"A New Year's Betrothal"
Here is Part Two of my little Enchanted Forest AU set of Lieutenant Duckling stories. This one take places just one day after the Yule Ball, though future installments may have more time pass between them. This is dedicated to Krystal ( kmomof4) who really badly wanted more in this universe and really was the catalyst to get me thinking about it. I had a lot of fun with this, and it's all thanks to you. I really appreciate your feedback and enthusiasm for my writing; hopefully this is a fun bit of a 'Thank You'!
After Killian's amazing surprise return to her, Princess Emma of Misthaven no longer wanted to waste time. She knew her lieutenant was it for her – and always would be. Not that she had ever harbored much doubt; he had been a fixture in her life since his lady mother's untimely death when he was ten. She had been a part of the castle staff, his older brother Liam already finishing his schooling and looking toward the kingdom's Navy, and with his father long vanished from their family, Queen Snow had suffered no protests or hesitation, but had taken Killian in. He and Emma had grown up together: been tutored side-by-side, trained in swordplay, courtly manners, history, and diplomacy as equals. Killian had simply always been there; almost a sibling, her best friend, and then perhaps not realized by her until he was made lieutenant and they had to be apart, her other half.
The Yule Ball had cemented something for Emma, something she couldn't quite name, but could only hope Killian felt as well. If a matter of mere weeks separated from each other was tortuous eternity, then she did not want to risk the chance of him somehow being lost to her – or she to him. All in attendance had appeared happy for them both; in fact, those who knew them well seemed not a bit surprised by their attachment. Killian's concerns about birthrights and hierarchy (which he had voiced in the few scattered moments they'd had alone since his return) were legitimate, but they no longer mattered – not above what was truly important. They belonged together, and Emma would challenge anyone who suggested otherwise.
And so it was that she caught him in the garden where he always walked and took in the sunrise, as if he needed to see the light on the water, the beloved ocean that was so much a part of him and his brother both, before his day could truly begin. Emma smiled fondly at her first sight of Killian in the glow of the rising sun, her eyes tracing affectionately observed features that might once have been fodder for childish jest but were now treasured details she fancied only she could fully appreciate. From the tips of his slightly pointed, almost elvish ears – if the illustrations in her childhood picture books were to be believed – which flushed red when he was flustered or embarrassed, all the way down to his toes, already encased in the smart, properly shined boots of his naval uniform, her lieutenant made quite the picture in the early light. Emma's heart beat faster just looking on him for those few private moments unobserved before clearing her throat to gently announce her presence and stepping closer.
The fact that she was still in her delicate, blush rose-colored nightgown, long enough to skim the top of her feet and brush the dewy grass, but still thin and more revealing of her shoulders, arms, and décolletage than was deemed appropriate for her usual public wear, clearly did not escape her gallant young officer, even if she had hastily thrown a matching satiny dressing gown on over it before running to catch him when she spotted him in the gardens from her window above. Killian's bright eyes widened almost comically, and he visibly swallowed hard as he turned to see her drawing near him. For all of her sailor's adventures, and his experiences which she as crown princess could not partake in for fear of any harm coming to the kingdom's sole heir, and despite the no doubt bawdy company he must keep on a ship full of older, seasoned naval men, Killian retained an almost boyish sense of decent propriety – if not the total naiveté of his youth.
His sense of honor and desire to treat her with such charmed Emma even as it sometimes exasperated her feminine curiosity and desire to learn him in body as she knew him in spirit and heart. Sometimes she had to tease him – just a bit – for her own sanity, as well as for his good. Their future union needed to be on equal footing; she simply couldn't stand for him to bow down to her or treat her like a porcelain doll for the rest of their days, no matter how sweetly it was meant. And today was one of those times.
Ignoring the red flush high on his cheeks and even up to the tips of his ears, not to mention his awkwardly averted eyes, Emma grinned, happy to be close to him and feel his inviting warmth as she took Killian's strong, calloused hands and threaded their fingers together where their hands hung between them. "Good morning, Sailor," she greeted huskily, trying to pull him a bit closer still by their joined grip, even as she rose up on her tiptoes, angling for a quick kiss from those perfect, full lips of his.
