A/N: It took 7 months, but I'm updating! Thank you to everyone whose favorited or reviewed this story within that time frame. I know I'm a slow writer but seriously, thank you for being patient with my muse.
Credit this chapter goes to wellhellotragic for her medical expertise on bruise development and not making me look like a complete moron when it comes to that department, distant-rose for letting me borrow the phrase 'scullery maids' for Killian and being the Queen of Witt when it came to a line for Liam in the last scene, and xpumpkindumplingx for literally slapping me in the face with the exact wording for more than a few transition sentences. Because if there's one thing I loath almost as much as writing fighting scenes, it's transitions! And I would be hopelessly lost without spartanguard, who is one of the all time betas in the world and who puts up with my constant complaining about scene flow, character action, if THIS sounds right, and... well, everything to do with producing content really, haha
As always, enjoy, and updates come faster when you feed the muse! Jusssssst saying!
Chapter 7: Confidentiality is a Virtue of the Loyal
Placing his fork into his empty breakfast bowl, Killian leaned back in his chair and sighed in contentment as he surveyed those in the dining hall with him.
David, who was in his usual spot at the end of the long table, was absentmindedly flipping through the large stack of parchment that lay to his left while eating. To his left was Arthur with Will next to him, both men too engrossed in their food to contribute much to the conversation other than singular words of acknowledgement. On the other side of Will sat Belle, a book open next to her nearly empty plate, while Killian and Hope were in the chairs directly across from the kings of Camelot and Wonderland. It was fairly early for a Friday morning—the sun had just began to rise high enough to send its warming rays through the castle windows and chase away the nightly chill when he left his bedchamber a half hour ago—and as a result, the dining hall was empty save for the six of them and the few staff members milling about.
The other two people who were part of the early riser crowd were nowhere to be seen, however. Not that Killian was surprised by that fact.
He'd been on his way to the dining hall when he ran into Erin and Hope on the family wing, and his daughter had practically jumped at the opportunity upon seeing him to have Killian escort Hope to breakfast. He didn't mind—Killian never minded spending time with his granddaughter—but he also knew Erin asking the favor had nothing to do with a desire to get a head start on going over the Jewel of the Realm as she had claimed. No, his daughter was doing everything she could to keep from going to the dining hall because she assumed Eric would be there.
He wasn't, of course, and in fact Eric hadn't joined them for breakfast since the morning after Liam and Elizabeth's engagement ball because he was avoiding Erin as much as she was avoiding him. If he hadn't lived through a similar experience himself nearly thirty years ago with Emma, Killian would think they were both being silly. But he understood both sides of the coin. He knew that Erin was retreating behind her walls because of what she had allowed to happen five nights ago, and he also knew that Eric was putting space between him and Erin instead of being his normal persistent self because he was genuinely hurt by her actions. Killian had felt the same way when he thought Emma pulled away from him in favor of his future counterpart during their second time travel adventure.
He had hoped after her talk with Emma that Erin would take action and correct the divide that was growing between her and Eric, but he'd underestimated just how stubborn his daughter was. She was still going out of her way to avoid him, even with Emma shedding light on some long overdue truths and outright telling Erin that she was, in fact, in love with Eric, and Killian was certain at this point that it would take divine intervention for his daughter to willingly stay in a room with the younger captain for more than thirty seconds. Perhaps his joke to Emma the other day—about saying the hell with Erin's emotional walls and Eric's pride and locking them in the brig until they talked—wasn't such a bad idea...
Seemingly appearing next to him from out of nowhere and startling him from his thoughts, one of the castle staff smiled warmly while gesturing to his empty bowl.
"Finished, Captain?"
"Aye," he replied, returning the young man's smile with one of his own. "Please give my regards to the chef for one of the most magnificent spreads I've had in over two centuries."
"It's just porridge and bacon, mate."
Killian's attention swung across the table to Will as the staff member left, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. He was about to remind his best friend of a certain incident but Belle, whose own plate was being removed from the table by another staff member, beat him to it.
"I wouldn't let Granny hear you calling her cooking just porridge and bacon after what you did the other night," she stated without ever moving her eyes from the book she was reading.
Arthur practically inhaled the water he had been drinking, and David barely managed to hide his grin behind a piece of parchment as Will's cheeks turned bright red at the mention of that incident.
It was no one's fault but Will's that he was currently on Granny's bad side, after all. Two nights ago all of them—Will, Killian, David, Arthur, Liam, Henry, and Eric—had imbibed in too much alcohol during what Emma termed their 'weekly guy's night' and, as it tended to, one thing had lead to another. Will, with no one sober enough to tell him not to, had decided to sneak into the kitchen and procure some of the ham Granny had left to cook overnight. It had apparently went off without incident until Granny paid a surprise visit to the kitchen for one reason or another, and the Widow Lucas had been more than a little angry at finding Will scoundering away with the fruit of her labor. In his haste to get out of firing range of Granny's crossbow—plus his inebriated state—Will had somehow ended up dumping the entire ham into the fireplace.
Killian had never heard Granny use the language she did while chasing Will around the kitchen with her crossbow.
"It wasn't that bad," Will muttered before biting into a slice of bacon.
David snorted. "She banned you from stepping foot in her kitchen for two life times, Scarlet."
"She also threatened to eat him at the next full moon," Belle added while smirking at her ex-husband. "I think it's safe to say it was that bad."
"I don't know the Widow Lucas as well as the rest of you, but with as vehemently as she was cursing your ancestors, I am surprised she hasn't poisoned your food," Arthur added, eyeing what was left of Will's porridge and causing the White King to dramatically swallow the bacon he had been chewing.
"Grandpa?"
Looking to his left, Killian saw Hope studying him with a curious gaze as she chewed on a bite of the apple he had insisted she eat alongside her porridge and bacon.
"Yes, little eala?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"After you finish that bite," he replied, grinning when she sighed dramatically. He had raised his own children not to talk with their mouths full, and he was determined to help pass that manner of good form onto his granddaughter as well. Once she had done so, Hope tilted her head in a way that had Killian feeling like he was looking at a smaller, feminine version of himself.
"Did you really fight a Jaccerwobby all by yourself?"
Killian blinked in confusion. "A what?"
"The Jagger…" Looking between her aunt and uncle, she asked, "Japperwonky?"
"Jabberwocky," the librarian and Will supplied at the same time, both slowly saying each syllable so the six year old could better grasp the unusual word.
