AN- I feel like the little engine that could right now but that could be all the coffee I've had today. I've barely left my work space today to pound this one out and fuck the emotions are killing me. Some parts are decidedly better than others but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. And some of this was so not planned but I think it turned out beautifully. Hope you guys like it! Also throw me a bone or two for the effort to get this shit out.
Dashing Pirate Rescue
Chapter Sixteen
Killian could feel the temperature rising in his face as he stalked down the hallway. Rage bubbled up inside him like a cruel mistress and his grip on the savage demon inside him was wavering with every passing second. It was a test to see how far he had come since the vicious outpouring of violence several weeks ago and right now he felt like he was failing miserably.
How dare her father make such an audacious proposition to him. The man had some nerve exerting his authority to him of all people. He had half a mind to take that dagger out the desk and stab him in the neck repeatedly until he ceased to breathe. He wanted to bathe himself in his blood, longed to feel the heady rush of taking the life of someone who had wronged him — and right now the royal just made the top of his priority kill list. It wasn't often that he left someone who provoked him alive, however, the king was a gross exception.
The beast inside him was clawing to be released — to feast on the flesh of his enemies and quell its insatiable bloodthirst. The only thing sparing his life was the child growing inside her — it would need all the family it could get. He just thanked whatever deity that looked after him that the disgruntled sovereign remained ignorant of his daughter's fragile condition.
He wasn't sure when he arrived at the door in front of him. His destination hadn't even crossed his mind in his moment of unsettling anger, yet his feet had dragged him here of all places. Had moved him as if on pure instinct to the one person who could quiet his barbarous urges.
Placing his palm on the door in front of him, he leaned forward and brought his ear to the wood. She was probably sleeping — he should let her rest. It had been a trying day after all. Trying to resist the pull he felt toward her was becoming damn near impossible to ignore. Was it possible to need someone so much that it physically caused pain to not be near him. He could feel her presence from outside the door crying out for him — could hear his name being chanted from her lips.
No — it had been the sound of his actual name being whimpered in terror. The need to protect her surged through him and he braced his shoulder against the door and turned the handle. Drawing his sword from its sheath he burst through the door, searching for any sign of an intruder.
"Killian…" She howled in her sleep, kicking helplessly at the sheets underneath as she thrashed on the bed. "Killian!" Her scream pierced the air and he snapped his head to where she slept fitfully.
"Emma." He dropped his cutlass to the floor, the steel clanking against the ground. He rushed toward her on impulse and settled himself next to her. He took her hand in his, smoothing her hair as he tried to keep the nightmare at bay. "Emma, love." He crooned softly, the sound of his voice cutting through the darkness that plagued her dreams.
She jolted, her eyes flying open in panic. "Killian?" She could faintly makeout his silhouette but it was his reassuring touch that gave him away. "Killian." She cried, throwing her arms around her in relief.
"It's alright, lass. I've got you." He rubbed her lower back soothingly as she placed her head in his neck, inhaling his comforting scent.
"I thought you had left." She panted, fear evident in her voice. "I thought you had left without saying goodbye." She hiccuped.
He couldn't help the choked laugh that fell from his lips, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Cupping her face he dragged her from the safety of his neck and gazed upon her tear-streaked face. "Not quite." He told her, his words holding a crushing weight to them.
She nodded her head solumnely in acknowledgement, sniffling as she squeezed her eyes shut painfully. "Please." She gasped, barely able to conjure the desperate plea. "Please don't go."
He closed his eyes, his hands trembling against her face at the sound of her broken sobs. "I wish there was something I could say—"
"Anything." She said sharply, closing her hand around his wrist. "Anything. Just say anything. Please—" Emma placed her hand along his jaw, her fingers scraping gently against his facial hair.
Her cloudy green eyes fluttered open to meet the conflict dancing behind his blue eyes. The expression staring back at her mirrored her in — his mind wrestling tumultuously. His heart was at war with his mind and his heart was losing out to his selfish pride.
"I'm here. We're here." She stroked his jaw longingly, the tears rolling down her heated cheeks. "All you have to do is want it enough." She implored him desperately.
He couldn't find the words to express himself so he did the only thing he knew how and brushed his trembling against hers. He sighed into her mouth, his face wincing in agony as she caressed the top of his hand with her own. Breathing his life into her mouth, he massaged her lips with his. Squeezing his eyes shut painfully, he drew a few beads of moisture down his face to mingle with hers.
She held him to her tightly as if any moment he would disappear from existence. Clinging to him like a lifeline, she chased his kiss, yielding herself to its unwavering passion. She threaded her hands into the hair at the back of his head, angling his lips to meet hers. Every pass of his lips felt like a broken promise — the sensation needlessly tormenting her with something that could never be.
It was with that realization that she gave herself over to him implicitly, pouring every ounce of emotion she could muster into her kiss. The pain of knowing that this was the last time they would be together was heart-wrenching. Her chest constricted excruciatingly, the unbearable ache in the pit of her stomach ceaseless as she wept into his mouth.
Her tears soaked his chin as he brushed her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with his hand. Slanting his mouth against hers, he molded his lips to hers woefully. Sweeping his lips over hers, he arched against her — the desperation between them palpable. He was consumed by her need for him — a fire inside him that burned so hotly that it threatened to incapacitate him. The oxygen was being pried from his lungs and he feared he would pass out from the strain.
She needed to feel — to feel anything other than the crippling hurt. Without tearing her lips from his, she stroked her palms down his chest until they rested upon the laces of the borrowed garment he wore. Feeling his uneven ragged breathing against her lips, she wrestled the laces free until the velvet succumbed to her advances.
Fusing his forehead to hers, he sucked in gulps of air to steady his pounding chest. His lips slipped from hers, ghosting over her face until they settled against her temple. He allowed her to pull the laces encasing him in his velvet prison and placed an open-mouthed kiss to her head in adoration.
Once the material gave, she shoved her hands underneath the material at his shoulders and pushed it down his arms. She was operating on pure emotion, every action serving to get her closer to feeling his strong weight pressed against her, reveling in the heat radiating off his skin that wrapped her in its cocoon.
She whimpered into his neck, her lips trailing sloppy kisses along his pulse. She pulled the crisp white shirt from his leather pants, tearing at the fabric furiously to grant her access to the rigid planes of his abdomen. She raked her fingertips against his flesh, mapping out each line and curve of his muscles while she sighed into his neck.
It wasn't enough — it could never be enough.
She kissed along his jaw, her lips scratching against the ruggedly handsome stubble that lined it all the while curling her fists into the hem of the shirt and raising it over the length of his torso. "Killian." She branded his name into his skin as she prompted him to lift his arms over his head so she could rid him of his shirt.
