A/N: So this chapter took longer than I expected to post. I went through several drafts and a bout of writers block before finally being comfortable with the end result. Even though the series has officially ended, this story is outlined and I do intend to complete it. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and liking my story. It's such an encouragement and I'm so glad it can bring you joy. Please let me know what you think and as usual, please excuse any grammar or spelling errors.
(February)
Two weeks have passed since the incident with Killian. Two weeks since Emma's been functioning on autopilot. She takes care of Henry, attends classes, goes to work, attempts sleep, and repeats.
She dutifully avoids the library, choosing to study in the hallways outside her classes. It's not ideal, but she prefers the obnoxious noise of boisterous undergrads as opposed to risking a run-in with Killian. Her cell phone is relegated to a clock as she ignores every phone call and text, save for messages regarding work. Killian doesn't attempt to make contact and she's glad for it, ignoring the voice in her head saying it's because he knows her well enough to respect her boundaries and not push.
Her feelings continue to vacillate from anger, embarrassment, frustration, to loneliness. The days are easier to ignore the latter emotion, but at night, she tosses and turns in bed, missing her friend. She misses their conversations, their playful banter and affectionate touches but most of all, she misses how he tore down her walls and burrowed his way into her heart.
She finds herself distracted while in class or on the job, sorting through her conflicted thoughts. Her rationale brain can understand why Killian held back his secret - (as fantastical as it is) - but her emotional brain roars with indignation at not knowing for so long. She mulls over his declaration of being in love with her, scoffing at the ridiculous notion one minute and burning with hope the next. After all, it's because she is in love with Killian that his betrayal spooked her into running away.
Emma persists in her autopilot routine for another week until her friends apparently have enough of the radio silence and send in the biggest gun in their arsenal - May Margaret.
The petite brunette is at Emma's door one Friday evening, a small package wrapped in brown paper and twine at her side. She waists no time in barreling past Emma's front door once opened, not bothering to wait for a greeting.
Emma rolls her eyes to the heavens before closing the door and following her determined friend to the kitchen. Mary Margaret gets to work assembling the fixings for hot cocoa while Emma takes a seat at the island bar, drumming her fingers on the countertop in anticipation for the inquisition about to occur. She eyes the package Mary Margaret brought, brow lifted in curiosity, but refrains from asking about it.
A few minutes pass in silence until Mary Margaret plops a mug of the good stuff in front of Emma. Leaning back against the counter and taking a small sip from her own mug, Mary Margaret's brow arches in wait before beginning, "So, want to tell me what's been bothering you?"
Emma takes a sip before answering, careful to avoid Mary Margaret's penetrating gaze.
"No, not really."
"Does it have anything to do with Killian?"
Emma traces the rim of her mug in silence, contemplating how she can escape this unsolicited interrogation. "Where's little Leo? Finally find a steady babysitter?"
"He's with David and no we haven't. Now quit stalling and answer my question." Mary Margaret looks at her pointedly and Emma exhales in annoyance. Clearly there is no getting out of this impromptu chat.
"Yes." Emma deadpans in response. If she's going to have this conversation, she's going to make her surrogate mother of a friend pull some teeth.
Mary Margaret's gaze softens as she sets her mug down and spreads her fingers atop the island counter, leveling her gaze at Emma. "What happened?"
Shrugging her shoulders and taking a sip of cocoa, Emma answers plainly, "He wasn't who he said he was and as usual I got my heart broken."
Mary Margaret tilts her head curiously, a silent prompt for Emma to continue.
Rolling her eyes and letting out a frustrated breath, Emma obliges her friend. "Killian isn't just Killian. He's the prince of Denmark."
Mary Margaret erupts in a coughing fit, hot cocoa travelling from her throat to nose. Accepting a napkin from Emma, she gracefully uses it to clean her face. "I'm sorry, he's a what now?"
Emma nods, smirking sardonically before clicking her tongue and repeating, "Killian's the prince of Denmark."
Mary Margaret stares, mouth agape, eyes wide and brow lifted in disbelief.
"Yep," Emma says emphatically, popping the 'p' for effect. "Killian is the prince of Denmark, as in Denmark, Denmark. As in prince-who-is-next-in-line-for-the-throne kind of prince."
Mary Margaret continues to blankly stare, flabbergasted.
