Epilogue
This is very short and unnecessary and takes place a few weeks later.
(By-the-by, some readers asked about all the alcohol in the fic...the alcohol was actually a crappy half-thought-out literary device that was supposed to reflect/embody the mood between them and whatnot. Red=passion, black=mystery, beer/rum/brandy= sweetness and fear and fire. Or whatever. They drink. Drinking's fun. It's all very pirate-y).
Thanks for reading and reviewing. The feedback has been more than kind. Stay strong shipmates.
As the sound of church bells shivered the midnight air, Emma stood in the elegant terrace of her bedroom and gathered her cloak around her. Snow flurries rained down over the landscape, reflecting the veiled moonlight in the silver sky and settling over the rugged blue mountains in the distance. The palatial villa had a fine view of the sea and of the sleepy village nestled in the snowy valley below. It was certainly a far cry from The Black Swan, although the memory of that tumbledown inn would always hold a special place in her heart.
She leaned against the balcony and caught a snowflake in her hand. She felt its cold feathery kiss against her palm as the church bells continued to chime and roasting chestnuts crackled in the fireplace. It seemed everything around her was offering something in the way of Christmas cheer.
Emma didn't turn around at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, echoing in time with the bells. She closed her eyes as a strong arm locked around her waist and a puff of breath warmed her throat.
"Where have you been?" she asked with a sigh, finding nothing but relief as her husband gathered her to him.
"You said you were thirsty." He placed a goblet in her hand as he nuzzled her. "Try this my love. It'll warm you."
She snuggled against him, enjoying the familiar feel of Killian's body against hers. "I'm already warm enough."
"I can tell." His hand slipped into her cloak and tripped lightly across the beaded silk brocade, his fingertips tracing over the thin lace of her neckline. She felt his lips trail over her neck as his hand dipped beneath the material, grazing the swell of her breasts, teasing her with his touch as his tongue teased her flesh.
"Now who said you could do that?"
"If memory serves, you agreed to it when we were married my Lovely."
"I don't remember that being part of the vows."
"Aye. I'm to love, honor and cherish you…and undress you at every opportunity. I'm a bit surprised you forgot that part."
The red sheen of her ring matched her rising blush as she answered: "I'm surprised too. Not that you'll ever give me the chance to forget."
"Indeed I won't."
Emma tipped back the goblet and sipped the wine. The spicy brew burned its way pleasantly down her throat. She drank it slowly, enjoying the taste, enjoying him, savoring the feel of his hand stroking her soft curves and the sinful sensation of his warm lips against her snow-kissed skin.
"Do you approve of the wine Swan?"
"Mmmmm. I approve of everything."
"That's good to know. Because I don't plan on stopping."
Emma nodded absently, lost to the feel of him against her. She gingerly patted her face and felt the fiery blush that was turning her several shades of scarlet. The spiced wine did warm her, as did the deliberately tortuous movements of Killian's hand and mouth. For a moment she was relieved her back was to him. Even standing in the starlight she could hardly hide the dark blush crawling up her face and neck. She wondered if she'd ever get used to this feeling, this heated hurried tension that set her ablaze whenever they were alone together.
Killian paused for a moment and gestured to the snowy port in front of them. "Look at that view my Swan…what do you see?"
Her eyes searched the seascape. The endless ocean stretched like silk over the horizon, a wide wintery expanse in constant motion. The water was a brilliant shade of aquamarine that shone underneath the starry sky. She couldn't help but think of a pair of eyes that held that same color whenever she stared into them. Emma knew she'd always associate that color with him. The sea and all its beauty would always remind her of the man she'd chosen to share her life with.
"I see the ocean. And the docks."
"And what else?"
Emma squinted as the moonlight cast everything in a bright haloed glow. "I see ships."
"Uh-huh. And look there..." he guided her to a large elegant vessel, sleek and stunning in the moonlight. "Do you know what that is?"
She nodded, immediately recognizing the famous Pegasus figurehead and black sails. "That's the Flying Dutchman."
"Aye," he paused to press a kiss to her cheek, "That she is. But more importantly, she's ours Swan."
"What do you mean?" Emma turned around to face him, her eyes wide with surprise.
"She belongs to us now."
"You bought the Flying Dutchman?"
He nodded, a proud grin on his face. "Think of it as a wedding present."
"But what about the Jolly?"
"I traded her."
"You traded... what!?"
