Notes:
Long overdue but if anyone is still reading and following, thank you all for your continued patience and support. This story was always mapped out from beginning to end but finding the words for this final chapter proved more difficult than I ever thought to conceive. I love books and I've always wanted to write; this multi-chapter story is my first true venture into that medium. Much like Emma in this story, I've battled with my confidence and anxiety throughout this process - (especially this final chapter). I never intended this story to take years, and with the rollercoaster that has been life, I've come to a point where I'm actually happy with what I've written and quite proud of my little story. I hope it can bring you some joy and entertainment wherever you are in your life's journey, and again - thank you for reading.
Recap: Emma and Killian have reunited in Denmark. Struggling to adapt to the royal protocols and agendas, Emma is overwhelmed with anxiety and insecurity. During an impromptu and hostile meeting with Killian's father, the king deems her unworthy and demands she end her relationship with Killian.
(February)
The grand banquet hall is elegant to say the least, in both size and opulence. Rows upon rows of crystal chandeliers flow from the towering ceiling, illuminating the hall in dazzling colors of soft white and baby rose.
Towering windows from floor to ceiling adorn the southern wall, divided by centuries old sconces alight with the flame of beeswax candles, the window draperies securely tucked away by golden sashes.
The northern wall parallels the southern but instead of towering windows, the wall is decorated with oversized paintings and portraits, some depicting the family crest while others reflect long lost ancestral monarchs. At the center, a grand fireplace fills the room with warmth and charm.
Earlier in the week when Emma first stumbled upon the grand hall, the room was massive but empty. She didn't understand how a ballroom of such grand proportions could be of any use. Now though, with the room brought to life with hundreds of people milling about in black tie and royal garb, she's starting to understand the necessity.
People mingle about in conversation, munching on hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne from crystal flutes. A sinfonietta plays from somewhere near the eastern wall, the dulcet tones punctuating the elegance of the evening.
The first hour of the evening, Emma walks with her arm held securely in the crook of Killian's elbow as he guides them about the room. They spend the hour conversing with various dignitaries, parliament members and other charitable guests important enough to have merited an invitation to the king's gala.
Killian is happy to play the role of interpreter, translating different conversations into English so Emma can participate in the dialogue but truthfully, she doesn't really care to engage.
Insides still reeling from her earlier encounter with the king – (unbeknownst to Killian) - she'd much rather tune out and be lost amongst the different languages and dialects, silently contemplating what to do next.
The past two weeks she's been a tempest of roaring emotions – insecurity, self-doubt, anxiety and fear; she's felt insignificant and unworthy.
She thought she could be different, be brave and worthy. She thought she could trust in Killian's love for her and accept it wholeheartedly, walls be damned. Those fleeting convictions were obliterated with the king's command.
You are to end this affair for Killian's sake and for your own.
The words slammed into her like a torrential gust, instantly extinguishing whatever tiny vulnerable spark of hope she had regarding a possible future with Killian.
Lost in her head, Emma's startled back to reality at the feel of Killian's warm hand upon her lower back, guiding her across the grand hall.
"All right there, love?" Killian asks, a radiant smile gracing his face, cerulean eyes sparkling in merriment.
No, I'm not okay. I don't know how to say goodbye.
Heart breaking at the joy outlining his face, at the knowledge she'll soon be shattering his happiness, Emma swallows the lump forming behind her throat and panicked, quickly nods in response, forcing what she hopes to be a reassuring smile on her face.
"Yeah, I'm good."
Killian's brow ticks in dubious concern, eyes sharpening fractionally at the obvious deflection.
Wanting to run away from the moment but knowing she physically can't, Emma turns from his questioning gaze to greet another duke and duchess.
She can't continue this charade for much longer. Killian's been worried about her for several days and been incredibly patient and calm, waiting for her to share when ready. He deserves better and it's another reason why she needs to leave.
With Killian's full attention firmly on the new conversation at hand, the duke speaking in rapid French and gesticulating animatedly, Emma resolves on tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning before heading down to breakfast, she will muster the courage to leave the man who has breached her walls and burrowed a place deep within her heart. Tomorrow, she will leave him.
Plan in place, Emma redirects her focus to the conversation at hand, silently vowing to finish the evening strong and to not be overcome by feuding emotions.