"Jab-ber-wock-e." A smile broke out on Hope's face when Belle nodded to show she had said it properly. "That's it!"
While he was proud of his granddaughter for being able to articulate such a complex word, even with a little assistance, Killian was still as confused as before.
"What made you ask that, little eala?"
"I saw a picture of it in Uncle Will and Aunt Ana's story book yesterday and asked Uncle Will what it was."
Taken aback, Killian looked at his best friend in disbelief.
"Henry included that in your story?"
Will shrugged while shoveling another spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "Why not? Ridding Wonderland of those beasts was an adventure in of itself, not to mention the first one Ana and I were a part of as a couple."
"You also know how Henry's role as the Author works," his father-in-law reminded him without moving his eyes from the parchment in his hand. "His job isn't to pick and choose which stories or what parts of them are told. Every aspect from them is recorded."
Well, they both had a point there. The Jabberwockys, an ancient race of dragon-like creatures, had overrun Wonderland in Ana's sixteen-year absence. Unlike normal dragons, however, a Jabberwocky didn't seclude themselves in a cave and do everything in their power to avoid human contact. They were an aggressive species that thrived on terror and destruction, a remnant of times long past when creatures ruled the realms and the race of Man was nothing more than a dream to Prometheus. Expelling them from Wonderland had taken time and considerable effort, and had included some of the most ferocious battles the centuries-old pirate had ever been a part of.
A tug on the sleeve of his shirt had Killian redirecting his attention back to his granddaughter. "Is it true?" she asked more adamantly and with the hint of command in her voice that all children had when they wanted to know something.
"Aye, I fought a Jabberwocky," he conceded with a nod of his head, "But I didn't do it alone. Your papa helped me."
David scoffed. "Don't let your grandfather sell himself short, Hope. He battled one by himself for nearly twenty minutes before I could get there. All I did was show up at the last second and distract the Jabberwocky long enough for him to get the fatal blow in."
"That's still helping, mate."
"Doesn't negate the fact that you went toe-to-toe with one of the most ferocious creatures in existence for an extended length of time and held your own," Belle said, her tone almost daring him to contradict her. He wouldn't, of course—contradicting praise that Belle had given him was something Killian Jones had learned long ago never to do. While on the surface Killian was a self-confident man, in reality, he had always been uncomfortable when individual praise was given to him.
Feeling the tips of his ears burn, Killian looked to find his granddaughter staring at him in awe.
"Will you tell me the story? Uncle Will didn't know the good parts."
Chuckling at Will's muttered, "Well you have to be present to know the good parts," Killian was about to launch into the tale when he caught sight of the look on Belle's face as she stood and made her way around the table. Ah, yes. Morning lessons. Carefully using his hook to move a piece of stray hair that had come undone from Hope's ponytail to behind her ear, he smiled.
"Another time, little eala. You've got morning lessons to attend."
"It won't take long to tell the story though!"
"Oh, but it will because your grandfather couldn't make a story short if his life depended on it," Belle interjected as she came to a stop on the other side of Hope's chair. Ignoring the mock look of indignation Killian gave her, she added, "Besides, if we start your morning lessons late it'll mean less play time later on, and I heard that someone is planning an elaborate tea party with her stuffed animals this evening."
"Princesses should never be late for their own tea parties," Will intoned dramatically as Arthur and David nodded their heads.
Sighing, Hope placed the remains of her apple into her empty bowl and looked up at him. "Can it be one of my bedtime stories tonight?"
"I think that can be arranged." At her dazzling smile, Killian leaned over to place a kiss atop her head. "Now run along with Aunt Belle. Who, by the way, also can't tell a short story to save her life."
"Never said I could, pirate."
Killian laughed at the quick witted reply as Hope hopped down from her chair and the two women made their way out of the dining hall.
"Do you think that'll be one of the twelve bedtime stories you have to tell her or will she weasel that as the thirteenth one?" David asked, his eyes not moving from the parchment he was once again reading.
"Oh, that will most definitely be added to the normal twelve," Killian replied as a courier bearing Arthur's personal arms walked into the dining hall and handed the King of Camelot a rolled up piece of parchment. "Did Neal finally make it home last night?"
"He did, actually. He arrived while you were in your meeting with the Naval officers."
"All is well with the renewed trade agreement between us and Queen Tiana then, I presume?"
"Signed by both parties, and Neal got her to agree to a lower tax on certain items imported from Misthaven without us having to lower our own taxes."
Killian chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Neal always did have a way with wrangling better agreements out of anyone wearing a crown."
"It's what will make him a great king one day," Will interjected.
"Yes it will," David said proudly before setting down the piece of parchment he'd been half paying attention to for the last few minutes. "I did mention to Erin last night when I ran into her that Neal would be taking over the council meetings she's been overseeing now that he's back, and I must say my granddaughter didn't seem too pleased about that. Which is odd considering she normally runs from those duties any chance she has. Any idea why?"
He knew exactly why his daughter wouldn't like that fact, and from the way David was looking at him, Killian also knew that his father-in-law had an inkling as well. After all, a blind man would have been able to see the tension that had developed between Erin and Eric since the engagement ball. No one except those who had been in the cloister that night knew why the young princess and pirate were suddenly doing everything they could to avoid each other, and Killian wasn't one to needlessly talk about his children's problems to others—even if they were family.
Before he could answer the question, however, Killian caught sight of Arthur's worried frown as he read the message that had been delivered to him.
"Is everything alright, Arthur?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Sir Percival says that he received word of a portal opening about five hours ride from the castle, but when he and a few other knights went to investigate, it didn't appear that anything had come through it. He also notes that there seemed to be a barrier of some sort around it that stopped anyone from getting close, and at the time he was writing this message it had been open for three days."
"Well, portals randomly opening is never a good thing," Will pointed out.
Killian nodded in agreement with his best friend. "I've also never heard of a portal staying open for that long. They usually close within minutes, even if something hasn't gone into them."
"A barrier protecting it is also cause for concern," David mused.
"I hate to suggest it because of the implications it would lead to, but could Maleficent be behind it?"
David was shaking his head before Will had even finished the sentence. "Thankfully we can rule her having played a part in this oddity out. I received word just this morning from Blue that Maleficent was still holed up in her Dark Fortress." Turning his attention to Arthur, he added, "Is there anything we can do to help?"
Looking up from the parchment, Arthur said, "Actually, there is. Could Emma go to Camelot and investigate to see what magic was used to open it? I'd send Merlin, but the last message I received from him said he'd be in Atlantica for at least another week as treaty negotiations were becoming hostile again."
