A/N: Hello there! Yes, it's been a while and I am sorry for how overdue this update is. If you're still reading, thank you for sticking with me and know I am determined to finish this story. I've spent the last year fighting with this update, working through several drafts, but I feel confident and satisfied with this end result. As always, please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. Thank you for reading, any comments or reviews are always appreciated!
Recap: After Killian's secret was exposed and he was called back to Denmark, Emma confronted her feelings and made the choice to forgive him. After her friends helped arrange for her to fly to Denmark, Emma went in search of Killian. Reunited, Killian and Emma confessed their love for each other, but now they have to deal with the repercussions of Killian's royal status.
-/-
(February)
"First thing on the agenda, we need to make a public announcement about your relationship. However before doing so, we need to know everything about you Ms. Swan." Regina declares from her position at the head of the conference table, hands clasped together in a no-nonsense manner.
"I'm just Emma Swan from Storybrooke, Massachustestes. I have no family except for my six year-old son, Henry." Emma expresses, uncharacteristically shy.
Gerhard, the elder grey haired press advisor, turns up his nose in exasperation at Emma's vague response. "Yes, you mentioned having a child. Please explain further as to the young child's beginnings. Is there a divorce in your history? Is the father involved or absent from the child's life?"
"The child's name is Henry." Killian intervenes forcefully, angered at the interrogative tone of the elderly advisor. Sweeping his gaze across the table he continues, "I suggest you all get comfortable with Henry's existence as he is a part of Emma's life and hence, now a part of mine." The demand is clear in the finality of his tone and gaze, leaving no room for argument.
"Very well your Highness. My apologies." Gerhard amends somewhat begrudgingly, nodding apologetically to where Killian and Emma sit side-by-side, hands entwined atop the table.
Emma unconsciously clenches her jaw in discomfort at the judgmental looks around the table, despite the forced apology. Flushed with insecurities, she doesn't notice the vice grip she has a hold of Killian's hand. It's only when he offers a gentle squeeze in return does she startle, her attention turning toward him.
Killian's gaze remains sharp from reprimanding his staff, but there's a tenderness in his eyes reserved solely for her, his encouraging message clear – you can do this Swan.
Somewhat comforted by his silent message, Emma attempts to fight off the demons in her head in search of her courage. Catching a faint wisp of it, she faces the table of advisors once more, a renewed sense of self steadily pulsating in direct opposition to her self-doubt.
Exhaling, Emma regales the advisors with her personal history - albeit an abridged version - but enough for them to know the facts. She explains about growing up an orphan in the American foster system, her adolescent relationship with Neal that led to her time in prison and an unexpected pregnancy. She shares about being a single mother, working her way through a college degree as a bail bondswoman, and sharing custody of Henry.
A wave of judgmental silence befalls the room, save for the sounds of pens chasing across paper and the clack of fingers upon tablet keyboards.
Regina is the first to break the awkward silence. "Is Henry or his father aware of your relationship with Killian or of Killian being royalty?
Emma tenses at the direct question. Swallowing her unease she answers, "Henry knows Killian and I are friends and he knows Killian is a prince, but he's too young to truly understand the implications. Henry's father doesn't know anything about Killian or about our relationship."
"Well, that brings me to my next point," Regina begins, disapprovingly tapping the tip of her pen upon a notepad. "Normally when the Crown announces an engagement, there is an interview accompanied by a photography shoot. Now the two of you are not engaged, thus there is no need for an official interview. However, as the press already have a multitude of paparazzi photos, I think it best we issue a photograph of our own with the announcement of your relationship."
Killian's eyes widen in astonishment at Regina's willingness to break from tradition. It's a bold move, issuing a courtship photo. Knowing this break from conventional normality isn't easy for Regina, and grateful for her acceptance of his and Emma's relationship – (however begrudging her acceptance is at the moment) – he nods in appreciation.
"Thank you Regina, truly."
Regina acknowledges his thanks with a firm nod before addressing Emma. "With all that being said Ms. Swan, I strongly urge you to address yours and Killian's relationship with both your son and your son's father. The sooner the better, for everyone involved."
Emma's shoulders tighten with tension and she once again clenches her jaw in apprehension at Regina's advisement – no, directive. Informing Henry about her relationship with Killian wasn't the problem, her amazing son was already on board and eager for the outcome of her trip to reunite with Killian.
