A/N: It's reunion time!
The castle looms before her, immense and towering, and somehow, it's far larger than she remembers, even though she is much taller now than she was the last time she set foot within these walls.
Baynard dismounts, as does Killian, so she follows their lead and slides from her horse as well. Their horses are quickly whisked away to the stables and Baynard motions for them to follow him into the castle.
The greying guard guides them down the main hall and through the large ballroom. It's ridiculously surreal, being here again, and Emma takes in the elaborate walls and ceilings, hung with silks and curtains and sparkling chandeliers. It's overwhelming, and she's struck again by how small and insignificant this place makes her feel.
The entire atmosphere of the castle has changed drastically. It's different than she remembers; darker, gloomier than it used to be. Bright golds and blues are dulled, replaced by sombre silver-grey and navy.
It's all too much to process, so she focuses on Killian instead, watching how he walks with a slight limp that wasn't present this morning. The bruise on his cheek has darkened and spread to encompass his eye, but at least the cuts on his forehead and neck have clotted and are no longer bleeding.
Baynard leads them into an empty sitting room.
"If you'll wait here, your highness," he bows gracefully, "I'll locate your parents and bring them to you."
The guard casts a wary look at Killian, seemingly reluctant to leave her alone in the company of a pirate, but Emma dismisses him with a smile. "Thank you, Baynard."
The doors close behind him and her shoulders sag instantly as she releases a heavy sigh. There are several settees in the room, upholstered in extravagant brocade, but her clothes are a mess, so she remains standing.
She makes eye contact with Killian and strangely enough he looks like he feels more at home here than she does. This doesn't feel like her home. She feels like a visitor here. Killian's ship felt more like a home than she thinks this castle ever will.
She stands fiddling with the hem of her shirt, picking at the dirty fabric, wanting to say something to fill the unbearable silence that descends on the room while they wait.
It's a ridiculous thought, but she feels embarrassed to be seen in such muddied attire, as if she should be making some sort of great first impression, as if it's not her parents she's about see, as if she's not a princess, their daughter, but some lowly peasant girl about to meet royalty for the first time.
She thinks briefly about changing her clothes, she has spares in her pack after all, but she has no clue how long it will take for Baynard to return with her parents and she doubts they'd be pleased if they walked in on her striping bare and changing next to a pirate. The mental picture she conjures is so absurdly hilarious that she snorts in unladylike laughter.
Killian raises an eyebrow, grinning at her, looking rogue and still incredibly handsome despite being bruised and caked in drying blood and dirt. It does wonders to lighten the heavy atmosphere. She returns his smile and tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket to keep from fidgeting, just barely resisting the urge to rock back and forth on her heels like an impatient child.
Standing in the middle of the large room feels a lot like they're awaiting trial and she has no idea how Killian manages to look so at ease. Her fingers twitch inside her pocket and she thinks how easy it would be to just reach out and lace her fingers with his, to let his warm hand anchor her, to let the calloused brush of his fingers ease the storm brewing in her stomach.
The pull she feels toward him is strong and she's about to reach for his hand when the large doors behind them creak open. Emma spins quickly, her breath frozen in her lungs.
Her mother and father step into the room and Baynard closes the door, leaving them to reunite in private.
Her father looks almost exactly the same as she remembers; grey has crept into the hair at the temples and the lines on his face have deepened, but other than that, it's almost as if no time has passed.
Her mother has changed more; her hair is still black as coal, but it's cropped short now, close to her head. Her fair face is fuller too, and frown lines pull at her lips, the skin around her eyes, dark and tired.
Emma stares at them and they stare back at her. Her father looks as if his heart is breaking and his eyes fill with tears as he looks back and forth between wife and daughter, his jaw slack, mouth open in disbelief.
And her mother, oh god, her mother. Emma's breath hitches and Snow steps forward, looking her over quickly, eyes flickering to her face, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips as she cups Emma's cheeks in her palms and whispers her name, broken and fierce.
"Oh, Emma."
Emma watches her mother's face crumple, eyes closed tight as tears stream down her face, and suddenly she's being pulled into a crushing hug, wrapped so tightly in her mother's arms that she can't breathe, but that's okay, because finally, after so many long, lonely years, she's back in her mother's warm embrace and the fact that she can't breathe doesn't even concern her right now, because her eyes are burning and her heart is swelling and her feet are numb and she's home.