-/-
The next hour proves difficult but as the evening's festivities shift to the main event – several different speeches from various politicians, benefactors, and aristocrats - Emma manages to keep her emotions at bay.
After Killian delivers the final speech the room erupts in respectful applause and curiously, Emma notices people unexpectedly begin to clear the center of the grand ballroom. Confused, she turns to find Killian making his way toward her, signature smirk in full bloom.
Taking hold of her hand Killian gracefully bows before her, "Swan, may I have the honor of this dance?"
Dumbfounded, Emma stands in disbelief. Was dancing on the agenda this evening? Did she miss another of one of Regina's memos or something?
Killian's eyes crinkle in mischief, silently answering her question - definitely not on the agenda.
Tension momentarily dispelled at his familiar and playful antics, Emma throws her head back in voluminous laughter, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
"Yes! Yes you may have this dance but I should warn you, I may be a toe stepper."
As Killian rises from his bowed posture, Emma mentally scrambles to recall the grueling etiquette lessons she's endured regarding the proper execution of a curtsy – (left ankle behind right ankle, back straight, lead with the hips) – but before she can make an honest attempt, Killian gently tugs on her hand and swiftly pulls her into an embrace.
"None of that now, Swan." Killian whispers, placing a chaste kiss upon her lips. "You do not bow to me."
Quite literally stealing her breath away, his words are both a balm and pierce to her aching heart.
Palms intertwined, Killian leads them to the center of the grand ballroom. A melodious tune begins to float across the hall, encapsulating them in a confined bubble despite the audience of spectators surrounding them.
Safely tucked in Killian's arms, head dipped below his chin, Emma allows herself to indulge in the feel of his warm body pressed firmly against her own, his familiar scent enrapturing, reminding her of home.
-/-
As they dance Killian methodically rubs small, rhythmic, circles across Emma's back in hopes of alleviating her vexations but also in part, to alleviate his own.
Rationally, he knows Emma needs to return to Storybrooke. When she first arrived, they agreed she would visit for two weeks and they would figure out the long distance later. She needs to finish her final semester but more importantly, she needs to return to Henry.
Despite this, he knows Emma's been pulling away from him, however slight and subtle her behavior. Whatever the reason, he knows it's more than a feeling of homesickness.
All he wanted since meeting Emma was to shield her from the royal lifestyle, from the duties, agendas and utter lack of privacy. Now having experienced a taste of his world, he's fearful the bitter flavor may be too much for her.
He's fearful he may not be enough.
Throat constricting, Killian places a kiss atop Emma's head, effectively burying his nose in the scent of her lavender shampoo. Tightening his embrace, he desperately hopes Emma can't feel the anxious shutter rippling through his body.
-/-
They continue to sway about the floor, oblivious to the roomful of guests making their way to join them in dance.
Isolated in their bubble, the mischievous joy from moments ago quickly recedes as Emma feels the press of Killian's lips upon her head. Pulse quickening at the easy affection, her body begins to tremble at the thought of saying goodbye.
It took all of her courage to admit she loved him, the friend who broke down her walls with his persistent character and steadfast faith. Now, it will take even more of her resolve to leave him.
Burying her head deeper in his chest, she attempts to control her breathing, praying no one will notice the tears silently cascading down her cheeks.
Across the floor a roar of revelry breaks through their fragile bubble, disrupting their dance and internal musings.
Blinking away tears from escaping into the lapels of Killian's jacket, Emma steps back a fraction from his embrace. "Killian, can we go somewhere and talk?" she asks, eyes deliberately downcast.
It's too early in the evening for them to appropriately retire from the festivities but upon seeing the red around her eyes and the puffiness of her apple cheeks, Killian's breath halts.
She needs an escape from the crowd and he'll be damned if he won't give her one.
"Of course, Swan."
-/-
Hands intertwined, Killian quickly leads her from the grand ballroom, bypassing several corridors and rooms until he finds the same private library he whisked Emma away to the day she first arrived.
Stepping further into the room, it takes Emma a moment to recognize the familiar surroundings illuminated by lamplight rather than sunlight from the eastern windows. At the sound of Killian closing the door, she exhales and turns to face him.