Emma, giving her friend a moment to compose herself, sighs in exasperation before taking another sip of cocoa. "As you can surmise, I didn't take it well. I ran and haven't heard from him since."
"H-how? I mean, how?" Mary Margaret blinks rapidly, her face contorted in stupefaction.
Ignoring the question, Emma unloads her thoughts. "The worst part is, I don't know if I'm more upset Killian lied about being a prince or about him telling me he loves me."
"He told you he loves you! Emma he's in love with you! Did you say it back? Oh my gosh, how did he tell you?" Mary Margaret beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.
"Kind of missing the whole point here Mary Margs."
"Right, sorry." Mary Margaret settles from bouncing on the balls of her feet, turning to rummage through Emma's kitchen cabinets.
"What are you doing?" Emma asks, bewildered at her friend's sudden onset of ADHD.
"Looking for – ah ha!" Mary Margaret turns and sets a bottle of bourbon on the counter. "This conversation clearly requires the assistance of alcohol."
A small laugh at her friend's antics escapes Emma as she nods in agreement.
Mary Margaret pours them each a tumbler and they silently toast before taking a modest, tentative sip. Emma delights in the liquid warmth as it spreads throughout, melting away her bitterness and coaxing her into unloading on her friend's offered ear.
Two refills later, the story exhausted and the women long since relegated to the couch, Mary Margaret asks the obvious, "So, what are you going to do?"
"What is there to do? Killian's royalty, I'm most decidedly not. In case you forgot Mary Margaret, I'm an orphan, I have a criminal record, I'm a single-mom, in what world would we ever work out?" Emma replies, vexed at the idea.
"Ah, so you admit to wishing it could work - you and him." Mary Margaret offers.
Emma attempts to respond but when unable to successfully formulate words, Mary Margaret presses on. "Emma, before knowing Killian is a prince, you admitted to being in love with him and clearly, as he expressed, he's in love with you too. Prince or not, orphan or not, you owe it to each other to forgive him and give yourselves a chance."
"And why should I do that? Even if I did, how would that be possible?" Emma asks gruffly, pounding the pillow in her lap rather excessively than what is generally adequate to fluff a pillow.
"Because you owe it to yourself to be happy, Emma."
"Okay stop, my happiness is not defined by a man." Emma retorts, hand raised defensively, baffled at her friend's insinuation.
Mary Margaret huffs, exasperated at her friend's petulance, "Of course not, but love is a part of all happiness, and you have to be open to that. Besides, even believing in the possibility of a happy ending can be a very powerful thing."
Emma sits silently from her cross-legged perch on the couch, face downcast in thought. After a moment, she hears a ruffling and looks up to see Mary Margaret holding the brown paper package in front of her. Her brow rises curiously but she doesn't accept the package right away.
"I found this sitting by your door when I arrived. Ten guesses who it's from."
Nodding in acquiescence, Emma quietly takes the package from Mary Margaret's hands.
"I'll leave you to it then." Mary Margaret shrugs into her coat and continues, "Just know Emma, whatever you decide, you have our support and no matter what we will always love you."
Emma smiles and stands to embrace her, "Thanks Mary Margaret."
Once at the door, Mary Margaret gives her a final hug. "I'll ward off David long enough to give you some more time, but please don't stay away much longer?"
"I promise, I won't. Give him my love and um, maybe keep him in check? I don't need him playing knight in shinning armor and punching Killian in the face."
"I make no promises." Mary Margaret winks and Emma chuckles before shutting the door and turning back toward the living room.
The package is undoubtedly from Killian, yet she hesitantly approaches as if it's a rigged explosive.
Squaring her shoulders, she debates having one more glass of bourbon for some liquid courage but decides against it. If she can face her feelings, she can certainly face whatever is in the package.
Carefully untying the twine, she unfolds the brown paper, breath hitching at the sight.
The book is a well-worn leather hardback, thick, with the title emblazoned in intricate calligraphy – Peter and Wendy. As she reverently caresses the tome, her senses are engulfed with the vintage smell of leather and feel of centuries old paper. Upon opening the cover, she first notices the delicately folded letter with her name penned in cursive before her heart freezes at the inscription written on the inside of the cover.
My Dearest Little Brother,
Emma gently slams the book cover closed, taking a moment to catch her breath. He couldn't have, could he?
