A Day for "Just Emma"—chapter 5
CS Genre: Lieutenant Duckling
Killian stood rooted to the floor, finger tips pressed reverently to his lips, heart pounding, stomach swooping as he watched the most fascinating woman he'd ever met walk out of the tavern and out of his life forever after giving him the most earth shattering kiss of his life.
An old man, leaning heavily on a cane stepped up to him, clapped him on the shoulder with surprising strength, and grinned. "Hold on to that one, me boy," he said. "It's not every day a lad finds a love like that."
Killian looked down at the man, and suddenly the spell was broken. His heart sank as he remembered why he was in port, what he was here to do. He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it's not so simple, old man," Killian said. "There are complications…"
"Hang complications," the man said. "Are any of your complications really so important you'll let the love of your life simply walk away from you?"
"You don't understand…"
"Maybe so, maybe not," the man said contemplatively, "but if I were you, I wouldn't let that sweet lass out of my life. Not without a fight."
Feeling the weight of responsibility settle upon him like a cloak, Killian closed his eyes and sighed. "Would that I could."
Killian placed a doubloon on the countertop to settle his tab, and then walked slowly toward the ship, wondering if this whole bloody afternoon had been a mistake. Why was it his lot to meet Swan on this day? Why must he meet her when he wasn't free to pursue her? When he may quite quickly have to pledge his life to another?
"You're preparing for a ball, little brother, not your execution," Liam said as Killian stepped into the captain's quarters to retrieve his dress uniform in preparation for the ball. "Why so morose?"
Killian looked up at his brother, eyes haunted. "I know I must do this, Liam," he said, "but suddenly it feels as though my execution might be preferable."
And with short, concise sentences, Killian recounted everything that had happened to him that afternoon. When he finished, he looked up at Liam, shocked to find that his brother was grinning widely.
"This is fabulous, brother," Liam said.
Killian's brow furrowed. "Fabulous? Bloody hell, Liam! Have you heard a word I've said?"
"What I heard, Killian, is that you found the love of your life, your soulmate," Liam said, "and so the solution is simple."
"Aye?"
"Aye. Go after her, this elusive Swan of yours. You both deserve to find your true happiness."
Killian frowned. "But the ball…my responsibilities…"
"Hang your responsibilities," Liam said, and Killian looked over at him in wonder. When had his straight-laced brother ever suggested either of them put a toe out of line?
"Beg pardon?"
"Hang your responsibilities," Liam said again, slowly, deliberately. "There are other ways to forge alliances with Misthaven, but if you don't fight for True Love, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."
Three hours later, Killian found himself trudging up the steps of the magnificent castle, dressed to the nines but feeling like his heart had been ripped from his chest.
Liam had given him hope. Hope and a firm resolve. He must find Swan. He must fight for her, pursue every avenue he could until the lady herself told him his advances were not wanted.
And so he'd set out from the Jolly to find the elusive woman who had so thoroughly captured his heart in the space of a single afternoon. He'd begun his search on the docks where he'd first found her, moved on to the tavern where they'd dined together, searched the nearby village, asked every sailor, peasant and villager he could find if they could point him in the direction of Swan.
He'd come up empty. No one had seen her; no one knew her; she was nowhere to be found. It was as though she'd disappeared into thin air.
Finally after hours of searching, he'd returned to the Jolly, heart heavy and tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He'd tried his best, done all in his power to find her, but it seemed Swan did not wish to be found. There was no excuse to put off the inevitable anymore. If his heart's desire was not attainable, he must do his duty.
So here he stood, his brother at his side, while a short majordomo with a bald head, a full beard and an impressive scowl glared grumpily up at them. "You're late."
"Apologies," Liam said. "We were detained, but there really is no need to behave with such churlishness."
"I'm not churlish," the man said. "I'm Grumpy. Now stand at the top of the stairs and let me announce you."
"As you wish."
Grumpy banged a long stick against the floor. "Prince Liam Jones of Camelot. Prince Killian Jones of Camelot."
A few curious nobles looked their direction, but for the most part, the assembly went on with their dancing and feasting as before, the arrival of a pair of princes being no longer an item of note.
Killian wandered to the refreshment table and retrieved a small glass of punch, thanking the servant who'd poured it for him and watching in fascination as she giggled and blushed.
"Prince Killian, is it?" said a man behind him, and Killian turned to find himself face to face with a man who could be none other than King David of Misthaven. He wore a magnificent crown on his graying head and all the finery one would expect from royalty.
Killian bowed profoundly. "Aye. It's an honor to make your acquaintance, your majesty."
David looked at him assessingly for a moment and then grinned. "You're not any more comfortable with all this royal pomp and circumstance than I am are you?"
Killian grinned back, feeling suddenly at ease. "I must admit, I'm not. I came to my prince status through a rather unconventional path."
"I can tell you from experience," King David said, "as someone who was once nothing but a lowly shepherd, it gets easier, but the unease never quite goes away. I always feel a bit like an impostor."
