Chapter 24: My Will Is Strong, My Back Is Straight
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A/N: I apologize in advance for how monstrously long this chapter is. But I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want me to end it at any of the logical places. So… you know. Sorry not sorry.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It's been forty-six hours since Killian Jones lost everything.
His freedom, his beloved Emma, his life itself.
The fact that he was still breathing hardly made a difference.
He stood aboard the Jolly Roger, sailing west, the sun rising slowly behind him, a bit of parchment he'd read at least a thousand times over crumpled in his hand as he stared out across the open ocean. How it glittered and shone for him, as if welcoming him home once more. But the sea had lost its lustre for him now.
His heart and his home were behind him, in a palace, making preparations to marry another man.
He could have borne it if she actually loved the fiend. It would have cut him to the core, but he could have made his peace with it. He loved her enough for that. Her happiness was more important to him than his own.
But she isn't marrying him for love. She's marrying him to protect you, you worthless, bloody fool. Killian thought, crushing the parchment in his fist once more, shutting his eyes tight against the flood of self hatred rising up within him.
He'd been outplayed. He should have known. They hadn't been discreet. He doubted there was a single servant in the entire palace who hadn't seen them together. It couldn't have been too difficult for Arthur to find one willing to talk.
Not that he'd need one with that bloody mirror.
Killian wondered how on earth the little tyrant had managed to get his hands on such a thing, let alone plant it on his person without him knowing it. He couldn't imagine Arthur would have bothered to do it himself.
Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters anymore.
He unfolded the parchment and read a portion of her words again.
"It was a beautiful dream, Killian, but I was foolish to try to hold on to it. I know my duty and the peace it will bring. I can protect myself, my people, and even you.
The burden of the crown is a heavy one and I'm sorry I let you bear its weight for so long. It's my dearest wish that you will live, my love. And that you will find happiness in a new land, a new life, far away from me and the pain I've caused you. I'm grateful beyond words for the life you've given me.
Now, I give yours back to you and if you still have any love in your heart for me at all, I beg that you will find a way to live it."
Killian sighed, folding the parchment and tucking it into the pocket on his chest.
She speaks as if she's facing the gallows and not church bells, he thought, scrubbing his hand over his face. She speaks as if she's the guilty one. As if she betrayed me and not the other way around.
In truth, it had felt very much like a betrayal when he read of her plan to save him by sending him into exile and marrying the king to ensure not only the safety of her people from the possibility of Regina's return, but that her judgment, his sentence, would not be overturned.
Killian had insisted he would fight back. He'd prove his innocence. He'd kill Arthur if he had to.
The old woman had stopped him. Forced him to listen to reason.
"Hook, you know her. You know how smart and determined she is. If there was any other possible way- don't you think she would have done that instead?"
He'd wept and wailed and felt no shame for it. He begged Granny to take a letter back to Emma for him. To make her wait. To tell her about the magic bean and beg her to come away with him. His ship was plenty big enough for all her people. They'd use the bean and sail to a new land. Leave this half one to the sodding Evil Queen. If she wanted it so badly, half broken and with no one left to tyrannize- she could have it.
Granny finally consented to take the letter, but was quite firm that she would not give it to Emma until the time was right.
Killian knew what that meant. She'd show her when the deed was done. When it was too late to bring her anything but some semblance of comfort and closure, to know he still loved her, would still do anything for her, even after all the hurt that had passed between them.
Killian had never felt more hopeless in all his life. He drew the magic bean out of his pocket, lifting it to the light to watch its colors shift as it sparkled and shone in the rose gold glow of sunrise reflecting off the sea.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Arthur Pendragon smiled smugly as he inspected himself in a rather large mirror in the royal pavilion in the midst of the camp. He thought he looked rather dashing in his wedding clothes. There was something ironic, poetic even, that they were the same ones he wore on the day he wed the Lady Guinevere.
He was, after all, marrying another unfaithful harlot. But this time, he had no intention of remaining so for long.
The fact that she'd made her consent to marry him conditional did irk him. He had to accept her judgment of exile on the traitorous pirate. He also had to accept the title of king consort in her realm, which would admittedly limit his power.
At least while she's alive, he thought with a smarmy, self-satisfied grin.