Neal on the other hand, is a Pandora's box of crap she doesn't want to deal with. She wasn't exactly forthcoming when she called Neal to tell him Henry would be staying with Mary Margaret and David for the next few weeks, implying she was leaving for a business trip to finish a case. If Emma could have it her way, Neal wouldn't be an issue, but she can only imagine the shit storm telling Neal about Killian will bring about.
Sensing Emma's unease with the topic, Killian caresses the back of her hand with his thumb, this time hoping to assuage both of their worries. Having not met Neal personally, the man is still Henry's father and therefore has a right regarding whose allowed in Henry's life.
At the feel of Killian's gentle touch, Emma bites down on her lip to rid herself of the troubling thoughts. Refocusing on the present moment, she nods her head in acknowledgment.
Witnessing Emma's resolve, Regina presses on. "Now for my third point. Although Killian is royalty, the Crown cannot guarantee what the papers will circulate apart from what our press department releases. Therefore, to be included in the official announcement of your courtship, I think it best we initiate an embargo regarding any photographs of your son as a preventative measure."
"What's an embargo?" Emma asks, her earlier foreboding about Neal replaced by the instinctual need to protect Henry – (even from forces she doesn't quite understand, such as her newfound association with the royal family of Denmark).
"An embargo is a bloody brilliant idea, thank you Regina." Killian turns his attention to Emma, his grip upon her hand tightening as he explains, "It is essentially a sanction baring any press or paparazzi from harassing Henry by way of circulating any past or future photographs of the lad."
"That's possible?" Emma asks, instantly overcome with a waive of guilt for not taking into consideration the effect Killian's royal status would have upon Henry. Seeing herself in tabloid photos at the airport is one thing, but she never thought the same could happen to Henry. How did she not think of this earlier?
"Aye love, an embargo is the most immediate and surest way to protect Henry from the public eye."
"And people – the press – will agree to it willingly?" Emma asks, struggling to get past the lump that's swollen in the back of her throat.
"Unless they wish to pay heavy sanctions and risk the chance of criminal charges, then yes the press will adhere to it." Killian says confidently.
Emma's heart eases slightly at the lengths Killian is willing to go through to protect Henry. Ignoring the cabinet of strangers at the table, and needing to seek more comfort, she leans forward to place her forehead upon Killian's shoulder, quietly breathing in his scent. She's met with a kiss upon her head followed by soothing strokes of his hand across her back.
Witnessing the exchange, Regina clicks her tongue and clears her throat, an obvious signal to end the intimate moment and move the meeting along. "Alright, on to point number four - wardrobe. What will be expected of Ms. Swan -"
"Regina with all do respect, this meeting has exhausted itself. We have ironed out the more pressing points, do we really need to address Emma's choice of dress?" Killian all but growls impatiently, no longer hiding his frustration with royal protocol.
Regina scrutinizes the couple once more. Recognizing the growing petulance in Killian's eyes and the tension in Emma's shoulders, she relents. Closing her portfolio and standing, the rest of the room echoes her movements as she makes her final announcement. "Alright, perhaps this inquisition has been enough for one day. We have what we need for our press department to compile a statement. While they busy themselves, you and Ms. Swan will need to be outfitted. I have already called our royal designer and briefed her on the situation. She is awaiting both of you in the east wing along with our hair and make-up department. Now, in terms of where photos will be taken, I believe the grand library in the east wing will be best. After all, you two met in a library, should be a fitting tribute to your story." With a final clap of her hands, the rest of the advisors disperse from the room.
"You really think of everything, don't you Madam Advisor?" Robin asks, chuckling as he saunters up to Regina's side.
Regina's brow lifts sharply at the comment, eyes rolling in vexation. Ignoring the rusty blonde haired bodyguard, she returns her attention to the couple.
"Your Highness, Ms. Swan, let me be clear. You may be reunited but rest assured there will be daily itineraries set for both of you. Although Ms. Swan's arrival is highly unexpected, royal agendas will remain undisturbed."
