EMMA MAKES AN 'ENTRANCE', KILLIAN GETS A BIG SURPRISE, HOT REUNION SEX(!), AND LUCIUS VORENUS (KEVIN MCKID) AND TITUS PULLO (RAY STEVENSON) MAKE A SPECIAL GUEST CAMEO APPEARANCE.

BETA READ BY THE DIVINE GODDESS DANCINGDOULA

Chapter 21: All Along The Watchtower

Emma sat in front of the window of the fortress tower in which she was held prisoner. She tried to read the book in her lap, but every once in a while she looked out the window toward the town and the docks below. How cliché, she thought wryly, I've become a Princess locked in a tower, waiting for her Prince, or in this case her Pirate, to finally come and rescue her.

She looked out across the narrow bay beyond the docks out toward the horizon, frowning a little as she considered her predicament as well as the past three years, most of them married to Prince James and relatively tranquil until the horrible night six months ago when the horror had occurred. Considering how devastated, lost and empty she had felt the day she sailed away from Killian, things had been better than she had feared, and she certainly had her compensations. Not that any of them prevented her from aching for him, night after night, her only comfort the nights that she met him in her dreams, feeling his kisses and embraces, climaxing in her sleep as she felt him surging into her.

She had sensed keenly that Killian was suffering a great deal of misery, that he had been pining for her. She prayed he hadn't let his despair turn him to the dark side again. Hoisting her leg onto the chair, she pulled up her skirt and fingered her mithril ankle bracelet with a wistful smile on her face. She knew for certain he was still alive, otherwise the chain would have broken and fallen off. But she could sense his emotions through the medium of the magical metal, and his palpable loneliness and anguish had been like a knife through her heart. For the thousandth time, she prayed he would have the strength to endure his pain and hang onto hope until he could come for her. Recently she had felt his thoughts turn and his heart become happier. She knew he was on his way.

Had she been able to leave the fortress and Vargos for good, she would have done so and gone straight to him. But she was tethered as surely as if she'd been manacled in the dungeons. She wished fervently that she had been able to talk to her parents, but she'd never been allowed to return to see them. Only letters – carefully worded to escape the scrutiny of Titus' spies who read every one – were allowed beyond the borders, though she occasionally got a message through.

Despite her secluded existence, she knew that chaos had broken out in the unhappy, shackled Vargan Empire. A small fleet of heavily armed corsairs had sailed up the lightly fortified coastal defenses and raided all the major and minor ports. They'd opened the jails and prison labor camps and stirred up the townspeople. Now full-scale insurrection and guerilla warfare had broken out everywhere except the capital. Little was known about the raiders, though Pontus was rumored to be their port of origin. All that was known is that they were led by a dashing commander known simply as The Sea Wolf. She gave a little laugh. He could call himself whatever he liked, but she knew it was her Killian. It wouldn't be long now.

She continued watching for hours as she had done every day for the past week. Finally, a speck appeared far out on the horizon, then two, three, four, five. They were moving swiftly, becoming larger as the moments ticked by. No one tried to stop them; all the Vargan naval ships had either been destroyed or were occupied elsewhere prosecuting Titus' endless wars. In his overconfidence and overreaching, he'd left the capital virtually undefended. She waited until the ships made port. She could see the black sails and just make out a grey and white flag flapping with the head of a wolf on it.

She smiled.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

When the ships had sailed uncontested into the harbor, Killian had thought at first it was a trap. All crew were hunkered down, all guns at the ready, prepared to blast the hell out of any ships or town fortifications that tried to resist. But it was eerily quiet. No one appeared to be about, perhaps having fled or hiding in their houses. Killian sent armed scouts into town and they returned to tell him that the garrison had deserted? up the hill to The Citadel rather than mount a futile resistance. The town was theirs for the taking, at least for now. Posting sentries and guards at each gate and along the main roads, he also sent agents into the town and surrounding countryside with the express purpose of discovering all vital information about the fortress, including the whereabouts of the Princess. Satisfied that the town was temporarily secured, he returned to his ship to assess his next move. He was sitting in his cabin sipping brandy and studying a map of the town when he heard a knock at the door, and Smee entered.

"Captain," he said, breathlessly, "There's someone to see you."

"Who?" asked the Captain, frowning, immediately sensing a potential threat.