She made him sign a hastily drawn up marriage contract to this effect and had the privy council witness it. But he had little doubt that could be overturned easily enough.
"A most satisfying victory indeed," Arthur said, letting out a contented sigh.
"Sire," came a voice from just inside the entrance to his tent, "Sir Gawain begs a word. I've told him there's not much time before the wedding, but he's most insistent."
"It's alright, Sir Percival. Send him in." Sir Percival bowed and exited the tent, just as another tall and handsome knight with long dark hair came striding in.
"Your Majesty," Gawain greeted him politely with a bow, "Forgive the intrusion. I couldn't sleep last night and my mind won't rest." Arthur gestured toward a small dining table and chairs and Gawain nodded and sat down.
The king poured him a glass of wine and fixed a small plate of bread and cheese for the both of them. Gawain thanked him, but couldn't bring himself to touch the refreshments.
"Tell me, Gawain, what seems to be troubling you?"
The handsome young knight pursed his lips, unsure of how to begin.
After all- how do you tell your king you think he's crossed the line and ruined a man's life in pursuit of vain glory?
"May I speak freely, my Lord? You know I've little skill for social grace and courtly manners." Gawain admitted. Arthur laughed, his impending triumph had him in high spirits.
"By all means, my good man!"
Gawain took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly, nodding his thanks.
"The magic mirror they found on the traitor was the same one you had me steal from the royal strongroom."
"Yes, he's quite an impressive thief as I understand it," Arthur replied, pouring himself a goblet of wine and taking a long drink, "He is a pirate, you know. A rather infamous one at that."
"Anyone could see how much the young Queen loved him. And he seemed terribly distraught at the idea of being parted from her."
"He did, rather," Arthur agreed, drumming his fingers on the small table. Already, he was beginning to lose his patience. "But you'd expect as much from a recently discovered traitor facing an angry mob calling for his execution. It was quite the show, to say the very least."
"And the cricket did say everything he admitted to was only half true. Forgive me, sire, but is it right to-"
"The cricket," Arthur interjected in a tone of utter disbelief. He placed both his hands on the table and rose to his feet, leaning into the younger man's face. "Forgive me, Gawain, but it sounds as if you're saying that a cricket told you to question the integrity of your king?"
Gawain did not miss the dangerous edge to the king's voice. Slowly, discreetly, beneath the table, he moved his hand to rest upon the hilt of his sword.
"Of course not, your Majesty," Gawain conceded.
"Because, let me be quite clear," Arthur began, pushing himself to stand upright, as if to intimidate the other man by looming over him. "If you were questioning my authority on this or any other matter, I should have you arrested and thrown into the darkest, grimiest dungeon I could find in this castle, just as I did with that lecherous pirate. But you would not find me as merciful as the young Queen."
Gawain looked up into the fierce gaze of his king and for the first time, felt afraid of how truly unhinged the man might be.
"Forgive me, sire," said Sir Gawain as he dropped to one knee and lowered his eyes. "I see I was out of line. I'll know my place better from now on."
Arthur nodded, smoothed the wrinkles from his tunic, and extended his hand to the knight now bowed before him on the ground.
"Come, friend," He said, "It is forgotten. Let's crush a cup of wine together in honor of my new bride."
Gawain smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. He knew that to refuse the king now would be to sign his own death sentence. So he did as he was bid, but soon thereafter, excused himself and made his way out of the camp, for fear the king would make good on his threat.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The day had passed in a blur- an insipid, muddy haze of busy nothings. Emma stood in the midst of her chamber, surrounded by ball gowns. Since there was no time to make a new one and Emma had very firmly rejected the idea of wearing her mother's wedding dress, the servants had searched high and low for every gown in the castle that could possibly fit and serve as a wedding dress. Ruby had tried harder than anyone to get her to pay attention long enough to choose something, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over this detail and that beadwork and this lace and that neckline.
Ruby didn't seem to understand why Emma couldn't bring herself to care about the dress she didn't want to wear to the wedding she didn't want to have.
"Emma, please! The ceremony begins in less than two hours- you have to wear something!" Her friend pleaded.
Emma sighed. The wolf girl had a point.
She turned around and saw a simple satin gown with a few flowers embroidered on the bodice in white.
