A/N: Sorry this chapter took a little longer to write. See you all at the bottom :)
Darkness…
And then, a voice.
"Your Highness? Your Highness?"
-light.
Not the brilliant yet overwhelming light from the bean, but a small slither of light peeking out from behind half-closed eyes.
"KILLIAN! Come on."
That recognisable voice cried out again, shouting out from behind the light. Killian began to stir as the looming figure shook him roughly by the shoulders. He groaned and resisted the dull ache in his head.
"Wake up, Killian, damn you." It, or he, judging by the low tone, continued to shout and forcefully shake the prince. "Come on! I swear, if you don't get your royal arse up this instant-"
Hold on…
"David?"
Ignoring the croak in his voice, Killian rubbed his eyes and pushed away from the darkness clouding his vision. Wherever the pair had landed, the magic portal had taken them to wherever Regina desired. And somehow, Killian was not eager to find out exactly just where they'd been sent.
"Thank the Gods." David muttered in relief. "You scared me…just for a moment, of course." He added quickly.
Killian smiled despite their misfortune. "Obviously. That wouldn't be why you were screaming like a madman in my ear?"
"You must have a concussion, my friend."
"Funny."
David grinned broadly. "I thought so."
"Now where the hell did the Queen send us?" Rubbing at his temples, Killian sat up and thought back to when the portal was opened. "Wait a moment, why did she send you through as well?"
"Well, your princess bumped into a very confused messenger not shortly after you left the palace. Turns out she never wrote a letter to you. " David explained. "Milla recognised the trap and sent me to go and fetch you. Unfortunately, I was too late. So the Queen sent me through to…wherever this is." He gestured off-handily. "I knew she was powerful, but never this powerful. I fear that we underestimated her."
"Aye, that we did. Nethertheless, we must find a way to return and warn the kingdom. The Queen must be stopped before it's too late."
"Let's hope that your fiancé is clever enough to figure it out, then. In the meantime, what do you say we find out where we are, hm?"
"Very well."
Only now did Killian fully take in their surroundings. It seemed they were in a low-lit tunnel. A strong and musky aroma of dirt and something else that Killian didn't really want to guess at overwhelmed his senses. The gentle lap of muddy water reached the top of their boots. Looking on further, the high arched circular structure stretched on and on, beyond the two men's range, but Killian had a feeling that it wasn't a place to stick around and make camp.
"I suggest we take this route." David called out a few feet behind.
Killian spun around and spied his friend waiting by a long, grey ladder with a proud look of a sailor who had successfully navigated beyond the stars. Trust David to find adventure in an unknown realm. The young knight tested the rungs one at a time before grinning down at his friend. "Let's go do some exploring."
As it turns out, the exploration was far from an adventure.
Especially when David began attacking and defending unamused civilians from the 'metal monsters' of New York City.
Killian later found out that these so called beasts were in fact 'cars', and were similar to carriages and carts in the five kingdoms. However, at a first glance, the strange oblong machines, which roared and howled with violent noise, attached themselves to the memories of villainous dragons back in Andalasia.
Therefore, David's decision to 'defend' the 'poor village folk' of New York City seemed appropriate…
...at the time.
According to passers-by however, it was an unusual sight to behold. Of course it was. A strange-looking man repeatedly stabbing the rooftops of Taxi cabs with his sword was an eye-capturing scene. Even in New York, it was bizarre. And the people of the city had seen many weird and wonderful sights.
But this one topped them all.
"Stand back." David helpfully warned the many shocked and confused gatherers. "Do not fear; I am Sir David of Andalasia. I shall silence the beast!" He jumped amidst the traffic again and was greeted by busy squawks of angry beeps and swearing drivers.
"Get out of the road! What are you, nuts?!"
"What the hell are you doing? GET OFF MY TAXI, DUMBASS." The current victim of David's heroism was an elderly man with a surprisingly exotic vocab. "YOU'RE PAYING FOR THE DAMAGE, YOU BASTARD!"