"Of course. She and Killian will have to travel there the old fashioned way instead of translocating since Merlin recast the barrier spell six months ago with only his magic behind it, but they should be able to leave before noon today."
"Thank you, my friend," the King of Camelot said while standing, his voice full of gratitude. "I'll use one of Snow's birds to send word back to Percival so he'll be prepared for their arrival."
Dread instantly clawed at Killian's stomach as Arthur quickly left the dining hall with the courier that had delivered the message a few paces behind him. While he normally wouldn't have thought twice about he and Emma being sent on such a mission, the continued onslaught of her nightmares had him questioning the validity of that idea. Emma was still only getting a few hours of sleep on the nights she was plagued by them, and in the last week there had been no less than four nights when he heard her waking up and gasping for breath after having one. He'd seen the deepening of the already present dark circles under his wife's eyes that she'd tried to hide with makeup and magic, as well as watching her almost nod off before dinner had even been served. Emma was clearly exhausted and in no physical shape to take on the three day trip to Camelot.
The only problem was no one but he knew about Emma's predicament, and just like he didn't gossip about his children's problems, he most certainly didn't do so where his wife was concerned. There was a reason she hadn't talked to anyone, including him, about the nightmares. Killian would honor her decision on the matter—even though he in no way agreed with whatever that reason may be—but there was no way he could, in good conscious, let her undertake Arthur's request.
"Dave, Emma can't go."
His father-in-law and Will looked at him in confusion.
"What?"
"Why can't she?"
"She—" Killian broke off as his eyes landed on one of the staff members standing against the wall of the dining hall. The people who helped run the Charming castle had always been discret when it came to things they heard the royal family talk about, yet this was one subject matter that Killian didn't feel comfortable having them overhear since it concerned Emma's privacy. David seemed to read his hesitation perfectly and, with a quick wave of his hand. dismissed the handful of castle staff from the dining hall before turning back to his son-in-law.
"Go ahead, Killian."
"She hasn't been sleeping well recently. She's been worrying about what Maleficent's next move will be since we're drawing closer to the kids' birthday, but it's to the point she's only getting a few hours of sleep each night. I don't think she can physically handle the journey right now, let alone expend the energy she'll need to decipher whose magic was involved in creating the portal."
David frowned. "You nor Emma have mentioned this before now."
"You know how she is when it comes to things like this, mate. She doesn't like to worry the rest of the family, and I'm not one to broadcast what my wife wants to be kept secret."
"But you are now."
"Only because I'm concerned this journey may further damage her health, and I know I can trust the two of you not to even mention my having discussed this with you to Emma."
At least he wasn't having to lie about that.
"She did look ready to drop the other day during a meeting about the wedding," Will supplied, which filled Killian with a momentary flash of hope. If other members of their family were beginning to see the toll Emma's nightmares were taking on her, even without knowing about them, it wouldn't be much longer until she was forced to talk to someone. "Though I must admit I assumed it was because of Snow going on and on about different napkin colors for an hour."
David sighed. "I obviously don't want to risk my daughter's health in any way, but with the amount of times Arthur has helped us, I also don't want to leave him with an unknown threat. Who else that has magic could we send? Regina will be in Nottingham for a few more days because of the coronation festivities, and Rumple has been holed up in Stormhold since the ball researching what we'll need to do once we find an Avalonian artifact. Even if Emma has the energy to translocate a messenger—which by the sounds of it she would be too exhausted to do anyway—her magic wasn't a part of the creation of Nottingham or Stormhold's barrier spells. The best we could do is translocate a messenger to the outskirts of each barrier, but the kingdoms are vast and it would take them a week to reach where Regina and Rumple are respectively."
"Which isn't the kind of time you want to waste when it comes to a strange portal that doesn't seem in any hurry to close," Will added before taking a large gulp from his goblet.
"Elsa is also out because her knowledge of magic doesn't extend to portals or being able to detect other forms of magic unless they are similar to her own elemental kind."
While the two kings continued to go through the list of magical users they could send—and the various reasons why none of them could do it—Killian's gaze fell to the stark white tablecloth that covered the dining table. He knew who they could send, although it would require him to divulge the reason why the more experienced Emma wasn't going. Not that that was a problem considering he had decided almost a week ago to talk to his children about their mother's nightmares. He'd wanted to do it the day after the ball, but between War Councils, wedding planning, and Erin's self imposed avoidance routine of Eric, it was a conversation that had fallen by the wayside.
"She's new at detecting another person's magic, but Erin could do it."
David contemplated the suggestion for a long moment before nodding. "I hate to ask it of her when she's only just returned from a retrieval, but she's really the only person that is here other than Emma that has the capabilities. Since we don't know if friend or foe is responsible for the barrier around the portal, I'd feel more comfortable if someone—or multiple people, really—went with her. Not to say that my granddaughter can't protect herself if need be."
"Numbers are always an asset when dealing with unknown magic, and Erin would agree," Killian replied. "I've made plans to take Emma on a short sailing trip in the hopes of her finally getting some rest, so I'll ask Liam and Henry to make the journey with her to Camelot."
Will snorted, the action causing his entire upper body to jolt. "Liam will probably jump at the chance to do something other than attend Snow's wedding briefings."
"If only the rest of us could get out of them," David mumbled good naturedly before turning his attention back to Killian. "I'll inform Arthur of the change in plans and you'll talk with the kids?"
Nodding in agreement, Killian stood and made his way out of the almost deserted dining hall.
"Strike!"
Eric grunted as the flat side of a sword struck his right forearm with enough force to send not only reverberations up the arm and into his jaw, but cause him to instantly relinquish the hold he had on his own weapon. As the dulled sword he had been using clattered to the cobblestones, he brought his free hand up to rub the point of impact and glared at his sparring partner.
"Did you have to hit that hard?"
Propping his dulled sword on his bare shoulder, Henry shrugged nonchalantly. "The objective of sparring is to mimic actual battle, D'Harper."
"That doesn't mean you have to pepper me with bruises."
"Well, if you don't like how hard I hit then don't let me get through your defenses so often."