"That will do," She said. Her maid servants helped her put it on and it fit tolerably well. That was good enough for Emma. She allowed them to tame her curls into something more bridal and less feral and placed the crown upon her head. Then she politely and resolutely asked everyone to leave her in peace until it was time to head to the cathedral.
Finally alone, she moved to the window, which faced the sea. The sun was hanging low over the waters. She strained and squinted her eyes but could see no sign of a ship.
She told herself this was a good thing. It was proof he'd gotten away after all, that he'd honored her wishes. Granny had told her as much, but it comforted her all the same. Some small part of her still wished to see him there, sailing off into the sunset, or even sailing on towards her, to rescue her from the fate she'd resigned herself to.
Tears streamed down her cheeks without her permission. She knew she'd never really stop watching that horizon.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
Emma had quite enough of knocking.
"Go away!" She calls out, in no mood for company. She hears the door open anyway. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut and angrily wipes the tears away.
"Did you not hear me? Can I not be allowed one moment's peace before-" Emma felt the words catch in her throat. "You?"
"Your Majesty, please, I beg a moment of your time."
Emma was utterly shocked at the sight of the tall, dark haired warrior woman kneeling before her.
"My name is Captain Mulan, I-"
"I know who you are," Emma began, her eyes narrowed, "You're the one who tried to stage a the coup in DunBroch. What are you doing here?"
Mulan swallowed hard.
"Desperately seeking to set right a terrible wrong. And to beg your forgiveness," She replied. "Captain Hook.. Lord Jones… he's innocent."
Emma closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. She didn't know if she could do this. Not moments before she'd have to put on a brave face and marry a man she despised while all the people of her kingdom watched- the same ones who'd been screaming for her true love's execution not two days ago.
"I know he's not a traitor."
"You know?" The fierce young warrior asked, her eyes wide and round.
"He could never betray me. Not really," Emma said softly, wringing her hands as she turned away. "But the evidence-" Mulan cut her off, finishing her sentence for her.
"-was planted by me."
Emma spun slowly to face the young woman, who at least had the decency to wear a look of deep shame and regret as she confessed her crime.
"King Arthur had the mirror. I don't know where or how he got it, but he tricked me. He told me to plant it somewhere on Captain… I mean Lord Jones. He said he knew Lord Jones was conspiring with the Evil Queen and had deceived you. He promised to make me a knight. He said it was a test of loyalty- both to him and to you. But once it was done and Lord Jones had been arrested, he tried to have me arrested too."
Emma had never been more grateful for her ability to detect lies. Mulan had spoken not a single one.
"How did you escape?"
The young woman smiled at that.
"I'm afraid his knights don't quite live up to their reputation. I bested them easily and hid in the forest until I knew it was safe."
Emma's mind reeled. She'd always known Killian was innocent, that whatever he confessed to couldn't have been the whole story. But with time running out and an angry mob rising and Arthur, the only eligible suitor, and the Knights of Camelot behind him, and the threat of Regina looming- she knew there'd be no time to prove it.
"Your Majesty, you can't marry him."
"No," Emma said, a small smile playing about her lips, "I can't."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The people had gathered in their finest attire. The cathedral was fit to burst with them. King Arthur Pendragon stood at the altar in the center of the room, beneath an enormous arbor dripping with flowers, the fading sunlight streaming through enormous stained glass windows all around.
He wore a white doublet trimmed with gold, his massive golden crown atop his head, the famous sword Excalibur at his hip, and a proud smile on his face as he nodded at the surrounding nobles.
He wouldn't wear it for long.
The massive red doors swung open and there stood his bride, in a white satin ballgown, with a sword in her hand and a small battalion of soldiers behind her.
Arthur stood utterly dumbstruck. The people whispered. Arthur's knights prepared to draw their weapons, but Arthur raised a hand to stay them. Emma ignored them all.
"Arthur Pendragon!" Her voice rang out, loud and clear and strong. "You are hereby charged with high treason against this realm, its people, and me."
"Is this a joke?" Arthur laughed. Some of his knights feigned laughter as well, others searched the room with wary eyes. "On what grounds?"
