Author's note: Here it is, the longest chapter yet. I hope this makes up for any tardiness. Summer means I should have MORE time to write not less. I wish someone would tell my real life that. I will try to have the next installment up in a timely manner.

Disclaimer: Nope. Just nope.

The first thing Emma noticed when she woke up was the gnawing hunger in her stomach. When was the last time she'd eaten? The second thing she noticed was that it was dark; their room was only lit by moonlight. What time was it? The third thing she noticed was that Killian was not in the bed with her. Where the hell was he?

The last of those questions was the most easily answered. As Emma swung her legs out of the bed and stood, her eyes were drawn to the only light in the room. There next to the window was Killian. His dark shape stood in stark contrast to the shining moonlight. A pair of linen pants she had never seen before hugged his hips. What was that about? Killian hated wearing things to bed. Silently, Emma padded over to him, snagging the sheet to wrap around herself in the slightly chilled room.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"I didn't mean to wake you, love."

"Why are you even up? And what time is it?" It suddenly occurred to her that they probably missed dinner, which explained why she was so hungry.

"It's a few hours before sunrise," he replied, holding up a half eaten apple. "We missed dinner. Slept right through it apparently."

"Oops. I hope Guinevere isn't too upset. She might be our only ally at the moment." She paused. "Where did you get that?"

Killian looked over his shoulder. "Basket on the table. Your friend Gawain left it outside our door."

"How do you know it was Gawain?"

"There's a note inside it." Emma caught the sarcasm, but ignored it in favor of her growling stomach. She walked over to the table – now dry, along with the floor, Emma noted, blushing – and looked inside. There was a piece of parchment tucked into the basket. Emma pulled it out and angled it toward the bright moonlight.

My Lady, Please accept this small token of my gratitude. As you surely must be exhausted from your ordeal, I have made your excuses to the queen, never fear. I am looking forward to the pleasure of your company in the morning. You must tell me all about this Land Without Magic. Yours, Gawain

Emma smiled to herself. Gawain was persistent, that was for sure. He reminded her strongly of Killian; her pirate had been the same when she'd tried to push him away after he'd saved her life from Cora. Still, Gawain was the nicest person they had met so far; Emma had a feeling he was on the level. And she was just as sure that his incessant flirting had more to do now with getting a rise out of Killian than it did her. She tucked the note back inside the basket and grabbed an apple and some bread for herself.

"Are you going to brood all night?" Emma asked, taking a seat at the table with her spoils.

"I do not brood," he retorted.

"You keep telling yourself that."

Killian sighed dramatically and joined her. He found some cold meat and proceeded to make a sandwich with the rest of the bread. "Why were you awake anyway?" Emma asked.

Killian held up his sandwich. "Same reason as you, I expect. It's been a while since we've eaten, love."

Emma quirked a brow at him. "And you were going to what? Sneak down to the kitchens or something?"

"You think I can't? I'm a pirate, Emma. Sneaking around is what I do."

"They already don't trust us, Killian. You sneaking around the castle just would have made it worse."

"Well, fortunately, we have your friend looking out for us," he said sarcastically.

Emma glared at him, reaching back into the basket. "Would you give it a rest already? You're not cute." Her hand brushed up against something metal. Her fingers coiled around it; she'd know that smooth curved steel anywhere. It was Killian's hook. Emma smirked at Killian. "I think," she said dramatically, holding up his hook, "he likes you better than me."

Killian snatched it from her and held it up. "I'll be damned. Maybe that pretty boy isn't so useless after all."

Emma snorted. "You're calling him pretty boy? You clearly haven't looked in a mirror lately."

Killian laid his hook down and stared at her. "Just what are you saying, love?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "You know damn well what I meant."

Killian smirked and got up, standing in front of her. Even in the semi darkness, he had the power to make her knees weak with just one look. "I don't believe I do."

"I really wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"That thing with your face. You're already impossibly gorgeous anyway, then you do that thing, and..."

"You're helpless to resist me?" he teased.

"Something like that."

Killian smiled, then closed the last few inches to kiss her soundly. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her. Every niggling fear and doubt ebbed away when he held her. He pulled away and picked her up. "Impossibly gorgeous, eh?"

"Your ego just grew three sizes, didn't it?"

"Of course not, love."

"Are you taking me to bed or what?"

"Your wish is my command, princess."

When they awoke for the second time, the sun was shining. Emma blinked against the light until her eyes adjusted. She was curled contentedly in Killian's arms; she always slept better when he was with her. As carefully as she could so as not to disturb him, Emma stretched out beside him, feeling just a slight twinge of soreness. Clearly, the bath and the good night's rest had done their job. Beside her, Killian chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"Do that again, love, and we won't be leaving this bed today."

"I think our hosts night have a thing or two to say about that."

Killian grumbled, his eyes opening lazily. "Morning, my love."

Emma pushed at his shoulder playfully before getting out of the bed, knowing that look in his eye. "Don't even think about it."

"Bit late for that, darling," he drawled, looking her up and down.

"Killian, this is serious. We can't spend all day in bed. World in peril, remember?"

Killian frowned. "I am all too aware of that. Can you blame a bloke for wanting a distraction with his lovely lass?"

Emma smiled, leaning down to kiss him. "Later, I promise." Her stomach rumbled again. "See? Another reason we need to get up."