"Honestly Regina, they have only just reunited. Surely you will not keep them apart from each other?" Robin pleads incredulously. Having been direct witness to Killian's ill temperament since returning to Denmark, he knows the best thing for Killian - (and for everyone in general) - is for the prince to be with the woman he loves. The rest of the royal household may not yet know it, but Emma brings out a part of Killian long since missing since the days of Liam.
Bristling at the insinuation Regina answers sharply, "Oh for Christ's sake, do you two really think me that heartless? Of course I am not going to keep them apart. I was merely referring to the fact Ms. Swan's presence will now require her to play a role at many of the scheduled royal events this upcoming week, such as the groundbreaking of the new children's hospital and the King's charity polo match."
Emma's breath quickens, stomach twisting in knots. Royal agendas? Royal events? And did she hear correctly, a potential wardrobe? How is she going to do this?
Sensing her warring thoughts, Killian wraps his arms around her waist, tucking her close to his side.
"Aye Regina, we understand. We will do as you wish but as I earlier expressed, Emma is a part of my life now. She has a say in how much or how little she takes on of my royal position." Killian states resolutely, authoritatively.
Regina pinches the bridge of her nose in vexation, an obvious sign she's reached her limits. Huffing out a breath she offers a curtly nod and turns on her heel to exit the room, a sharp, "East wing, ten minutes!" thrown over her shoulder.
"Oh, look at all the fun to be had. If I have not already said it, thank you Lady Emma for coming to visit." Robin says mischievously, his eyes gleaming merrily as he rubs his hands together in eager anticipation. "I best be following her, Lord knows I would hate to waist a prime opportunity to further antagonize our fearless leader." He adds jovially, jogging out of the room in chase of Regina.
Not wanting to waist a quiet moment, Killian turns Emma in his arms and asks flirtatiously, "Well Swan, it appears we have no time to waste. Shall we see about your accommodations?"
A million thoughts are racing through Emma's mind but the warmth of Killian's steady touch and the familiar coaxing of his voice are enough to draw her back. Brow ticked in speculation she answers coyly, "I don't recall that being a topic of discussion with your advisors. Besides, I have a hotel room a few blocks south of the palace. My friends…"
"Ah, I am once again in the gratuitous debt of your friends."
Emma rolls her eyes at his flowery language, secretly delighting in his ability to lighten the moment.
Delighting in her amusement, Killian softly brushes her rose colored cheeks with the back of his thumb. "Love, I do not wish to pressure you should you prefer to remain at a hotel. However, the palace is quite large and there are plenty of rooms – apartment quarters essentially. You would have your own bedchamber, bath, parlor –"
Emma halts his rambling with a teasing brow and finger upon his lips. Smilingly brightly, she stands on tiptoe and kisses him sweetly. "I'd be happy to take you up on the offer Jones, but wouldn't Regina disapprove?"
Killian's eyes sharpen as he huffs indignantly. "I don't give a damn about what Regina or anyone else approves of and neither should you love."
"Oh yeah, and why is that?" Emma asks, daringly.
"Because I'm the bloody prince of the country and you are the woman I love."
In an instant, Killian crashes his lips to hers in a searing kiss, arms wrapping around her waist as he once again spins her lithe body through the air, content to never let her down.
-/-
Several hours later, long after Emma has been fitted in a designer dress and an assembly crew of hair and make-up have glamorized her, she stands with Killian in the grand library, hand resting in the crook of Killian's arm, an ancient fireplace framing the backdrop as photographers crowd them with flashing lights.
The experience is surreal despite the day's events – (was it really less than eight hours since she landed in Denmark?) and despite Emma's best efforts, her stomach continues to twist in trepidation and unsettling anxiety. Braving through it for the camera's sake, she does her best to look serene and happy – (and she is happy, isn't she?).
The cameras continue to flash and instructions fly about the room in various Danish dialects. Unnerved, Emma focuses on the feel of Killian's body warmth and the soothing touch of his hand upon hers, hoping his presence will distract from the pool of agitation swirling in her gut.
Admittedly, Emma does feel beautiful in the dark cerulean blue, knee length Issa London wrap dress, complete with a V cross front neckline and long sleeves. The royal designer, Fillipa, was quite methodical in matching Emma's dress to compliment both Killian's eyes and the navy blue of his bespoke suit.