Killian stood by the side, uncertain and transfixed by the surrounding bright lights and towering buildings. "David…I am unsure this plan is wise!" He shouted up.
"Nonsense." His friend quipped happily, thrusting his sword through the yellow roof of a cab. When it remained still, he grinned and stood triumphantly. "These peasants need our services." He swept into a customary low bow, and a few people jumped back to avoid David's sword arm. "You're welcome." He pronounced. "I am but a humble knight who will protect you kind village folk-"
One man stepped forward and angrily waved his umbrella with a threatening jab. "The only one we need protecting from is you, asshole!"
Killian winced as the man jabbed again. "I think we ought to go…David." He called to his friend, but realising that David had not heard him over the commotion, he raised his voice to a vividly loud cry. "This is not gaining us any favours, let's go."
"Freeze!"
Oh, bloody hell.
David, however, in all his blind glory and newfound fame, didn't realise who they were addressing. He addressed the officers with a cheerful wave. "Finally, reinforcement! What was taking you knights so long? The people are in danger!"
"Yeah, from you, King Arthur!"
The crowd erupted into laughter as the police surged forwards.
"Don't take another step!" A handful of officers began to quickly surround the taxi that David stood upon.
"Drop the weapon and get down on the ground with your hands behind your head! NOW!" A dark-skinned female officer called out from the group. She stared with a fiery vengeance up at David, and Killian took a cautionary step back as she wielded a small black object in her hand. "Sir, I won't ask you again. DROP THE WEAPON."
David opened his mouth to protest and then silenced. And as the young knight lowered his weapon, this time, the crowd cried with merry cheers. Killian raised an arm to shield his eyes from the bright lights that clicked and flashed from other, smaller glistening objects in the gatherer's hands.
Bloody hell, Killian thought helplessly.
There was nothing he could do but watch from the hooting crowd as David was lowered from the 'Taxi' and swept into the police's circle. Perhaps if there were less people, he'd attempt a rescue. After all, they'd fought worse before. However, this realm was unpredictable and confusing, and Killian thought it best to play it safe. David appeared to be safe and under the watch of seemingly authorised citizens. Or, 'officers of the law' as they addressed themselves as.
Killian painstakingly assumed that only spelt more trouble for David.
He froze for a moment. Perhaps he should follow his friend and announce their trouble. Surely these officers would understand. They must've come across various travellers from other realms before; accidently, or purposefully. The overwhelming crowd and noise narrowed in on the prince. All Killian could manage to take in was a few ragged breathes and painfully tight muscles that still screamed from his awkward landing from the portal.
He couldn't be sure if it was moments or hours that had passed when David finally caught his friend's worried gaze in the crowd. The knight managed to pry his hands away, cup them around his mouth and cry, "RUN, YOUR HIGHNESS!". His shout carried across the early evening wind straight to Killian.
Damn this realm. Killian cursed. Damn it to hell and back.
A few curious looks were shot his way, as though others were finally noticing the prince's equally out of place clothing. A pair of middle-aged officers broke away from David and began pacing towards him with a look that suggested he would soon be joining his old friend…wherever David was now being taken.
So, Killian ran.
He turned and fled through crowds of shouts and exciting whispers into the twisted lanes and labyrinths of New York City. Colours of scarlet and burning oranges shone from star lights above the pathways, and Killian ran and ran until his feet began to ache and his stomach begged for a moment's rest. His lungs felt ready to collapse into dust, but Killian forced himself onwards. Even the material beneath his boots felt foreign. Although he'd never thought he'd miss Andalasia too deeply, right now, Killian would give his all just to return for a heartbeat.
Everything pressed together in one large, complicated puzzle. People, buildings, lights and laughter. It was overwhelming and startling to a prince used to silent forests filled with only quiet chirps of tiny creatures. This realm was a land of chaos. Judging from the smiling citizens and excited conversations, Killian felt to be the only one out of place. Though no one out rightly stared at him, he still felt…different. As though kept with a secret no one else knew or could possible understand for that matter.
It was exhausting, painfully so.