Flinging the fabric to the floor carelessly, her hands fell hastily to the laces of his leather pants and untangled them. Sensing her urgency, he separated himself from her, just long enough to stand so he could drag his pants down to his ankles and slip out of them.
Throwing the covers over off herself, leaving herself vulnerable and bear before him, she inhaled expectantly at the sight of him. He was impossibly stunning — everything from his ruggedly handsome jaw to the flex of the muscles of his chest enthralled her to no end.
The chain swung from his neck as he pulled himself forward and placed a knee on the mattress to join her on the bed. He slithered over her body, the heat wafting from it welcoming and beckoning her home in his arms. He covered her with his body, a well placed hand on either of her forearms, which were resting above her head, to brace himself and keep the majority of his weight off of her.
"Killian." She keened against him, arching herself into his body for more contact.
He responded to her by bringing his lips down on hers, worshiping her with his mouth. Breathing hotly into her mouth, his lips glided against hers with purpose. He kissed her with tenderness, his lips seering and branding her as his — the serene and natural touch of her mouth on his exposing the feelings he had long since buried inside him. The feelings she evoked from him were more dangerous than any enemy he had faced — it was a feeling more daunting than death itself. She had him body and soul.
She returned his kiss in kind, bringing every lingering emotion to the surface for him to swallow. Her heart hammered ceaselessly in her chest, helpless in its response to his presence drawing her in. Just to be near him was to be unbelievably and undeniably whole. Tangling her limbs with his, she moved her body against his — unable to get enough of the weight of his body. His skin sliding against hers was enrapturing and addicting — a compulsion she never wanted to rid herself of.
The press of him against her body stripped her emotionally naked. The reverence of his kiss blinded her beyond all recognition. Tears pricked her eyes behind her closed lids as his hands sought out hers, fingers folding together and refusing to let go.
Pushing his forehead against hers, he detached his lips from hers, his warm panting breath tickling her lips. He had to pause to catch his breath, the pain in his chest suffocating him and pulling him under. "Emma." He whispered her name against her lips with such an intense devotion it left him petrified.
Lifting his head from hers, he gazed down at her, mapping out the planes and lines of her face to commit them to memory. She looked up at him from her long lashes, her green eyes piercing straight through him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he unlaced their fingers and slid down her body, pressing frantic kisses to every inch of skin he could reach.
He settled himself in the cradle of her thighs, her fingernails drawing lazy patterns against his back, exploring the contours of his muscles, and tracing his healed over scars.
Her breath hitched at the feel of his lips across the subtle swell of her stomach. She blinked the moisture from her eyes at the gesture of his palm brushing gently against the place where their unborn child rested. Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes, sliding across her face and seeping into her hair.
His face creased, a tearless open mouthed cry leaving his lips against her skin. He felt her fingers run through his hair in understanding, her body shaking against his as she tried to hold back the sound of her own pained sobs. He left himself to briefly imagine them just like this — basking in one another and watching their child expand in her womb. The idea was far too tempting but in the end his resolve won out.
He parted himself from her, positioning his knees between her splayed thighs and lowering himself across her body. Bracing himself on his forearm next to her, he took himself in hand and took a moment to give her one last yearning and torturous glance before burying himself slowly inside her.
They gasped in unison at the feeling of once again being joined — a sense of overwhelming completeness surging through them. She wrapped around him snuggly as if her body was made just for him. Her nails scratched his scalp as she cupped the back of his head, the sensation of him hot and heavy inside of her tearing a passionate moan from her lips.
Placing his head against her chest to muffle the agonizing sounds in his throat, he began to slowly rock against her — her body moving in tandem with his. He let himself swell inside of her with every languid thrust of his hips. Each glide of his cock inside of her was as fluid and as easy as breathing.
Emma held him closely against her skin, coaxing his excruciating slow and steady pace inside of her as she gently ran her fingers through his dark locks. There was no rush or frenzied passion — just the remarkable feeling of being connected.
He took his time with her, wanting to savor every last moment of her walls swallowing around him. Each touch of his hips against hers was meant to cherish and revere — to allow his body to bask in her nearness. He wanted to prolong this feeling for as long as he could — to outlast his urges long enough until he had his fill of her.
Her mouth parted in a noiseless moan, the sound dying in her throat, unable to make its way out. Her hand left his head to tangle itself in the sheets beneath her, every pump of his hips against hers just heightened by the sensitivity of her body. She could feel her body tense with its impending release, her sex clenching around his body's intrusion.
She cried out as her body bowed off the bed, her flesh trembling underneath him as the pleasure consumed her.
His movements against her never faltered, continuing to work her diligently through her orgasm by stroking himself inside her to completion. He tore himself from her shoulder, witnessing the last vestiges of her relief leave her body. She was absolutely exquisite — the rosy flush in her cheeks with her satisfaction and her sweaty curls matted to her forehead while her eyes slowly refocused themselves on him.
It was unnatural to want someone so much — to desire someone as much as he did her. He smiled down at her, a sad expression mingled with his utter yearning for her. He eased himself inside of her with devotion, an unmatched affection that defiled even the most sane man.
The drag of him inside her was exalted, a pedestal of pleasure that couldn't be escaped. The sensation he created with each thrust made her weep deliriously. She could feel herself winding up again, her body once again wanting to surrender itself to his thrall.
He rose up to meet her frantic movements against him, determined to bring them closer to the edge with every twist of his hips. He had tried like hell to starve off his pleasure — to let her lose herself again and again until she couldn't withstand it any longer. But it was he who could no longer control himself. He wanted to feel her slippery walls draw his orgasm from his body, to empty himself inside her so part of him could stay inside her for just a little longer.
He winced as he rutted against her, his cock pulsing relentlessly. She was close. He could tell by the way she shuttered against him, her eyes clamped shut, and her sex fluttering around him. "Come with me." He moaned hoarsely. "Please, I need to feel you come around me." He begged, his face twisting in pleasurable torment as he placed his hand on her jaw.
She opened her eyes to search his face, the look in his vulnerable blue depths was her undoing. Her heart wrenched in her chest, her lungs gasping for reprieve while tears trickled from her red-rimmed eyes.
"Killian, I—" She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud because she knew that the moment she did, the levy inside her would give way and she would be helpless to stop it. If she let him know the truth, she would never be able to let him go.
"I know." He admitted with a shaky breath from his trembling lips. "I know." He stuttered, his voice cracking in sheer turmoil. "Emma." Her name left his lips, no longer able to withstand the burn and ache inside him. He surged forward, stroking himself inside her as she came around him, her body accepting his offering like a cure to her heartache.
They were swept up in the invigorating and heady ecstasy that flowed through them as they simultaneously reached their peaks. Everything around them was a blur of passion and feeling, numb to every other sense save the ones their minds conjured at the other's behest. Ignorant to the world around them, they bathed themselves in the comfort of proximity as they slowly came down from their high.