Judging from what she assumes must be compliments spewing from the photographers between takes, and from the delighted look upon Regina's face, Emma guesses the royal designer executed her job perfectly.
"You look stunning Swan. Absolutely breathtaking." Killian whispers in her ear as the cameras continue to flash.
Emma beams at the compliment, her anxiety momentarily quelled as she whispers in return, "You don't look too bad yourself there, Jones."
"I apologize for all this pomp and circumstance, love." Killian continues between smiles.
"I still can't believe this is happening. This is very different from our private study alcove." Emma expresses fondly, her smile slipping for a fraction of a second.
"Aye, that it is. Trust me Swan, I will find us some alone time."
"Oh yeah, and what about Regina's agenda?" She asks turning slightly toward him, brow arched in a teasing challenge. "I'm pretty sure the woman could spew fire from her fingertips with how much she waives her hands when irritated."
Killian chuckles and turns to meet her gaze intently, ignoring the parade of photographers. "I will take any manner of cursed flame Regina may throw at me if it means having private time with you. Rest assured love, I do not intend to waist a second now that you are here."
Emma's breath hitches at the fervency of Killian's stare, gasping in delighted surprise at the sudden feel of his lips upon hers, one hand pressing gently against her back, the other cradling the side of her cheek. The cameras all but forgotten, she loses herself in the moment as her hands slide up the lapels of his suit and wrap around his neck, relaxing in his solid comfort.
This.
This is why she's come - to embrace in Killian's love for her and the love she has for him. To bask in the happiness being with him brings.
So when Regina exasperatedly clears her throat as a signal for the pair to separate, well Emma is all too happy to ignore her. The camera flashes intensify, the incoherent Danish voices magnify in approval, but Emma can't bring herself to care as she presses up on her tiptoes to further the kiss.
Her stomach may be churning in anxiety, but her heart is steady in Killian's arms.
-/-
Emma awakes and stretches languidly in the plush king sized bed. Blinking her eyes open, she smiles and sits up, taking in the rococoa décor, antique furniture, and muted cream colors of the bedchamber walls. The sun's light barely peeks through the pulled curtains and draperies hanging over the various windows, but it is clear the sun is beaming steadily.
It wasn't a dream. She is really here in Denmark, with Killian, in the royal palace.
A fucking palace!
And Killian, her Killian is a prince, heir to the throne and the next fucking king of Denmark.
Well shit…
Reality slams into Emma and her lungs constrict in distress. The memory of the previous day's meeting with Killian's advisors engulfs her in a blanket of dread. As much as she was expecting it, nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of judgment and shame she felt at having to share her life's story with royal dignitaries, regardless of Killian's support. What in the hell is she thinking?
Before Emma can fully process what she already knows to be true, a knock sounds at the door, the doorknob turning as an older woman in a blue-gray dress suit enters the room.
"Good morning Ms. Swan. My name is Clara. I have come to wake you and take your breakfast order. How do you prefer your coffee?" The petite woman asks, as she walks around the room pulling aside curtains and opening balcony doors, the morning's bright light and gentle breeze filling up the overly large bedchamber.
Emma clutches the bed sheets in her fists as her eyes follow Clara's movements, voice lost somewhere in the back of her throat, mouth open wide in utter confusion.
"She prefers it medium strength with a spot of milk. Well, most days that is."
Killian leans against the open door's threshold, a smirk plastered against his lips as he takes in the sight of a very befuddled Swan. "On days like today, jet lagged and uncertain, she prefers an Americano – black."
Turning her head to the sultry voice she hadn't gotten enough of the previous day, Emma's smile brightens tenfold. He's the picture of relaxed confidence in dark colored jeans and navy quarter-zip cashmere sweater. She feels slightly embarrassed at her bed head and oversized Red Sox shirt, but clearly he's enjoying the sight of her, if his posture and the teasing glint in his cerulean eyes is anything to go on.
Offering up her own teasing grin she asks, "Quite the wake up call you have here. Am I to expect this type of welcome every morning?"
Killian drops his leering stance and slowly walks over to the bed, arms crossed over his chest and head slightly bowed, a hopeful half smile on his face. "If you should wish it, yes," he whispers breathily. Without hesitation or restraint, he reaches out to tuck a strand of golden hair behind her ear, eyes drowning in the depth of her green orbs as he thumbs the side of her cheek. Lost in each other, neither of them notices Clara silently exit the room.