"Precisely," Killian said.
"I assume you're here to vie for my daughter's hand?" David asked.
"Aye. King Arthur is most interested in shoring up diplomatic ties. It would be my honor to meet Princess Emma."
"Come on then," David said. "From the look on my daughter's face, she'd like nothing better than to be rescued from the bore she's currently dancing with."
Killian dutifully followed after the king looking around with curiosity for the princess he was to woo. King David finally stopped before a dancing couple, tapping the shoulder of a woman with long, luscious blonde curls.
She turned, and Killian felt his heart slam against his ribcage. It was her!
He barely heard the king's words as he made the formal introduction.
"Swan!" he breathed after a moment of silence.
She stepped up to him, her eyes wide, an inscrutable look on her face. She was silent for a moment, still, and then suddenly she balled her dainty hand into a fist and punched him so hard he fell crashing to the ground. Then, turning on her heel, she charged out of the ballroom and onto the balcony on the far side of the room.
Emma flexed her hand and shook it as she rushed out of the ballroom, the pain a welcome distraction from the hurt and humiliation of discovering just how stupid and naïve she had been.
Prince Killian Jones of Camelot.
He'd been playing her the entire time. He'd made up a sob story about having a terrible childhood just to draw her in and make her fall for him. The worst part was, she'd thought he'd been interested in her. Her, not her title, not her riches, not her crown, just her, just Emma. But in the end he'd been just like every other man she'd ever known.
How could she have been so gullible? She knew she was a sheltered princess, but she liked to think she was a shrewd judge of character. She liked to think she had a "superpower" that let her tell when people were lying to her, but she'd fallen for all Killian's charming lies.
Emma leaned over the balcony, letting the cool evening breeze dry the tear tracks from her face. Why was she crying? "Lieutenant" Killian Jones wasn't worth it! He wasn't worth her tears! He wasn't worth anything.
Are you sure you have the whole story? Her inner voice wondered. Are you sure you were wrong about him? Maybe there's another explanation.
Emma shook her head and grimaced. There was that ever present hope her mom had been trying to instill in her from the time she was an infant. Sadly, hope was just an illusion, a pretty fairy tale. The real world was a far different place.
She ought to go back into the ball, confront Prince Killian and tell him…well, she didn't even know what she'd tell him, but he deserved some sort of comeuppance! Maybe she'd say…
"Swan?"
Emma whirled at the sound of his voice, shocked at how gentle and tentative he sounded. He looked so lost, so confused, the skin surrounding his eye already starting to bruise where she'd punched him.
"Save it, Jones," she growled. "You can drop the act now."
"Pardon? What act, love?" His brow furrowed. This one was a consummate actor, she'd give him that. He genuinely looked like he had no idea what she was talking about.
"I am not your love!" she hissed, marching up to him, her hands balling into fists, itching to plant themselves in his stupid face once again. "And I told you you can drop it! All that crap about being an orphan and having a terrible childhood and being sold into slavery. Was it all a game to you? Find the stupid, spoiled princess, make her feel sorry for you, and then come sweep her off her feet at the ball so that you could get your hands on her crown? I bet you went back to your ship after our noon meal and laughed yourself silly about how gullible I was. Then, what? You come late to the ball to make your grand entrance? Make me, fall at your feet?"
"Swan, I didn't…"
"I'm not finished!" she yelled so loudly that a few couples inside the ballroom turned startled eyes towards them, despite the balcony's closed French doors. "What, did you hire those two goons too? Rough up the princess so you could sweep in like a knight in shining armor?"
Killian's mouth tightened, and he took a firm step toward her. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I am a man of honor; a man with a code. I would never exhibit such bad form toward a lady!"
Emma dropped her eyes, feeling a bit foolish. Perhaps that accusation was a bit below the belt. "I'm sorry…"
"Apology accepted," he said much more gently. "Now if you're finished laying accusations at my feet, might I be permitted to speak?"
She nodded, looking back into his eyes, determined to spot his lie if he told one.
"Swan…Princess…Emma," he began, cleared his throat again. "I assure you I had no idea who you were when we met this afternoon."
"You really expect me to believe…"
He stopped her with a raised hand. "I heard you out, now will you give me the same courtesy?"
She nodded reluctantly.
"Splendid," he continued. "I swear to you I thought you were simply a peasant woman from the village. How could I know differently? Swan, everything I said to you, everything we shared this afternoon was entirely genuine, entirely the truth."
"But how could your words be the truth if you're a prince?"
Killian grimaced, shifting his eyes to the side and absently playing with a weed growing in a crack in the wall. "I told you my brother and I were taken in by a benefactor after our shipwreck. What I failed to tell you was that benefactor was King Arthur of Camelot. He and his wife, Guinevere were never blessed with children of their own, so he decided to appoint Liam and myself as his heirs."
"Oh," Emma said in a small voice, seeing and hearing his absolute sincerity.
"It's alright, Swan," Killian said, smiling gently at her. "I will admit, though I told you the truth, I did conceal an important bit of information, just as you did, love."