"What is it Swan, what's wrong?" he asks concerned, striding up to her determinedly and gently cradling her face in the palm of his hands.
As he begins to tenderly wipe away her free falling tears, Emma's hands unconsciously move to grip the inside of his wrists, holding him in place.
"Killian, I – oh God - Killian I'm sorry."
"Sorry? For what?" Killan asks confused, brow rising in alarm and pulse beginning to quicken in dreaded anticipation.
Emma attempts to answer but instead of words, a nervous cry erupts from her throat, body trembling uncontrollably.
"Swan, you are scaring me. What is it?" Frightened by her distress, Killian grabs hold of her shoulders, gently kneading her arms in hopes of calming her, "Love?"
"Oh God, Killian I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't do this anymore. I have to go home."
"Okay love, it's okay. We will get you home. Two weeks is far too long to be apart from Henry, I understand that. I am sure he misses you as much as you miss him."
Emma's eyes flutter in anguish and a pitiful cry escapes her lips. He doesn't understand. He's putting her needs above his own – (as he always does) – and yet he doesn't understand.
"No Killian, it's not that… it's not Henry. Well, it is about Henry but not… not entirely."
Frustrated at her inability to form a coherent sentence, Emma forcibly steps back from his embrace and aggressively wipes away her tears. She thought she would have more time to collect herself and gather the words he deserves to hear, but raging emotions have crippled her thoughts and paralyzed her tongue.
Irritated but attempting to compose herself, she vigorously shakes her head before risking a glance into Killian's eyes. Whatever she was hoping to find in his gaze to spur her on – anger, hurt, disappointment – all she sees reflected in the cerulean blue of his eyes is loving concern and beseeching worry.
For a brief moment, she loses herself in the depths of Killian's affectionate gaze, in the steadfast faith he's always had in her – in them. A spark of hope flares somewhere in the depths of her heart and for a second, she believes they can build a life together, however fantastical the odds.
Panicked at her resolve crumbling, Emma forcefully tears her gaze away, teeth gritting determinedly, the spark of hope extinguishing once again. Hardening herself, she comes to an immediate decision. The only way to get through this, to make him understand, is to do the one thing she never wanted – she has to hurt him.
Fortifying her resolve and bracing herself for the indubitable outcome, she determinedly steps forward, gaze sharp and unwavering.
"Killian, it's me. I can't – don't - want to be with you anymore." She attempts to sound stern and resolute but her body continues to shake in retaliation.
"What's this about Swan?" Killian asks incredulously, jaw ticking in wariness as he notices the quiver of her body contrasting with her words.
"Nothing, I just don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to be with you." The flatness of her voice sounds dubious even to her ears but she presses on, "I want to go home."
"Try again, Swan. There is more to it than that. For the past few days you've been pulling away and I think I know why. Love please, tell me what it is."
Wanting to fight for Emma and unwilling to lose to her walls, Killian determinedly steps forward. As he reaches out she pivots and steps back, effectively switching places so her back faces the door, right leg angled behind her ready for flight.
Heart racing, she summons all the doubt and fear that's led to this moment and the reason she has to do this. It's not solely fear and feelings of inadequacy dictating her decision, the king has demanded it.
"I know you don't understand. How could you, being born into this life? But I don't fit into this world Killian and I never will. This isn't going to work. I have to go back to the life I lead, the life I know. I'm not the girlfriend of a prince, I'm an orphan and a mother of a six year old boy and I have to get back to him."
Despite the silence permeating the room, Killian's ears ring in dejection. Breath hitching, he forcibly swallows the lump creeping up his throat.
Composing himself he presses, "Aye Swan, Henry is the most important part of your life, I would never presume to think or ask otherwise. But answer me this, why are you so certain this won't work? Why are you running? I think it's because despite all the pomp and circumstance of this lifestyle you can see a future here, a happy one."
Emma swipes at her runny nose, a hollow laugh escaping her throat. "Killian, being with you has been a fairytale but fairytales aren't real and they don't always have happy endings! You have obligations not only to your family but also to an entire country! I can't get in the way of that. You deserve to be with someone born into this world, not someone people will constantly question and scrutinize. You don't need someone people will constantly doubt."