Eric scowled at the casual reminder that this wasn't the first time Henry had landed a blow that morning. Not that he needed reminding of that fact. The red spots on various parts of his own bare upper body—and more than likely a few beneath the leather pants he wore—that would more than likely turn to ugly bruises by this time tomorrow bore witness to just how often the Author and Knight of the Round Table had gotten through his defenses. Eric normally never let an opponent get this many hits on him, and the fact that he was allowing it to happen all because he couldn't focus rankled him more than he was willing to admit. He could call an end to the sparring session and protect his already wounded pride—and body—but he needed the distraction. Even if he was losing terribly and would be covered in bruises for the next week because of it.
He'd barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as his mind refused to shut off in regard to the situation he'd found himself in with Erin. The rising sun hadn't even begun to clear the horizon by the time Eric was knocking on Henry's bedchamber door with blunted swords in hand, a fact Erin's brother had only grumbled about a little bit before dressing and following Eric to an empty courtyard. He didn't have to question Henry's lack of berating for having been woken so early because he knew that Erin's family had sensed the tension between the two of them for days, and Henry was more than aware of what had brought Eric to his door for a pre-dawn sparring session.
Now it was only a couple of hours after sunrise, both of them shirtless to combat the sweat rolling down their torsos, and Eric was no closer to finding mental peace than he had been when he stepped into the courtyard with Henry.
"I can continue to beat up on you if you want," Henry suggested with a slight smirk when Eric didn't reply, "Or we can be civilized human beings and talk about what has been bothering you."
The reason behind him needing to spar might have been known to Henry, but that didn't mean it was something he wanted to discuss. His scowl deepening, Eric shook the last vestiges of tingles out of his arm and bent down to pick up his sword. "There's nothing bothering me," he muttered.
"We both know that's a lie, but have it your way, D'Harper."
Ignoring the slightly smug and all-to-knowing look on Henry's face, Eric's grip tightened on the pommel of his sword and he wasted no time in launching another attack. For a few moments his mind went blissfully blank as they parried each other's thrusts, a decade worth of fighting experience taking over and his body instinctively moving to counter each of Henry's strikes. It wasn't long, however, before the thoughts that had been distracting him all morning roared back to the surface.
Five days. It had been five whole days of him and Erin leaving a room as soon as the other walked in, or barely saying two words to one another when they couldn't make a hasty retreat. Erin had even started resorting to dramatic measures to avoid being in his presence. He'd been making his way down the family wing of the castle yesterday morning when she rounded the corner and, upon making eye contact with him, had paused mid-stride before practically barrelling into the nearest bedchamber. Rumple and Belle's, no less. It was by far the longest they had ever went without talking while being in the same place, and while Eric loathed the undeniable tension it was creating between them, he was too hurt to try and fix it.
A part of him knew he should have expected it given her history of pulling away when things became a little too serious between them, but the night of Liam and Elizabeth's ball, the idea of her doing that yet again had been the furthest thing from Eric's mind. After their dance, he'd walked Erin to her bedchamber and had gone to sleep convinced he had had finally broken through her walls. He had clearly been wrong, however. From the moment Erin stepped into the dining hall the next morning, he had known something was wrong. The woman who had allowed herself to be carefree and laughed without restraint while in his arms was gone, replaced instead with an emotionally distant and guarded version. She hadn't even looked at him once during that breakfast. Instead of building on the revealing conversation like he had hoped and taking a step towards becoming the thing they had danced around for years, they were now even further apart emotionally than they had ever been.
While it certainly wasn't the first time he'd encountered a guarded Erin, the fact that she pulled away from him after what transpired between them had cut him deeper than any sword ever would. Normally he could take running head first into her emotional walls in stride—Hera knew he had more than enough experience in doing so—but this time, Erin wasn't the only one who had allowed herself to be vulnerable. He'd opened an old wound that was as jagged as the one she had over Matthew's death in order to help her, and as a result, his own emotional walls had shot up when Erin shoved him away in the dawn of a new day.
Perhaps her doing so is a consequence for you deceiving her, a voice inside his head whispered, and Eric's jaw clenched as he narrowly managed to block Henry from landing yet another blow to his shoulder.
That was something that had begun slipping into his internal thoughts by the second day of him and Erin avoiding each other. Intellectually he knew it was just the guilt gnawing at him, but as a man who observed superstitions while on the ocean and who believed the governing forces around him were sentient, Eric couldn't help but wonder if there was some merit to the thought. After all, he had deceived her. He may not have lied about how his parents were murdered, or that he only escaped the same fate because of his mother's determination, but he had most certainly left out some rather crucial facts about that night.
He had to though. Although he desperately wanted to tell her everything, there were facets about his parents' murder—about himself—that had to remain hidden. "Your safety, and the safety of anyone connected with you, depends on no one ever finding out the truth." It had been a mere two days after his parents' deaths when Merlin first whispered that warning as they watched the funeral from afar, the wizard's hand falling to his shoulder in a silent show of support for the burden that was being placed on a then eight-year-old Eric. He'd heeded that warning for twenty-four years now, and he couldn't begin to ignore it simply because he wanted to share the truth with the woman he loved.
That still didn't stop the guilt, however. At the end of the day, no matter how he justified it, he'd deceived her. Not that he hadn't been doing that since the moment he met her...
Eric winced as the tip of a blunted sword suddenly dug into his lower abdomen in the same heartbeat that Henry's self confident call of "Strike!" came. With his wandering thoughts effectively coming to a screeching halt, anger bubbled within Eric's chest and he snarled in irritation before flinging his own sword across the courtyard.
"Fuck!"
He'd allowed himself to become distracted yet again, and just as he would have if the roles were reversed, Henry had taken full advantage of it. That is definitely going to bruise, he thought while glancing down at the point of impact. It wasn't nearly as red as some of the other places on his body, but Henry had managed to get a fair amount of power behind the hit that belied the physical mark left behind.
"You ready to talk?"
Looking up from his bare torso, Eric once again found himself glaring at Erin's brother. "I told you there's nothing—"
"Bothering you. Yeah, I know," Henry cut in before sighing in exasperation. "Look, you can repeat that phrase until the sun sets in the west but we both know you're lying every time you say it. I have eyes, Eric. I've seen the way you and Erin have been acting around each other for days now, and it doesn't take an innately perceptive individual to know that that is linked with your sudden inability to block a strike."
"Perhaps I'm just having an off day," he countered, a statement which immediately caused Henry to give him a skeptical glare.
"You were a pirate captain for eight years. A feared one at that if your reputation is anything to go by. I'm a Knight of the Roundtable, and Killian might have trained me to use a sword, but even on one of your 'off days,' I shouldn't have been able to get through your defenses as many times as I have. You're distracted because of whatever is going on between you and my sister, and the fact that you deflected my observation speaks volumes more than if you had actually agreed with it."