Killian sighed and climbed out of the bed. Their clothes were still dirty, so Emma opened the wardrobe to see what she could find. She groaned; it was all dresses. Not the poofy kind she'd feared, but dresses all the same. The only pants she could find would never fit her – they were leather, clearly cut for a man. She tossed those to Killian along with a cream colored linen shirt that was open at the neck. As he dressed, Emma examined the dresses again. They came in a variety of colors – yellow, maroon, blue, green, violet – had plunging necklines and skirts sure to reach her feet. In other words, they were not her. At all. It wasn't that Emma hated dresses; she was just more comfortable in pants. She only dressed up on very special occasions, like her first date with Killian, or her birthday, things like that and certainly, in nothing like these. What the hell was she supposed to do?

"What's wrong, love?" Killian asked.

"Your idea about staying in bed may have had some merit," she joked.

"What? Why?" he said, standing next to her. "Oh."

She looked at him. "Help?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Stand back."

Emma did as he asked, watching him as he examined the options. She hoped he would hurry, she was beginning to get a bit cold. At length, he turned away from the wardrobe carrying the dark blue dress and a garment she didn't recognize over his arm.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's a corset, love."

Emma shook her head. "Oh hell no. I am not wearing that."

"You can't wear the gown without it, darling. It's not how they're made."

"And you know this, how?"

"Do you really want to me to answer that honestly, love?"

Oh. Yeah, on second thought she so did not want him answering that. Given her reaction to Morgan and Guinevere, it was probably better all around that she live in ignorance. It was just another reminder that Killian was very, very old and had a history. Likely a long one. And one she didn't really want to know.

"Alright, fine. But you're helping me get in that contraption."

"Of course, my love," he said softly, trying to lighten the sudden tension. He handed her a pair of satin underwear and laid the gown over the top of one of the chairs. Emma slipped the underwear on, the satin gliding against her skin. Then she looked at Killian expectantly, wondering what came next. He clicked his hook into place and beckoned her. She walked over, coming to a stop in front of him. "Raise your arms, love." She did as he asked, eying him warily. The corset was black, with silver hooks lining the front. Killian wrapped his arms around her, sliding the corset around her back. She lowered her arms and started doing up the hooks. Killian nodded approvingly. "Turn around; I need to tighten the laces."

"Not too tight now. I'm gonna need to breathe when you're finished." She'd seen that sort of thing on TV, laces tied so tight women couldn't breathe. The things women did for fashion were often dumb.

Killian kissed her ear. "I've got you, love."

Interestingly, Killian's hook was actually really helpful. Emma felt the gentle tugs as he used it to pull the laces snug against her. True to his word, as he moved down her back, Killian pulled the laces so that the satin of the corset was just touching her skin. Emma kept breathing experimentally and felt no discomfort, which surprised her. "All done," he said against her ear. He stepped around to face her. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and his blues eyes glazed over. "Beautiful," he murmured.

Seeing him look at her like that...now she could see the appeal. Killian always managed to make her feel sexier than she ever had in her life, but there was something about this...maybe there was something to this princess thing. Just a little.

There was a knock at the door. Emma nearly jumped out of her skin, the moment broken. Cursing under his breath, Killian went to see who it was while Emma ducked behind a screen. A few whispered words and Killian was back. "Best finish getting dressed. Breakfast will be here shortly, then Gawain's coming by to fetch us. He'll want his drink, no doubt."

With Killian's help, Emma slipped into the midnight blue dress. The full skirt swished against her legs gently; the bodice hugged her waist and cleavage. The top was beaded with sapphires and pearls, with straps that had the option of looping around her upper arms or attaching sleeves. Emma threw the sleeves back in the wardrobe; a tiny part of her felt like rebelling at being forced to wear the damn dress in the first place. They had already dealt a blow to palace propriety anyway, what was one more? Emma found a brush and slid it through her unruly curls, trying to get the knots out. There wasn't much sense it trying to get it to behave in any other way. When she finished Killian was staring at her.

"What?"

"You would have been a beautiful princess, love. The fairest in the land, I'd say."

Emma scoffed. "I think my mother already has that title."

Killian pulled the door of the wardrobe out. There was a mirror there Emma hadn't noticed before. "See for yourself."

Emma rolled here eyes, but looked anyway, her curiosity getting the better of her. She did not expect the beautiful blonde staring back at her. The blue of the dress emphasized the blue in her eyes making them sparkle. Her hair fell in loose curls down her back and framed her face. The corset had brought out her curves, pushing up her cleavage and making the skirt flair at her hips. She didn't look ridiculous at all, much to her shock. This was who she had been born to be; who her mother had dreamed her daughter would grow up to be. Emma stood up a little straighter, turning slightly from side to side. It didn't exactly feel natural, but it didn't feel unnatual either. It was just...there.

"Do you believe me now?" Killian asked, standing behind her, his dark head appearing in the mirror over her shoulder.

"No," Emma said honestly. "This isn't...me. Is it?"

"You are whoever you want to be, Emma. You are the Sheriff. You are the princess. And when we get married, you'll be a pirate as well. I love you, all of you."

Emma smiled softly. "Is that how that works?"

"How do you think I feel, darling? I'm marrying into royalty. Takes some getting used to, that."

"I love you, Killian," she said, turning to kiss him.