"Emma has… has someone said something to you?" he implores, jaw clenching and eyes darkening in suspicion.
"No, of course not."
"Emma –"
"No, no one's said anything! Please Killian, I know this is difficult and I'm sorry but I'm not made for this kind of life and I don't want any part of it."
Biting the inside of his cheek, Killian wills his heart to settle as a roaring panic seizes control of his gut. It's as he feared and all the hope in the world can't keep her from fleeing. She's fortified her walls with a new barricade not even he can penetrate.
She's saying goodbye.
Always respectfully following her lead and knowing he can't continue to push, he resigns himself to her decision. Defeated, he faintly whispers dejectedly, "I can't make you stay can I?"
The shattered pieces of her heart crumble once again at his dispirited plea. Struggling to sound assured as another tear falls from her cheek, she chokingly answers, "No."
Despite her words and attempts at sounding firm, Killian knows she's as distressed as him. Wanting to alleviate her pain he tentatively steps forward, eyes imploring her to not retreat, to allow them this one last moment.
Recognizing his intentions, Emma's eyes soften and with the faintest of nods, she allows him to continue forward until they're a breath apart.
Sweeping his hand up he cradles the back of her neck, other hand finding her waist, gently pulling her forward until their foreheads are lightly pressed together. Her breath hitches and he pauses his advance, resuming at the feel of her trembling hands working their way up his chest. Enveloped in her lavender scent he tentatively presses forward, lips finding hers in a silent plea.
The soft pressure of his lips upon hers invigorates her senses. Lips parting in greeting, she slowly seeks out the sweet taste of his tongue. Unhurried at first, they lose themselves in the contact, the push and pull of their lips becoming more earnest as they realize this is different - this is goodbye.
Killian's grip upon Emma's waist tightens as she clings firmly to his chest, desperately gripping his jacket lapels, mouths and bodies fused together in a mournful dance. They continue in a visceral tug-of-war until the taste of salt from each of their tears can no longer be ignored, a sobering signal their time is up.
Both of them unwilling, they finally pull apart for air. Before he can say anything, Emma steps back and quickly turns on her heel, dashing from the room.
-/-
(March)
The next several hours pass in a blur. Leaving the library, hastily packing her luggage, Mulan escorting her to Kastrup International after repeatedly refusing the offer of the royal household's private airfare.
She doesn't say goodbye to Killian, their earlier exchange in the library being more than overwhelming. She doesn't know where he went after she sprinted from the library, not daring to look back. More than likely his princely duties obligated his immediate return to the gala.
After a tortuous three hour delay, where Emma has nothing but time to mull over her decision, she finally boards the red eye flight. Despite the adrenaline having subsided and being emotionally exhausted, sleep eludes her, mind vacillating over whether she made the correct decision or not.
She spends the majority of the flight fogging up the window with tears, internally berating herself. Fanciful thoughts mockingly plague her, ridiculous notions of if she had only tried, she could have built a life with Killian. If she had been brave enough to fight through her anxieties, to fight for them, they could've built a life together.
Sooner than anticipated, the plane begins to descend and Emma operates on autopilot, making her way through customs to baggage claim and ordering an Uber.
She briefly contemplates calling David for a ride but with the lateness of the hour and the desperate desire to not spill her guts, she reconsiders. Tomorrow – (or rather, later today with the time difference) – she'll explain everything to her friends when picking up Henry.
For now, she needs to get a grip on her emotions. Although she presented a resolved front to Killian, the exchange took every ounce of willpower, her walls having been so shattered she had to rebuild them piece by piece.
Clutching the strap of her backpack in a vice grip, Emma exits the Uber and vehemently makes her way toward her apartment building. Although her tears have long since ceased, her head continues to ache with pressure, nose running profusely.
Self-reproach and incredulous indignation roar amongst her thoughts as she violently yanks open the stairwell door, petulantly stomping up the steps one at a time.
My fault.
My fault.
My own damn fault.
With every step her internal war wages and she's no closer to peace than when her journey first began.
Why do I think I'm not good enough?
I trust Killian.
I love Killian.
Henry trusts Killian.
Henry loves Killian.
Killian loves me.
Killian loves Henry.
Tripping over her feat at this last thought, Emma pauses to gather her bearings.