"You're home-" Snow murmurs against her ear, and then her father is joining the embrace, his strong arms wrapping around her, hand cupping the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her hair, and Emma just stands there, wrapped in more love and affection than she knows what to do with, blinking back tears and searching for something, anything to say.
Her mother's arms loosen fractionally and Emma draws in a shuddering breath.
"So," Emma starts, "it's been a while." The words sound ridiculous even to her own ears, so she's not surprised when a light, bubbly, slightly hysterical laugh rises from her mother's chest.
Her father chuckles too and they both pull back to look at her again.
"Yeah," David shakes his head in disbelief, "I suppose it has been."
Snow holds both of her hands and looks her over again. "Gods Emma, you're all grown up."
Emma doesn't know what to say to that so she just smiles weakly and looks back and forth between her parents as they exchange a look.
"David, we missed so much," Snow says despairingly and David nods knowingly.
It's not hard for Emma to imagine that they've had these thoughts before, she certainly has. Anger and despair and sadness and grief for the life she was cheated out of, for everything she didn't get to experience.
No part of it is fair, but she's come to accept it for what it is, and she's known for many years now, that life is anything but fair. You play the hand you're dealt, and yeah, sometimes it sucks, but it's all you've got, so you can choose to lay down and give up, or you can stand tall and make the best of a shitty situation.
Silence settles over the room and Emma feels the need to break it so she coughs and looks over to where Killian is standing patiently, smiling while he watches her interact with her parents.
Her parents follow her gaze and for the first time, seem to notice that there is another presence in the room.
"Mom, Dad," the words feel foreign on her tongue, but she pushes them out and continues, "this is Killian Jones, he's uh – well, he's the man who rescued me." Emma looks from Killian to her parents, trying to judge their reactions.
Killian grins broadly at her, and for one heart stopping moment, Emma fears he's going to say something lewd and entirely inappropriate, but he just turns to her parents and bows respectfully.
"Milady, my liege," he greets them in proper fashion, and it doesn't escape Emma that he spoke to her mother first. Smart man.
Gratitude already shines in her father's eyes and Emma knows he will be easily won over; he'll play the overprotective father card, but his resolve will be fleeting. Her mother on the other hand, won't be so easily convinced. Even now she's regarding Killian with scepticism, wary and full of mistrust.
David offers his hand, and when Killian takes it, David claps him heavily on the back.
"Thank you, Jones, for bringing our daughter home."
"Think nothing of it your highness. It was my pleasure to see Emma safely home and reunited with her family." Nothing in Killian's tone even remotely suggests a double entendre, but Emma knows him well enough to recognize that his choice of words were deliberate. His pleasure indeed.
Snow chooses that moment to speak up. "I realize I'm being rather blunt, but what exactly happened to you two? Why are you and my daughter covered in mud?"
Emma doesn't manage to stifle her laugh and Killian's face breaks into another grin. They really do look quite ridiculous.
"I'm afraid your guards were perhaps a tad overzealous when they apprehended us in the forest on our way here, milady. Tackled us right to the ground from our horses," Killian states dramatically.
Snow looks appalled and Killian quickly adds, "Of course they had no idea it was the princess they were attacking and there was a bit of a scuffle before your daughter recognized the one called Baynard and managed to quite admirably clarify the situation. Simple misunderstanding." Killian waves it off as if he hadn't been seconds away from having his throat slit.
Emma grabs Snow's hand, bothered by the way her mother still glares silently at Killian as if he's somehow at fault. Pirate: the word lingers, unspoken in the air.
"It's okay mom, no harm done," she insists, "a bath and some clean clothes and I'll be right as rain."
Snow seems to soften at her words and encircles her in another quick but crushing hug. "You both must be hungry. You're hungry aren't you?"
Emma stammers, not sure she could even eat right now, but thankfully Killian steps in and answers for her. "I'd love some food," he states, "and I'm sure Emma would too. Wouldn't you, love?"
Nodding, Emma hopes her parents don't find it strange that Killian calls her love. If they notice, or think anything of it, it doesn't show on their faces.
Her mother seems anxious about something and she turns, speaking quickly. "David, perhaps you could run to the kitchens, have them put on lunch a little early?"
David nods and shakes Killian's hand again before drawing Emma close and placing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I've missed you peanut," he tells her in a quiet voice and suddenly she's swallowing hard and blinking back tears, feeling like that little girl from so long ago.