Collecting herself, she hesitantly opens the book once more.
My Dearest Little Brother,
This past month has been nothing short of purgatory, if not hell. I do realize these are not the most proper words to use, given the circumstances, but you know as well as I that mother is now in heaven, free from anymore suffering. She loved you with her whole soul Killian, as do I. Keep this treasure with you, as a reminder of all the nights mother would stay up reading to us, long past our bedtime, always willing to read another chapter at our supplications. We may have to grow up now, Little Brother, but unlike the Darling children, we will hold on to the memories and never forget our adventures. For our mother is still with us, watching from heaven's nursery window.
All My Love,
Your Big Brother, Liam
Emma's body begins to tremble, tears threatening to fall as she re-reads the inscription. How could Killian part with something so personal? Attempting to ease her warring emotions at the thought, she quickly scans the book for the copyright information but the damn breaks as she registers the date – 1911 - a first edition. Something resembling a hiccup and sob escapes her throat as she futilely attempts to brush away free falling tears.
Picking up the letter inscribed with her name, she unfolds it with quivering hands, her heart full but poised.
Min Kære Svane,
(My Dearest Swan)
There are not enough words to describe how utterly penitent I am for breaking your trust and hurting your heart with my deception. I do not deserve your forgiveness, however much I wish it. I do not deserve to be in your life, however much I desire it. There are no excuses to justify my behavior. I was a coward of a man, never mind a prince. I ignored the wisdom instilled in me at a young age by my brother Liam, and that is simply - a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.
I did not fight for you Emma, I did not fight for us in the way I should have – with absolute honesty from the beginning. Now because of my cowardice, I have once again lost the most important people in my life – you and Henry.
Please know Emma, my declaration of loving you was not a desperate plea in the heat of the moment. I am profoundly, resolutely, timelessly in love with you Emma Swan. I have longed to tell you for some time, but I could never balance expressing my feelings and telling you the truth of who I am for fear of losing you. But now I have lost you and I shall never forgive myself.
By the time you read this, I will be on the way to Copenhagen. My father has dictated my return, much to my displeasure, and he has decreed coronation is to be in May. Thus, I am to forgo my studies in preparation and assume the responsibilities of my birthright.
I regret many things Emma, but not you, never you. I love you Emma, I want only your heart's desire, whatever it may be. Please take care my love. I hope only the best for you and young Henry. Perhaps when enough times passes, you will share this book with Henry as my mother shared with me (and hopefully the lad will see my perspective of Captain Hook).
Al min kærlighed,
(All my love)
Killian
Emma places the letter on the coffee table and leans back in her seat on the couch. After wiping away more freshly fallen tears, she closes her eyes and allows herself to reflect on everything.
Slowly, uncharacteristically, it dawns on her with startling clarity - she believes him, she trusts him. Killian may be a prince, but he's the friend she fell in love with, the friend who loves her in return.
Another hiccup escapes her, but she smiles and welcomes it as she laughs aloud. She has choices and she can choose to be alone, tirelessly missing Killian, or she can choose to forgive, to be vulnerable, to have hope and give into this improbable fairytale.
Emma stands abruptly from where she sits on the couch in search of her cell phone. She dials the number decidedly, smiling in anticipation.
"Hey, about earlier. I need a favor…"
-/-
The following evening, Emma is sitting with her friends around Mary Margaret and David's kitchen table.
Ruby is pouring herself another round of wine while August, sitting across from the red headed beauty, takes a sip of his whisky. Henry sits next to Elsa, happily dunking a double stuffed Oreo into milk. Mary Margaret is seated at the head of the table, David to her right, his arms crossed in defiance.
"I still don't see why Emma should do this. The guy lied to her." David expresses, rolling his eyes in frustration.
"Technically you can argue he didn't lie. Is a lie of omission really a lie?" August asks, firing up his laptop.
"Yes, a 'lie of omission' is still a lie, hence the wording." Mary Margaret explains, annoyed at the bull headed author's quip. "But Emma has decided to forgive him and we are supporting her in that decision."
Emma, grateful for the support but overwhelmed at the offered plan, attempts to speak but is cut off by Ruby's exuberant delight.
"Come on! Killian is a prince! How can we let Emma pass that up? Think of all the free trips to Denmark we will inherit thanks to Emma dating the prince!"