He sagged against her in emotional and physical exhaustion — the profound experience draining him more than any battle he had ever endured. He felt himself begin to soften inside her and he moved to withdraw himself from her sated body when she hauled him back down against her.
"Just a little longer." She sighed longingly, shuffling against him to make herself comfortable in his arms.
He smiled softly at the request and lowered his lips to her forehead before his eyes fluttered closed and he felt himself begin to drift into sleep.
Killian woke a few hours later to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, the sun rising in the distance and peering in through the translucent curtains. He squinted his eyes to block out the light piercing his vision and released a slight aggravated hiss.
As his world came back into view and his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he noticed the feminine body pressing against his chest. Sometime in the middle of the night without even realizing it, his body had molded itself to her curves, every inch of his skin touching hers. His arms were wrapped around her body, his palms resting gingerly over her stomach to feel the rise and fall of her body as she slumbered.
His heart skipped a beat as he acknowledged his current position and he swallowed painfully. Dipping his head to her shoulder, he dropped a kiss to the skin there. He knew that at any moment the castle would once again be bustling with life and he needed to pry himself away from the woman in his arms but the faint flutter underneath his fingers gave him pause.
His eyes widened, instantly taking off guard by the sudden reminder that there was a living and breathing human developing inside her. It was one thing to acknowledge its existence but to experience it for himself was another thing entirely and it shocked him straight to his core.
Emma stirred against him as he gently pulled herself away from her, being careful not to disturb her as she slept soundly. With his eyes trained on her he slid across the bed cautiously until his bare feet hit the floor beneath him.
He wasted little time in gathering his discarded clothing starting with his leather pants, which he quickly drew over his legs leaving the laces undone in his haste to flee. He threw his shirt over his head, not bothering to tuck it in and hauled his boots and the velvet doublet into his arms before slipping out quietly.
Dread filled him like a plague as he strode through the empty halls and could feel the bile rising in his throat with every step he took. His eyes began to water and his stomach lurched violently at the memory of his child stirring underneath his palm. Tucking his mouth into his sleeve he made a mad dash to a nearby potted plant.
The items in his hand fell from his hold and he slapped his hand against the wall as he wheezed, retching into the soil surrounding the shrubbery until there was nothing left to expel. His other hand joined the one on the wall for purchase and he leaned his head down, breathing raggedly.
He gave himself a few moments to collect himself before prying himself from the wall. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and then bent down to pick up his belongings. Clutching his stomach with his arm, he trudged the rest of the way to his room and locked himself inside.
Elsewhere in the castle, Emma was waking with a start by the sound of the door being thrown open by her lady's maid. She sat up, tugging the covers around herself protectively and brushed her greasy hair from her head. That's when she remembered — Killian. Frantic, she twisted herself around and pressed her hands into the empty bed behind her.
"No." Her eyes went wide in fear. "No…" She murmured, her panic intensifying with every passing second.
"He slipped out earlier." The woman obliged the answer to her unspoken question. "Poor man looked positively wrecked." Her mouth parted slightly when she nearly stepped on the scraps of chiffon sitting on a heap on the floor. She sighed in exasperation and dragged it from the floor to ball it in her hands. "You two ought to be more careful. It is none of my business, but I imagine there will be hell to pay if your father gets wind of this."
"Sorry." She said sheepishly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and she shifted her gaze to the door in front of her. "He didn't happen to say when he was leaving, did he?"
"Yes. He did. We stopped and had the loveliest conversation…"
Her face dropped at the sarcasm dripping from her mouth. "Okay. Okay. I get your point." She acknowledged, flustered by her response.
"But I gather he won't be leaving until after the ball." She supplied nonchalantly as she grabbed the sheath dress off the floor and placed it in the laundry.
"Ball?" Emma gulped and tested the word on her lips that felt almost foreign on her tongue.
"Yes. The ball celebrating your return." She stated plainly, agasp at the realization that she hadn't been told. "Now you best be getting dressed before your mother comes waltzing in here to drag you to breakfast." She urged insistently, throwing the covers unceremoniously off her so she could have them laundered.
Half an hour later she was dressed in a pale blue sheath dress with a pale pink ribbon walking in through the doors to the dining room that they had occupied the evening before. She walked toward the table slowly, approaching apprehensively. Despite how relieved she was to be back with her parents — she had been without them for so long that it felt cumbersome to be near them as if nothing ever happened.
"Emma." Snow stuttered, startled by her presence. Her shock quickly changed into a doting and loving smile, thrilled that she had come to join them this morning. After dabbing her mouth lightly with her napkin, she pulled herself up from her seat when she was interrupted by the sound of her daughter's voice.
"No. Please." She halted her mother from standing to formally greet her and closed the distance between herself and the table. "This is already awkward enough…" She told them cautiously. "Can we do without all of the—" She waved her hand about, searching for the words.
"Of course." Snow agreed with a nod of her head before settling back down into her seat. "Why don't you sit down." She offered sweetly, gesturing to the place setting in front of her.
Emma looked at the empty seat next to her and the missing place setting. "Is Killian not joining us?" She blinked rapidly, her voice betraying her distress at the realization.
David huffed in disapproval at the mention of the pirate, not bothering to look up from his porridge.
"Daddy!" She snapped, glaring at him in mild aggravation.
"We sent for him this morning but there was no answer at the door." Snow told her.
"You don't think he left already, do you?" Emma stammered, her voice shaky with concern.
"Good riddance." David muttered, sipping from the sticky oats on his spoon.
"Daddy…" Emma slapped her hands onto the table defiantly, staring at him pointedly. "I know he isn't your favorite person but you can hide your disdain for him for even a moment and just be grateful to him for bringing me home?"
David leaned back in his chair in exasperation, refusing to respond to her earnest request.
"Emma, I am sure he is fine." Snow provided calmly. "Why don't you sit down and have something to eat? I am sure you're hungry." She insisted, eyeing the generous array of breakfast foods sitting on the table.
"Okay." She relented and slid into her seat knowing she had to feed herself to guarantee the health of her child.
"Here." Snow pushed a plate of grapefruit toward her with a kind smile.
"Thank you." Emma accepted it gratefully, spearing it on a fork and placing it on her plate for consumption along with a stack of hotcakes, some biscuits smothered in gravy, a serving of eggs, and a few slices of bacon.
She indulged in her food quietly, nodding along as her mother prattled on about the ball that would be held later that evening.
Snow was practically bouncing with excitement as she blathered on about everything from the dresses, to the decorations, and even the exclusive guest list. It seemed like everyone in the kingdom was buzzing with news of her return.
"Mom… don't you think this is all a bit much?" Emma questioned with a raised brow. "I just got here yesterday." She whined.