"Um, two men, look like they might be soldiers but in ordinary clothes. They have something for you, sir. They say it's a gift for you, from the fortress. From the Princess herself!"

Killian desperately hoped she had sent him some acknowledgement or communication, but he was cautious. It could be a trick.

.

"Wait a minute – what the hell kind of 'gift' did they bring? Did you see it? Is it small? A large box, what?"

"Well," said Smee, scratching his head as if puzzled, "it looks like a carpet, sir."

"A carpet? What the bloody hell?" he furrowed his brow, suspicious.

"I'm to tell you to trust them, sir," Smee, explained, "I'm to give you the message that Princess Emma hopes you remember how much she appreciated your fencing lessons."

Killian grinned to himself at the memory, reassured that the gift, whatever it was, had truly come from her.

But to be safe, he gave Smee further instructions. "Make sure the crew is on the deck and armed to the teeth just in case there is some sabotage or strange magic. Keep pistols on these two men you speak of."

"Yes, Captain," said Smee, turning to leave.

Killian waited a few minutes, then stamped up the stairs after Smee, suddenly eager and curious.

On the deck stood two exceedingly tough looking men, one about six feet tall with distinctive red gold hair and pale skin, glowering at Killian with eyes just as blue as his own. The other was a large man, at least six four, with closely cropped light brown hair. Both were powerfully built and he hadn't a doubt in his mind they were experienced and hardened fighters. He fingered his scabbard, bracing himself, his eyes going to the bundle in their hands. It did indeed look to be a rolled up carpet. They were surrounded by crewmen pointing swords and pistols directly at them.

"I am the Captain," he said, "You say you have a gift for me from the Princess. What is it?"

As if in reply, the two set the carpet on the floor and gave it a shove. When it quickly unrolled, the entire crew, including himself, dropped their jaws and gasped audibly in amazement.

Lying at the end was a woman. A woman with long blond hair in what looked like a white nightgown. She gracefully arched her back upward to a seated position, her palms braced behind her to support her weight. Reaching out first one arm, then the second, she lightly brushed the dust from her skin, arranged her hair, then turned dramatically to her side to rest on her right hip and face him. She extended her hand, as if to be kissed, every inch the Royal Princess despite her strange conveyance

For a moment he knew his heart had stopped and he ceased breathing altogether, so great was his amazement. A delighted smile spread across his face, the first genuine smile in three years as he walked – all the while fighting the temptation to run - towards her.

Now, that, Gentlemen," he announced admiringly, nodding toward Emma and addressing the crew, "is an entrance!"

Mindful of appearances, he resisted the overwhelming impulse to gather her in his arms and cover her with hungry kisses. Instead, he took her outstretched hand, helped her up, and then kissed her hand, his lips lingering rather longer than required by mere politeness. When at last he raised his head, he didn't let go, either. Ordering the crew to stand down and get the two soldiers something to eat and drink, he escorted Emma with due ceremony and proper protocol to his cabin.

As soon as the door was closed behind them and they had cleared the stair, they fell on each other like starving dogs that had just been hurled a slab of raw meat. Emma seized his collar in her fists and pulled him into her, one of his arms tangling into her long golden hair and one wrapping around her waist to pull her hard against his body. She melted into him as his full lips captured hers, his tongue plundering her mouth insistently. She broke away from his lips to press her face into his tan, muscled chest, inhaling his particular masculine scent. The feel and smell of him intoxicated her, arousing a fierce rush of pure, animal lust, and she could feel his hardness against her.

He moaned contentedly as he felt her licking and kissing at his chest as his right hand moved along her neck and shoulder to pull the strap down on her gown to reveal her naked breast. Groaning from a jolt of lust as he palmed her breast and rolled her nipple into a hard point, she turned her face back up and parted her lips to feel his kiss. He moaned into her mouth then, and reached down to lift her off the floor so that her legs could wrap around his waist.

"You taste so delicious, love," he murmured, carrying her over to the bed, "I thought I'd go mad without you…without this…" The two of them fell onto the bed, Emma still clinging to him. He wrenched the other strap of her gown off her shoulder to feast his eyes on her naked breast. "Oh gods," he breathed, "I've missed these." He sucked greedily on one until she gave a sharp little cry of mingled pain and pleasure, fisting her hands in his hair as he turned his attention to her other nipple.