Her father leaves and her mother waves in a couple maids.
"Emma sweetie, this is Candace," Snow gestures to the young auburn-haired maid. "She will take you up to your room and draw a bath for you."
Snow turns to the other maid, an older woman with greying strawberry-blonde curls. "Marietta, can you please escort Mr. Jones to a spare room, he is our guest today; see to it that he is provided with whatever he requires."
Killian tosses a heartening grin her way before he is pulled from the room by the older woman and Emma immediately feels the loss. His presence has had a tremendous calming effect on her nerves this last while, and now that he's gone, even if it's only temporary, she itches to follow him.
Her mother turns back to her and takes her hands. "I'll see you soon for lunch, okay?"
Emma nods and Candace holds out her hand. The girl is young, probably only sixteen or seventeen, but she's sweet and soft spoken as she leads Emma up the winding stairwell to the tower where her bedroom used to be.
Where her bedroom apparently still is.
When Candace holds the door open for her, Emma gasps. Everything is exactly as she remembers it, right down to the plush sage-green blankets on her bed and the stuffed golden horse on her pillow.
"You're mother refused to change a thing," Candace tells her. "She always insisted that you would be back some day and now you are."
Tears pool in her eyes and Emma wipes them away with the back of her hand.
"Is everything alright, princess?" Candace asks.
"It's perfect, thank you," she replies, smiling kindly at the young maid.
The door opens again and several maids enter, carrying steaming buckets of water. The tub is filled quickly and soon it's just her and Candace alone in the room once more.
"Shall I take your soiled clothes and leave you to bathe, princess?"
"Call me Emma," she requests, "and yes please, but see to it that they are returned to me when they are clean, that jacket and those boots mean a lot to me."
Pulling her bag and her bow and quiver from her back, she rests them against the closest wall before stepping out of the boots. She fingers the soft caramel leather of the coat as Candace helps slide it from her shoulders. Its craftsmanship is exquisite and she remembers Edith, the sweet, sprightly old woman that crafted it, now dead at the hand of the evil queen. Because of you, her brain supplies cruelly.
Emma steps behind the curtain that surrounds to the tub to remove the rest of her clothing. There are finger marks on her hip and love bites on her shoulder and thighs and she doesn't want the girl asking questions about their origins.
She shoves the clothes across the floor to the other side of the curtain and Candace immediately picks them up.
"I will return shortly prin – Emma," Candace corrects, "with fresh clothes for you."
"Thank you, Candace."
The door closes and Emma steps into the tub, sinking down into the warm water with a sigh. She wishes Killian was here with her, his hairy chest against her back, his thighs cradling hers in the water. It's strange being away from him. Logically she knows he's only on the other side of the castle and that she'll see him again within the hour, but she's grown so used to his almost constant presence that now his absence is a shock to her system.
It's tempting to lounge in the sweet smelling water, but the sooner she's clean and dressed, the sooner she can see Killian and her parents again, so she bathes quickly, scrubbing the mud from her face and hair.
Candace returns and places a slip and some undergarments on a stool next to the tub. Towels are already hanging from the wall so she wraps her hair up in one before grabbing another to dry her body. The undergarments are simple cotton and she pulls them on quickly before sliding into the long sleeved, floor length dark gold slip. The material is soft and silky and surprisingly comfortable.
Emma steps out from behind the curtain and Candace beams. "I knew that colour would look great on you!" she says, holding up another layer of the dress. It's made of finely woven black, green, and navy lace and she helps Emma slip into it before lacing up the front of the corset.
It's an odd feeling, being dressed by someone else after so long on her own, but she lifts her arms and turns when instructed and soon Candace is sliding dark green suede slippers onto her feet. The towel is pulled from her head, and Emma is directed to a chair in front of the large mirror.
The dress really is beautiful; elegant and extravagantly detailed, but she's surprised to find that it doesn't hinder her movements or breathing at all.
"It's lovely, Candace, thank you," she says, meeting her maids eyes in the mirror. The girl blushes, but continues to run a brush through Emma's hair.
Candace works quickly with nimble fingers, twisting and pulling until Emma's long locks are twined into a braid that circles her head. The effect is like nothing she's ever seen before and it appears almost as if she's wearing a crown.
Satisfied with her work, Candace offers her hand. "Come Emma, lunch will be ready soon."