"I have to agree with her, Snow." David piped up from the head of the table where he had silently observed their conversation. "There is still time to call this whole thing off."
"Nonsense." Snow rebuffed their comments, taking slight offense to their statements. "Emma is a princess and her return calls for a royal celebration. After tonight everyone will know that Princess Emma is back." Snow said indefinitely, remaining firm on the matter.
Emma shook her head in dismay and placed her fork on her plate with an audible clank before reaching across the table to grab a piece of toast. Bringing it to her lips eagerly, she bit into it and chewed, her hand held out to catch any crumbs that fell from her mouth.
Snow eyed her peculiarly and placed her folded arms across the table. "You've certainly developed quite the appetite since you've been away." She discerned with an appraising eye.
Emma swallowed the bread in her mouth hard, bulking at her mother's perceptive observation. Before she had a chance to confront her mother, David suddenly rose from the table.
"You'll have to excuse me. I have some pressing business to tend to." He announced, rounding the table toward his daughter. Placing a hand on the back of her chair, he leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you." He proclaimed, brushing her hair before tearing himself away from the table.
Emma's shoulders sagged in relief, grateful for her father's intervention to break the tension forming between herself and her mother. Reaching for the glass in front of her, she picked it up and drew it to her lips, taking a long sip to ease the awkwardness drifting between them upon her father's exit.
"Emma?" Snow tilted her head to the side, gathering the courage to address the metaphorical elephant in the room. "I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your father but I have to ask… is there something going on between you and Killian?"
Gulping down what little of her drink she had left in her mouth, she lowered her glass back to the table and shook her head in astonishment at the intrusive inquiry. "No." Emma wrinkled her face in offense. "Not at all. What an absurd question. Why would you even ask me that?" She fired back, her hand clenching and unclenching around her glass.
"Emma, I'm your mother and I am just concerned. I've seen the way you two look at each other and it is obvious to see how close you've become. I just don't want you to get your heart broken—"
"I don't know what you are insinuating here but I can assure you nothing is going on." She shrieked, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration at her mother's interrogation. "I think I've lost my appetite." She scowled, throwing her napkin across her plate and shoving herself from her seat.
"Emma—" Snow cried out from the table as she helplessly watched her daughter storm off. She jolted and closed her eyes at the door slamming behind her. She grimaced, folding her face into her hands in worry.
Killian leaned against the small alcove, staring blankly out the window to the courtyard below. Sighing deeply, he raised his flask to his lips and took a long languid sip, letting the alcohol burn his throat and settle the nerves developing in his stomach.
His eyes shifted to the door without turning completely to address the person that had just barged into his room without as much as a knock at the door. The door slammed shut and the sound of footsteps filled the room. He could tell just by the cadence of the heavy footfalls to whom they belonged to.
"You know it's rather rude not to knock." Killian acknowledged the presence behind him, the muscles in his neck bulging with annoyance. "You never know what a man is up to behind closed doors." He said suggestively with a tilt of his head.
"Is that supposed to shock me?" David mocked with a roll of his eyes as he placed a box on the bed.
Killian rolled himself to his side, his body sagging against the wall and posing himself with a suave and cocky demeanor. "Ah. A personal delivery from the king himself. Just to what do I owe the pleasure?" He waved his flask about dramatically, an arrogant smile tugging at his lips.
"You really are a conceited son of a bitch…" David shook his head in obvious hatred. "I see right through you."
"Aw." Killian whined in mock disappointment. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, your grace?" He wriggled his finger enthusiastically.
"Me? Jealous?" David pointed to himself before pointing at Killian. "Of you? A pirate?" He gave a faint exasperated chuckle at the accusation. "No. I'm not jealous of the pompous insecure pirate."
Killian lifted an amused eyebrow at the taunt, taking great pleasure in the other man's agitation — in fact he welcomed it, preferred it even.
"I've come to drop off your attire for this evening." David said, crossing his arms over his chest and glanced over to the package sitting on the bed beside him.
"Mhm." He perceived, rocking forward dramatically. "I'm sensing there is more to this little visit than a mere parcel dispatch."
"You know. That is what I admire most about you." David acknowledged in a tone that made his words seem more like an insult than a compliment. "You're always so…" David shook himself slowly in a decidedly flamboyant manner just to mock him. "Aware."
"No. As you may have previously guessed, I've come to see if you've given my proposition any more thought." David finally cut to the chase.
"Aye. That." Killian said in mild irritation. "I suppose I have given it some thought…" He stuck out his chin in contemplation.
"And?" David demanded impatiently.
"And my answer is still 'no.'" Killian answered him directly, his jaw clenching. "I don't want your money. I don't need your money." He sneered in disgust. "Your daughter isn't just some object to be bartered and traded!" He snapped aggressively, the rage pulsing through his veins.
"You are a hypocrite!" David fired back. "You handed her over to collect your reward. You accepted the price of her rescue…"
Killian released a guttural growl at the implication of his words. "That was before." He insisted, gritting his teeth together in a veiled threat.
"Before? Before what?" David demanded.
"Before I fell in love with her!" Killian screamed breathlessly, crossing the room until he was nearly flush with the man's face. He glared at him intently, the color rising in his face. "I'm in love with her." He whispered his confession, the weight of his words making him sway slightly on impact.
"Like hell you are." David exhaled, stepping back slightly to distance himself from the pirate. "Oh, please." David scoffed in disbelief. "You can't expect me to believe you are in love with my daughter! You don't even know the first meaning of being in love!" He assessed heatedly.
"Do not presume to tell me how I bloody feel!" Killian argued resiliently, his face creasing in pent up rage.
"You don't even know what you are saying!" He taunted dismissively, knowing there was some truth in his words. "You're not in love with her. You are in love with the idea of her. She's young, beautiful, rich—"
"Don't you think if I wanted her for her money, I would have accepted your offer—" He suggested reasonably, his anger giving way to his distress.
"Even if I did believe a single word that came out of your mouth… this changes nothing." David held firm in his belief. "No daughter of mine will be with a filthy pirate — not while I still breathe. I don't care if you did rescue her. One act of bravery doesn't make up for the countless sins you've committed."
"You don't think I know that?" Killian shouted, shame burning in his cheeks. "There is no point in arguing with you." He cried, silently pleading with the other man to let it go. "I am in love with your daughter and that is exactly why I have to leave." He scrunched his face in pain, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"It's not for you — it's for her. I love her too much to let her suffer because of me…" He inhaled sharply, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back a sob. He placed a hand over his mouth, gasping to prevent the torturous sounds from leaving his mouth.