They broke apart when someone rapped smartly at the door before opening it. It was Frieda, come with their breakfast. "Captain, Princess," the girl said as she sat down her tray and curtseying.

"Thanks, Frieda," Emma said, hoping the girl didn't notice the faint blush Emma could feel climbing her cheeks.

"Forgive me, my lady, but it is a might chilly," the girl said, eying Emma's sleeveless arms. "I can start a fire for you, if you like."

Emma hadn't noticed the chill since Killian first saw her in the corset, but thought it was probably a good idea. Poor girl was only trying to be helpful after all. "That would be great. Thank you." As the girl turned to go, Emma called out to her. "If you could just leave some wood here, we can take care of the fire in the future."

Frieda looked confused, but nodded. "Very good, my lady."

As soon as the door closed behind the girl, Killian laughed. "That poor girl doesn't know what to make of you, love."

"What? She shouldn't have to start a fire, when we can do it ourselves. Do you want them barging in her whenever they think we need something?"

"Definitely not."

"Let's just hope we're not here very long," Emma said as she sat down to eat. Both plates were piled high with ham, soft boiled eggs, bread, jam and butter. Definitely one of the most unusual breakfasts Emma had ever had, but everything was good. Emma scrunched her nose up at the light ale that filled her mug. "Seriously? For breakfast?"

"None of that wretched smelling coffee here, sweetheart."

"That should be a crime," she said. "If we ever come back, I'm bringing some. This is inhumane."

"Only if we can bring some tea as well."

Emma quirked an eyebrow at him. "See? You've come to appreciate some of my world's comforts too."

They finished their meal in comfortable silence. Frieda returned and started their fire; the room gradually lost its chill. That task completed, Frieda gathered up their dirty clothes to have them cleaned. Emma only hoped that the girl would be quick about it. She wanted her jeans and jacket back. Frieda promised to have the copper tub removed and their bed made soon.

Emma was cleaning up their breakfast, when there was another knock at the door. Gawain stood on the other side, dressed in simple leather breeches, boots and green tunic. "Good morning, my lady," he said, bowing slightly. "And might I say you look very beautiful dressed like that."

"Thanks." Emma stepped back, allowing the knight to come inside.

"A good morning to you as well, Captain," Gawain said, nodding at Killian. "Did you get my gift?"

"We did," Emma said. "Thank you. It was really thoughtful actually. I guess I didn't know how tired we really were. Was the queen upset?"

Gawain laughed. "Not at all. Although, she did insist that I make sure you make it this evening."

Emma let out a breath, relieved. They really couldn't afford to alienate their possible allies. "I think we can manage that. Right, Killian?"

"Aye."

"So is that your job now?" Emma asked. "Babysit the visitors?"

Gawain looked puzzled at her phrasing, but shook his head. "No, you're free to come and go as you please. I just thought I could give you the tour. And I am very curious about this Land Without Magic, I will admit."

"Fair enough. Let me find some shoes and we can take that tour," Emma replied. Killian continued to glower at Gawain as Emma turned away to find some shoes in the wardrobe. She saw Gawain try to engage Killian in conversation with middling success. Emma purposely rummaged longer than she needed to, trying to give the men a chance to come to some sort of detente. They were going to be here for an undetermined amount of time; it would be nice if Killian could play nice with the locals. She watched them discreetly in the mirror and saw Killian laugh lightly. As she slipped on the shoes she had found, Gawain and Killian shook hands; Killian looking much happier. Thank god.

"Are you ready over there, love?" Killian called.

"Yep! One second!" she replied, smiling to herself. "There. Let's go." Killian took her hand as they left their room. "What was that about?" she whispered.

"Nothing, darling," Killian said, cryptically.

"But you like him now, right? Don't lie, Captain," she teased.

"Aye, he's alright."

"Good, you could use a friend."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, love?"

Emma squeezed his hand. "Not a chance."

The trio wandered through the enormous castle most of the morning. Nearly everywhere they went they received strange looks from people. A few took one glance at Killian's hook and deliberately ran off in the other direction. If it bothered him, Killian gave no sign. But it bothered Emma. A lot. She knew all too well what it felt like to be judged, for people to form unfounded opinions about you without so much as speaking to you. She'd had plenty of it while she'd been the poor little orphan girl in the system and more as an ex-con trying to walk the right side of the law. And as much as it bothered her to admit it, she'd been guilty of it where Killian was concerned. When they first met and she'd found out he was Captain Hook – the pirate who'd terrorized her childhood idol, Peter Pan – Emma used that an excuse to keep him at arm's length. The fact that he was working with Cora hadn't helped. But then, on the beanstalk, she'd gotten a glimpse of Killian Jones, the man whose heart had been broken just as hers had been. And seeing that all too knowing look in his eyes had been the beginning, she just hadn't realized it. Even in that brief time, he was the only person she knew who just got her, no questions, no judgment, no expectations. Killian understood Emma and it had scared the life out of her. So she ran.