Caught between stealing furtive but impossible to resist glances at her fair, soft skin on display and the womanly, lush curves his best friend had enticingly developed and was now using against him, and steadfastly avoiding such an improper gaze, Killian huffed out a frustrated breath as she swayed closer still. Emma was a vision to behold her in the first dawning rays of the sun, and she somehow smelt so sweet and fresh, like apples and rose petals in spring air, that she made his head spin dizzily. "Emma…" he gritted out in warning, striving to hold back before she caused him to throw all caution to the wind.
Pouting, she fell back onto her heels flat-footed once again and looked up at him with consternation. "Are you not even going to wish me a good morning in return?" she asked.
And though he knew he was playing right into her hands and weakening his own resolve, which was clearly serving for them both, Killian couldn't stand the tiny sliver of hurt, and the hint of self-doubt, he glimpsed in her eyes beyond the playful teasing. Never for a second would he have his princess think he didn't want her, desire her, and wish to hold her. He only meant to treat her as she deserved and to respect her as the future sovereign she was – whether his stubborn little minx liked it or not – as well as the woman he loved. Plus, he did not wish to betray the kindness her parents had shown him and the trust they placed in him; especially not when he hoped to make his suit for Emma's hand.
Even so, he bent slightly to press his chaste lips first reverently to peck her forehead, then playfully on the tip of her pert nose, and finally, with utmost tenderness, to her lips, conveying his ardent feelings while fighting to remain brief and correct. "Of course," he murmured lowly, between his mouth's contacts with her skin, "Good morning, my Love."
Emma was having none of his gentle restraint. When their lips touched, she wrapped her arms around his neck and reached her tiptoes again to keep him close. Soon their mouths drank from each other, the sparks zinging between them wildly, and neither of them were able to draw back or pull away from the heated dance until they had to in order to breathe.
Leaning his forehead against hers, Killian smiled in affectionate acquiescence, admitting his defeat as he searched her sparkling gaze, almost panting at the breath and sense she had stolen. Shaking his head at his own weakness where she was concerned, and at the look of impish pride she was now leveling his way, Killian brought the back of her hand up to his trembling lips and bestowed a courtly kiss there as well. "That was a good morning wish," he affirmed a mite breathlessly, making Emma all the more pleased, then gathering his senses he plowed on before he lost his nerve or she managed to distract him once more. "But Love, what are you doing down here this early – and in…well, in your nightclothes yet? I don't think the appearance of me making free with your favors is the best way to prepare your parents for our request…" He trailed off here, head bowing to study where his thumb smoothed tenderly over her hand that he still clutched, and wet his lips a bit nervously before raising his eyes to meet hers again, peering through the dark fringe of hair that fell more rakishly than he realized across his forehead. "Or…do you not… Do you still wish to speak to your parents today?" he asked, hopeful but almost uncertain.
Emma could see that her sailor was trying for all the world to appear stoic, ready to bear the news calmly, without pressure or fuss, if she had changed her mind. As if she could ever not want him! Did he think she would simply replace him with an inflated, effeminate peacock of a prince, merely because of money or family name? None held a candle to him in her heart, but in moments like this, though he tried to believe her words assuring him so, Emma could see the orphaned young kitchen boy – a handsome and decorated naval officer now, but also to his own mind still a commoner without wealth or holdings to recommend him, whose own father had left him behind.
Poking a sharp finger into his chest and scowling at his question, Emma lowered her voice but drew closer again as well, grasping his hand tightly to her chest as she spoke all the more fervently. "Of course I do! You know I do. I only wanted to see you for just a moment alone first. And I knew you would be here."
He nodded, a breath releasing from his chest at her answer; relieved more than he wanted to admit. It was not that he doubted her honesty, but he was always afraid that she would wake and see the better options all around her; thus ending this dream of his: the most beautiful girl, the other half of his heart, the princess herself, loving him.
"Good then," she affirmed determinedly, her chin jutting out as she studied him carefully, making sure he really understood. A pretty little smile curled her perfect mouth up at the corners as she grinned at him so brightly he swore the morning sun must be reflected in her eyes.
"Aye, perfect," he replied as confidently as he could muster. It still seemed horribly, ridiculously presumptuous to stand before the King and Queen and present himself as a viable suitor, but he would do anything to make Emma gaze up at him the way she was doing in that moment. Smiling gently back, more enamored with every second, Killian brushed a silky strand of her golden hair back over her shoulder, marveling that he was the one who got to hold her close; that she had chosen to spend her life with him. He would always strive to be the man of honor she could be proud to call hers.