They pad softly down the stairs and into the dining hall. Her parents aren't there yet, but Candace seats her at the table and tells her that they should arrive shortly, before disappearing into the kitchens and leaving Emma alone in the large room.
The table is set for five and Emma briefly wonders who the fifth party will be. Her thoughts are disrupted when Killian is all but pushed into the hall by the aging maid.
She does a double take when she sees what he's wearing. He's dressed in sinfully tight brown breeches and tall black leather riding boots. He wears a navy and gold brocade waistcoat with an ivory blouse beneath it (unbuttoned enough to reveal his chest, of course) and over top is a deep olive green jacket with black stitching and gold buttons. His chain and charms still dangle around his neck and she wonders how much he had to pout to avoid parting with those. His brace is still empty, just barely showing past the end of his sleeve and she makes a mental note to find out what happened to his hook.
His face is bruised and the cuts are still visible, but the blood and grime are gone from his skin. He's dressed like fucking royalty and goddamn it looks good on him. She also doesn't fail to notice that their outfits share a similar colour palate. She wonders if she should blame Candace or Marietta for that – likely both.
Marietta drags Killian toward the table, smacking him upside the head when a colourful curse spills past his gritted teeth. Emma can't quite make out what he said, but knows he more than likely deserved the reprimand.
He is pressed into the chair on her left, and when Marietta finally leaves, Killian leans toward her, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "Bloody hells Emma, do maids always make it their mission to violate every ounce of your personal space when they dress you? I've been pinched and plucked and prodded in places that blasted woman has no business touching!"
He sounds terribly affronted and she laughs at him because the look on his face is absolutely priceless and it would take far too much effort not to.
"Not usually," she answers, "but I mean, come on, look at you, how could she possibly resist?"
Her words feed his ego, and his chest practically puffs out in pride.
"Ah finally, she admits it! See now, love? I always knew you found me devilishly handsome."
Emma rolls her eyes and swats at his shoulder as they share a smile.
This playful banter is exactly what she needs. It's light and refreshing and it makes her forget for a moment that they're about to sit down to a meal with parents that she hasn't dined with since she was a child.
Killian catches her hand and turns it so her palm faces upwards, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her skin, lips brushing teasingly as he looks into her eyes.
She bites her lip and presses her thighs together against the feelings he stirs with such a simple touch.
"You look positively ravishing, darling." He lowers her hand to his thigh and she slides it higher.
His eyes are dark. They're playing with fire here; she knows it, he knows it, but the dining hall is still empty so she squeezes him once through the fabric of his breeches before lifting her hands and folding them innocently atop the table.
"Bloody fucking minx you are love." His voice is thick with arousal and she wants so badly to kiss him, but she won't risk it.
Thankfully her father walks in and she's distracted from her thoughts of jumping Killian right here on the large dining table.
David looks serious as he walks over and crouches down next to her.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"There's something we need to tell you Emma, and your mother didn't want to risk upsetting you on your first day back home, but it's not exactly something that can be kept hidden and we don't want to keep any secrets from you, so I'm just going to come right out and tell you..." David pauses hesitantly.
"Tell me what?" she asks, tense and worried. What could be so serious that they seek to inform her in such a cautious manner before dining? Emma's mind instantly jumps to several horrible conclusions and Killian's hand lands discretely on her knee beneath the table cloth. He squeezes gently and she meets his eyes for a split second before following his gaze over to the doorway where her mother now stands.
"That you have a little sister, Emma," her mother says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
A small chocolate-haired girl peaks out from behind her mother with a huge smile and comes barrelling into the dining hall. The girl, her sister Emma thinks bewildered, collides with David and he scoops her up to sit on his knee.
"Emma, this is Thalia," her father introduces the bubbly little girl. Thalia is the spitting image of her mother, but clearly inherited her father's blue eyes.
Emma sits frozen for a moment, attempting to process the fact that she's no longer an only child, that her parents had another baby after their only daughter was stolen away, that they didn't know if they would ever see her again so they birthed another heir in her stead. She feels like she's been replaced and it hurts like hell, but she can't begrudge her parents for losing hope, when she herself held none for just as long.
Killian caresses her knee again softly, helping to focus her thoughts and she plasters a smile on her face, doing her best to look thrilled.
Thalia offers her small hand brightly and Emma takes it.
"Hi! I'm Thally and I'm six years old!" the girl says quite proudly and Emma feels her lips twitch slightly as her forced smile grows genuine.
She has a sister.