What if she had kept running? Granted, Killian had made it damn near impossible for her to stay away from him, persistent bastard. But Emma could have run. She could have told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't feel anything for him and left him to his own devices. God knows she had plenty of chances, even after he'd saved her life from Cora. She tried to imagine her life without Killian in it. Sure, she had Mary Margaret, David and Henry, but would that have been enough? Boston!Emma would have thought so. But seeing her parents – how happy they were together – sooner or later, not even her family would have been enough. Lonely was the kindest word for it. It would have made her post Neal decade look like a picnic in comparison. To witness True Love in action and not have it yourself? To see someone else's happy ending and not have your own? That would have been the worst kind of torture. She may be the Savior of Storybrooke, but in all the ways that matter, Killian saved her.

So yeah, judging people was so not cool with her.

"What's the matter, love?" Killian whispered, tugging her to a stop. "You look far away."

"Nothing," she said, hurriedly. "I'm fine." Gawain was chattering away and hadn't even noticed they'd stopped.

"Emma..."

"Doesn't it bother you?" she blurted.

"What?"

"You mean, you haven't noticed? All the strange looks? People avoiding us?"

"Avoiding me, you mean."

"Well, yeah."

Killian sighed. "Remember what you said to me on the beanstalk when I said you were afraid to trust me?"

"I said that you must be used to it."

"The pirate thing." Emma nodded. "And you were right. Pirates aren't trusted as a general rule. This," he continued, holding up his hook, "makes it worse. I always had a code though, not that anyone would bloody listen. Mostly because they don't want to. Pirate's an easy target, love."

"That doesn't mean it's fair."

"Ah, but who said the world was fair? And I've done things that merit that wariness. I'm in Henry's book for a reason, Emma."

"I know, Killian. I do. But I know what that's like, people looking down on you for your past. It sucks."

"Aye, but it doesn't bother me as much anymore."

"Why?"

"Because you love me. As long as I have you and the lad, people can think what they like. Their opinions don't matter. I know who I am and that's thanks to you." Killian leaned down and kissed her gently. "I love you, Emma."

"I love you, too, Killian."

"There you are," Gawain exclaimed, rejoining them. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Sorry. Emma was complaining about her sore feet," Killian lied. Emma tried not to laugh. Killian was a terrible liar, at least to her.

But Gawain didn't even bat an eye. "Of course! What was I thinking? Come, let's get some lunch. It's a short walk, my lady, I promise."

"Gawain, maybe you could call me Emma? All this formality really isn't necessary."

Killian laughed. "You are your father's daughter, love."

Gawain just smiled mischievously. "Very well, Emma. If it's less formality you want, then I have just the place for us to go. If you don't mind the slightly longer walk."

Emma was going to kill Killian in some not too distant future. But she played along anyway. "It's fine, Gawain. Lead on."

Gawain led them through the courtyard and down into the lower town. Emma took note of all the modest houses; many of them had some sort of trade attached. There was a real blacksmith working at his forge, a cobbler hunched over a half assembled shoe, an apothecary mixing his remedies and a seamstress working diligently on...something. All very low tech, of course, but these people were really no different from people in her world. Toiling away at jobs they may or may not like to keep a roof over their heads and food on their tables. Children ran along the cobblestone streets, their exasperated parents calling after them. In a weird way, it reminded Emma of Storybrooke: seemingly quiet, normal people just going about their business. It just happened to be in the shadow of the most famous castle of all time.

Gawain pushed open the door to their destination and held it open. Emma glanced up at the wooden shingle – The Dragon's Breath, it read. That's a hell of a thing to name a bar, Emma thought as she stepped inside. Immediately, her nose was assaulted by the smell of stale beer and rum. Beside her, Killian was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

"I haven't been in a place like this for centuries," he gushed.

Gawain clapped him on the back. "Then we must remedy that immediately. Ned," he called to the bartender, "three mugs of your best ale!"

"And a bottle of rum!" Killian added.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

"What? I am a pirate, my love."

"Which is something else you must tell me about, Captain," Gawain said, leading them to the bar.

Emma followed slowly, trying to get her bearings in the unfamiliar room. It was something she'd trained herself to do when she'd gotten out of the system. No matter the situation, it was always best to have an escape route. Not that she needed it here, but old habits were hard to break. She'd carefully cataloged the castle during the tour as well. A dozen wooden tables littered the floor, some square, some rectangular, some circular. It gave the room an uneven, chaotic feel, for unruly patrons no doubt. A fire blazed in the fireplace on the left wall. It was still daylight, so there were only a few candles lit. Most of the light came from the three smallish windows to the right. A half dozen patrons sat at the tables, nodding at Gawain as they crossed the room. The two wooden pillars in the middle of the floor had carvings of dragons from roof to floor. The roof was made of thatch; Emma shuddered thinking of how quickly Morgan's roof caught fire. But this place was old if the faded wood and chipped paint were anything to go by, so they were probably safe.

"Ned, I'd like to introduce you to Captain Killian Jones and Emma Swan. This is their first day in Camelot," Gawain explained.

"It's a pleasure, Captain, my lady," Ned said, nodding curtly. The bartender was at least fifty, with graying brown hair and deep set brown eyes. He was a big burly type, which made sense. There were all kinds of drunks and not all of them were pleasant. But Ned seemed friendly enough, if a bit taciturn. "Your usual, Gawain?" he asked.

"Not today, my friend. What does Mary have on today?"

"Bit of stew, I think. We just got in a load of fresh vegetables; she was right eager to use them."

"Does that sound good to you?" Gawain asked.