"My grounds," Emma practically growled. "You planted evidence you plainly stole from my castle strongroom on Lord Jones and framed him for conspiring with the Evil Queen."
Arthur laughed again.
"These charges are absurd. You have no proof, no witnesses!"
"Oh but she does," Mulan called proudly, stepping out from among the battalion of royal soldiers. "You gave me the mirror and asked me to hide it somewhere on his person, somewhere it could be found if he was searched. You told me not to hide it in his room, that it would be too easy to dismiss. You knew my stealth skill and played on my pride. You promised me a place with your knights then tried to arrest me once I'd done as you asked. I've no doubt you would have had me executed for treason if you could, just as you tried to do to Lord Jones!"
The people began talking excitedly in hushed whispers.
"You expect the lies of a little girl in a man's clothing to be believed? This foolish woman did ask me for a place among my knights and I turned her down. Now she spins this sordid story to take her vengeance! Are we to believe this? I think not." Arthur spat the words like venom.
"If you won't take her word, then take mine," came a voice from the back of the room. Sir Gawain, clad in armor, wearing the mantle of the Knights of Camelot, stepped forward through the crowd. "I'm the one he sent to steal the mirror from the strongroom. I saw him meet with the girl. And I saw him change into something I thought he could never be-" Gawain trailed off, his eyes searching Arthur's for any sign of remorse. Finding none, he continued, "A treacherous, deceitful, mad man without honor"
Even the Knights of Camelot could not ignore the testimony of one of their own. Some of them confirmed the tale was true. The rest looked at Arthur in shock, disgust, and disbelief.
Arthur saw how the tide was turning against him. He looked around at all the angry and suspicious faces watching him and made his plea.
"Good people, please. Would you truly believe the word of this man? He speaks of honor- why, he was a common rogue before I made him a knight. A lowborn thief! No sense of honor or nobility at all."
Gawain stood a little taller at this.
"It's true. I was a common thief before I became a knight of Camelot. But even a lowborn wastrel like me knows that nobility is defined by what you do, not who you are."
Emma closed the distance between herself and the King. She pointed her sword at him.
"Give me one good reason not to kill you where you stand."
He lowered himself slowly to his knees, raising his hands in surrender.
"My good lady, please-"
"One. Good. Reason." She growled, pressing the tip of the sword to the hollow at the base of his throat.
And just like that, he finally dropped his facade. He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Very well. Have the peasants and farmers recovered their crops? Will they be able to survive the winter? Can your kingdom stand another war, your Grace? Because that is precisely what they shall face if you kill me. The people of Camelot love their king and they shall come upon you with the full strength of my knights. And I swear to you that the damage you suffered at the hands of the Dark One will look like nothing compared to the plunder and wrath and destruction they shall bring upon this land if you harm me."
Emma hesitated at this. She could hear the sounds of her people's whispering turn quiet and fearful once more, as they had when she'd first arrived. Though some part of her wanted to behead him on the spot, she couldn't risk her people's safety. Not again.
"The Knights of Camelot stand for virtue, not for vengeance," said a loud voice from the commanding officer among Arthur's contingent of knights. "His crimes are grave and demand justice. Camelot will not retaliate."
Emma turned back to Arthur, whose eyes were wide with shock.
"Arthur Pendragon, I sentence you to face the judgement of your own people. You shall be taken from here by your own knights and brought before the court in your own land. Your treacherous crimes shall be recalled in full and your people shall decide your fate." Arthur took in a shaky breath, his eyes darting between his knights, panicking when he found no trace of sympathy on their faces.
"And by some great miracle, should they have mercy upon you, let me be quite clear..." Emma continued, lowering the tip of her sword to his belly and leaning forward toward him with a ferocious sneer on her face, "If I ever see your vile, perfidious face in my kingdom again, I will not hesitate to kill you."
Arthur crawled backwards, utterly terrified.
The Knights of Camelot and the royal guard worked together to clap him in irons and drag him from the cathedral as the people all around jeered at the treacherous fiend and cheered for their most beloved Queen. Conquering and victorious, once more.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Emma and her privy council had gathered in the throne room immediately after seeing Arthur carried off to face his fate. The sun had set, and while they'd overcome one insurmountable obstacle, there was yet another threat to face: the Evil Queen.