He eventually came to a sudden halt down a quieter path and stopped to catch what little breath he could, hands and head lowered against his thighs. The noise here was not so loud. Still distantly so, but just about bearable. A quiet hum of the city's heart seemed to over comfort rather than exclude him.
"You okay there, my dear?"
Killian started with a jump. He turned to see an elderly woman dressed in a large, beige overcoat and a burgundy skirt. Her gaze was gentle as she held out a hand as if to offer support. "Anything I can do for you, dear? You seem to be a bit troubled."
"Thank you for your concern, milady. I shall be fine after a moment's rest."
"Well, if you're sure…" She seemed hesitant to leave, but after Killian reassured her once again, she smiled. "Very well. Goodnight, young man."
As he watched the older woman walk down the pathway, he felt a wave of calm begin to settle in. It took another moment before he was able to stand, so he leaned against a nearby construction of dark red material, which seemed stable enough to support him, and thought for a while.
Perhaps this realm isn't too bad. There's at least one sane woman here at least.
Just as he was beginning to consider catching up with the older woman, Killian looked up as something caught his eye. There was something beautiful about what stood before him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.
The young prince took a couple of steps forwards, unknowingly stepping onto a rather different and more dangerous sort of pathway.
What was a clock tower to everyone else was a unique sight of beauty and wonder to Killian.
He marvelled at the tall, elegant three-tier structure with curiosity. Unlike the Queen's castle, it stood in a friendly, welcoming shade of pale-washed yellow and white. It seemed to beckon with a purpose that was yet unknown. A round marble white and black shape pierced the centre, and Killian stared, transfixed as a small black line moved around the circle with precision. Memories of compasses and the prince's time on the navy and the sea flashed back to him. The familiar sense of shape struck him, and was the first real connection he'd had since arriving.
Could it be similar to the stars? He wondered. Does it navigate this realm?
Whatever it was, Killian felt less afraid by where the Queen had sent him. Perhaps there was a way to return.
I'm going to find David, free him, and together we'll plan our return. Killian rounded his shoulders with purpose, chin lifted at the clock tower. I'll be prepared for whatever this realm has to throw-
Before he was rendered unconscious for the second time that day, the young prince remembered a loud, angry horn and a brilliant flash of bright yellow..
Emma had been driving home as normal when it happened.
What the hell was he doing in the middle of the road anyway? Stupid, handsome idiot.
She'd just got off the phone with Walsh, who had, thankfully, agreed to pick up Henry in the morning. Unfortunately for Emma, Thomas and Ella required a few more meetings to verify their divorce settlement, so she'd asked Walsh to take her son in for a few mornings.
Emma gritted her teeth. I'm throwing a damn party when I'm through with those two, I swear I will.
Pushing the brake down at the next set of lights, she propped an elbow against the window and sighed. A small, but permanent voice had been bugging her since Walsh proposed the previous week. A sing-song tone of 'yes or no' whirling round and round. True to his word, Walsh had given her space, and Emma owed it to him to at least think about it. Logically, she'd say yes in an instant. Emma hadn't even thought of a single reason to say no at all.
And once again, that made her feel uneasy. It just all seemed too easy.
Look, just say yes. She told herself, and turned a corner into the quieter part near the apartment. You're putting it off for no reason.
After all, Emma thought dryly. What am I expecting? There's not going to be some big, universal sign telling me not to-
"WHAT THE HELL!"
Unable to swerve the car, Emma was too late in noticing the tall figure. Standing in the middle of the freaking road, no less.
She cringed with sympathy when the Bug's bumper thudded into the man. He helplessly went down with an undignified yelp. As he collapsed in the road, Emma's heart practically drummed through her ribcage. She hurriedly parked in her usual spot and then clambered out of the driver's seat in a matched level of ungraceful movement. It was selfish, but all Emma was mainly worried about was the legal threats this stranger could enforce.
She was certain the physical damage was pretty minor, but that didn't do any favours for her terror.