"Alright now wait, that's not why I'm doing this." Emma says emphatically, anxiety beginning to stir in her gut.
Last night she tossed and turned with worry about how Killian will receive her. In her heart she believes Killian will accept she's there because of him and not because of his princely status. Logically however, she doesn't know how others, particularly his family, will receive her. If her friends already think her desire to be with Killian is because she's a gold-digger – (or whatever the term is for royalty) - then what will his family think?
"Ruby you can't be serious! You know Emma better than that, apologize to her right now." Elsa the queen of grace admonishes, momentarily dispelling Emma's worries.
"I was only kidding! I'm sorry Emma I didn't mean it like that. I'm super stoked for you following your heart. I just can't get over the fact Killian is an honest to God modern prince! It'll be like Kate and William or oh, Meghan and Harry!" Ruby says, not the least bit sheepish.
Elsa shakes her head and stares at Ruby, her signature 'are you kidding me right now' face in full effect.
Anxieties assuaged for the present being, Emma smiles softly at the antics of her friends, thankful for their support.
"Prince or not, he still deserves justice for deceiving you. My fist is itching to meet his face." David gruffly addresses Emma from his seat.
"David…" Mary Margaret's tone is sharp as she stares daggers at her husband.
"But this is what you want so we are supportive." David quickly amends with a wave of his hand.
Ignoring her husband and an amused snort from August, Mary Margaret assumes command of the group. "Enough. It's already been decided upon and we've all agreed to the plan. Now, assignments!"
Aside from Henry who happily munches on Oreos, the group unitedly cringes as the petite general begins issuing orders.
"Ruby and August, search the web for the most affordable hotel nearest the winter palace, I believe it's called Amalienborg. Emma will undoubtedly be staying with Killian after making her presence known, but we don't want to be presumptuous."
Emma swiftly turns her head to rebuttal but Mary Margaret, not bothering to spare a glance, silences her with a raised hand.
"Elsa, take Emma and Henry back to their apartment and help her pack. Before you do, rummage through my closet for my wool coat. I don't know what the weather is like in Denmark, but I'm sure no amount of leather will keep her sufficiently warm in February."
"David, gather everyone's credit cards and begin comparing rates for flights. Once you find a good deal, call the airline and book the next open-ended flight. Emma deserves to take her time and not rush back home. I'm sure Killian will insist on paying for all of Emma's major expenses but again we don't want to presume, it's not polite."
The group sits, silently awaiting further instructions from the pixie cut drill sergeant.
Irritated with the bunch, Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and claps her hands together, "That's it! Go!"
All at once, everyone begins moving. Mary Margaret heads upstairs to check on Leo, David gathers everyone's offered credit cards, Elsa rummages through the bedroom closet, and Ruby and August trade off websites to search.
"Are you all sure about this?" Emma asks for the hundredth time, shrugging into her leather jacket as Elsa returns from the bedroom with an ankle length black pea coat.
"Yes mom! We have to get you to Killian!" Henry beams, jacket and beanie already secured.
"Emma, you're taking a leap and choosing to have hope and we couldn't be more excited. We're family Emma and family helps each other out." Elsa adds affectionately, buttoning up her own jacket.
"Forget about the damn money already!" August hollers in agreement from his position at the table, an oversized brownie hanging precariously from his mouth.
Emma nods in reassurance but quickly turns her attention to Henry. Although they talked this morning and though Henry expressed his approval of the plan, Emma's still uncertain. "Are you sure about this kid? If you don't want me to go, say the word. Your happiness is more important than mine."
Without hesitation Henry answers plainly, "Duh, it's Killian! He's our friend mom and he wants to be in our life. You were happy with him and I know he was happy with you."
"Oh you do, do you?"
"I know because he told me so." Henry proclaims, grinning smugly.
Emma lets out a small laugh but despite Henry's resoluteness, she remains uncertain if he truly understands the potential consequences of her endeavor. Leaning down to meet him at eye level, she places a comforting hand upon his shoulder, "Henry, you need to understand it may not work out. There is a chance Killian won't come back into our lives, but if by some miracle he does, our lives will be different. I'm not quite sure how different but in any case, I don't want to get your hopes up anymore than I already have."
