. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Your majesties! It's him! The Dark One has arrived and even now storms the castle!"
King David and Killian's eyes met immediately.
"Impossible!" Killian hissed, "The Jolly Roger is the fastest ship on the seven seas. There's no way he could have caught up so quickly."
"No matter," King David replied, "We must act now."
Killian nodded, standing up quickly and unsheathing his sword before rounding the table toward the Princess and taking her hand.
"We must leave at once if we're to escape unnoticed."
"What?!" She asked, throwing his hand away, "I'm not going anywhere! This is my home!"
The King and Queen rushed to their daughter and held her tight.
"Darling, you must go. I'm sorry there's no time to explain, but Killian will tell you everything once you're safe."
"Aren't you coming with us?" She asked, eyes wide and tears threatening to fall.
"We can't," Snow White said, her voice breaking, barely able to get the words out.
"Trust Killian. Trust your instincts. Trust your heart," her father urged, kissing her face.
"We love you," her mother wept, squeezing her tight.
"I love you!" Emma said, her throat constricting, "Both of you. I can't-"
"Emma, you must go! Now!" Her father raised his voice. He never raised his voice.
"Come, love," came the sound of Killian's soft lilting voice in her ear.
She let him lead her out of the dining hall and down a secret passage she'd never seen before. It led to a hallway Emma thought must be the servant's quarters. He grabbed a torch and began to lead them through when the sound of heavy, fast-moving footsteps grew louder from behind them. Killian placed the torch in a sconce on the wall and pulled her quickly through a nearby door, shutting it nearly all the way and motioning for her to be quiet. She held her breath, tears streaming down her face.
BOOM!
The entire castle shook and Emma bit her lip hard to keep from screaming. Killian wrapped his arm around her in an effort to offer what little comfort he could while listening for the troop of soldiers to pass them by.
They were undetected.
Killian stuck his head out the door once the corridor fell silent and as soon as the way was clear, he hurried her through the hall and down a dark staircase. She tugged on his arm.
"Wait!" She whispered. He tugged even harder to get her to follow him. She dug her heels into the ground. "The Evil Queen is down there!"
"She's imprisoned," Killian reminded her.
"But she'll see us!" Emma hissed.
Another troop of soldiers was fast approaching.
"There's no time," he said, urging her onward.
Emma shuddered at the thought of passing the Redguard. She'd never come across one that was actually on duty guarding the Evil Queen, only seen them in passing at the changing of the guard. She wondered if they'd try to stop them from escaping.
BOOM! BOOM!
The castle shook again. There was no doubt they were under siege now.
"What is happening out there?!" They heard a woman's voice shout angrily. "You useless fools! Don't you realize your precious kingdom is under attack?!"
Emma's blood ran cold when she heard the voice of the Evil Queen. Killian seemed unphased, just kept pulling her along.
They reached an opening, a wide alcove of sorts, where two Redguard soldiers stood fast, seemingly unaware of the attack. They stared blankly ahead with their cold, empty eyes and ignored the Evil Queen's shouting and canon fire alike. Then, as if that wasn't frightening enough, the Evil Queen spied Emma through the bars of her prison; hard to miss in that bright red dress. She saw the fear in the young girl's eyes, threw her head back, and laughed. It was the most maniacal sound Emma had ever heard.
Once Killian was sure the Redguard would make no move to stop them, he hurried her through the alcove to a door marked with the symbol of the Redguard- a diamond with an eye in the center.
By this time, Emma knew better than to protest. She simply followed Killian through countless corridors and doorways deep beneath the castle.
At last, they reached the end of a very dark tunnel. It seemed to Emma like a dead end. But Killian knew better. He jumped and caught hold of something Emma could not see. With some effort and the dull shriek of rusted metal grinding against itself, a kind of door swung open from the ceiling, dropping a cloud of dust, a dead animal, and finally Killian at her feet.
"You'll have to climb," He said. She nodded as he knelt down and made himself a foothold for her. She stepped onto his knee and reached up, flailing her arms to try to reach the first metal bar of many that led straight up a very long tunnel she could now see by the pale moonlight shining from above.
"I can't reach it," she said, straining. He wasted no time on pleasantries. He simply grabbed her waist firmly in his hands and stood up, pushing her straight up over his head. She caught hold of the first bar and began struggling to reach the next. They were so far apart. She knew she could manage them once she got a proper foothold, but she just didn't have the upper body strength to pull herself up that high.
Killian quickly discerned the problem.
"Forgive me, Princess," he said, grabbing her thighs with both hands and pushing her up even higher. She gasped at the contact and marveled at his strength, but the sound of shouting soldiers reminded her that this was not a time for propriety. She made her way up the rudimentary ladder. Once she'd cleared the first five bars, Killian quickly scrambled up after her, pulling the door shut behind him and sliding the thick metal latch into place with his boot.
Once she'd reached the top, Emma found herself on a cliff overlooking the sea and the castle she'd grown up in. She was horrified by what she saw. The castle was burning, crumbling. The port was flooded with enemy ships and cannon fire. The walls had been breached.
Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and she covered her mouth in horror as she watched her childhood home go up in flames. She could even hear the sound of soldiers screaming their fearsome battle cries. Killian gave her a moment's peace to see what she needed to see and grieve, then took her hand again.
"My lady, we cannot linger," he urged, softly. She nodded, sniffling, and held his hand tightly, following him through the darkness.
They came to a small, abandoned cottage in the woods. There was hardly anything left of the place. Killian ushered her inside and watched for a good ten seconds to make sure they had not been seen before following after her.
"We can't stay more than a moment," he warned her, dropping to his knees and removing a stone from the hearth. His arm slid easily inside all the way up to the shoulder and he drew out what looked to Emma like some clothes and weapons and food. Clearly, this plan had been in place for a long time.
"Put this on over your dress," He said, tossing her a heavy brown hooded cloak. She obeyed, not bothering to even shake out the dust. He donned something similar. He then handed her a small dagger which she tucked into her breast, her gown allowing no other place to keep it. She'd begun to regret wearing the satin ball gown to dinner the very moment they started running and she hadn't stopped since. He tossed her a belt, which she struggled to fasten around herself.
"What's wrong?"
"This dress!" She cursed under her breath. Killian wasted no time. He drew his dagger and slit a hole right down the middle of the thick layers of red satin and tulle, then pulled hard. Emma gasped as it tore easily in his hands and he ripped it away from her body, leaving her with only her white petticoat under the red satin bodice.
"Apologies, my lady," he said, handing her an elegant rapier.
She didn't say a word - honestly, what could she have said?
She simply sheathed the sword on her belt, now secured low on her waist.
He tucked the rest of the weapons and food into his pockets and said, "We'll eat later. We must leave now." Emma nodded, heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
And so they continued, running through the forest like thieves in the night.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .