The Past
In the end, Killian was grateful to have Ciarra by his side as he attended the ball.
They dressed side by side, with Ciarra chattering away about everything from what sort of girl Liam might like to what sort of food might be served to worries that she might forget the dance steps. Killian half-listened, mostly watching in interest as she arranged her hair in a complicated braided bun and dabbed something dark red onto her lips. It filled him with nostalgia, reminding him of his mother's preparation for her opera roles. He'd never seen Ciarra bother so much with her appearance, but he supposed that was only because they'd spent most of their time together in the army, trekking, or working jobs that had no need of fancy appearances.
Ciarra grinned when she caught his gaze in the mirror.
"Where did you learn all of that?" Asked Killian in amazement, gesturing towards her head.
"I've had to do something to keep myself occupied while you've been away," she said, by way of explanation.
"I'm glad you've used your time so productively," Killian breathed, barely resisting the urge to kiss her neck.
All of Ciarra's attempts at appearances may have been destroyed if not for Liam's timely knock. Within moments, the three young adults were walking in their finery down towards the ballroom.
"We greet the king, first," explained Liam under his breath as they joined a small line.
Ciarra's grip on Killian's arm tightened painfully.
Finally, they were announced, and the trio entered a reception hall that was large and lavish enough to make Killian feel like he had been swallowed by some great beast. Hundreds of candles danced around the room and illuminated the crystals and jewels on the king's throne. The result was almost as if the king himself was radiating coloured light. It did little to compensate for his lack of pleasant physical attributes, however; his ears stuck out, an ash-coloured beard did little to compensate for a weak, shapeless chin, and his hair-line was already receding. No doubt tricks with light were needed to make King Julian appear to be a worthy and powerful monarch, since nothing about his person radiated worthiness or power.
Killian bowed low nonetheless. "Your grace."
King Julian stifled a yawn and waved the three away.
All in all, Killian decided that meeting the king had been quite anticlimactic. Relief poured through him. Half of him - the irrational half - had expected to be arrested on the spot.
"Lieutenant Jones!" A loud voice boomed from across the ballroom as the trio entered.
Both Killian and Liam turned their heads. Killian felt a moment of panic when he didn't recognize the uniformed man who had spoken, which soon receded as Liam strode towards the speaker with a broad grin.
His eyes were still fixed on Liam when Ciarra yanked his arm. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to keep him from colliding with a lavender-scented older man.
"Apologies, my lord," Killian said quickly, only to have his voice trail away at the sight of a familiar face.
Lord Alasdair sighed, reaching into his doublet to extract a lace handkerchief and wipe himself off, as though the collision had contaminated him somehow.
"I always imagined that spacial awareness would be of value on a ship," Lord Alasdair commented drily.
Killian bit back the sort of retort he wanted to give, and instead said, "I shall endeavour to improve that area of study, my lord."
Lord Alasdair now seemed to look at him for the first time. Killian felt his skin crawl as his grandfather's eyes raked over every inch of him. He could've sworn that the cold, grey eyes lingered for an unnatural amount of time on the scar that still stood out on his face, even if angry red had long ago faded to a slim line of white.
"The new Lieutenant Jones, I presume?" He finally said with a small smile that looked unnatural on such a cold, hard face.
"Yes, my lord," acknowledged Killian with a polite nod. "I apologize again for meeting you in such a manner."
Lord Alasdair nodded, his eyes now moving to Ciarra, who swallowed visibly under his scrutiny.
"And your companion?"
"Of course," Killian said hurriedly. "Allow me to introduce you to my fiancée, Ciarra..." - he cursed inwardly, remembering that giving Ciarra's actual last name would link her to her late father - "um, Ciarra..." - words like "candle", "dress", "ball", "Jones", "Crewe", "pretty", and "help" flashed briefly through his mind - "Green."
Lord Alasdair raised his eyebrows and glanced again at Ciarra, whose dress happened to be layers and layers of fabric the colour of-
"Green," repeated Lord Alasdair.
"I like to colour coordinate," Ciarra said with a bright, nervous smile.
The Present
"I thought pirates were supposed to be good liars," teased Emma.
"I prefer to plan my lies in advance," Killian said, scratching behind his ear in his usual embarrassed tell.
The Past
"I apologize, my lord, I seem to be a bit tongue-tied in your presence. My brother has told me many things about the great Lord Alasdair-"
Ciarra let out a squeak and clapped her hands to her mouth. Both Killian and Lord Alasdair turned to look at her, one in despair and one in disdain.
"Oh... g-g-goodness. I d-d-didn't even realize. I've heard m-many wonderful things t-too," Ciarra babbled, looking at the man as a mouse may look at a cat right before becoming its dinner.
"I wonder," Lord Alasdair said softly, looking at them both in a way that made Killian's blood freeze in his veins. Then, abruptly, the strange smile was back on the old man's face. "Well, Lieutenant, I wish you both luck in your future endeavours. I hope that we shan't be disappointed in you."
"I'll do my best to ensure that you shan't, my lord," Killian assured him.
With a last stiff nod, Lord Alasdair moved away, leaving Killian and Ciarra frozen in place.
"Oh my soul," Ciarra muttered, fanning herself nervously with gloved hands. "That was-"
"I know," Killian replied, now feeling slightly ill.
"Oh God," she moaned.
"Let's not let it spoil the evening, hmm?" Killian suggested, gently leading her towards couples who were already dancing.
"Yes, you're right. He would've thought we were strange, I'm sure, but nothing else-"
"We can talk about it later," Killian said hurriedly, glancing nervously over his shoulder.
Ciarra nodded bravely, and soon the two were dancing stiffly among the graceful couples.
"Relax," Killian murmured in her ear, although he felt like a hypocrite saying so. "There's no point in worrying about it now. Who do you think Liam might like?"
His fiancée brightened almost immediately, scanning the packed room with obvious relish. "Her?"
"Where?"
"In white?"
Killian glanced to his right, where a tall red-head was dancing with an older man.
"Engaged, or soon-to-be."
"No!"
"Besides, look at that face. She's after that man - maybe his money? - but, either way, she's clearly far too flirtatious for Liam. He wouldn't know how to play her game."
"Huh," Ciarra said. "Well, then, that woman in the corner."
Killian looked and shook his head. "I said romantically inept, not... well..."
"Don't be cruel," Ciarra chided, hitting him lightly.
"Let's at least find someone somewhat pleasing to the eye? And not old enough to be his mother?"
Ciarra bit back a laugh. "Fine."
If anyone had watched the couple that night, they would have noticed that their dance pattern seemed to cover far more of the room than the other couples. Soon, they were circling around so that they could reach every corner and at least glance at every ball attendee.
"This is ridiculous," Ciarra finally laughed. "I feel like a vulture! I should have worn black."
"But you look so ravishing the way you are," Killian protested in amusement.
"There!" Ciarra jerked him to a stop suddenly, clearly forgetting that it was his job to lead the dance. Still, Killian decided that it would be bad form to point that out.
Killian glanced to the bench that Ciarra had loudly indicated, where two women sat. One had brown hair and dark eyes, with her nose buried in a book. She was petite and mousey, and, in Killian's opinion, rather uninteresting. The other was sitting next to her, looking bored out of her mind. She was of a more compatible height with Liam, with strong features, chestnut-coloured hair, and intelligent green eyes.
"She's a possibility," agreed Killian, already guiding Ciarra over to the two women.
"Good evening!" Ciarra said with a bright smile.
The mousey one with the book barely spared her a glance. The other one looked relieved to have someone speak to her at all.
"Good evening," she said in a deep, rich voice.
"We were hoping that you could help us with a problem we have," Ciarra blurted.
The mousey one looked up at her with a frown. "We're not the staff. Find a servant."
Her companion looked horrified. "Giselle!"
Giselle scowled. "There are plenty of them around."
"This isn't an issue that a servant can help us with," Killian cut in with his most charming smile.
Giselle was already reading again.
"You'll have to excuse my cousin. She knows that no man would ever dance with her, and so she buries her face in books and is as uncivil as possible so that she can pretend there's a reason for why she's all alone," the taller woman said with disdain.
"Better than sitting there pathetically like someone I know," Giselle commented pointedly.
Her companion's face started to turn red.
"Only because of you!"
Killian cleared his throat pointedly.
"Ladies, if you're in want of a dance partner, I may know just the man. My elder brother is currently unoccupied-"
"What's the matter with him?" Interrupted Giselle.
"What?" Asked her cousin in annoyance.
Giselle heaved a great sigh. "Clearly there's something wrong with him. That girl mentioned a 'problem', and now they've conveniently forgotten the problem and turned the subject to his brother. This is all an excuse to set you up. If they have to go to all of this trouble, then there's clearly something wrong with him. What? Is he deformed? Stupid?"
"Neither, I assure you," Killian said, forcing a smile on his face while biting back his irritation. "My brother is just in need of a dancing partner and doesn't realize it."
"Asocial, then," Giselle said with a sniff.
Her cousin sidestepped rather desperately to block her. "Oh, yes, please. I should love to meet your brother. What's his name?"
"Liam," Ciarra told her cheerfully. "He's ever so nice."
"Liam," the girl repeated dreamily. "And you are?"
"Ciarra!" Ciarra gushed. "And this is Killian."
"Is he a sailor like yourself?" Giselle questioned, leaning around her cousin's skirt. She said "sailor" as though it were a dirty word.
"He's a Lieutenant as well, yes," Killian replied stiffly.
"Oh, how exciting!" The taller girl said quickly. "I'm Beatrice."
"And I'm coming," Giselle cut in, standing up.
"No, you're not!" Beatrice shrieked.
"Yes, I am. I'd be fascinated to see how this goes. It could be quite amusing," Giselle said. "Shall we?"
Beatrice's mouth fell open in indignation. Finally, with a scowl, she nodded to Killian, who led the way to his brother. Ciarra trailed behind with Beatrice, cheerfully discussing all of Liam's attributes while Beatrice practically swooned, shooting angry looks at her cousin in between her gushing.