With more maturity than his age merits, Henry nods silently before wrapping his arms around Emma's waist in a fierce embrace. "Whatever happens, you'll still be my mom, that's all I need."
Fervently, Emma returns Henry's embrace. As she strokes the back of his head, she silently reins in tears of wonderment for how amazing her brave little man is.
"I love you Henry, more than anything. Nothing and no one will ever change that. You know that, right?"
She feels his nod against her stomach before he pulls back, a wide smile on his face. "I know mom, I love you too."
"Are you sure you will be okay staying with Mary Margaret and David while I'm away?"
"Are you kidding? It'll be a blast! David said we could build a tent in the living room and watch the whole Star Wars trilogy, from the beginning!"
Laughing at Henry's merriment her uncertainties calm. She takes his hand in hers, a determined grin coloring her face, "Okay let's do this. Lead the way, kid."
-/-
Emma tightens her grip on the armrests of the seat, expelling another nervous breath as the song on her playlist changes. The flight from Boston to Copenhagen is ungodly long but she's too nervous to sleep. Bouncing her legs in place, she once again reviews the plan in her head.
Land, grab the luggage, get through customs, catch a taxi, check into the hotel, freshen up, head toward the palace, find Killian, apologize, and hope for the best.
Simple.
Easy.
Not at all crazy, stupid, and totally out of her character. How did she let her friends talk her into this? Why was this her idea in the first place?
Snow Patrol's Open Your Eyes taunts her through the headphones as she ruminates on the different outcomes of reuniting with Killian. What if she can't find him? What if she does but he wants nothing to do with her, too angry for her running away from him?
Emma pinches the bridge of her nose, closes her eyes, and takes another deep calming breath. No point playing the What If game. Her friends graciously helped pay for this trip, Mary Margaret and David are babysitting Henry, her professors have been notified of her absence due to a 'family emergency,' all she can do is focus on finding Killian, one step at a time.
The seatbelt light illuminates as the pilot's voice sounds from the intercom, announcing the plane's descent first in Danish than in English. Emma complies, snapping her seatbelt and exhaling another breath in a futile attempt to quiet the butterflies roaring in her stomach.
Making her way through the throng of travelers, she impatiently waits in the customs line for her passport to be authenticated and heads toward the direction of baggage claim. As she traverses the busy terminal, she passes by Denmark's version of Hudson News before doubling back, a rack of magazines catching her eye.
The language may be indecipherable, but there is no mistaking the photos. There in print, scattered across the racks, Emma stares at pictures upon pictures of her and Killian.
Stupefied, she picks up the first magazine that caught her attention. The cover is of her and Killian smiling at each other as they walk hand in hand against a blurry backdrop she supposes must be the college grounds. The photo was taken from a distance, but there's no mistaking it's them, for inset within the larger photo is an up-close picture of Emma in her red leather jacket.
Pulse quickening, she scans the cover in bewilderment trying to make sense of the bolded caption, the words glaring at her but not making any sense.
'Prince Killian og hans amerikanske kæreste? Hvem er mysteriet blondine?'
Frustrated, Emma forcefully shoves the magazine back on the rack and quickly scans the rest of the periodicals. They appear to be tabloid magazines, pictures of her and Killian together and individually flooding the covers. All of the titled captions are indecipherable to her, the only discernable word being her name.
Prince Killian og hans dame elsker Emma Svane. Hvordan de mødtes, og hvor forholdet går.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, attempting to count to ten in an effort to quell her fears from taking root. She should have mentally prepared for this, why hadn't she considered this?
The day they ran from the library Killian warned her photos of them would surface, but clearly that wasn't the only time they were photographed.
Being a prince makes Killian a public figure, so it makes sense photos of him would be prevalent, but it's unreal seeing her face plastered across magazines in an international airport. She knew some attention might come her way if she and Killian reconnected, but she never considered it would be on this grand a scale.
As Emma continues to control her anxiety, she reminds herself why she's here. Her best friend, the man she's in love with, is a prince. It's a bitter pill to swallow, but she chose this surreal reality when she chose to fight for Killian.
With a fresh wave of resolve, Emma's breath evens out as she tightens her grip on her backpack. Turning away from the magazine rack she continues toward baggage claim, hopeful anticipation guiding her steps in direct opposition to the anxious butterflies swarming in her stomach.