Bristling at the fact that he was right—on both points, even—Eric scoffed. "Why do you even care about it?"
"Because you're my friend," Henry instantly responded. "Something is bothering you and I want to fix it, or at least understand. I know why Erin would avoid you, but the only reason you'd be avoiding her is because you were genuinely hurt by something. All I'm asking is that you just talk to me, Eric."
Because you're my friend. The evolution of his friendships with Henry and Liam over the last six months, the bonds that were solely theirs and outside any of their connections with Erin, still took him by surprise sometimes. After all, following his parents' murder, his life hadn't exactly been one that allowed for friends. Merlin constantly moved them for Eric's safety, the pair never staying in one place long enough for a young Eric to get to know anyone beyond their name, and then he'd entered the world of piracy. Men died, either by the sword or through illness, before genuine connections could be made, and when he became a captain, he had never once entertained the idea of forming friendships with his crew. Friendships meant vulnerability, and that was something he couldn't afford in that position.
Things were different now, though. He had friends, and one of them was currently standing in front of him with genuine concern in his eyes. The problem was that while it was tempting to give in and talk to Henry—to have his feelings of being hurt after he'd offered Erin a deeply buried part of himself possibly validated—he couldn't do it. At least not with Henry.
"Thank you for offering to help, Henry. Truly. It… I haven't had many friends in my life, and it's comforting to know that I have your ear if I ever need it. That being said, I can't discuss this with you," he said before moving to one of the stone benches circling the grassy courtyard. Picking up the waterskin that lay next to the shirts they had discarded at the start of their session, Eric took a long pull from the container and hoped his own sincerity, combined with his firm words, would put an end to the discussion.
Eric had clearly forgotten, however, that Erin wasn't the only stubborn Jones sibling.
"Well, why not?"
Lowering the waterskin, Eric half turned to find Henry had followed him and was now standing next to him.
"You don't give up, do you?"
"When someone—particularly a friend—isn't making sense, no, I don't."
Eric sighed while passing the waterskin to Henry. "I can't discuss what happened with you because Erin is your sister."
"So? Can't I be her brother and your friend?"
"Generally speaking yes, you can, but when it comes to something like this, no. I would feel like I'm putting you in a position to choose sides and that's something I'm not willing—"
"Sir Henry?"
The unexpected interruption startled both men who, upon simultaneously turning towards the voice, found a member of the castle staff not far from them.
"Bloody hell!" Eric muttered under his breath at the same time Henry asked, "Yes, Spencer?"
"Sorry for interrupting, but Captain Jones needs to speak with you. He says it's urgent and of an official nature."
"Where is he?"
"Captain Jones was in the library when I saw him, but he said to meet him out on his ship as soon as you could."
Henry nodded. "Thank you, Spencer. I'll head that way now."
With a bow of his head the staff member turned and left, once again leaving the two men alone.
"Well, that doesn't sound good," Eric said, a frown pulling at his lips as Henry reached for his shirt.
"No, it doesn't," he agreed with a slightly annoyed sigh. "Probably has to do with the naval patrols in the Sea of Eternal Darkness. We've combined our resources with Camelot's to keep a watchful eye on Maleficent from the water, and the new Admiral of Camelot's Royal Navy is making the entire process more painful than it needs to be. So much so that I thought Killian was going to reach across the table at the last meeting and throttle him."
Tossing his own shirt over his shoulder, Eric chuckled while moving towards the sword he'd thrown in frustration. "Best hurry and get to the Jolly Roger then. Arthur is a close friend of the family, but I doubt even he would condone the son-in-law of Misthaven's King impaling his Admiral with a hook."
He'd only taken a few steps, however, when the sound of his name had the young pirate captain turning around. Henry was still stood by the stone bench, the shirt he'd pulled on askew and hazel eyes studying Eric in a way that reminded him of when Emma looked at someone while she was determining if they were telling the truth or not.
"I get it," Henry said at length. "You don't want to put me in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Erin because you think if I were to take your side over hers it would mean I was being disloyal to her, but Eric… I don't have to blindly agree with everything she does just because we share blood. My sister has a lot of amazing qualities, many of which I hope my sons emulate one day, but she also has flaws. I can find an action of hers to be in the wrong without it lessening my loyalty to her. So when you're ready to talk about what happened and not just have me beat on you, I'll be here."
Taken aback since he had thought that particular conversation had been dropped with the arrival of Killian's summons, all Eric could do was stare in surprise at Henry's back as the Author left the courtyard.
Erin sighed in resignation as she made her way down the docks in the direction of her father's ship.
She'd been toiling away at some much needed repair work on the Jewel of the Realm when Spencer had appeared on the gangplank, the staff member's sudden and unexpected arrival nearly giving her a heart attack. After muttering more than a few curses in Elvish and calming her racing heart, she'd listened to the message he'd been tasked with delivering to her and then watched as he left as quickly as he came. Erin's own steps down the gangplank of her ship had been less hurried while she threw her hair into a ponytail and mulled over her father's message.
Captain Jones wants to discuss something with you. He says it's highly important and that you need to meet him on his ship within the next ten minutes.
It had only taken until her boots hit the wooden planks of the dock for her to realize just what her father would want to discuss with her that was 'highly important', and Erin wasn't one bit surprised that he was summoning her over it. She had, after all, told her mother it was fine to fill him in on what they'd discussed Tuesday night. Her parents didn't keep secrets from one another, and she wasn't going to ask her mother to pretend like they hadn't had this big, emotional conversation.
The downside to that, of course, was it put her avoidance of Eric under an even bigger magnifying glass when it came to her father. She knew he had sensed the tension between her and Eric from the moment she volunteered to take on the council meetings in Neal's absence. He was a perceptive man, and there weren't many things that got past Killian Jones where his children were concerned—particularly when one of them was doing a fairly piss-poor job at hiding something. With the reveal of what Erin and her mother had talked about, he probably thought she'd finally stop avoiding Eric but that clearly hadn't happened, and she'd seen the look on his face when she'd asked him to take Hope to breakfast a few hours ago. It was assessing, that knowing quirk of his eyebrow saying more than if he had actually made a comment about the request. Her father knew what, or more accurately who she was avoiding by not going to the dining hall, and he'd apparently decided it was they had a chat about it.