Killian sniffled slightly, tearing his hand from his mouth and closed the distance between himself and her father. "You'll get what you want." He shook his head grievously, tears brimming his eyes and threatening to fall. "But do not think for a moment that you had anything to do with it. This is my decision." He patted his chest possessively, asserting his claim on his own inclinations.
"Now…" He rasped dangerously, wearing the mask of the fearsomely captivating and confident pirate captain. "Get the fuck out." He told him with a shallow growl.
David pressed his lips together tightly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he met the other man's gaze before turning on his heel and retreating from the room without muttering a single word.
At the sound of the door slamming behind him, Killian crumpled into himself, hugging his chest as all of his breath left his lungs, screaming soundlessly. He fell to his knees, his weight giving out underneath his feet. Whimpering, he buried his head into the rug to muffle the sounds of his pained cries.
I'm sorry brother. Please forgive me.
David couldn't bring himself to resume the day's activities after what had just transpired between him and the pirate. There were no words to express what he was feeling in that moment and that thought agonized him.
He resigned himself to walking the halls of the palace, too lost in thought to do much else. He was burdened with the knowledge that the man who had rescued his daughter was hopelessly in love with his daughter.
He actually felt sorry for the poor bastard. He was all too familiar with the weight that was lifted from his shoulders when he finally confronted his feelings. He knew it all too well. He recognized the fear and the desperation, and that soul crushing feeling in your chest when you realize that you can't breathe without the other person.
But the worst part about all of this is that deep down he knew that his daughter was just as madly in love with him as he was with her. And he was about to play a significant role in her heartbreak.
He must have walked for hours, paying little mind to those busying themselves about the castle to prepare for that evening's festivities. The sun was just beginning to set when he returned to his rooms to get ready for the ball.
After putting the finishing touches on his asamble, he set off to find his wife and daughter. He stopped in front of the cracked door of her bedchamber, watching the shadows underneath the gap between the door and the floor.
He leaned into the opening to get a better glimpse of what was going on inside. David couldn't help the soft smile that crossed his face at the sound of Snow fussing over Emma's hair.
"Mom, please." Emma groaned, rebuffing her mother's attention to her hair.
"Please, just stay still for a second longer. I'm almost done." She told her, narrowing her eyes in concentration as she quaffed the loose strands of her daughter's hair.
"Mom, it is fine!" She insisted, waving her hands about in protest.
"Ah. There." She sighed triumphantly, taking a step back to admire her handiwork. "Perfect." She beamed in pride, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, wait! I almost forgot!" She squeaked, rushing over to the velvet box on the bed. Pulling it off the bed, she approached the vanity where Emma sat with undue excitement.
"Mom, please. No more." Emma whined and shook her head, slumping forward in annoyance.
"Trust me." She exhaled, unable to contain her giddiness as she presented her with the box, slowly lifting the lid to reveal a diamond encrusted tiara.
"Mom—" Emma gasped in awe, gazing down at the stunningly remarkable tiara in the box. "It's—"
"It used to belong to me." She explained, taking it from the box and placing the box off to the side of the vanity. "It has been passed down from generation to generation." She moved in front of her and slid the tiara over her bun with a wistful smile. "You were supposed to inherit it on your thirteenth birthday, but I suppose now is as good a time as ever." She sighed as she adjusted the tiara and tilted her head to view it in its entirety.
When Emma looked in the mirror she hardly recognized herself. "I look—" She breathed out unsurely.
"Beautiful." David supplied, his voice drawing the attention of his wife and daughter. "She looks beautiful." He swallowed nostalgically.
Emma twisted herself in the stool, a sheepish smile on her face as her father walked toward her. "It isn't too much?" She wondered, holding the tiara on her head awkwardly to keep it from slipping.
"No." David shook his head earnestly. "You're perfect." He exhaled sincerely.
"Thanks, dad." Emma smiled timidly.
"Now…" He strode toward her and extended his arm. "I do believe we have a ball to attend. May I escort you there?"
The ball was already in full swing when he arrived and the display of pomp and grandeur was intimidating to say the least. While he may have dressed the part of a lord, he was the farthest thing from it. He felt like people around him could see right through the facade. Their peculiar stares at his presence unnerved him and put him on edge. The fact that this situation all but shattered his overly flagrant confidence made him inexplicably uncomfortable and made him question what the hell he was even doing there.
He fidgeted where he stood awkwardly off to the side, looking everywhere to avoid direct eye contact with those that passed him by on their way to the dance floor. Perhaps it wasn't the environment that put him off but rather the objective of the evening — his reason for being there in the first place.
As if this night didn't make him nervous enough already, he knew that this would be the last time he saw her. He bowed his head solemnly and swallowed hard at the reminder. He was faced with the one thing he never wanted to do — hurt her. How long had he tried to push her away from him in fear that she was getting too close only to have it backfire.
The fact that he had now openly admitted his feelings for her to her father made this far more difficult than it needed to be. The acknowledgement of his love for her left an unbearable ache in the pit of his stomach that he knew he would never be able to rid himself of. If she knew how he truly felt it would destroy her, so he bore the weight of that burden for the both of them.
How do you say goodbye to someone you love?
He winced at the memory of his brother's death — an event that had killed him inside leaving him forever changed. He never thought that he would be capable of letting someone into his heart again in the fear that he would be the reason for their demise. He was broken, had been ever since that day.
But slowly but surely this infuriatingly stubborn and impossibly endearing woman had slowly broken down his walls and left him emotionally bare. It teased him with the possibility that he was worthy of love when he knew good and well that loving him meant taking on the trail of bodies he had collected like trophees to showcase how hollow he was inside — his heart an impenetrable fortress.
One day he knew he would have to answer for his crimes and accept his well-deserved retribution and when that day finally came to pass he didn't need to leave anyone behind. No — he couldn't bear the thought of doing that to her. He knew his reckoning was coming and it was best to slip silently toward it without causing further damage than had already been done.
He was pulled from his revere when a server passed by him with a tray of champagne. Side stepping and following the tray with his eyes, he stepped in front of the server, effectively cutting him off. "Oy, mate." He looked down at the contents of the glasses rippling on the silver tray and he pulled one, tugging it toward him.
Bringing it to his lips, he tipped his head back and swallowed it eagerly. When the server tried to move, Killian pulled him back without breaking the steady influx of alcohol to his throat. He finished with a satisfying exhale and slapped the glass back onto the tray before sending the man back on his way.
No amount of alcohol could make what he had to do any easier but it helped to significantly calm his nerves and gave him the courage to take a few steps forward. His eyes darted from side to side as he walked, scanning the room for the woman of his affection.
When he finally spotted her from across the ballroom she was conversing with a few guests who had managed to make it even on such short notice. Her appearance stopped him dead in his tracks, his mouth hanging loosely as he took in her beauty. He felt his heart skip a beat and all thought seemed to disappear from his mind once he laid eyes on her. No one in the room could deny how breathtakingly gorgeous she was.