Her heart hammered and she was breathing in ragged gulps. She could feel herself clenching with need and a torrent of wetness seeping from her body. She was arching her breast into his hungry mouth and grinding herself against him, desperate for friction, when he pulled himself to his knees.

His chest heaving and his eyes black with lust, he rucked up her gown and ran his fingers through her saturated folds, rubbing her quivering bud with his thumb and plunging his fingers into her. "Gods, Emma," he breathed, wonderingly, "you're dripping for me."

When he curled his fingers and stroked inside her, her eyes rolled back into her head as, unable to help herself, she came apart around his fingers with a hoarse cry, legs trembling as the sensations overwhelmed her. He stroked her through her shuddering convulsions as she began impatiently pulling him toward her.

"Fuck me, pirate," she ordered him in a raspy voice, "I've been dreaming of your cock inside me for three goddamn years! Hurry up!"

His own hands were trembling with desire as he unbuttoned his pants and his straining cock sprang free of its dark confines. Curling her right leg over his shoulder, he lined himself up and surged into her as deeply as he could penetrate. Emma emitted a little shriek as she felt his thick, heavy length hit the very deepest core of her lush body, then began to arch her back and contract around him. She pulled him down close to her, nails biting his shoulder, lips biting and sucking at his neck.

"I've dreamed of fucking you just like this every bloody night since you left," he groaned, "I would have sold my soul for one more night between your legs." He pounded into her like it was his last fuck on earth – and for all he knew, it might be. She trembled and shook beneath him from the force of his thrusts and her own arousal until he felt her begin to convulse powerfully around his throbbing cock, screaming his name as she began coming undone again. He grasped her flanks in his hands and fucked her into the mattress, his hips stuttering as the cumulative frustration of three empty years spurted out of him in a hot, thunderous release that was almost painful in its sharp intensity. He came, almost sobbing as he cried her name.

They both lay gasping ragged, harsh breaths, sweat running off their bodies, shuddering with the aftershocks of their climaxes as they clung to one another. When their breathing had eased a little and they had wiped the beads of moisture from their faces, he stayed on top of her, not pulling out but kissing every inch of her sweet face tenderly as she stroked his hair, his neck, his back. "You don't know how much I've missed you. I thought I would lose my mind," he said tenderly, still fearful she would turn out to be a really convincing hallucination. "I thought I knew what love was before. But it was only having you and losing you that showed me what it really means to truly love someone body, mind, heart, and soul."

"I love you, Killian," she whispered softly, eyes welling with tears, "I always have, and I always will. You are the only man I could ever love."

He smiled at her then, brushing her tears away with his thumb. But when he moved to raise himself, she stopped him. "Darling," he reassured her, "I don't want to go anywhere, but I need to get dressed and give the crew orders. We need to be away as quickly as possible now that we've got you here safely. Delightful stratagem, by the way, please tell me how you did it when we've time…hadn't expected it to be this easy."

She stopped him then with a firm tug. "It's not going to be easy," she said, her voice deadly serious. "I'm not leaving with you now. I can't."

"What the devil do you mean, you can't?" he demanded, his voice rising in confusion as he sat up, surprised.

"Killian, wait – you don't understand! I can't leave because it's not just me. I have a child and we can't leave him behind!" She struggled up now to sit beside him, pulling her nightdress up around her.

His mouth fell open. He should have been prepared for such a disclosure, but he wasn't. He had heard rumors, nothing confirmed, that the Vargan royal family kept such things very close, not announcing royal children until they were well into their third year since only the most robust could survive infancy in a place like this. "A child?" he said stupidly.

"Yes," she said, taking his hand gently, both still seated on the bed. "A son. His name is Jamie."

"Jamie…" the pirate nodded, dazed, "after his father, then."

"No," she said slowly, as if addressing a feeble minded child. "He's named after my late husband, and he turned two years old three months ago."

She watched his face change as the full import of her words sank in. His face changed from surprise and confusion to shocked wonder and bewilderment.

Suddenly, he gripped her shoulders hard as he locked his fierce blue gaze upon her, the color draining from his face. "Emma, stop toying with me. Are you telling me that I…that we…" he trailed off, unable to form the words.

"I know you're understandably shocked, but yes," she said. "Your son. Our son. Now you understand why I can't leave with you now. We have to find a way to get him out of there!"