Explaining to her father why she was still avoiding Eric was not something she looked forward to rehashing, but there was no getting around it. He would expect complete honesty from her and, despite still being emotionally drained from the late night conversation with her mother three nights ago, she would give him that.
Reaching the Jolly Roger, Erin quickly made her way up the gangplank and was halfway across the enchanted deck before she noticed the two figures standing on the bridge of the ship.
"What are you two doing here?"
Liam and Henry, who had been standing with their backs facing her, turned upon hearing her voice and stared at her in surprise. "You too?" they asked in perfect unison.
Taken aback by the question, Erin frowned in confusion while climbing the short staircase to join them.
"What do you mean 'you too?'"
"Spencer found me in one of the courtyards and told me that Killian needed to speak with me on the Jolly Roger as soon as possible," Henry replied. "Only, when I, arrived Liam was already here."
"I was stopped while heading to a wedding meeting by Spencer and told the same thing, so I'd be willing to wager my monthly income as an officer that you're here for the same reason."
Erin slowly nodded. "He stopped by the Jewel a few moments ago with a message and I came straight here." Glancing between her brothers, she added, "So, what's going on? Why are we all here?"
"That is the question of the moment. I was told the reason for me being summoned was of an official nature, but Liam was told it had to do with—" Cutting himself off, Henry looked to his brother. "What was the exact wording?"
"A matter that was long overdue in needing to be discussed."
"Right. I assumed Killian wanted to talk to me about the incompetent Admiral from Camelot, and Liam thought he was being brought here because he refused a captain position. Yet again."
The youngest Jones sibling rolled his eyes. "You just had to add that last bit, didn't you?"
"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"
Scoffing, Liam turned his attention back to her. "What was the reason you were given, Em?"
Momentarily letting the fact that her twin had once again not taken a well deserved promotion slide without comment—they'd certainly be having that conversation again later—Erin replied, "Just that we needed to discuss something and that it was important."
"Well that could be any number of things."
"Or one thing in particular that concerns a certain captain," Henry said with a pointed look towards his sister. Erin's eyebrow rose in response to the less than subtle comment at the same time Liam's knowing, "Ohhhhh," filled the space between the three of them.
She should have been more covert in her avoidance of Eric.
"The major flaw with that is Dad wouldn't have sent for the two of you if he wanted to talk to me about it," she pointed out. "And the same goes for the reasons each of you were given."
That was the crux of the situation they currently found themselves in. It had never been their father's style to hold frank conversations with an individual—particularly when it concerned one of them—while in the company of others, and discussing Erin's avoidance of Eric was one such example. He wouldn't do it while Henry and Liam were around, just as he wouldn't vent to Henry about Camelot's Admiral if her and Liam were in the same room. Nor would he, in fact, reprimand Liam for being an idiot and not taking the promotion with her and Henry in hearing distance.
Sighing, Henry voiced the question that was at the forefront of all their minds. "So why were we summoned here then?"
"Not just that," Liam added, "But why would Dad give a staff member reasons—none of which are connected in any way—for us to meet him here that he would never discuss in front of all of us?"
As Erin went to shrug, a familiar voice tinged with laughter sounded from the open hatch next to them.
"Because they are connected, and you might find out how if the three of you stopped gossiping like a bunch of scullery maids and came down here."
Erin shared a look of surprise with her brothers before raising her right hand to chest level and quickly moving her slender fingers to articulate the second language all three of them had learned. How in the seven hells did we not know Dad was already on board? Henry and Liam could only shake their heads at the silent question and follow her as she moved towards the hatch.
She was halfway down the ladder that lead into her parents' cabin when she spotted her father. He was sat at his desk, the ship's ledger—the legal one, she noted—open in front of him, although his attention wasn't on the parchment pages. No, those blue eyes she could pick out of any crowd were watching her descent, and she didn't miss the way they twinkled with unrestrained mirth.
"When did you get here?" she asked while stepping off the ladder and onto the floor, mindful to leave enough room so her brothers could do the same.
"I've been here, lass. I was coming up from making preparations in the galley when I heard you ask your brothers what was going on."
"And you… what? Just decided to sit here and listen to us 'gossip like scullery maids?'"
Killian quirked an amused eyebrow at her rather spot on—if she did say so herself—impression of his accent as Henry came to a stop beside her. "An old pirate has to get his entertainment somewhere," he replied seriously before chuckling at her raised eyebrows. "Besides, I was hoping you'd take the opportunity to lecture Liam, but that obviously didn't happen."
A scoff came from behind her in the vicinity of the ladder. "Alright, enough about my life choices." The sound of Liam's boots hitting the wooden flooring filled the otherwise quiet cabin, and in a less than three strides he was next to Erin. His arms were crossed and eyes narrowed in a way that made him look even more, if at all possible, like the man in front of them.
"So in what universe are the reasons you brought us here connected?"
"Considering the reason I had the three of you brought here has nothing to do with any of the ones you imagined, I'd say this universe." Closing the ledger he'd obviously been writing in at some point and moving it off to the side of his desk, Killian gestured to the three chairs in front of him. "Have a seat and I'll explain."
More confused than ever—but also intrigued—Erin moved to take the middle chair while Henry and Liam sat on either side of her.
"As I said, the reason you are here has nothing to do with a half-witted Admiral Fitzgibbons—and I use that term lightly—or the exasperating choices you two have made," he began, blue eyes swinging meaningfully between Erin and Liam at the end of his sentence. "The messages I had Spencer deliver to you weren't a lie, however, and each one does pertain to what I have to tell you in some form. While we were at breakfast this morning, Arthur received word of a portal that had opened within Camelot's borders in the early hours of Tuesday morning. According to Percival nothing sinister or otherwise had come through from what he could gather, but at the time he wrote to Arthur the portal had been open for three days. Which, considering the amount of portals this family has dealt with over the last thirty years, I'm sure you realize is an oddity."
"That's more than an oddity," Erin murmured before looking to her older brother. "Have you ever heard of that happening in your travels?"
Henry shook his head. "Never. Portals are, by their very nature, temporary openings because the objects used to create them aren't infinite. Beans become dehydrated and potions, like the one we used to create time portals, absorb into whatever surface they're thrown at. Even Jefferson's hat only allows for a momentary opening to wherever he's going before it closes."
"So this is definitely an anomaly when it comes to portals," Liam summarized while crossing his arms.
It was Erin's turn to shake her head. "It's not an anomaly. It is impossible for a portal to remain open as long as this one has. It—it breaks all known laws of magic, and I don't know of a single object that could be used to sustain a portal for more than a few minutes. I don't even think Merlin would be able to list one and he's the most experienced magic user in existence."