"How much time do we have?" Emma asked plainly.
"A few hours at most," Granny replied.
"The law is terribly clear. Unless you're married to a noble by the stroke of midnight on the twenty-first day following your coronation, you forfeit the crown to the next in line," Jiminy confirmed.
"And that's Regina. You're absolutely certain?"
"Positive," Granny replied.
Emma paced nervously, wringing her hands.
"But surely there's no question of Killian's nobility at this point," Jiminy chirped.
"How's that?" Doc asked.
"As Sir Gawain said, nobility is defined by what you do, not who you are," the little cricket continued, "And by that standard, Killian has surely proven himself a thousand times over by now. Even facing execution, even knowing he was being masterfully manipulated, he refused to lie, not even to save himself. He'd rather die than willfully deceive our Queen and our people."
"As if that weren't enough, there are no other eligible bachelors in the land. All other princes and kings in the surrounding kingdoms are already married and as Lord Protector of the Realm, Killian holds the highest ranking office of anyone in the land, save for Emma herself."
It was all music to her ears. She only hoped it hadn't come too late.
"Killian and I were wed in secret weeks ago," Emma confessed, much to the shock of the council.
"You were?! But how?!" Ruby pressed, her fingernails digging into the table where she was seated deep enough to leave claw marks.
"We made our vows, exchanged rings…" Emma blushed, remembering all the rest. "It was just the two of us."
"So no witnesses?" Granny asked, her tone less than hopeful. Emma shook her head in reply. The council fell silent.
"It's no good then?" Emma could feel a tightness rising in her chest. She desperately fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Granny rose to her feet and walked to meet the beautiful, strong, and determined young queen. The old woman wrapped her arms around her and for what felt like the thousandth time that day, Emma wept.
"No, honey. It's not." Granny replied softly, stroking Emma's golden hair, "Unless you can find him and marry him with witnesses before midnight, I'm afraid we've lost."
Emma couldn't bear it. How hard they'd fought, how far they'd come, only to fail now.
"Not yet, love."
Emma felt quite certain that her heart stopped beating. It wasn't possible. But she'd heard him, clear as day.
She slowly turned and sure enough, there stood Killian Jones in the doorway.
She covered her face with her hands, the tears now flowing freely. He ran to meet her and crushed her tightly to his chest. She sobbed and sobbed and tried to use her shaking hands to touch his face, his hair, his arms, his chest- desperate to make sure he was real. He took her hand in his and kissed it, hard. She felt the scars and rings and calluses she'd memorized, she could even feel the steely curve of the back of his hook pressing against the small of her back, drawing her ever closer.
"I'm here, darling. I'm right here," He swore, tears building in his own eyes as he saw her begin to fall apart, having exhausted all her strength.
She kissed him then, over and over again. She was overcome with fear and relief and a thousand questions, but none of that mattered now.
He was there. And they still had time.
"You're soaking wet!" She exclaimed, utterly dumbfounded.
"Well, if you open a portal on a ship at sea-"
"A magic bean? You had one after all?" She laughed out loud.
"I did," He said, smiling for the first time in days. His eyes sparkled with mirth. "It's gone now, I'm afraid."
"I'm glad," she whispered, gazing up at him, her eyes drinking him in. He closed the distance between them and kissed her passionately, only stopping for air, and pressed his forehead to hers.
"Marry me, Emma," He breathed, an irresistible grin spreading wide across his face.
"At once," She agreed, laughing through her tears.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A/N: Man. That was some real fun climactic resolution to write. You can thank drowned-dreamer who helped me brainstorm and outline this story literally *five years ago* and wanted to see a strong Emma taking action against Arthur at the end of this thing. I think I pulled it off. We'll have to see what she says though. ;)
Also Glen Hansard strikes again with all the feels for the title of this chapter and likely the next as well. Real talk- I hated Emma's wedding dress on the show. I also hated Snow's wedding dress. I happened to find some promo images from ET on the Google of Ginnifer wearing a white satin gown I can't remember seeing on the show and thought it was perfect for my own purposes, if you're curious. About one more chapter left here. Maybe two at most. These two have been through a whole lot of hell. I think they deserve some real good fluffy fluff cutesy lovey dovey stuff by now, don't you?