A/N: Hi all, so this is the penultimate chapter of this fic. There's going to be an epilogue, and then that will be the end. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! Thanks so much for reading (and commenting)!

May 7, 2015

He sits in the rocking chair they have next to the window, rocking back and forth in a slow rhythm, humming to himself as he watches his little princess.

Blow the wind, blow

Swift and low

Blow the wind o'er the ocean

Breakers rolling to the coastline

Bringing ships to harbour

Gulls against the morning sunlight

Flying off to freedom

Her tiny little fists open and close as her lips part in a yawn and her eyelids squeeze themselves shut. It's only been a couple weeks, but already his heart completely belongs to this little girl. He hadn't known it would be possible to feel so much love for such a tiny little squirming thing, but god, was he wrong. He watches as her little eyelids flutter and close and her breathing evens out as she falls asleep to the sound of his voice, and he loves that he knows how to soothe her.

Killian turns to see Emma standing her the doorway, a small smile on her face as she rests her head on the door frame.

"I forgot that you used to sing to Henry," she says quietly, and he thinks about the many late nights he had spent when Henry was an infant trying to get the boy to go back to sleep.

"Aye, me too, that was a while ago," he answers her in a whisper, careful not to wake their daughter. She walks over silently on bare feet until she is right next to him, her fingers ruffling through his hair gently and he tips his head to lean into her touch.

"You're amazing with her, you know," she murmurs, her lips brushing against his forehead. "And Henry."

"Mmm," he hums in response, "you're not so bad yourself, love." He stands, cradling their daughter gently in one arm as he pulls Emma close to them with the other. She leans her head against his shoulder, looking at the little girl sleeping in his arms, and she reaches out a hand to brush it softly over the fluff of blonde hair on her head. "Marry me, Emma," he whispers suddenly, his thumb rubbing gently at the small of her back.

"What?" she says, a little louder than she meant to, pulling away a little and eyeing the baby carefully to make sure she didn't wake up.

"Marry me," he repeats, looking at her earnestly.

"Killian, you're crazy, you haven't thought about this at all…" she says in surprise, trying to read him.

"Actually, love, I have." He sets their daughter down in her crib gently and then takes Emma's hand, leading her to their bedroom, where he fidgets in the drawer of his nightstand for a few seconds, eventually pulling out a small red box.

"Killian…" she exclaims, breathless, and she sinks onto their bed.

"Emma, I know you say that you don't care about getting married, but I also know that that's a little bit untrue. You've always wanted a normal family, of course you did, it's the one thing you've been deprived of your whole life. But I can give you that, I want to give you that. It's the least I can do, you've given me so much – a son, a daughter, redemption from a life of drunkenness and debauchery, the chance to become a good man, love." He drops down to his knee and takes her hands in his, locking his blue eyes on her emerald green ones. "Please Emma, will you marry me? Will you let me be your family?"

"You already are," she answers, pulling him to his feet and wrapping her arms around his neck. "But yes, I will absolutely marry you." She presses her lips to his and he scoops her up, keeping her as close as humanly possible. After a moment, he sets her back down, and she takes his hand, pulling him onto the bed, where she curls up in his side, her head on his shoulder.

"Will you," he starts nervously, scratching behind his ear in his typical tell, "will you take my name?"

"I don't know," she replies, thinking carefully. "Not because I don't want to, I just, I don't want Henry to be left out. Isabelle already has your name, and if I took it too, that would just leave him as the only Swan…"

"He could take my name too," Killian whispers, and Emma gives him a look of exasperation. "No, I'm serious. Just because he's not biologically mine, doesn't mean he's not my son in all the ways that matter, Emma."

"I know that, but he's six, he's not so young that he won't remember if I just suddenly change his name, it's not like he's a baby and would never know." Killian sighs heavily in response, dropping his head backward onto the pillow. "I'll think about it, I swear." She presses a sweet kiss into his shoulder, massaging his ribs with her fingertips. "Luckily, we have some time to think it through."

"Aye, love, that we do." He smiles weakly and she scoots up a few inches so her head is next to his, kissing the spot below his ear tenderly.

"I love you, Killian," she whispers softly, and he tips his head instinctively toward her. "Did you ever think it would be like this? You, me, two kids, getting married? When we met, could you have ever predicted this?"

"Emma, love, when I met you in that bar, I was positively entranced by you," he replies casually.

"Yeah, but I had Henry, and you found Milah, and then Neal… did you ever think this is where we would end up?" She props herself up on her elbow so she can look at him better.

"Perhaps in the early days I thought about having this with you – not the family, I'll admit, I was much too immature for that, but being with you, aye, I thought about it. After you got pregnant though, not so much, I just thought you would have no interest in having a relationship for a while and I was much too lonely after Liam… I was not ready to be alone and wait. But even with Milah, even though I loved her… you were always a point of contention between us." He stares up at the ceiling while he talks, catching her reactions from the corner of his eye.

"I know. I never wanted to be, but…"

"But you were in love with me, as you told me that afternoon many years ago." She smiles kindly in confirmation. "And I, have been in love with you far longer than I have cared to admit to anyone else, love."

"How long?" she asks with a mischievous smile.

"Since you agreed to sit with me at Liam's funeral," he replies soberly, "and you stayed by my side the entire time." She presses a kiss to his jaw again and he chuckles lightly. "You did a damn good job cheering me up that night too," he adds with a wink, earning himself a light smack on the chest. Emma opens her mouth to reply, but just then they hear the echoes of their daughter's cries from down the hall. "I'll get it, love," he says, planting a kiss on her forehead and rising from the bed.

When he gets to Isabelle's crib, he picks her up and cradles her close to his chest, swaying back and forth like the motion of a ship at sea, rocking her gently. Within minutes, his voice floats, deep and calming down the hall, to where Emma lies on the bed, and the sound soothes both mother and child to sleep.