She wore a captivating pale blue gown made of silk with a tulle overlay. Scattered along the tulle were patches of silver lace brocade and an intricate scalloped lace and beaded hemline. The powder blue color covered the dress entirely save for the barest hints of the color poking out from the lacy ruched empire waist bodice. It was an antique cream color with delicate unfinished capped sleeves that rested at her shoulders and showed off her small but regal stature.
The structure of the gown did nothing for her developing shapely curves but the modest yet elegant design served to conceal her expanding stomach. If it weren't for her swollen breasts and the subtle glow on her face, you couldn't even tell she was with child. Even if he didn't know any better, he too would be ignorant of her condition.
Her hair was quaffed and pulled up into sophisticated updo that befitted her station and topped off with a dainty diamond encrusted tiara that rested neatly against the highest point of her hairdo. White satin gloves encased her fingers and arms — ending just above her elbows and the distinct golden jeweled locket hung from her neck, sitting just below her clavicle.
She was absolutely stunning and looked every bit the princess that she was. She seemed to move about the room with ease in the most graceful of fashions. There was no sign of discomfort or hesitance in her movements — she was an absolute natural in the royal setting.
Unlike him — this was where she truly belonged — in a room filled with like-minded individuals that worshiped the ground she walked on. There was no place for him here — no place for him in her life. In fact, he wasn't even sure why he was still here. The job was done and he had already been handsomely compensated for his efforts — why had he even agreed to come and entertain the delusion further? It only made the pain radiating through his chest that much harder to push down.
He watched on, a woeful smile gracing his lips and a crestfallen expression on his face. He could always change his mind — resist his nature and ignore his immutable instincts that had been instilled in him from the moment he put aside his duty and honor as a lieutenant in the royal navy. But she deserved more — far more than what he could provide her — provide them.
The thought of abandoning her and his unborn child tore at his chest and caused him an immeasurable amount of pain. They were better off without him in their lives — he assured himself that he was doing the right thing by her. What could he even offer them — he was a criminal — a pirate. He wasn't capable of doing what he had spent years of his life trying to avoid. He remained resolute on his position when it came to royalty and resigning his life as a pirate to live out his days within these stuffy palace walls was deplorable to him.
No, he knew what must be done. He just prayed to whatever divine being that existed that he would have the strength to break her heart.
Emma caught his gaze, her face softening in recognition as a smile spread across her face. He watched her lean in toward the group of party goers she was entertaining and politely whispered her immediate dismissal.
She approached him slowly, her train dragging behind her as she made her way across the ballroom where he stood paralyzed yet as handsome and as confidently composed as ever. Even with all the glitz and the glamor of his ball attire she saw right through him — the pirate — her pirate.
He stood with an unmistakable self-assured posture, his hand curled around the hilt of the sword belted around his waist, his prominent jaw tense and authoritative — it was pure Killian.
He was clad in a pair of leather pants and a humble black waistcoat over a crisp white shirt with ruffled sleeves that peeked out from a textured brown almost golden overcoat with black lapels and detailing. He still donned his signature necklace nestled against the dark curls lining his chest and the black gemmed earring that dangled from his right ear that complimented his striking sideburns. The only thing that was missing was his fingers, which were usually garnished with several large jeweled rings. Instead, his hands were covered by a pair of thin black leather gloves.
"You look incredible, lass." He greeted her with a charming smile and bowed gracefully once she reached him.
"Formalities? Really, captain?" She teased. "I've never known you to bow down before royalty…"
"Merely playing the part, love." He gave her an uneasy smile. "But I meant what I said. You look positively radiant."
"You don't look too bad either… for a pirate that is." She quipped, ignoring his obvious discomfort.
"That dress is—" He said breathlessly, trying to formulate words to describe her beauty.
"I know." She acknowledged in dismay. "It took my lady's maid awhile to find one that fit." She eyed her dress solumnely. "I guess it is going to be that way from now on." She lamented.
"I gather you haven't told them yet of your condition?" He gestured to them over her shoulder.
At the mention of her parents, she swirled around to see them mingling in the corner with several of their guests as they casually sipped from flutes of champagne. They were bright-eyed and happy to have their daughter home.
"They look so happy." She noticed, her throat welling up with emotion that she tried her best to push down.
She tore her eyes away from them, her head bowed forward in shame as she swallowed hard at the thought of having to tell her parents she was expecting. She knew she wasn't going to be able to hide it for very much longer.
She managed a small smile, her eyes watering as she turned back around and placed her hand on her stomach. "I don't want to take that away from them. At least not yet. Let them enjoy it for a little while longer."
Killian glanced down to where the fabric of her dress bunched as she rested her hand gently on her slightly rounded belly and sneered, his forehead wrinkling with regret. "Come." He held his hand for her to take. "I do believe you are obligated to dance with your rescuer at least once."
She looked at his hand then back at him, mystified that he was initiating a dance with her of his own accord. The hand slipped from her belly and graciously accepted his and he led them out onto the dance floor.
"You look frightened." He leaned in and whispered so lowly that only she could hear him.
She shot a shocked look at him and noticed that cocky smirk on his face.
"You forget how easily I can read you." He said, extending his arm so that she walked around until she was facing him directly. He took her hands in his and pulled her securely against him eliciting a gasp from her lips. "Besides, you're trembling like a leaf."
"It's been awhile since I've done this." She murmured, watching in amazement as he coaxed her hand to rest upon his shoulder while he gathered their joined hands and raised them.
She raised her head slowly as his hand grasped her waist, the contact making her heart flutter. She searched his face, silently asking for reassurance but his relaxed expression was all that it took to set her at ease.
They began to sway to the sound of the music emanating from the string quartet in the opposite corner of the room. They rocked back and forth rhythmically, circling the dance floor, their eyes transfixed on one another's.
He lifted their hands, their palms touching as they moved forward then back, switching hands as they did so. The music drifted in and out of his consciousness, getting lost in the greens of her eyes as they danced and switched hands.
She could feel his heated stare locking with hers as she swirled and caught his hand, lacing her fingers with his as she spun out. She felt as though she was floating, her body instinctively seeking out his and the two fell back into one another.
Killian caught her in his arms, placing them back into position, leading her into a gentle waltz. He was absolutely hypnotized by the longing in her eyes, her wistful and soft expression in her face as he twirled them across the dance floor.
Placing an arm along her lower back, he gently dipped her. With a firm hand on her upper back, he swept her in a quick and fluid movement, leaning forward before completing the motion and bringing her back into his chest.
The music swelled and they raised their arms, their palms flat against each other as they moved from side to side, grazing their hips as they filled the empty space on either side of the other. He motioned for her to lower their joined hands and he wrapped his arm around her, twirling her as he stepped to follow.