"But why, Killian? Why conceal your true identity?"
"I'd wager for the same reason you wished to present yourself as a mere peasant woman going by the name Swan," Killian said. "I…I found myself captivated by you, and I wished you to get to know me, not the prince, just Killian."
Emma looked intently into his eyes, looking for the lie, looking for the deception, looking for the hint of disingenuousness. She didn't find it, only aching sincerity.
"And about my late arrival," he continued. "My apologies. The truth is, it took me less than an hour to decide I wasn't willing to let you go without a fight. The connection I felt to you…it took me by surprise and captivated me entirely. You are a beautiful woman, Emma, with a beauty that shines far beyond the physical. Your wit, your courage, your intelligence…I felt as though I'd found a kindred spirit, someone I could come to care for, to perhaps even love. And so I spent the afternoon looking for you."
"You…you did?"
"Aye," he said with a decisive nod. "It was only when I'd exhausted all my options that I came to the ball."
"Why did you stop looking for me?" Emma asked softly, taking a step nearer to him, and reaching out to put a hand on his arm.
"Because I strive to be a gentleman," he said simply. "I could only surmise that if you made it so very difficult to find you, the only explanation is that you didn't wish to be found. Difficult as it might be, I will not disregard the wishes of a woman."
Emma felt her stomach swoop and her heart begin to race at the look in his eyes. She'd misjudged him, jumped to an entirely wrong conclusion. This man was everything she'd believed him to be in that tavern. Everything and more. Perhaps…perhaps there was a future for them after all.
Emma got to her tiptoes, curled a hand around the back of his head, and brought his lips down to meet hers.
"Swan," he whispered, as his arms came around her waist, as he pulled her close, as he lost himself in their kiss.
It was a long, slow gentle embrace, an apology, an acceptance, an acknowledgement of the real, deep, overwhelming feelings between them already, after no more than an afternoon together. Emma felt the tears gather in her eyes, as the kiss continued, and Killian slowly deepened it. She let the tears flow down her cheeks, utterly overwhelmed.
Finally, Killian pulled back with a tiny groan, his eyes still closed, his forehead against hers. "That was…"
"Hopefully something that will repeated many, many times," Emma said, her voice husky and a little breathless.
He chuckled, and she could feel the vibrations against his chest where she'd placed her hand. "I dearly, dearly hope so, my love."
Killian leaned in again, kissed her lips gently, before kissing his way across her jaw. "What does this mean for us, Emma?" he whispered in her ear.
"I…I don't know." Truthfully, with him kissing her like that, she was having trouble remembering her own name. "I have to pick a suitor tonight, you know."
"Aye," he answered, pulling back to look in her eyes. Emma was surprised to see the nervousness, the almost fear on his face as he screwed up his courage to ask her his next question. "Would…would you consider my bid for your hand?"
Emma's heart stuttered and then raced. For the first time since the council's decision that she should wed, she actually saw a potentially happy future for herself. A future with the man in front of her. She nodded, her smile blooming at the absolute joy in his eyes at her response. "I…I think I'd like that. But Killian…"
His brows furrowed at her tentative words. "What is it love?"
"I…I'm not sure I'm ready for marriage yet," she said. "I think there may be something real and true between us, but I don't want to rush into marriage until I know for sure."
He smiled gently at her, reaching a tender hand to her cheek to swipe away her tears. "Nor should we rush into this. If it's love, true love, that we feel for each other, we've all the time in the world to build our lives together. I propose a middle ground. Perhaps we become betrothed tonight. I formally request your hand. Then you've fulfilled your duty and appeased the council. We can remain betrothed for as long as you wish—a year, two years, twenty years if it's what you need—during which time I court you properly. What say you?"
Emma grabbed the lapels of his military coat and brought him down for another long, slow kiss.
"I say yes," she answered when they parted. "Absolutely yes."
That night Emma and Killian danced the night away, hardly even seeing anyone else in the room, and when the ball came to a close, Killian formally requested Princess Emma of Mistahaven's hand in marriage.
After making sure this was indeed what their daughter wanted, Snow White and Prince Charming joyfully gave the couple their blessing.
One year later, Emma and Killian found themselves once more dancing in the magnificent ballroom of the Castle of Misthaven. This time as husband and wife.
And they lived, of course, happily ever afterwards.
The end!
Notes:
-Whew! Long time no write, yet again! When I posted the last update, I was hoping I could get back to more frequent updates again, but life continued to get in the way. Now that Easter is finished, though, my free time will once again exist, so I'm hoping to be able to get back to regular updates.
-I'm going to say this collection has 13 more chapters to go, so it will end at 135. Next week it will be an au, and after that either a deleted scene or a canon divergent scene from 2a, 2b, 3a, 3b, 4a, 4b, 5a, 5b, 6a, 6b and 7. Then we'll close out with a nice fluffy "future fic". If you have any specific prompts for any of those stories, feel free to send them my way!