~~~00~~~~00~~~
Killian was in fact he only one truly surprised as the two of them left her parents' throne room arm-in-arm some three hours later, once breakfast had ended, they had waited a respectable interval, and then approached the King and Queen before they began to see their subjects bringing concerns and requests for the day. He had barely gotten through kneeling to greet his rulers properly and cleared his throat to begin when Snow was down off the raised dais where their large seats rested next to each other, urging him up with a motherly smile and telling him how glad they were to have him back safely and patting his arm encouragingly. She gave Emma a rather curiously knowing look and squeezed her daughter's hand briefly, but had turned to regain her throne when Killian swallowed hard and gathered his courage to make his request.
The flabbergasting surprises had not ended there. As he had managed to explain the attachment he and Emma had formed, the vow he had made to always serve and protect her, and finally explained that he was seeking their blessing to marry her, he had not prepared himself for the merry look of absolute delight or the gentle peals of laughter from Snow White, nor Charming's humored, indulgent smirk before he gave his answer. While he had not expected outright anger or recrimination, he had believed it would give the monarchs pause – or at least a bit of a surprise. He glanced at Emma, confused, only to find her looking up at him with knowing in her green gaze and a smirk on her lips. "I told you they would be pleased," she whispered conspiratorially as she gripped his hand.
Charming stepped down from his seat just as his wife had and came to stand before the two of them – his beloved daughter and this young man he had watched grow from youth into the gallant and worthy (if anyone could be worthy of his princess) suitor who stood before him. Shaking Killian's hand, he clapped the lieutenant on his shoulder heartily, deep laughter booming from his throat. "Don't look so shocked, Jones! We knew this day was coming!"
Killian couldn't help the sputtered response that left him, "You did?"
When both King and Queen nodded, he broke into a relieved smile and shook his head, stunned, "And you genuinely do not see me as overreaching my place? I am no one… and you are the royal family."
"And I was a poor, simple shepherd," Emma's father stated bluntly. "I would have very little room to disapprove on those grounds! This kingdom is not the one which will ignore what love – what the heart – wants."
Snow hugged them both enthusiastically. "We think so much of you, Killian. You have taken the small leg up we offered to you years ago and made an admirable name for yourself, and through your own hard work, diligence, and skill, not because of a title you were born with or the favors curried by rich or high-standing relations. Now you will be part of our family in name too, as well as spirit. Emma could not have brought anyone to us who would have made us more pleased – or who could possibly know her better."
~~~000~~~~000~~~
So they were betrothed and to be married in September. The following week brought a celebration for their engagement along with the one already occurring to mark the advent of a New Year. Their intentions had been announced to the kingdom with joyous fanfare – both the gathered nobles and neighboring monarchs, and their closer friends and staff. Emma had pressed for the nuptials to be sooner, but it was Killian who had reminded her that his ship had another voyage to complete before then, and that the duration of the journey was as yet uncertain. It was better to allow plenty of time for their return, rather than not enough. Snow had seconded his sentiment and finalized the decision when she pressed that she also needed enough time to make all the preparations necessary to host a ceremony fit for her only daughter, her princess.
Emma couldn't help the eye roll she gave at that statement; she didn't need some fussy royal hoopla (nor did she want her mother to be able to stuff her into some poufy confection of a gown). She would happily be married with Killian's brother and crew, her family, and a few friends on the deck of his ship if it saw them wed sooner and meant that perhaps she could go with him and see the realm rather than being separated again so soon.
Still, she knew this was one area where she couldn't win. Killian would not want her to miss the sort of lavish occasion he saw as her birthright and would be convinced she'd regret missing. Plus, she hated to disappoint her beloved mother when both her parents had made her so happy in their blessing and had been so accepting of Killian. She acquiesced without too much actual fight in the end; more than anything glad that they would now be officially recognized. Others would know she was spoken for, and she would no longer have to dance with every prince who requested her attention and smile politely while they talked themselves up and by-and-large ignored what she might think or feel. Killian could now be confident he was the one for her, and that their union would not be denied. She knew he was a better man than most of the stuffed shirts she'd had to play nice with over the last few years; he had never made her feel as if she would be simply an ornament for his arm or a possession he could boast of owning, nor as if she were merely a pawn to grant his kingdom power. Now she hoped her lieutenant would also believe what she had already known.