He put his arms around her, still a little stupefied but unbearably happy. He rocked and soothed her, promising they would get their boy, that all would be well.

"But how? You told me Regina had given you a potion to prevent conception when we were together." He still could barely comprehend what she had told him.

"I lied," she said, sheepishly. "I made it up. I didn't want you to try to do anything, or change anything, to try to prevent it. And I hoped that you would make me pregnant. I'm only sorry I wasn't honest with you."

"You are daft! Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?" He was entirely perplexed, tugging at his ear in frustration.

"I was in love with you, you mad bastard!" she said defiantly. "I knew I was going to have to leave and never see you again. I wanted to have…something of you that would stay with me, that wouldn't be taken from me." She was wringing her hands now, her eyes blazing into his. "Aren't you in the least bit happy?"

He pulled her to him, stroking her hair. "Of course I am! Just utterly stunned senseless. It's difficult to take it in, that's all. When was he born? What does he look like? Is he healthy?" His questions tumbled out; he had so many there would scarcely be time to learn everything he had missed, that he would need to know.

"He was born on Midsummer's Eve the year after I left," she said, her voice filled with love and wonder, "But you knew that, didn't you?"

"Aye," he said, smiling suddenly realizing what had happened. "I might have guessed it. I felt something that night, felt you – and then the clouds parted and I saw the most beautiful, perfect rainbow out over the bay I'd ever seen anywhere. I felt a sense of unaccountable joy and I knew something wonderful had happened. But I was so miserable, Emma, so lonely…I couldn't let myself even dare to hope for or even consider the possibility of such a miracle."

She squeezed his shoulder, nodding. "I tried so hard to send a message to you with my mind and heart, perhaps my magic is more effective than I know, but I daren't send word to you, for all our protection. Oh, Killian, he looks exactly like miniature you! Dark hair, beautiful blue eyes, he even has your nose and your cocky attitude," she said laughing. "And your elf ears."

He just shook his head with wonder, joy surging through him. "Wait, I do not have elf ears!"

"Yes, you do," she laughed, running her hand through his hair and tweaking the point of one ear affectionately.

He laughed then, but then his face sobered, anxietyreplacing joy. "And how did you possibly get away with this? Or didn't you?" he asked sharply.

"Titus doesn't know, if that's what you're asking," she replied. "And I 'got away with it,' as you so diplomatically put it, because my late husband James helped me."

"What?" Killian said, shocked again. He was beginning to wonder how many such shocks his heart could take in one night.

"You heard me. James helped me. In fact, he was delighted. And he was a loving and devoted father in every way, until he was killed." Her face had a wistful look on it, and he realized she had cared for him.

"Did he think he was the father?" Killian asked, getting up to pour them both some stiff shots of brandy.

"No. And he was fine with that."

"Explain yourself," Killian demanded, returning to sit on the bed and handing her a glass.

Plumping up the pillows, Emma leaned back and told him the whole story. "James was not in love with me, and the truth is he wasn't sexually interested in women at all. He'd been desperately in love since he was thirteen years old with his childhood friend Francesco. Obviously, he had to hide this from his tyrant father, and I, and Jamie, provided him with the perfect cover.

"He and I lived quite happily for the better part of the past three years at a relatively secluded summer palace by the seaside. Francesco and Jamie lived there too and we rarely saw Titus. We all got on famously and both Cesco and James positively doted on Jamie." She smiled, remembering.

"So my son has had in effect two fathers other than myself?" Killian asked, not sure how he felt about this information

"Well, to be honest it was more like Jamie had three mommies, but the important thing is that he was loved and cherished. And on the bright side, I have been able to stay chaste for you as Layla did to Majnun," she smiled shyly at him and caressed his cheek tenderly.

He leaned over and kissed her softly. "I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I will say that information makes me foolishly happy."

"What about you? Still wenching and whoring?" she queried playfully.

"I think you know the answer without my telling you," he said, unamused. "What did you tell your late husband about me?" he asked stiffly.

"I didn't think it wise to reveal too much, but I'm sure he would have liked you. You were just his type," she teased as he huffed at her. "But he did want to know one thing: were you a good man."

"And what did you say," he asked, sincerely curious.

"I said, 'Define good'."

He threw back his head and laughed at that. "In any event," he continued when he recovered himself, "we need to devise a plan to retrieve Jamie with all speed. Can you take him for a walk or something?"