"There's more," Killian added. "Percival also mentioned there was an invisible barrier around the portal that stopped anyone from getting close."
"Well that's strange. Although promising," Liam noted, which prompted Henry to frown and lean forward so he could see his brother around Erin.
"How is that promising?"
"Because it speaks to their intent. If they were an enemy then there would be no barrier to stop someone from falling into it."
"But if their intentions were good then why even open the portal?" Henry countered, to which the youngest Jones sibling could only shrug in response.
Erin, who was still trying to wrap her mind around how a law of magic was being broken and seemingly rewritten, rubbed at her temple.
"We're missing the obvious culprit here. This sounds exactly like something Maleficent would do to facilitate her next move against us."
"That was a suggestion your Uncle Will made this morning, and we can rule her out," her father replied. "Blue reported this morning that the Dark Fairy still hasn't left her castle so, for once, this has nothing to do with her."
Erin sighed. "That's a relief, I suppose. So Arthur's concerns must be did a friend—for whatever reason—or foe create the portal, why would either do it, and how in the seven hells have they managed to keep it open."
"They are," Killian acknowledged with a nod of his head, "Which is why I'm asking the three of you to travel to Camelot and investigate the portal."
Her eyebrows rose significantly at that. "Us?"
"Unfortunately Merlin, Regina, nor the Crocodile can do it as they are still dealing with their respective tasks in other kingdoms. Sending a messenger to one of them was discussed, but because of the barrier spells surrounding Atlantica, Stormhold, and Nottingham, it was decided that would take too long to reach them. This is obviously a matter that Arthur doesn't want to leave unattended for longer than it needs to be. You're the only magic user here that can make the journey and, considering the strangeness of the situation and all the unknowns, I want Henry and Liam to accompany you in case something goes wrong."
There was something odd about her father's choice of words, her perceptive sense kicking in almost immediately, but before she could probe the sensation or even respond Liam spoke.
"It makes sense that Arthur doesn't want to wait to have the portal investigated. We certainly wouldn't want to if the situations were reversed, and I feel confident enough to speak for my siblings when I say we're willing to help Arthur in any way we can. Hera knows he's come to our aide without question multiple times over the last twenty-five years. I am, however, confused. Mom isn't currently in some far flung kingdom—unless something has happened in the last hour that I'm unaware of—and this sort of thing is really more her and your territory than it is ours. This wouldn't have anything to do with Camelot's custom when a Knight is within its borders, would it?"
Erin hummed in approval of that question. To show his thanks for the Charmings helping him reclaim Camelot from Morgana, Arthur had knighted her father, grandfather, and Uncle Will. It was the highest honor anyone could receive from the King of Camelot and yet, even at six years old, she could distinctly remember her grandfather and Uncle Will having to physically drag her father into the throne room for the ceremony. Her father largely hadn't thought he deserved the pomp and circumstance that surrounded the event, but it was also because Camelot's law dictated that anytime a Knight was within its borders they had to be referred to as 'Sir' as a sign of a respect. And if there was one title Killian Jones hated just as much as Prince, it was Sir.
It certainly wouldn't be the first time her father tried to weasel his way out of having to touch Camelot soil just so he didn't have to deal with that particular custom.
"It is true that this is normally something your mother and I would handle, but… she can't make the journey."
Henry frowned. "Why not? Is she sick?"
The impercitable way her father's shoulders tensed didn't go unnoticed by Erin, nor did the ticking of his jaw, and the sensation that something was going on caused the hair on the back of Erin's neck to rise. What was keeping their mom from going to Camelot for a simple detection spell, and why did their father currently look like he was warring with himself on even speaking about it? Was Henry right? Maybe she was sick, but a simple illness wouldn't have elicited that reaction from their father—not unless it was serious. A quick glance to her brothers told her they had caught the shift in their father's demeanor as well, and trepidation settled low in Erin's stomach as silence continued to fill the cabin like a physical entity.
"Dad?"
With a heavy sigh, Killian ran a hand through his silver streaked hair.
"She's not sick, at least not in the traditional sense. Your mother has been battling with nightmares since her past self freed her from the physical manifestation of her and Ingrid's powers combining."
"I thought nightmares were a normal byproduct of going under a sleeping curse?" Liam asked, his eyes briefly moving between his father and brother for confirmation. Both men nodded.
"It is," Henry replied, "Though I'm not sure why Mom having nightmares would stop her from going to Camelot."
"Because of the effect they are having on her." Erin watched her father's jaw tick once again in a sign of barely restrained emotion as his hand dropped back to the desk. "They were sporadic at first, weeks passing between each one, but it wasn't long until their frequency increased. She's having them multiple times a week now, and it's beginning to impact her health. Your mother wanders the castle for hours and hours after she's awoken by one, only coming back to bed near dawn and getting a few scant hours of rest before starting her day. Emma hides it well, but the signs are there and other members of the family are starting to notice. She's consumed more coffee in the last month than I've seen her have in an entire year yet she's still nodding off during meetings, and in order to conserve what energy she does have she's been using her magic less. She's putting off going to bed later and later in an effort to avoid them, and wearing makeup to hide the circles under her eyes. I can't even recall the last time she went without it. I wish me requesting that you do this was simply about me being uncomfortable with Camelot's customs, but it's not. Your mother is so exhausted that I fear the physical trip to get there, coupled with the energy she'd need to exert while using her magic, would completely drain her and have even more consequences on her health."
Erin, along with her brothers, could only stare at their father in stunned silence once he'd finished speaking.
It wasn't like she was a stranger to the physical toll nightmares could have on a person. She herself had experienced that same exhaustion and drive to put off going to sleep as long as possible when her own had begun shortly after Matthew's death. What shocked her, however, was that she hadn't noticed any of it when it came to her mother. The signs were there, that she could clearly see now as she looked back over the last few months with the gift of hindsight, but she hadn't picked up on any of it at the time. That emotionally charged night in the study with her mom suddenly flashed through her mind, and Erin inhaled sharply.
"Mom had one Tuesday night, didn't she?"
Her father, who had been twisting the silver band that rested on his ring finger since revealing her mother's nightmares, immediately ceased the movement of his thumb against the metal and fixed her with a curious gaze.
"She did. How did you know?"