As the fete wound down, and the mass of partygoers began to make their way to the large balcony for the midnight final hurrah, Emma took Killian's hand, the glint of a secret in her emerald gaze as she pulled him off in another direction. Soon, they were alone in the palace corridors, separated from the many dignitaries and guests and their curious, prying eyes. She was leading him through one of their old secret passageways, Killian realized; one they had used often as children to escape Gepetto, Nova, or whomever had been their chaperone for the day, but he had forgotten about it in the ensuing years. Knowing that eventually this course led its winding way up to the second floor and came out near her personal quarters, his pulse lunged to somewhere in his throat; mouth going dry with both excitement and a sort of nervous anticipation of what tempting idea she might have in her mind.
Sure enough, they were soon in the quiet hall outside Emma's private bedchamber. There was a hidden alcove with an outer window where Killian could see the fireworks display in honor of their betrothal and the new year's beginning going on without them in bursts of gold, scarlet, and azure splendor against the dark sky; even if the pop and crash, the whistle of the louder rockets, was muffled by distance, a floor removed, and the solid glass panes and stone walls. Though the display was magnificent, and he felt at least somewhat beholden to the King and Queen to enjoy the extravagant offering, Killian was happy to be alone with his love any moment he could get, if that was what Emma wished.
Both of them had turned in curious enjoyment to stare out at the bright spectacle blazing across the heavens in their honor, but the very second Emma turned back to gaze at him with sparkling eyes, she arrested his attention completely. She had not yet released his hand; their fingers were still laced together comfortably, and she urged him on with a gentle tug of their joined hands until they stood together outside her door.
Leaning back against the solid oak barrier, Emma grinned up at him with a devious glimmer in her verdant gaze, biting her lower lip as she did so, and conveying just the sort of trouble she had in mind. "Do you wish to come in for a bit, Lieutenant?" she asked coyly, even batting her lashes at him like a coquette, when she was quite aware he could barely keep his hands off of her in the most innocent situations.
"Oh aye," he nodded rapidly, smirking back at her even as a flush climbed his neck and across his face. "But I don't think that would be wise, Love. As you well know…" he trailed off there, instead lifting their joined hands to slowly and deliberately caress each of her knuckles with his lips, seductively just barely allowing his tongue to come into play, his gaze darkening as it refused to let hers go for even a second, fighting her fire with all the ammunition he could muster. Heavens knew it took all the strength within him not to simply agree and follow her through that door into pure bliss, to hold her in his arms all night without having to let go or take his leave until the morning. If he had thought she was tempting before…
By the time he her hand and straightened up again, Killian wasn't sure which one of them was more off-balance. Emma's perfect, soft lips were parted slightly, as if trying to take in a bit more lost breath, and she barely nodded dazedly at the words he had spoken. No longer was she teasing him, but almost stunned instead, looking as if she were nearly as entranced and overwhelmed as she quite often left him.
"Mhmm," she hummed softly in her throat, gazing at him so fondly it seemed that the lighted rockets and sparks from outside the window were glistening in her eyes. "I know you are right," Emma agreed ruefully, nodding her head at his reluctant wisdom. Then she paused, something sweet and wistful on her face, as young and innocent as she had been tentatively seductive only a minute before. She drew in a steadying breath and slowly turned away as she opened the door at her back. "But soon…"
He nodded back, still holding her gaze and hoping that his true feelings shone clear for her to see. "Indeed, my Emma…soon."
"Well then," and her voice was almost a whisper as she stepped through the open doorway, "goodnight for now, Killian. I love you."
The brightness of his smile at her heartfelt words put any of the fireworks still erupting outside to shame. He couldn't take his eyes off her even as he began to back away and take his leave. She was his betrothed at last; soon they would be husband and wife. In a few more months, they would wish each other goodnight from across their pillows while lying in the same bed, falling asleep and waking up together rather than having to part at day's end. "And I love you, my Heart," he whispered fervently as he bid her adieu. "Now and for the rest of our lives."