He shrugged. "We needed another vessel. Something more accommodating to the merchant life I'm to lead now. In any case, the Dutchman has much more suitable quarters for your parents. Once we find them, that is."
"You traded your ship?" Emma asked, amazed. "But the Jolly's your home. You love her!"
"You're my home," he corrected with a smile. "And it wouldn't do, my wife aboard a pirate ship. We've got much more important business to attend to than mere piracy: finding your parents, taking back a kingdom...and a honeymoon to finish. We can't forget that, now can we?"
Emma stared at the massive ship floating in the waters of the bay. "I can't believe it."
"You'll like her once you're aboard, Swan. I promise you will."
She searched for words that wouldn't come. "I don't know what to say...Killian Jones of the Flying Dutchman." She repeated it, shaking her head, unable to wrap her mind around it. "I suppose it'll take some getting used to."
He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Errr…that's not quite right though."
"What isn't right?"
"Well, the name Killian Jones garners little favor amongst the merchant class. I had to purchase her and secure the crew using another name…David."
"David?" She stared at him.
"Aye. It's my middle name. Not bad really." He gave a slight bow and shy smile, as if introducing himself. "Davy Jones. Captain of the Flying Dutchman. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Her mouth fell open as she gazed at him, amazed. She knew she should be laugh about the strangeness of it, or chide him about keeping things from her, or torment him about his sudden new name. But somehow she wasn't able to. She couldn't laugh at him. Not about this. He loved his ship. He loved the Jolly. And now it was gone. He'd given it up for her. He traded his ship just for the chance of making her happy. Making his wife happy…
"Emma, say something. Tell me what you're thinking. Go on. Tell me."
She shook her head. "I hope you don't mind…"
"What?"
"…But I think I like Killian better."
He let out a chuckle as he traced the apple of her cheek with his fingertip. "Well, I'll always be Killian to you."
"And I'll always be your Swan." She smiled warmly as she drew closer. "I still can't believe it. You traded your ship for me."
"For us." He nodded. "And it seemed the proper thing to do. If I'm to be a respectable-type gentlemen, I have to have a respectable vessel."
She raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? And since when do pirates care about being respectable?"
"Since never. But seeing as how I'm married, I'll need to be a fine gentlemen with prospects, isn't that how these things work?"
"I have no idea." Emma gave a prim smile, looking up at him with a mock disinterest. "Besides, who'd want to marry you?"
"No one in her right mind," he admitted with a grin. "She'd have to be crazy. Probably some harried little brat who likes to put me in my place."
"Probably." Emma bit her lip trying to hide her smile.
"Blonde and stubborn, who couldn't hold her liquor if her life depended on it. With a terrible Irish accent and a hell've a punch…"
"That sounds about right."
He cupped her cheek and gazed at her fondly. "And I'll love her more than anything. More than my own life. And I'll do anything to make her happy and make sure she's safe."
"I am happy." She stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "You make me happy."
He gathered her to him, claiming her lips and returning the kiss ardently. His fingers traced the delicate line of her throat, twisting the golden locks that turned white against the moonlight. His mouth teased and tormented hers, his eyes glinting as his hand tripped over the light fabric of her dress, leaving a fiery trail as his fingers kneaded the soft swell of her breast. His hook tugged at the ties of her gown, gently loosening the ribbons and bows.
"Tell me again Lovely. Say the words..."
Her eyes fluttered shut as she said it, the phrase he always seemed eager to hear. The whispered words were carried away by the wind, floating amongst the starlight and sea air. The familiar ache was already pressing against her skin and became more urgent as their caresses grew desperate and hurried.
They stumbled backwards into the bedroom, graceless and giggling. She felt her cloak fall to the floor before the goblet slipped from her hand. She held him to her, trying to focus on the maddening task of undressing him but finding it increasingly difficult as his mouth nipped and suckled her throat. Her hands alternated between tangling in his dark hair and roughly undoing his shirt as the embrace became all-consuming and passionate.
"Say it again," he whispered, slipping her dress down her body and kissing her bare shoulders. "Say it once more."
"Twenty," she muttered teasingly, hiding her smile.
"Not that, brat." He chuckled against her.
"I love you," she repeated softly, her smile shining brighter than the moon over the harbor. In the distance the rising moonlight cast a faint silver light over them as their lips met again and again. While the stars shone over the horizon, a soft breeze from the south swept over them, bringing the promise of an early spring and the hope for a happy ending.
The end.
