front of the Duke of Storybrooke's town house, leaves his valet to take care of the horses and swallows hard while ascending the stairs as fast as his bad leg allows him, fervently hoping that his brother is not from home.
He just wants to sleep for a week and forget about the war and everything he had seen and been forced to endure in the past six months.
The door opens to reveal Leroy, his brother's butler, and the man's eyes widen almost imperceptibly as he takes Killian in.
"Your Grace. You are back", Leroy says and bows, waving Killian in without further comment.
Killian is not sure if he prefers his approach of pretending there is not a hook at the end of his left arm as opposed to all the gawking people usually do.
And then the way Leroy had addressed him sinks in and Killian freezes just inside the doorway, then slowly turns around to face the butler.
"What did you just say?"
"You did not get the message", Leroy says, always quick to notice the smallest of details, and Killian suspects that he had just gone as pale as a fresh sail.
"Where is my brother?" Killian asks quietly even though he is fairly certain he already knows the answer to that question.
"He was killed, your Grace. His solicitors sent word right away, but with the war...", Leroy trails off and motions toward the closed door of the library. "Would you like some refreshments?"
"I would like to hear what happened to Liam", Killian says sharply but moves onward nonetheless because he thinks it would be best if he sat down before he falls over.
Pain flares in his stump underneath the brace holding his hook in place, but it is not even a shadow of the pain he feels in his heart.
Leroy rings for a tea tray as Killian settles into an armchair by the fire, avoiding the one Liam often sat in and trying to keep his composure as best as he can.
"His Grace was killed in a coach accident three months ago", the butler says as soon as the maid delivers a tray with tea and cakes and leaves it on a table next to Killian's elbow.
The world narrows to a dark tunnel and Killian is only distantly aware of Leroy pouring him tea and dosing it with brandy before he holds out the cup that Killian does not take because his fingers are shaking too much.
Three months ago he had been lying on a dirty cot in Italy, weak and drifting on the edge of consciousness except for the times they had changed his bandages.
"What happened?" Killian manages to ask and balls his hand in a fist, idly wondering if the blows are ever going to stop coming, if he is ever going to know a moment of peace.
He had given up on happiness a long time ago.
"His Grace was walking along a street not far from here. A horse got spooked and his Grace was run over", Leroy says and dark spots start dancing in Killian's vision, his ears filling with the sounds of cannons, of screaming soldiers and wood splintering until he cannot shake it off, and his voice joins the imaginary ones in his head.
The whole episode lasts barely a few seconds before somebody slaps him hard and he blinks his eyes, his blurry vision focusing on Leroy's lined face.
"Forgive me, your Grace", the man says but Killian is too stunned to speak.
Usually he has to find his way out of the nightmare on his own, and he suspects it is because nobody else had ever dared slapping him before.
"Shall I gather my things and leave, your Grace?" Leroy asks him calmly as if the prospect of getting sacked for attacking your employer is no more worrisome than a hailstorm when you are safe inside a warm house.
"You will do no such thing", Killian says, his voice rough, but his hand does not shake as badly as before when he reaches for his tea cup.
"Naturally, your Grace", Leroy says while Killian takes a few careful sips of his tea, his mind going a mile a minute.
His brother is gone.
He is the new Duke of Storybrooke.
His hand is gone.
He is a Captain without a ship.
Either one of those things would be hard to digest on their own, but all of them at once are simply unbearable.
"Bring me the brandy bottle, Leroy", Killian says and rests his head against the high back of the armchair he is sitting in, regretting the fact that there is no rum to be had.
"Right away, your Grace", Leroy says and retreats quietly to fetch the bottle, optimistically bringing a crystal glass too.
As soon as the stopper is off the bottle Killian snatches it and takes a long, hearty gulp of the rich, burning liquid, then another and another and another until he is pleasantly numb and he knows precisely what he is going to do.
The ton has probably been expecting him to return and take his brother's seat in the House of Lords but Killian knows he is as unfit for that duty as he is for commandeering a ship again, so remaining in London is quite out of the question.
"Pack our trunks. We are going to Storybrooke Manor", he says and Leroy bows out, leaving him alone in the library thinking about his childhood and the place he had last experienced happiness in.
For the majority of his life Killian had been running into danger head first, but now that he cannot run anymore he is going to limp back home in hope that the world will forget him and finally stop causing him so much grief.
After all, he does not have much more left to lose.
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