"Sure," Emma said, while Killian nodded. At least it's not chimera. Gawain led them over to one of the empty circular tables by the window; the knight even pulled out Emma's chair for her. As they waited, Emma sipped at her ale. This was much better than what she'd had for breakfast. Idly, she wondered if they could smuggle some into castle. Killian was telling Gawain about how he'd won the Jolly Roger when Emma interrupted. "Gawain, how long does it take to get to Avalon?"

"Two days if the weather is kind," he said, puzzled.

"So that means it'll be at least three more days until Merlin comes back. What are we supposed to do until then?" As kind as Gawain had been, it felt wrong to just be sitting around doing nothing until Merlin returned. And there was no guarantee that the wizard would be any help when he did come back.

Gawain looked at her, deep in thought. He barely blinked when Ned brought their bowls of stew and the bottle of rum. Then the knight brightened. "No one knows more about sorcery than Merlin, however, his library is still here in the castle. Maybe there's something there that could help. If you don't mind reading a bunch of dusty old books, that is."

"If it gets us answers, then I'm all for it," Emma assured him. They spent the rest of their lunch chatting about Storybrooke. Gawain was enthralled with learning about cars and movies and phones, all sorts of modern gadgets that Emma mostly took for granted. It reminded her of Henry and how much he would love to be with them right now, talking to a real life Knight of Camelot. We need to find some answers soon, Emma thought as they headed back into the castle. I miss Henry.

As they followed Gawain back into the castle, Killian kept glancing over at Emma. He knew what she was thinking; it was written all over her face. Henry. She missed that boy something fierce. Honestly, Killian did too. This adventure had turned out to be so much more than he had anticipated; Henry would dearly have loved it. But then Killian thought about their close call with Morgan and knew that Henry was safer where he was. Perhaps one day, if Emma were willing, they could bring him to the Enchanted Forest. Emma tried to ignore the signs, but Killian had a feeling that Henry did not truly want to stay in Storybrooke. He devoured Killian's tales of the sea and David's of being a knight. True, Henry was still young, but Killian had never seen a more self assured lad in all his life. If Henry truly wanted something, he went after it, consequences be damned. He'd confided his dream of being a hero – like his mother and grandparents – to Killian months ago; Killian hadn't told Emma, fearful of her reaction. But maybe the time was nearing.

The library was deep in the bowels of the castle. The corridors were lit with torches, casting ominous shadows on the walls. The air got cooler as they descended. "Seems like a strange place for a library," Emma observed.

"Geoffrey of Monmouth insisted," Gawain explained. "Something about the cool air being good for the parchment."

"That explains why Belle always had the air cranked in the library," Emma said, shivering.

Killian shrugged out of his borrowed jacket and handed it to Emma. "Here, love, take this." Emma accepted it gratefully.

At the bottom of the staircase was a large set of wooden doors; they were carved with several elaborate depictions of knights on horseback facing off against each other. A dragon hovered above the scene, spewing fire. Gawain caught Killian staring and chuckled. "It's meant to depict the final battle between Arthur's father, Uther, and his rival and vassal, Gorlois. See this?" he continued, pointing to the lower left hand corner. It was a stone; it appeared to have a sword sticking out of it. "The Lady of the Lake declared that only the rightful heir could pull it from the stone. After Uther's death – Arthur was still a child – the king was kept hidden by his guardian, Sir Ector. It wasn't until he was fifteen and the kingdom on the verge of ruin, that Arthur found the sword and pulled it out of the stone."

"That was Excalibur, right?" Emma asked.

"Yes."

"How long has it been missing?"

"Almost a week now. Few know; if the people found out that Excalibur were missing – stolen – Arthur is worried about how they would perceive him."

"Was it really taken by someone from another realm?" Killian asked. "That's gotten rare since the curse."

"It certainly appeared so," Gawain said quietly. "I was on the patrol that night. Once the alarm bells sounded, we chased the intruder but he disappeared through a door on the opposite side of a stream. It was most strange."

"A door, you say?" Killian knew of only one way to travel between realms that used doors. "I know who it was."

"You do?" Emma asked incredulous. "Who?"

"Jefferson."

"Of course, the hat. But why would Jefferson want to steal Excalibur? It doesn't make sense."

"Unless he were coerced," Killian said darkly. He'd only met the Hatter a handful of times, including the time Jefferson had opened the portal for he and August to get to Wonderland. He liked to keep to himself most of time, not really one to cause trouble. But he had a weakness: his daughter Grace. And who did they know who prayed on people's weaknesses? "This is the work of the Crocodile."

"Almost a week ago," Emma said, almost to herself. "Maybe this has to do with the spell. Isn't that when all the freaky stuff started happening?"

Gawain scowled. "We lost Sir Erec that night. He fell through a chasm that opened after the door disappeared."

"Is that supposed to happen?" Emma asked, looking at Killian.

"Not as far as I know. Although, if this spell is causing the magical barriers to deteriorate, then it would follow that Jefferson's hat could be affected."

"I really hate Gold right now," Emma said. "Why is he doing this? Why can't he just leave everyone alone?"

"Perhaps we'll find some answers inside," Gawain replied. "Shall we?"