He paused for a beat or two and then switched arms, spinning her the other direction before falling back into a neutral dance. He followed her eyes as he slowly dragged her hand up to place it against his shoulder blade and seamlessly began to steer them across the dance floor.
She clung to him like a lifeline, knowing that the very moment she took her eyes off him he would disappear. Their dance was fragile, a delicate thing that could break at the faintest sign of hesitation. The startling blue in his eyes was intense and mournful, the feelings radiating off his body taking hold over her body, her mind, and her unwavering spirit.
The look in her eyes was silently pleading with him to stay — to be with her — to be with them. It unnerved him more than he could bear, the pain more than he could swallow. He picked her up, spinning her around before setting her back onto her feet.
Her hand flew to his shoulder and her other settled back into his as the song careened toward its end. She could feel the panic rising inside her, her steps faltering despite his resolve to finish the dance. The tears were building in her eyes, an unsettling feeling forming in the pit of her stomach as the last notes echoed through the hall.
He captured her in his arms and slowly lowered her from his hold, sweeping her delicately as the song died out and the music faded into nothing. He placed his head into the crook of her neck, caressing it with his warm breath and brushed his lips against her skin before rolling her back onto her feet in front of him.
He slowly dropped his hands, her fingers drifting from his. He spared one last lingering glance at her, mapping out the shape of her face, the pout in her lips, the slight pink in her creamy skin.
He had to will his feet to move, forcing his mind to cooperate with his body so he could place one foot behind him and then another — backing away.
She stood — unmoving under the sheer weight of her crushed heart. Her breathing stilled and she could feel a cry building in her throat as she watched him disappear in the crowd. It took all of her restraint to not crumble to the ground. Her eyes screwed tightly shut, her shoulders shaking as she began to silently sob, tears rolling down her cheeks.
She felt herself start to sway, her legs beginning to give out underneath her and she had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming in agony while the other stretched protectively over her rounded belly. She choked on a high pitched cry, unable to release it in the crowded room. She could feel the room spinning around her, bodies whirling past her. She needed to get out of there and she needed to get out of there NOW.
Emma collected her skirt, bowing her head as she made a run for it, pushing past the throng of dancing couples and hurling herself out of the ballroom, passing her parents along the way.
They snapped their heads in her direction curiously, panicked at the sight of the blur of blue and gold whizzing past them.
"Emma!" Snow called after her.
"Charming" Snow addressed him by his nickname, reaching out to him desperately.
"Go." He tapped her lovingly on the arm, his voice breaking because he knew what had just happened. He couldn't help but feel partially responsible for pushing him away from her, especially knowing how he felt. In that moment he mourned for her.
She leaned in, kissing his cheek before disentangling from him and picking up her skirts to chase after her daughter.
Emma dashed through the long stretch of hallway, passing the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the courtyard. She pressed her arm against her mouth, her lashes fluttering and blinking the tears from her eyes.
"Emma!" She could hear her mother yell after her, beside herself with worry.
Emma pressed on, rounding the corner leading up to her quarters as her mother gave chase. She tore through the corridor, her tears obscuring her vision as she raced toward the door at the end of the hall.
"Emma!" Snow was trying to keep up with her.
Emma wrenched the door open and collapsed to the floor on her knees, her fingers curling into the material of her dress as she wailed — a crippling sound that rocked Snow straight to her very core. She could feel her heart constricting in her chest as she bent forward, burying her head in the carpet. She felt like she was dying — the pain was far too much to bear.
"Emma!" Snow fell down beside her daughter and picked her up to place her securely in her arms. "It's okay." She repeated softly, rubbing her hand along her back as her daughter's tears pierced her skin.
"Mom!" She whined miserably, her body shaking with the force of her sobs as an excruciating scream escaped her throat until she was hoarse and no longer capable of producing sound.
Snow tucked her into her shoulder protectively, rocking her as she wiped at the tears gathering in her own eyes.
Several minutes passed and Emma found herself with her head in her mother's lap as she brushed the hair that had fallen from her elegant updo to soothe her. The tears continued to roll down her cheeks and she was still gasping for breath as her world came back into view. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her as she sniffled helplessly.
"He's gone." She admitted lifelessly. "And he's not coming back." She said numbly.
"I'm so sorry honey." Snow said brokenly, unable to contain her sympathy for her daughter's heartbreak.
"I love him, Mom." She wept, the tears rolling mercilessly down her face. "I love him." She cried, crumpling into herself as she clutched the unborn child resting in her womb — his child and the only piece of him she had left.
"It's okay. It's okay." Snow hushed her. Her hand drifted over to where her daughter's hand rested over the swell of her stomach and covered it with her own. "You're going to be okay. You both are."
Emma's eyes snapped open in realization and she turned and guided herself up from Snow's lap to confront her. "You? You knew?"
"Emma, you're my daughter. Of course I knew." She admitted softly, gazing up at her daughter as Emma rose to her feet in front of her.
"And you didn't say anything?" She demanded frightfully. "You could've— You could've—" She wheezed, unable to speak the words aloud. Her mother couldn't compel him to stay anymore than she could. What could she have honestly done to prevent him from leaving?
Snow slowly got up from the floor. "Oh, Emma." Snow reached out to her daughter compassionately only to have her flinch away from her touch.
Emma leaned against her dressing table, scratching at the wood before catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The person staring back at her was flushed and puffy, tear streaks drying on her face. Her tiara was lopsided and her golden hair was falling out of the pins holding it together. The person in the mirror was a sham — she wasn't a princess — she was a fraud.
She knocked her fists against the table in anger and ripped the tiara from her head, flinging it across the room. She pulled at her hair, freeing it from the top of her head and let her curls flow down her back.
"Emma! Emma, stop!" Snow recoiled from her daughter in a mixture of fear and confusion.
Emma clawed at her dress in frustration, managing to rip the locket from her throat in the process. "My locket!" She gasped, her eyes widening as it dropped to the floor. "Great. Just great." She sniveled, sinking to the floor to gather the shattered pieces. "It's broken…" She cried with a grimace, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
"Look." Snow alerted her daughter to the condition of the locket.
"I know." She grumbled with irritation due to her mother's rather obvious observation.
"No, Emma. Look." Snow's eyes shifted to the locked, nodding toward it instantly.
Emma cupped the locket, gathering it in her hands and brought it up to her face, inspecting it thoroughly. That's when she noticed — the latch was broken. She looked back toward her mother in bewilderment.
"Go on." She encouraged, squeezing her palms together and placing them against her mouth as she closed her eyes in trepidation for what the locket may contain — or worse — what it didn't.