Liam was currently talking to Captain Roger and some other naval officers. His eyes lit up at the sight of his younger brother, although his expression quickly drifted to one of confusion as he took in the gaggle of women behind him. He excused himself and moved over with a quizzical expression on his face.
"Liam, allow me to introduce the Lady Beatrice," Killian said with a smile, then held his breath as she curtsied politely and Liam did a shallow bow.
"Do you like dancing, Lieutenant?" Asked Beatrice breathlessly.
After a moment of hesitation, Liam nodded. "At times, yes."
"Is this one of those times?" Beatrice prompted with a bright smile.
Liam hesitated again, and Killian elbowed him.
"Yes?" Liam said.
Beatrice grasped his arm, and they started to move towards the dancing couples in the center of the floor. Killian and Ciarra were exchanging triumphant glances when Liam caught sight of Giselle.
"Pardon me, but I don't believe we were introduced," he said, pulling Beatrice to a halt and causing her to huff in annoyance.
"I'm Giselle, the cousin of Beatrice," she said.
"May I ask what you're reading?" He asked, eyes fixed on the thick book still sitting in her hand.
"The Prince by Machiavelli-"
The Present
Emma stopped suddenly, causing Killian to crash into her.
"Hold on... Machiavelli? How on earth was that in your world?" Emma exclaimed. "Machiavelli was in my world."
Killian looked at Emma in amazement, as though she'd just told him that people in her world had kangaroo legs, although maybe that wouldn't have actually surprised him, now that she thought of it. Maybe people in the Enchanted Forest actually did have kangaroo legs.
"He was a legendary figure in my world. We assumed 'Machiavelli' was a pseudonym of sorts, yet you tell me he was a real person in your world?"
"Yeah," Emma confirmed.
Killian shook his head, eyes wide. "Bloody hell..."
The Past
Liam's eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. "You're reading about political theory."
"It's fascinating," Giselle said slightly defensively, as though she were expecting harsh criticism. "And besides, it could be useful."
"Useful?!" Beatrice exclaimed, her voice going up several octaves. "I suppose that's what your father said-"
"And now he's in prison. Yes, I know. Clearly, he did something wrong. That isn't how I would have done it." Giselle turned to Liam with a faint smile. "My father is in prison, awaiting execution for treason. He probably would have done well to have studied political theory a bit more."
Beatrice let out a wail at her words. "Did you have to say that?! You ruin everything."
"Wait a moment-" Liam began.
Before he could say anymore, Beatrice had taken off at a run towards the door, sobbing noisily. Killian and Ciarra exchanged stunned, despairing looks.
"Oh dear," Liam said, with an awkward look towards Giselle. "Did I... offend her somehow?"
"No, I did," Giselle said matter-of-factly. "She curses the day my father was arrested, because now I have to live with her family, and she has to spend time with me. Worse than that, no one wants to be around us once they realize that my father was a traitor. She likely assumed you'd be the same, although it was quite dense of her to not wait around and find out."
"I admit I was surprised to see such a beautiful woman without a partner," Liam commented, fidgeting slightly.
"Yes, I imagine she's used to hundreds of partners a night," Giselle said drily.
Liam looked at her in surprise. "Oh, I beg your pardon. I meant you."
Giselle took a step backwards in surprise. "Me?"
She wasn't the only shocked one. Ciarra let out a little gasp, then quickly covered her mouth and turned away to pretend she hadn't been listening. Killian could only stare blankly at his brother and then at Giselle, briefly wondering if his brother had lost his mind. Giselle was a stunted little woman, probably just barely five feet. Her hair was a dark, dull brown, her face a mass of freckles on top of a beaky nose and lips that were too thick for her face. All of her features seemed too large, really, especially for such a tiny woman. The only attractive thing Killian could see (if he squinted) was her pair of intelligent, dark eyes. As for the rest of her, she was of a fairly average build for her size with a fairly boyish figure; her shapely lavender-coloured dress could only deceive the eye so much.
"I apologize if I offended you," Liam backtracked quickly, misinterpreting Giselle's response entirely. "I tend to converse quite bluntly, a habit from the navy, I suppose."
"Bluntness can be dangerous," Giselle observed with a sniff. "But at least it shows that you're an honest soul. I prefer that to a liar. This whole castle reeks of deception."
"Doesn't Machiavelli claim that deception is necessary for successful politics?" Queried Liam.
Giselle's cautious expression turned much brighter. "You've read it? Fascinating, isn't it?"
"Very," agreed Liam, leading her towards a bench and leaving a stunned Killian and Ciarra behind.
"...success?" Questioned Ciarra eventually.
Killian shook his head. "I suppose?"
After a pause, the two burst into quiet giggles.
"Come, Ciarra, let me introduce you to my captain..."
The Present
"You didn't like her," Emma observed.
"Giselle? I was willing to give her a chance if Liam liked her. No, my dislike of her developed over time," Killian explained, eyes darkening slightly.
"Why? Because she intimidated you?" Teased Emma.
"Because she was a murderer," growled Killian.
Unfortunately, my internet at the moment is a bit defective, which makes it hard to upload chapters. Anyway, because of that, I think I'll split this one into two! It seems to have more trouble sharing larger documents. Anyway, expect two tonight!