With the help of Geoffrey of Monmouth, the three of them found stacks upon stacks of books pertaining to the Dark One and spells similar to what Rumplestiltskin was trying to do. Most of the books were old with faded ink and yellowing parchment. With the age came the dust; every so often one of them would sneeze. Emma was absorbed in a book on the history of the Dark One; she'd been surprised that Rumplestiltskin was not the first. Killian was reading about the Lady of the Lake and the forging of Excalibur, trying to figure out exactly what the Crocodile could possibly want such a weapon for. Maybe it held some magical properties that its owner was unaware of?

Gawain sat beside him, working just as hard, which was mildly surprising. Wasn't work like this beneath a Knight of the Round Table, especially one as close to the king as Gawain surely was. Shouldn't he be leading a patrol or something? Training other knights and squires, maybe? Killian had gotten past his initial dislike of the man; Gawain's interest in Killian's adventures and making it clear that he meant nothing untoward about his flirting went a long way with that. But still. Like Emma, Killian was still wary of trusting these people fully.

Killian snapped his book closed and got up, searching for another. He saw Gawain follow him out of the corner of his eye. Before Killian could even wonder what the knight was doing, Gawain beckoned him to a dark corner of the library.

"There's something you're not telling me," Gawain said quietly.

Killian bristled. "No offense, mate, but you haven't exactly given us a real reason to trust you lot yet."

"You're talking about Kay."

"He did accuse us of stealing then tried to take us by force," Killian pointed out.

"He and Arthur were raised together; he's very protective of the King. Finding Excalibur is his charge, one he's taking very seriously. And – don't take this the wrong way, but you are a pirate. Can you really blame him?"

Killian thought about what Emma had said earlier about the strange looks the inhabitants of the castle were giving him. It hadn't bothered him then, but it did now. Was that all the world would ever see him as? Was he condemning Emma and Henry to a life tied to an untrustworthy pirate? "I don't know what you've heard about me, mate, but..."

Gawain raised a hand. "I've lived enough in the world to know that people are not always as they appear, Captain. Look at me, for example. If someone had told me that I would grow up to be a knight of Camelot, I'd have said they were insane."

"Why?"

"My father was killed fighting for a nobleman; I was seven. I grew up hating the lot of them. I stayed as far away from that life as I could, moving from place to place. Brawling and drinking. Then I met Arthur. He was different; he inspires loyalty, friendship. I would follow him into the very jaws of death if he asked it of me. All of us would. Do you know what it's like to believe in something bigger than yourself?"

Killian looked over his shoulder; he could barely make out Emma sitting at the table, but she was there. That's what he believed in. Killian had lost his faith in love and hope when Milah died. Emma brought it back. So if there was one thing – and only one thing – Killian believed in, he believed in her. "Aye," he said. "I do."

Gawain smiled, following Killian's gaze. "She's extraordinary, Captain. I can see why you love her." When Killian eyed him warily, Gawain shook his head. "Not to worry, any fool can see she's head over heels for you. You're very lucky."

"I know."

"I hope that we can be friends. I believe the two of you are telling the truth. The queen does as well. If the Dark One really is concocting a spell to destroy all the realms, we have a common cause, yes?"

"Aye. You're not wrong about there being something else, Gawain. But it's not really my secret to tell," he explained, thinking back to that moment's indiscretion in the Crocodile's shop. "There's more at stake for us than just the fate of the world. Emma's parents and son are in Storybrooke. She's had a rough life; she's only found them recently due to the curse. It's killing her to be away from them. Trust doesn't come easy, for either of us."

"Well, then I will just have to earn your trust. I hope you'll give me that chance," Gawain said earnestly, holding out his hand.

"In that case, perhaps you should start calling me Killian," Killian replied, taking the knight's hand and shaking it firmly. As they headed back to where Emma sat, Killian nearly tripped on a book that was underfoot. "Bloody hell," he muttered. He picked the book up and looked it over. It appeared to be one of the newer volumes; the parchment was still white and the illuminations bright and detailed. The title read Diu Krône.

"I know that book," Gawain said. He took it from Killian and opened it, scanning the pages. As he went, a frown appeared on the knight's face. "Who wrote this?" he asked, annoyed. "That's not what happened!"

"What is it?"

Gawain huffed. "Supposedly, it's an account of how I defeated Fimbeus and won the Stone of Giramphiel from him. But this is complete and utter rubbish."

"So you didn't defeat him?" Killian couldn't help but tease. After reading about himself in Henry's book, Killian understood what it was like to have your story be recorded so wrong.

"Of course I did. But not like this. I'd never resort to trickery!," he said, waving the book in disgust. "I'm the best swordsman, after the King. I can even beat him on a good day."

"Care to put that reputation to the test?"

Gawain looked at him, aghast. "Against you? Captain Hook?"

"Why not?"

Gawain grinned. "Alright. Tomorrow." He put the book back on the shelf. "I'm going to have a word with Geoffrey about that."

"What's that stone do anyway?" Killian asked as they made their way back to where Emma sat.

"The Stone protects the wearer from the fire of a dragon and magic. It's the only one in the world. Fimbeus didn't respect its power, so Arthur dispatched me to relieve him of it."

"Emma's defeated a dragon," Killian said proudly.

"Hmmm?" Emma said absently.

"Is that true? A dragon?"

Emma looked up at them, curiously. "Yep. Maleficent. It's not that big a deal. Don't you guys have dragons around every corner?"

Gawain stood there with his mouth open. "You defeated Maleficent?!"