Holding it in the palm of her hand, she placed her fingernail against the broken latch and gently lifted it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared back at the face looking back at her. Her hand flew to her mouth as a few broken sobs left her mouth. Cradling the locket in her hand, she let the tears roll hotly down her face.
Her entire body was trembling as she stared down at the portrait of the man sitting in the gilded gold border — he was young, an almost boyish quality to his face. There was an innocence behind his hypnotizing blue eyes captured in the delicate brush strokes. He knew not of the suffering of the world, still ignorant to how cruel it could be. His body took up most of the painting — his stance was regal and proud as he showed off his blue and white naval uniform with its golden accents befitting his position.
His face was lined with a fine dusting of dark hair, standing out against his defined masculine jaw. She took in his full lips pressed into a stern expression. But it was his hair that gave him away. His bangs were longer, his hair pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head and tied together with a navy blue ribbon.
It was him — her pirate.
She gasped, a small smile creeping to her lips as she wept. Placing the back of her hand to her lips, she gazed at his handsome face, memorizing each line and crease in the small portrait. Even through all of the pomp and circumstance of naval life — it was Killian. Her Killian. She brought the locket to her heart, her eyes closing as she clung to it like a lifeline.
It had been him — it had always been him and it had been in front of her this entire time — hidden in plain sight. There was no denying what she already knew deep down inside — Killian was her true love.
"Emma?" Snow rounded her daughter and sank down beside her, her skirts billowing out around her. She curled her arms around her and tucked her into her side.
"It's him." She choked through her tears. "It's him." She repeated, letting it sink in as her shoulders sagged in relief.
She stilled, her face drooping slightly and she paled, all the color draining from her face in the instance she realized that he was on his way out. His ship was docked in the harbor and prepared for his hasty return and its inevitable retreat back into the water.
"Mom…" She whispered, turning her head toward her. "I need to go after him. He has to know." She insisted, swallowing thickly to relieve the dryness in her throat.
"Emma, you're pregnant—"
"I don't care." She shrieked, sweeping herself up from the ground and landing on shaky limbs. She brought the necklace into view once more, letting his familiar stare wash over her. "I need to get to him." She insisted. "Help me get to him!" She pleaded. "I love him. I love him, mother, please!"
Snow smiled thinly, helping herself up so that she came to stand before her daughter. She sauntered over to her and placed a hand on either side of her cheek, searching her face before lowering her forehead to her lips. "Here." She held her hand out, asking for the locket.
Emma reluctantly placed the object of her affection in her mother's outstretched hand, squeezing her eyes in pain as she relinquished it into her possession.
"Turn around." Her mother requested and her daughter obeyed. Snow gathered her hair and pushed it over her shoulder to grant her access to her neck. She pried open the clasp and circled her arms around her to place the necklace around her neck.
The gold felt weighty against her neck, a certain type of heaviness that she ordinarily reserved for her heart. Her hand fell to her necklace, holding it in place against her skin as her mother secured it behind her.
"There." She told her sweetly, pushing her hair so that it fell past her shoulders. "Come now, let's get you situated and I will have the guards escort you to the harbor."
Emma beamed at her mother, her eyes glassy and red. "Thank you." She collapsed in her mother's arms. "Thank you." She squeezed her tightly, articulating how much she loved her in a single display of emotion.
Snow laughed gently, shutting her eyes as the tears pooled beneath her lids. "I love you Emma."
Mother and daughter took a few moments to collect themselves and broke for the ballroom to inform David what was going on.
The king directed his attention to the doorway to see them emerge from the hallway, a grievous look etched on both their faces as they approached him. "What's going on?" David demanded in a panic.
"I'm sorry dad." She shook her head and tilted it toward the ground on a sharp inhale. "I'm going after him. I need him — I love him." She sniffled, raising her head so he could see the sheer agony on her face.
David released a tormented sigh. Deep down he knew it was coming, he just didn't think he would be confronted with it so quickly. How could he deny her of anything?
"David—" Snow came to his side, placing one hand on his shoulder blade and the other at his waist to lead forward to see for himself. Her eyes drifted toward the necklace that hung from her neck, urging him to look.
David leaned in to inspect the picture in the locket and gasped at what he saw. He stepped back, his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he confirmed what he saw with his own two years, "It's true love."
"Please dad." She pleaded desperately, her eyes flickering over her father's face.
"Come on." He gestured toward the door with his chin, his heart clinching in his chest at the relief that washed over her face at his words. "We should hurry if we want to catch up with him, he's probably a quarter of the way there by now." He placed his arm against her back and ushered her toward the exit. "I'll have them saddle up the horses, we might just be able to reach him before he leaves port—"
There was a strong gust of wind that tore through the ballroom rendering the entire place silent. The dishes rattled off the tabletops and glasses shattered against the ominous howl that filled the air and plunged the room into darkness.
Everywhere you looked there were people running over each other in a panic to get to the exits. Her surroundings were filled with bodies clashing with one another and the shrill screams of those around her.
"Mom…" Emma cried, reaching out for her mother's touch for comfort. She blinked back tears, their current predicament far too familiar to her and causing her insurmountable distress — only this time the person who protected her was no longer here. She was filled with dread at the notion that this time he wasn't coming to rescue her.
David pulled his daughter closer into him protectively and shielded his wife from the horrors going on around them. The sound of both of the doors to the hall slamming shut captured his immediate attention and he looked from left to right to see people clawing desperately at the doors to get out.
"We're locked in." David assessed, gritting his teeth as he listened to the dark cackle taking up residence in the ballroom. His eyes widened in recognition. It was like it was happening all over again only seven years later.
It was undeniable at this point and his worst fears were finally confirmed when a cloud of purple smoke crept up from the floorboards beneath them, threatening to swallow them in its unspeakable hold. There was no doubt in his mind now — she had finally returned to finish what she had started.
AN- Okay. Okay. Okay. No one kill me. We are wrapping this story up and we are doing it up with a bang. It is a lot to digest. If I did this properly you should all see a photo embedded in the ao3 version of this chapter of the amazing art that Erandi made for this scene. It is amazing so if you can't see it I'm extremely upset. Make sure you send her some love.
There was a lot that went on in this chapter and it is a lot to digest, I know. But I hope this also gives you guys some hope for where this is headed and reassures you that there will be a satisfying ending to it. We have two (possible three if I split one) chapters to go and the epilogue. I'm hoping to have the next one up late on Sunday before I go back to school but unfortunately that means there will also be a while before I can update again. I am sorry. Really hoping to get through the penultimate chapter so you guys can get to the climax of the story. So excited.
I'm sorry for all the feels, I really am. Even I was crying re-reading parts of it. Like please let me know you are all still alive or I'm going to worry. Comments and reviews make all my suffering for my art worth it so give me a little love and I will see you next time.