Hook clenches his jaw and Emma knows she has hit a nerve.
"I am fighting Bae and I will win."
"Why fight him? To satisfy your ego? To punish Gold? To prove you are better than Neal?" She steps up to him, her eyes flashing, daring him to give her a straight answer. He stands his ground.
"No," he grits out. "Because in this world Bae is dangerous, and the only way to deal with dangerous people is to face them not cower in fear."
"Oh really? And what makes you so sure about that?"
He leans further into her space, his voice dropping low even though there is no one around to hear him. "Because I am a pirate and I know how he thinks."
He holds her eyes, daring her to deny his words. Emma blinks and fights the urge to step away. He is dangerous–she can feel it in her gut–but the danger isn't physical: it's emotional.
"Fine. Get yourself killed. See if I care." She spins on her heel and storms away.
Emma tries to convince herself as she walks that she really wouldn't care if Hook died, but she knows it's a lie. Even on top of the beanstalk when they barely knew each other and he had been a clear threat, she hadn't wanted him dead. But just like on the beanstalk, she wants to run away from him. Because all this pretending to be married is starting to mess with her head. All the time hanging on his arm, listening to him talk with intelligence and wit, getting to learn the way he smells and the way his breath hitches when he suppresses a laugh. Seeing him lying on the bed, inviting her with his eyes, and then comforting him in that same bed when he cried out for Milah and Bae. It's all too much, too intimate, and the sooner it stops, the better.
She gets to the open grass field and stops to look for a familiar face. Henry waves at her enthusiastically from the other side and she thinks about joining him until she notices that Robin–seriously Robin Hood is real too–is beside him. She is glad Henry is safe and happy but she isn't quite ready to get to know any more fairytale characters. Discovering that Ashley was actually Cinderella earlier that day had been bad enough. Almost as bad as discovering she was part of a fairytale romance herself. Although with the pirates, the fighting, and the making out after stargazing, Emma wonders if it isn't more of supermarket romance (she would know: she's read plenty). She wishes she hadn't made Hook tell the story. He had started out with his usual half-serious tone, but somewhere in the middle, he had begun to sound wistful, as if part of him wished he could be a heroic captain that rescued princesses.
"There you are!" Emma turns to see David approaching.
She fixes a smile on her face. "David!" He offers her his arm, which she takes, and they begin to walk toward the stands.
"Been looking all over for you and Killian. Have you heard about what Baelfire did?" Emma nods and David shakes his head. "It's low even for him. But don't worry. I am sure Killian will win."
"Well, he certainly seems to think so."
David chuckles, but Emma doesn't really see the humor.
He catches her frown and pulls them to a stop. "Emma, I have been meaning to ask, is everything alright between you and Killian?"
She feels a chill run up her back. "Of course. Why do you ask?"
David shrugs and looks away. "It's just, well Killian doesn't seem quite himself, he seems angrier, sadder maybe? And you two seem a little distant not as–uh–physically affectionate as you were before the wedding." David blushes a little and looks away leaving Emma to wonder just how physical Princess Emma and Captain Jones had been.
"Well, just because we aren't enthusiastically kissing in public like you and Snow!" Emma tries to deflect his question with a smile and a friendly bump of his shoulder.
David seems to get the message that the status of her relationship with Killian is not up for discussion and chuckles. "Well, who am I to deny a champion her favor?"
Emma rolls her eyes and hums a noncommittal "Mmm-hmmm" as they begin walking again. Johanna had explained the favor system which was as medieval as the castle and Emma's clothes. Essentially the champion of each event was allowed to claim a kiss from anyone present. Sometimes they were kisses to the hand or pecks on the cheek if the two didn't know each other, or if the champion was using the event to proclaim their feelings. Of course Mary-Margaret and David, being married, had been embarrassingly enthusiastic in their performance this morning. Like walking in on them in bed, it was an image she would rather not have in her brain.
"As if you and Killian aren't going to do the same thing when he wins." David bumps her shoulder back and Emma almost stumbles.
She had been so concerned with the fight itself that she hadn't even considered what would happen after. Her stomach drops. If Neal wins, she is almost positive he will demand a kiss. If Killian wins there is no doubt he will choose her; she's his wife.