Emma blushed. "Um, yeah? Honestly, I got lucky."

"Didn't sound like luck to me, love."

"You guys are making way too much of it. And it's not something I'm eager to do again."

"I'm not sure I could defeat a dragon even with the Stone of Giramphiel," Gawain said. "Not that I've ever had a chance."

"Why not? I thought dragon slaying was a thing knights did."

"There haven't been dragons in Camelot for over a century. The only ones left live high in the mountains to the west. No one goes there; it's a wasteland."

"Well, let's hope they stay there," Emma said. She snapped the book closed. "There's nothing here. According to this, the only way to defeat the Dark One is to kill him with that damned dagger. Then you become the Dark One, no thanks."

"There's still books we haven't looked at," Gawain said reassuringly. "But it's getting late. I promised the Queen I'd get you both to dinner tonight."

Gawain led the way once more; this time to the Queen's private apartments. As they went, Killian couldn't help up but take notice to all expensive tapestries and sculptures that littered the corridors. Any one of them would fetch a sizable pouch of gold, if he were still partial to his former profession. Back in Storybrooke, he occasionally would snatch things from Emma or Henry, just to prove that he still could. Emma only half-heartedly attempted to stop him – it was a "bad influence" on Henry, she'd argue – but Killian explained to Henry that one never knew when such skills could come in handy. Killian supposed that since he was officially Emma's deputy now, he'd have to be a bit more circumspect about the petty theft.

"This is where I leave you," Gawain said, as they came to a stop in front yet another ornate wooden door. He turned to Killian. "Tomorrow morning, Killian? Training ground?" Killian nodded.

"What's going on?" Emma asked.

"The Captain and I have a wager," Gawain explained.

"Not exactly," Killian cut in. "More like a friendly contest."

Emma rolled her eyes, looking exasperatedly at the pair of them. "Unbelievable," she muttered. "Men." She turned on her heel and pushed open the door, leaving them alone in the hall.

"Did you see the way Guinevere kept looking at us?" Emma asked, when they returned to their room. Killian nodded.

Dinner had been pleasant enough. Guinevere was cordial, asking all kinds of questions about Storybrooke. Killian just supposed the Queen had been just trying to fill the time; Arthur missed the meal due to an emergency Council meeting. Killian noticed the way she'd been looking at them: wistful and if Killian didn't know better, jealous. But what did the Queen of Camelot have to be jealous about?

"I think it was because of Lancelot," Emma said, trying in vain to remove her gown.

"I'm not following you, love."

Emma scowled in frustration. "Help me with this?" As Killian helped her with the laces of her gown, Emma continued. "I'm admittedly fuzzy on the details, but from what I can remember, Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot were caught in the this crazy love triangle. Arthur loves Guinevere, but she and Lancelot love each other and Lancelot feels horribly guilty for being in love with the king's wife. Or something like that. In the story in my world, it all ends in a huge tragic pile of adultery, betrayal and death."

"That sounds like a heartwarming tale."

"But that's just it, it's not. It's like some cautionary tale of not coveting your brother's wife or something. Because of Guinevere and Lancelot's love, Camelot falls and Arthur dies."

"Well, since the King is still alive, I'm going assume that's not what actually happened."

"No kidding. Did Guinevere look jealous to you?" Emma loosened the laces of her gown just enough for her to shimmy out of it. It pooled on the floor and she stepped out of it.

"Aye, she did," Killian said, trying to refocus on their conversation and not the sight of Emma in nothing but a corset and panties. His gaze fell on Emma's ring. "You think Lancelot is the Queen's True Love."

"What else makes sense? We have something she doesn't," Emma said, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. "In the story, Lancelot is Mr. Honorable, the best of the best. Guinevere said that he left. What if he left thinking he was protecting her?"

Killian tried to imagine leaving Emma to "protect her" and shook his head. "Then he's a coward."

Emma smiled softly, settling her arms on his shoulders and clasping her hands behind his neck. "Sometimes fighting isn't always the answer."

"Fighting is always the answer, love," he retorted, pulling her close. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets."

"That's why I love you, you know. Because you always fight for me, even when I don't need you to."

"What happened to fighting not always being the answer?" he teased.

"I just wanted to hear you say it," Emma replied, unashamed.

Killian leaned in and kissed her with just a hint of passion before pulling away. "I'm here as long as you want me, Emma."

Emma held up her ring. "This kinda implies that this is a forever kind of thing, Captain."

"It wasn't something I was sure you wanted, love."

"Why would you think that?"

Killian shifted uncomfortably in her arms. "We're happy as we are, yeah?" Emma nodded. "I've never been married, Emma. I have no idea how to be a husband."

"I don't think there's any trick to it; I'd say you're doing a pretty fair job already. This is all new to me too, you know."

"I know we talked about it once..."

"We weren't ready then, Killian. And not because I doubted how you felt about me. We'd been together for about a nanosecond. In my world, people who get married crazy fast usually don't stay together. I saw plenty of that before I came to Storybrooke. The idea of True Love just didn't exist for me. And I know that we still haven't been together all that long, but I'm not afraid of that anymore. I know you're it for me. I've never been more sure of anything in my life as I am about you," she declared.