"I—Well, I couldn't sleep that night myself. I had too many things on my mind." She could practically feel the knowing looks Henry and Liam gave her at that but she ignored them, her own eyes resolutely focused on her father. "I went wandering and found her in a barely used study on the East Wing in the middle of the night, drinking your best rum. She said she couldn't sleep because her mind wouldn't shut off so we… talked."
Understanding, along with another emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on, filled her father's face as she stressed the last word. He knew she was referring to the conversation her mother had told him about, and she had never been more thankful for his perceptive nature than in that moment. Detailing what was discussed in front of her brothers was the very last thing she wanted to do.
"Ah. Yes, she did mention running into you," Killian said with one of the most forced smiles Erin had ever seen him give. "That was the first of four she's had this week alone."
Henry sighed. "I just… I don't understand. If things had gotten this bad, why hasn't Mom said anything to us?"
"She probably didn't want to worry the three of you, especially with us being on alert for Maleficent's next move and preparing for the wedding."
"She still should have told us," Erin murmured. "She'd be furious if one of us tried to keep something like that from her."
"Aye, indeed."
To anyone else it was a simple agreement, but Erin knew her father well enough to pick up on the bitter undertone that accompanied his words. She also didn't miss the hurt that briefly flashed through his eyes, or the way the edge of his hook seemed to press into the wooden table. There was clearly something about the situation with her mother and the nightmares that angered him, and she made a mental note to broach the subject upon her return from Camelot.
"In any event," Killian began with a clearing of his throat, "I'm going to ask that the three of you keep this quiet. People may be noticing the symptoms but they aren't privy to the cause, and you know how your mother is about things like this."
All three of them nodded.
"You know," Liam began with a tilt of his head after a few seconds, "What I still don't understand is why all the secrecy in giving Spencer a different message to deliver to each of us? Wouldn't it have been less confusing if you just said you needed to talk about something?"
"I wasn't that secretive, lad."
"You were a bit over dramatic, Dad."
"No, I simply sent specifically themed messages that ensured you would come and not lollygag around because this is a rather urgent matter. You're the ones that made a mountain out of a molehill."
Liam scoffed. "When have we ever not answered a summons from you in a timely manner?"
Both of Killian's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "I can think of a few times, the main one being the time the three of you got drunk off my 300 year old rum and destroyed the Jolly Roger's galley. It took you four hours to come out here and answer as to what had happened."
"In our defense, we were severely hungover that time," Erin said, chuckling as she stood. "We should start preparing for the journey though. It's going to take us at least three days to reach the outskirts of Camelot, and Hera knows how many more to wherever the portal—"
"I think Eric should come with us."
Erin's head snapped towards Henry so fast that her ponytail swung around and smacked the side of her face. "You what?!"
"I think he should join us," he repeated, a faux look of innocence on his face.
"Why in the seven hells do you think that?"
He shrugged. "The more the merrier? Besides, we don't know if a friend or foe is responsible for this portal, and having another sword on our side certainly wouldn't hurt matters."
It was sound logic, and even something she'd suggest under normal circumstances. The tense situation that had developed between her and Eric since the ball, however, was anything but normal, and her older brother damn well knew that.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Well I think it's a great idea. I always need entertainment while traveling and Eric coming along is the perfect definition of that, what with you two currently dancing around each other."
If looks could turn someone to ash Liam would have instantly evaporated with the one she shot him, and her glare only sharpened when he smirked in reply to it. "Dad, help me out here," she pleaded while turning her attention towards her father. Out of anyone in their family, he'd be the reasonable voice amongst the meddling ones of her brothers in this situation. "Tell them we'll be fine with just the three of us."
"I'm sorry, ychydig iawn o mor-leidr, but I'm going to agree with your brothers on this one."
"Oh you have got to be joking."
A dark eyebrow rose in response to her exasperated tone. "Not in the slightest."
"Dad—"
"Erin, you were taught defense strategy by myself, your grandfather, and your Uncle Will. The first rule when walking into a potentially dangerous environment is you can never have too many allies standing beside you. That is the very foundation for why I'm sending your brothers with you to Camelot, and why I'd send twenty more people if I could. You know Henry is right to suggest that D'Harper go with you, and the only reason you're arguing against it is because of your current pursuit to avoid him like he's contracted the plague."
She scoffed. "He's avoiding me as well."
"We both know he wasn't the one who started it," her father dead panned. "Having another swordsman on this endeavor—particularly one as skilled as D'Harper—can only give you more of an advantage if something should go wrong, and I'll sleep a little more soundly knowing he's watching my children's backs."
Erin stared at her father, her peridot eyes pleading with his unwavering cerulean gaze, and after a long moment she sighed in defeat. She was a stubborn woman who was known for her inability to back down once she had set her mind to something, but even she knew when an argument had been lost. Because as much as she hated to admit it, her father—and Henry—were right. They didn't know what situation they were walking into when it came to this portal and, despite every part of her that was still afraid of getting too close to him, she also knew she'd feel safer with the knowledge that Eric had her back.
They may not be speaking to each other but he would still protect her without a moment's hesitation—that she had no doubt of.
"Fine," she murmured, ceding her stance in the discussion vocally.
"It's settled then," Henry said while standing and looking a little too smug for Erin's liking. "I'll find Eric and fill him in on what's going on."
Killian nodded. "Your horses and supplies are being prepared as we speak, and I'll see to it that another horse is readied for D'Harper."
With that the three of them wordlessly moved towards the ladder. Just as Erin placed her boot on the bottom rung to follow her brothers up to the deck, however, her father called out her name. Looking over her shoulder, she found him watching her from his still seated position with a mixture of empathy and sternness.
"Obviously I know why you didn't want Eric to come with you," he began softly, "And while I'm sympathetic to the emotional ledge you stand on after what you've endured in the past, I am in agreement with everything your mother said. It's time to take a leap of faith, ychydig iawn o mor-leidr, and my advice would be to use this journey to begin mending that bridge so you can."
Erin swallowed thickly under the clear meaning behind his words but nodded her head. "I'll try. Take care of Mom while we're gone, yeah?"
"Always."
With another nod, Erin began her ascent of the ladder, but she couldn't shake the feeling as she did that she wasn't the only Jones currently standing on an emotional ledge.
A/N: Alright, so. Google translate has apparently decided to change the term of 'my little pirate' in Welsh over the last four years because on a hunch I rechecked for this chapter and its... not what Killian says. haha But whatevs. We're sticking with what is canon in this universe so, if there's anyone reading this that DOES speak Welsh, don't me, okay? It was right at some point!