David keeps talking but Emma barely hears him, and she is grateful when they arrive at the stands to find Snow waiting for them. They make small talk while they wait for the tournament to begin. Several people come up to express their support of Killian and disgust for Neal. The more time passes the more Emma just wants to get it all over with. Then, as if tapping into her subconscious, the trumpets sound and the crowd, three times as big as the morning crowd, quiets.
Neal and Hook stride to the center of the field and bow to the stands; then they step away from each other and draw their swords. Neal is dressed in deep red leather pants and shirt, almost a mirror to Hook's brown outfit. They both wear a look of grim determination as their swords glint in the sunlight, but Neal has a wicked smirk while Hook's mouth is in a thin line. There is a short blast of a trumpet and suddenly they are in motion.
Neal attacks quickly, and judging by the way the audience gasps, it is an unexpected, possibly illegal, move. Hook doesn't seem fazed as he blocks the blade with his own and pushes Neal back. Hook attacks swiftly, his sword moving in tight arcs that Neal struggles to block. Suddenly, Hook stops his attack and backs away.
"Why did he stop? He had him!" David complains to her right.
They circle each other, their swords meeting briefly but without any real force. Emma can see their lips moving, knows they are talking but can't make out the words. Whatever is said causes Neal to lash out again, but this time even Emma can tell that it's a wild attack. Fleetingly she thinks of the way she had flown at Hook on the banks of that dry lake bed and how he had trapped her sword and sent it sailing away. She watches as Hook performs the exact same maneuver on Neal and knocks him to the ground, holding the point of his sword at his throat. The crowd is on its feet, clapping and cheering, seemingly shocked that the fight has ended so quickly. Hook steps away and sheathes his sword, his eyebrows pinched with worry rather than victory. He turns and searches the stands and with a jolt Emma realizes he is looking for her.
"Killian, look out!" David yells.
Emma shifts her gaze to see Neal rushing at Killian, his arm raised, a dagger glinting in his hand. Killian spins and blocks the attack with his prosthetic hand, sending the dagger skittering away while simultaneously delivering a punch with his right hand. The motion is so fluid that Emma wonders if he had been expecting the attack. Neal drops to the ground and the crowd, which had momentarily fallen silent, bursts alive even louder than before. Emma feels relief flood her body as men dressed in chainmail and gold tunics rush onto the field and carry Neal off.
Killian begins striding towards the cheering crowd and Emma, still in shock, feels hands pushing at her shoulders. She looks over to see Snow and David motioning for her to go meet him. Her already unsteady heart jumps into her throat as she turns and tries to channel the persona of adoring wife. The crowd parts for her and soon she is on the ground and running toward him, partly to keep up the act and partly because she needs to touch him and confirm that he is okay. It's only then that she admits that she had been scared for him.
Distracted by the noise of the crowd, he doesn't see her until the last second and gives a little surprised grunt as she flings herself into his arms. He keeps them both from falling by using her momentum to swing her around. His scruff scratches at her cheek as he pulls away. His eyebrows are practically jumping off his face and his grin is wide and dazzling. Neither of them notice that the crowd has quieted until King Midas's voice rings out.
"Champion, step forward." With a grin Killian releases Emma and walks the few steps to Midas. He pulls his sword with a flourish and presents it for the man's weird sparkling hand. With a touch the sword turns to gold. Killian bows and sheaths it.
"Champion, whose favor do you claim?"
"I choose Princess Emma." Killian half turns to her a smirk on his flushed face. Heat shoots through Emma's body and she feels the desire to run begin to overtake her. She pushes it down and forces herself to step forward. Killian meets her halfway his smirk in place but his eyes searching hers. And it's the way that he seems to be asking permission with that look that spurs her to action. Without a second thought she grabs at the collar of his tunic and pulls his lips to hers. His small gasp of surprise at the contact is the only indication that her action is unexpected. He throws himself into the kiss with abandon and Emma joins him. His lips are salty from his sweat and his body is hot under her hands as they roam up and over his shoulders to sink into his hair. His tongue meets hers; she tastes rum and vaguely wonders why he had been drinking. He pulls her closer with his left arm while his right hand tangles lightly in her hair. She can feel the furnace of his body and her own seems to be catching fire. She can't think of anything but his lips and his tongue and the little moan he just made and that's why she pushes him away. Because, like he said, he is dangerous; kissing like this is dangerous. She catches her breath and the cheers and catcalls of the crowd begin to register as she hovers just out of reach of him. She wants to kiss him again and all she can think of is how that would be a very bad idea.