"Do you have any idea just how much I am in love with you?" he asked, gazing into her sea green eyes and brushing a lock of her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"I could ask you the same thing. Because I didn't think anything could feel like this. Whenever we're apart – even if it's for something stupid – it feels like part of me is missing. 'I love you' doesn't really begin to cover it," she replied, cupping his cheek gently.

"Too right," he said, smiling down at her. Then he let his gaze travel down the length of her. She was beautiful, his Emma. She had a good heart, even believing that the likes of him deserved a second chance. No one was going to take her away from him.

"You're staring again," Emma observed.

"Well, you do look rather fetching in that."

"Yeah, I noticed that this morning. But wouldn't you rather have me out of it?" she smirked.

"We'll see," he whispered low in her ear. Emma's grip on him tightened as he ran his hand down the back of the corset and rained kisses along her throat and collarbone. He was going to have far too much fun with her this night.

The next morning, Killian woke with the sun. Emma lay curled in his arms, her back against his chest. She looked so peaceful, free from the worry that he knew deep down still plagued her. He supposed they'd have an another afternoon in the musty castle library. But it was better than doing nothing while they waited for that dottering old fool Merlin to turn up. Killian knew how much Emma hated that; Henry was the same.

He kissed her hair softly, then stretched out his tiredness. The bruise on his thigh twinged slightly and Killian smiled to himself. When Emma had seen it the night before, she'd apologized profusely since she felt that she was responsible. But Killian didn't mind it; it wasn't like it was the first time either of them had gotten bruised or scratched while in the throes of their passion for each other. That in and of it self was an extraordinary thing. He'd never wanted anyone the way he always wanted her. Rough, gentle, slow, fast, it was always wonderful and he never felt more alive than when she came undone for him. They truly were each other's equal in every way.

Unwilling to wake her, Killian quietly got out of the bed and dressed silently. After tugging on his boots, he scribbled a note to her, telling her where he was going. Then he clicked his hook in place and headed down to the training yard, remembering the way Gawain had shown them the day before. The knight was there already, having his sword sharpened.

"I had the armorer do yours last night," he said, by way of greeting. "I hope you don't mind."

"Thanks," Killian replied. "So do we have any rules to this friendly duel?"

"Other than not killing each other?" Gawain laughed. "I wasn't always a knight, remember?"

"Aye, if you killed me, you'd have to face Emma. Lass is a fair swordswoman herself."

"Did you teach her?"

"I did. But her father's Prince Bloody Charming. She just needed a little fine tuning."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gawain said, tossing Killian an apple. "But I like you, Killian. I just want to see if the tales they tell about you are true."

"Your brother knights didn't put on a very good show; let's hope you're better than those clods."

"Fair enough. Should we wait for Emma?"

"She didn't seem overly intrigued by the idea last night. I think she's afraid I might hurt that pretty face of yours."

"What if I hurt your face?"

"Then I'd have to hurt you," Emma said, coming around the corner. Killian looked at Gawain and shrugged. I told you so, he thought. "I still think this is dumb," Emma continued.

"I thought you were sleeping, lass."

"Yeah, well, I reached for you and you weren't there. Pretty much ended my sleep. I got dressed and here I am." She looked rather fetching in the violet gown she was wearing. Very regal, if Killian did say so himself. Emma, however, shifted uncomfortably. "I really need to get my pants back."

"The Queen probably has something you could wear," Gawain said, "but it would be such a shame. You look radiant, Emma."

"Whatever. Can you two just get this idiocy over with?"

"Gladly," Killian said, drawing his sword. Ten paces away Gawain mirrored him. They circled each other warily, looking for an opening. Killian pretended to tear his eyes away – just for a second – and Gawain lunged at him. In a flash, Killian was parried and spun; their swords clashed together in midair. They went back and forth, trying to gain the upper hand. Killian was fending off Gawain's latest attack – the knight was much stronger than Killian had expected – when out of the corner of his eye he saw Sir Kay and a contingent of palace guards approaching.

"STOP!" Kay shouted. "Stop this, by order of the King!"

Reluctantly, Killian and Gawain lowered their swords. Emma came over to stand beside Killian. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Killian Jones, otherwise known as the infamous pirate Captain Hook," Kay spat, "you are under arrest in the name of His Majesty King Arthur."

"WHAT?" Emma shouted. "This makes no sense. Arrested for what?"

"Theft. The Stone of Giramphiel is missing from the weapon's vault," Kay informed them smugly. "I tried to warn you, Gawain. He is nothing more than a thief."

"You can't arrest Killian," Emma protested. "You don't have any proof."

"I assure you, my lady, I do. Now I suggest you let me through, or I shall arrest you as well."

Gawain moved between Killian and Emma and Kay. "There has to be an explanation. Let Kay take him, Emma. I promise you – both of you – that we will figure this out. You have my word. But I need you to trust me. Please."

Killian looked at Emma. She didn't look any happier about that idea than he did. Every instinct was telling him to fight. But if Rumplestiltskin was to be stopped – if their family was to be saved – they were going to need the help of these people. They couldn't do it alone, not this time. Emma nodded. Killian leaned down and kissed her once, then handed Gawain his sword. "Hold on to this for me."

As he allowed Kay to lead him away, he heard Emma say to Gawain. "I will stick you with the pointy end of that if they hurt him. You got that?"

"Emma, if this kind of injustice prevails in Camelot, I will let you."