The anxiety that overtook her upon awakening is nowhere to be felt. All Emma feels is certainty - certainty that Killian loves her as she loves him. Whatever comes next they'll face together, but for now she is going to enjoy the quiet moments and bask in the fairytale that is somehow becoming her life.
"Well in that case," she says teasingly, placing her hand upon his where it rests on her cheek, "what did you have in mind for today?"
-/-
Turns out whatever plans Killian had are circumvented by Regina's non-negotiable agenda for the day, beginning with Emma attending a wardrobe fitting in preparation for the week's upcoming events.
Thus, how Emma finds herself standing atop a seamstress box in the middle of her bedchamber's connecting parlor, wearing a dress with safety pins and needles stuck every which way, surrounded by people with measuring tape speaking rapidly in Danish.
The head designer, Fillipa, is talking swiftly with Regina who nods along in agreement as they encircle Emma, assessing her with critical eyes and furrowed brows.
Frustrated at her lack of understanding Danish and annoyed that she's basically an experiment being poked and prodded at, Emma grits her teeth, determined to use her voice. "So, is this part supposed to be overly suffocating?" She asks, hands pressing against the delicate fabric wrapped around her sternum.
Fillipa continues in her orbital assessment of Emma but answers curtly in English, "It has always been worn in this fashion."
"Okay… well it feels like my ribs are being crushed from the inside out. Is it possible for it to be loosened?" Emma's never worn a corset before and she's really not looking forward to the prospect of wearing one – (never mind the fact she didn't know people still wear the damn things).
"Fashion is painful Ms. Swan, learn to breath through it." Regina answers coolly.
Irked at Regina's obvious enjoyment of her discomfort, it takes all her energy to stifle back the biting barb on the tip of her tongue. Taking a deep breath – (as big a breath as the damn dress will allow) – Emma decides to try a different tactic with the icy advisor. Swallowing her pride and remembering she's there for Killian, she asks as mannerly as possible, "Would it be possible to wear something less constricting?"
"Ms. Swan the dress you are currently being fitted for is to be worn at the King's charity gala, quite a formal affair, but worry not because we have several events for which you will be permitted to wear something more sensible. However, your question does bring me to my next point." Regina flips open her ever-present portfolio and hands a piece of paper to Fillipa.
Emma stands breathless and flabbergasted at Regina clearly having more to explain but deliberately withholding whatever it is.
After perusing the paper, Fillipa passes it along to one of her assistants before exclaiming, "Yes, I most certainly agree."
Annoyance flairs once more in Emma's gut for being kept out of the loop. Perturbed, she attempts to keep her voice level but is unable to mask her vexation, "What do you agree with? Regina, I thought this fitting was for the gala next week?"
"It most certainly is Ms. Swan, however you are also being fitted for your style."
"My what? My style?" Emma asks, nose scrunched up in confusion.
"Yes Ms. Swan, your style. You are not simply Killian's girlfriend, you are the future king of Denmark's Significant Other – possibly the future queen - and as such, you have a role to play. With the role comes certain duties and responsibilities, one of the most important being that of your style – how you present yourself to the people of Denmark."
What little breath Emma had underneath the corset strings evaporates instantly.
Queen?
Her, Emma Swan, queen?
If she had any lung capacity available she would laugh at the absurd idea.
Oblivious to Emma's discomfort Regina continues, "Your style of dress is no longer at your discretion, you must dress the part. Fillipa has been designing the royal household's fashion for decades, rest assured you are in capable hands."
"Why does it matter what I wear outside of the photography shoot or whatever this gala thing is?" Emma asks, desperately hoping losing her sense of agency isn't part of the royal package.
"Oh Ms. Swan, I can see you are in need of more polishing than I originally anticipated."
The insult stings, even more so because Regina probably doesn't realize she is being insulting, but still Emma is cut. Do you really think you are worthy, lost girl?
Defeated, Emma swallows back the lump in her throat. She's here for Killian and that's all that matters. She can sacrifice her choice of dress and whatever else is asked of her in order to be with him. She can do this…
Resigning herself to the dictations of royal protocol, Emma closes her eyes and gathers her strength. "What would you have me do?"