"Oh, jees, I'm sorry. I should've tried to swerve the damn car more. But what the hell were you doing in the road?"
Rushing to kneel beside the man, Emma then paused in surprise.
Her shaking hands came to rest upon a handsome face with a striking jawline and chestnut brown hair. It was unprofessional, but damn it, no one was around to comment. She quickly drew her eyes away from his face and only then noticed the man's attire. His dress style reminded her of a pantomime, with a light brown long coat and a white medieval-styled shirt underneath; partnered with lace sleeves and all. Dark pants led on to ankle boots of fine leather, and Emma marvelled at the bizarre style, despite his unconscious state. She couldn't image anyone else pulling it off quite as naturally as the stranger did.
Emma silently prayed she hadn't killed someone so damn good-looking.
"Just my luck." She grumbled. "But seriously, come on. What the hell were you doing back there?"
For a brief moment, Emma turned to look at what the stranger had been so adamantly focused on. The clock-tower, she mused. It now read, 8:15, and she cursed again.
"Forgive me,"
A low, male voice startled her, and she looked down to find the man's eyes now wide and fearful. "I am not yet accustomed to this new realm, but…should I introduce myself?" He asked carefully. His voice was deep and musical, somehow affected by an accent she couldn't recognise or place. He coughed. "Or do you plan to kill me anyway?"
Emma didn't know whether to laugh or scoff. She decided on the latter.
"Kill you?" She repeated. Realising that her hands were still intimately pressed against his cheeks, she quickly released them. "What….no! Of course not. Why would you think that?" Emma muttered another curse. "Do I look like a psychopath?"
The stranger stared up at her with such intensity that Emma felt almost burned by an untouchable fire of the soul. "You look like an angel."
She blinked, reduced to muteness by not only the random statement, but by its sincerity. He'd uttered it like a prayer. As though he truly believed he found a lost part of his soul. It took her a few moments to achieve movement as she stared like a gaping, unattractive fish at the young man she'd just hit.
Finally, her lips pulled into a slight smile and she was proud to manage a dry eye roll. "Smooth. Good one. I bet that works on all the ladies at theatre club, huh?"
His eyebrow quirked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"
Damn it, that accent is unreal.
"I think you hit your head kinda hard." She rephrased a little more kindly, ignoring her stomach's decision to flutter and dance about like moronic fairies. "Can you stand?"
The man paused, and lifted himself up easily onto his elbows. "I do believe I can, yes." He then shot her a friendly smile as he clambered to his feet with ease. Just when Emma was about to apologise, he swept his coat behind him and dropped into a low, formal bow. "I am Prince Killian, and who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
Killian.
"Uh…I'm…Swan. Emma Swan."
Princess of crazyville, apparently, she thought humorously.
Killian stood again, and folded his arms against his chest. His smile was brilliant and open and she couldn't help but return it. "Thank you, Emma Swan."
She grinned. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "For hitting you with my car?" She really couldn't help it this time; the lost puppy look on his face was too amusing for his own good. Quickly giving him the once-over for cuts and noticeable signs of damage, she caught his watchful eye and silenced.
Oh, hell. Well, that wasn't at all suggestive.
She held out a hand apologetically. "Sorry, I was…uh…checking you out." Oh, god. "For cuts! And you know," She waved an arm again as her cheeks flushed a ferocious pink. ", bruises and that kind of stuff..." Please, stop. ", that one gets when one gets hit by a car..."
And now I'm rambling like an idiot, wonderful. Could this night get any better?
If the Gods looking down in amusement had any hand in what followed, then Emma gladly would've become a worshiper of Satan.
And now it's raining…perfect.
Killian bowed his head and attempted to duck away from the rain. His long coat flew out behind him like some damn Disney prince, and Emma bit back another grin. Oh, whoa, he even has a sword. Without giving herself a moment to reconsider, Emma caught his eye and gestured for him to follow her into the apartment complex.
When he followed her up the stairs, she finally allowed a look back. "Uh…you can come and dry off inside, I suppose. My son will be asleep probably, so…try not to be too noisy."