"Ah, there's the rub," she said. "You heard that my husband died?" He nodded. "He was murdered, by his own father, right in front of me."

"What happened?" he asked, horrified. He put his arm around her again sympathetically.

She closed her eyes a moment and shuddered, remembering. "He came to visit in the middle of the night, wholly unexpected, and found them together – in bed. He cut Cesco's throat, called them both all sorts of vile names. I heard the screaming and came from my bedroom to see what was happening. When he saw James cradling Cesco's head and weeping over his dying body, Titus called him a disgusting, unnatural pervert and no son of his. He pulled him away from Cesco and just…just throttled him to death, his eyes bugging out of his head, face so red he looked like he would explode, shouting obscenities." Her voice broke and her face had a haunted look. "He's … he's insane. Then he turned on me, accused me of covering for them. I was afraid he would kill me too, but he didn't. Instead, he's kept me locked up in a tower for six months and prevented me from seeing Jamie!" She began weeping now, distraught.

"I've already tried to escape with him but it's been impossible," she sobbed into his chest, "he's too well guarded. I can't even get someone I trust posted as a guard, it's only Titus' oldest, most trusted ruffians. The two men I brought with me tonight, Vorenus and Pullo – they're my bodyguards, infiltrators my parents sent secretly before I arrived. They are loyal to me, and fierce fighters. Normally it would be nothing to them. But there are just too many guards and the tower where he's being held is fortified heavily with soldiers and fiendish weapons and traps. We'll need a larger force. That's why I needed to wait for you." She wiped her tears and set her face, determination and purpose replacing her earlier sorrow.

He nodded slowly, taking it in, thinking of how to do it. "Can you provide any plans or details about the castle and its defenses?"

"Yes," she affirmed, "Vorenus has them. I have detailed maps, everything we could discover. I'll give them to you before I return. And I know the perfect time to make our move – in three days' time at the Autumn Solstice Festival. It's a huge celebration, most of the staff and even the soldiers will have the night off or at least be drunk. That's our moment."

"Hmmm," he pondered, stroking his beard, "I'll work out a plan, and I've got the men to do the job as long as reinforcements don't arrive, though my intelligence to date makes that unlikely for at least a week or more. But I don't like the idea of you going back there alone."

"I have to. If I'm discovered missing tomorrow morning, all hell will break loose and we'll lose whatever chance we have."

"How'd you escape in the first place?" he asked.

"Oh it's easy, just climbed down the tower. It's on the northeast side, very isolated, very dark. Vorenus and Pullo met me at the bottom with the carpet to hide in and you saw the rest. You know," she said smugly, "I've always had a bit of a flair for drama. They've pretty much forgotten me anyway. Titus knows I'd never leave without Jamie."

They tidied up their disheveled appearances. "Thank the gods you didn't leave any visible marks this time," she said, inspecting herself. "But I didn't," she smiled with satisfaction as she eyed the dark marks on his neck. "Put your collar on so we don't scandalize Vorenus."

"Which one's Vorenus?" he asked, putting his collar on as he followed her to the door.

"The stern, dour one with red hair is Vorenus and the cheerful, brutish one is Pullo."

Returning to the deck, she introduced Killian to her protectors and supervised the discreet transfer of the valise carrying the valuable maps to Killian.

"Ready to go, miss?" the taller one asked.

"Not looking forward to suffocating in that damn carpet again, but needs must," she grimaced as he unrolled it for her.

She extended her hand formally to Killian. "Thank you for your indulgence, Captain, I am relieved to know that you have decided to spare the lives of the innocent citizens of our capital and will treat them fairly. That is all I seek," she concluded loudly enough for any eavesdroppers to hear.

"Of course, Your Highness, it has been an honor, and my deepest pleasure," he said bowing low over her hand, an amused glint in his eye. He gave her a secret wink as he stood up again.

She gave him a last, longing look and then lay back on the carpet. Pullo rolled her up and slung her over his broad shoulder. Killian hid his smile when he heard a small "ooof!" sound from inside the rug.

He stared wistfully after them as the two men departed, gliding alongside the quay in the direction of the black fortress looming above.

"Don't think you're fooling us," Pullo said quietly to the carpet.

The carpet emitted a small giggle and then was silent.

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