"I think they bought it," she breathes. His body stiffens and though she had intended to push him away, it still hurts when his hands fall from her and he actually steps back. Her eyes flutter open. His cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed from her hands and his lips swollen, but his eyes are cast downward, refusing to meet hers. The moment is broken by the arrival of David and Snow hugging and congratulating Killian; half of the crowd seems to engulf them good wishes. All Emma wants to do is run far away, but instead she has to stay by Killian's side, her hand wrapped around his arm and a smile of pride on her face. It's a relief when David hauls Killian away to celebrate.
The sun is sinking low when Emma breaks away from Mary-Margaret and the festivities. Either the defeat and imprisonment of Neal had put everyone in a very good mood, or the tournament was just an excuse for a fairytale land kegger. Emma didn't care which; she just wanted to stop hearing about how happy people were for her and how impressive they thought her husband was in the fight. She hasn't seen Killian since David pulled him away, and she hopes he passes out drunk somewhere far from their room. She doesn't want to see him, let alone sleep next to him right now. It was only a kiss but somehow it was also so much more, and Emma doesn't want to risk kissing him again. Of course, if they can't figure out this curse she will have no choice. There will be more kisses, more handholding, more sleeping in the same bed, and more opportunities for him to erode her walls. She sighs as she pushes open the heavy wooden door wondering if she can undress without Johanna's help. Her cheeks hurt from her fake smile and her head has started to pound. She wants to rip her dress and corset off and find a pair of jeans and a tank top. She wants to sleep in her bed and drive her car. She wants everything to go back to normal–well, the Storybrooke version of normal, at least.
"Hello, love."
Emma starts and turns to see Killian sitting in the near dark at the small table, the remains of a dinner before him and a flask in his hand.
"Killian! I thought you were down at the party."
"I didn't see much cause to celebrate." He raises his flask and takes a sip before offering it to Emma. She looks at it and shakes her head, pushing away the memory of the taste of rum on her tongue. He shrugs his shoulders and finishes off the flask in a long gulp.
"I thought you would be happy you defeated Nea–Baelfire?" She leans against the edge of the table.
He sneers. "I fought because I had to, and we both know that man is not Bae. This curse has turned him into something twisted and evil." Emma is reminded again that Killian knows Neal, from Neverland of all places. A part of her wants to know the full story, but she remembers how he responded to her questions about his tattoo and she knows he won't share. Not that she blames him; she understands keeping people at arm's length.
"I know. Neal is a thief and a liar, but he would never try to stab someone in the back."
Killian cocks his head, his eyes carefully assessing. Emma looks away and stares at the boots sticking out from the dirty hem of her dress. A long moment passes before Killian pushes back his chair and stands.
"Well, thankfully when we break this curse, Bae and everything else will be restored to normal."
Emma nods and twists the ring on her finger. "Yeah. I can wear pants again."
"And I shall have my hook."
Before either of them can mention any other changes or what they might mean for them, there is a loud knock at the door. Emma pushes away from the table and opens the door to find a grinning Henry.
He wraps his arms around her waist.
"I figured it out!" he says as he releases her and walks into the room. "Hey, Killian. Great fight! That disarming move was really cool."
"Wait kid, slow down. What did you figure out?" Emma closes the door and follows her son into the room.
"Oh! How to break the curse!" His grin is a mile wide and she feels a swell of pride. Leave it to Henry to figure it all out.
"Well, lad, out with it." Killian gestures impatiently with his hand.
"True Love's Kiss!"
Emma can't help the way her eyes flick to Killian; he looks as uncomfortable as she feels. Their eyes meet and they both look away.
"Henry," Emma begins but he cuts her off.
"I mean, I don't know why I didn't think of it before! It worked in the hospital on two curses. There is no reason it won't work here!"
Emma feels ridiculous. Of course Henry meant for her to kiss him, just like she had in Storybrooke. Why had she even considered he meant Killian?
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Decision Time!
Emma and Henry break the curse with True Love's Kiss
OR
Emma and Henry kiss but nothing happens
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-
Author's Note: Sorry again for the delay I am going to go ahead and try and update the rest of the chapters tonight. For your reference on the last vote 79% voted for Killian to fight Neal.