Crossing an arm across his chest, Killian nodded. "You have my word. I appreciate your hospitality."
What the hell am I doing? She argued against the logical side of her mind. I hit him with my car, I can at least offer five minutes to recoup.
Satisfying her claim that he wasn't indeed a serial killer, Emma took a note of Killian beside her. She noticed the formal upright manner of his walk, as though showing signs of a defeat was inexcusable. His long stance was elegant for a man of his height. At least 6ft 1 or 2, she was surprised by his graceful ascend up the stairs, and light footsteps against the marble floor. His hair, wet from the rain, stood at random angles, and she ignored the urge to run her fingers through it.
For logical purposes, of course.
As they reached her apartment, Emma produced the key and unlocked the door as quietly as possible. Killian waited behind patiently; though Emma noticed the way his eyes widened as she opened the door and stepped inside. He seemed to become in awe of every single item. The key was met by a strange look; the carpet was met by a gentle tap of his boot, but the greatest response of all was the way Killian almost gasped as they entered the apartment.
It was a large, but simple room with a warm crème and brown colour palette. A plant corner plant, TV and maple wood table and chair dinner set graced the room. The room diverged into the kitchen, dining room and coat hall before branching into the separate rooms of Emma and Henry's bedrooms.
To Killian, it appeared to be straight out of a film. His eyes widened as he traced his ringed fingers against the settee, the table and every object possible.
Where the hell did you come from?
Emma stepped towards him, arms folded flat against her chest. "Uh, Killian?" His name sounded wonderfully unusual on her tongue. Part of her wanted to say it again, and again…
"Yes?" Killian's reply was soft, and when he looked across where she stood next to the sofa, his eyes shone with unshed tears.
She swallowed.
It was unlike her to be unnerved by someone, but Killian was new and foreign and somewhat engaging in an entirely new manner. She wasn't certain how to approach him. It didn't help that as he stared at her, his blue eyes offered a hidden sense of being lost, and it was one she could painfully relate to. The longer she looked, the harder it was to look away. Finally, she cleared her throat and nodded. "If you want to take a seat whilst I call you a cab, you're more than welcome to."
"Thank you, lady Swan."
This time, Emma ducked her head to avoid Killian seeing her grin. He looked to the sofa and gingerly removed his boots, and for some reason, that made her smile again.
She turned away and began to dial one of the many taxi services she'd had memorised for years.
This had to be one of the strangest moments in her life. She'd encountered weird arguments and bitter fights at work, but nothing quite as rememberable as hitting a ridiculously attractive man with her car only to invite him up to her apartment soon after.
"Hey, where is it you're from….Killian?" Emma trailed off as her eyes caught sight of Killian on the sofa.
Intentionally or not, the handsome young man had fallen completely asleep, and she felt a blossoming smile tug happily at her lips. A warm energy surged over her, as though at complete peace with the total stranger currently occupying her apartment.
She kneeled beside him again and simply looked.
His eyes were closed, but his lids flickered and danced like fireflies. A strange feeling of tenderness encouraged her to sympathise. She had no clue where Killian was from, or what the hell he had been doing, but Emma didn't want to send him away without knowing…well, more. Something demanded her not only to know, but to understand and help. It was strange yet at the same time, satisfying that there was something pulling and urging the young woman to recognise a kindred soul.
Emma smiled softly and placed the phone down on the hook, cutting off the taxi service.
She then carefully tugged a blanket across his body. "Goodnight, Killian."
So did you enjoy David's failed heroic attempts to slaughter every Taxi in New York City as much as me?
In an additional note, I actually cut this chapter shorter because I wanted to leave it on this fluffy CS moment because…well, it's cute, hehe. You'll find out more about what Milla is up to, and what happens to David as well.
Hope you like the little references I threw in to King Arthur and the recurring '8:15' time on the clock-tower.
Reviews = food…or cookies, so let me know what you thought. Feedback is the best gift you can give to any writer, honestly, it's better than cookies! (not as good as tea though.)