It doesn't matter what she feels for Killian, what matters is they come from two different worlds. She can't take the chance she'll end up with another broken heart because of his station in life. Or worse, the chance Henry will have a broken heart.
Ignoring the ire swelling in her gut and expelling a breath, she savagely swings her backpack around in search of her keys, blindly continuing to pound up the stairs.
"Swan?"
Freezing mid stride, her hands cease in their search, head whipping up in disbelief, the fragments of her scattered heart shattering once again in recognition at the voice.
There, at the end of the hall with his back pressed against her front door, Killian sits lifelessly, legs parallel and arms limp at his side. His hair is disheveled, as if he's been anxiously pulling at it for some time and he's dressed in his signature black jeans and black leather jacket. His eyes are puffy and red rimmed, a mirror image of her own. He looks as awful as she feels but Emma can't utter a word, frozen in place as she stares in bewilderment.
"Killian?"
He stands, wincing in pain as his joints and muscles creek awake as he takes a step forward.
Realizing she's not hallucinating and Killian is actually standing before her, she fumbles allowed, "How – how are you here?"
"It's nice to see you too love," Killian answers somewhat humorously but without bite, anxiety hidden behind a smirking grin.
Dumbfounded at his presence, Emma shakes her head completely flummoxed.
"No, I mean… I left you… at the palace. I was at the airport for three hours before I could get a flight out. How are you here? How can you possibly be in front of my doorstep right now?"
Nervously scratching behind his ear and attempting to not sound overly cocky he answers, "Perks of being royalty - private jets."
"Killian…" Emma begins, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing wearily.
Exhausted from battling her emotions and completely flabbergasted he's not only raced after her but somehow beaten her home, Emma drops her bags to the floor in defeat. Without conscious thought, the damn on her tears springs wide open, effortlessly streaming down her cheeks.
"Love, please allow me." Killian tentatively steps forward but restrains himself from completely reaching out to brush away her tears.
He knew chasing after her in flight was a risk, one in which the outcome couldn't be calculated or known. From the beginning he's always been respectful and followed Emma's pacing, but his unexpected presence is a definite breaking of that mold.
A man unwilling to fight for what he wants…
He's come all this way to fight for her - to fight for them - and he can't waiver now.
Taking hold of her hands, he gently kisses her knuckles before smoothly caressing her fingers with the pads of his thumbs.
"Emma love, I understand why you fled. I promise you, I understand and not for one moment do I hold it against you. To the rest of the world, a royal lifestyle would be a magical dream come true but not for you, love. Not for you and for that, I am immeasurably grateful."
Confounded by his words and still astonished at his presence, Emma's breathing tightens and her head spins, the warmth of his touch and his determined stance enveloping her senses. As always when he's near, a thrill courses through her veins at the loving sincerity coloring his eyes.
And yet, still troubled from her warring thoughts, a self-deprecating and doubtful laugh escapes her throat.
"Hear me out love, I once said you are not a woman who could be wooed with pretty words or money. Please understand, this is not what I am trying to do. I know you Swan, I know you are an incredibly strong woman but at times, you hide behind walls of self-doubt and false insecurities you believe to be true."
Wanting to deny his words and challenge the notion her insecurities are untrue, Emma attempts to rebuttal but is stopped at the feel of Killian lacing his fingers through hers.
"I like the way you are Emma. I like your walls and that you've allowed me to be the one who brings them down. But Emma, if you've allowed me to break down those walls, please don't put them back simply because you doubt your own self-worth."
Body trembling at his words, a flood of tears cascades down Emma's cheeks faster than she can blink them away. This time Killian doesn't hesitate, cupping her face in the palm of his hands and wiping away her tears with a gentle brush of his thumbs.
"Love, there are many layers to who you are - orphan, mother, bail bonds woman, Henry - even your anxieties. I love every part of you Swan and I selfishly want you by my side for all our days to come."
Another sob racks Emma's body at his declaration. Face still cradled in his loving hands, she reaches up and grips the inside of his wrists, shaking her head slightly.
"Killian, you don't know what you're asking. Denmark isn't ready for a queen like me."
"Well they will have to be, because I am."
"But what about your father, Regina and the other advisors? What about traveling and all the crazy reporters? It's overwhelming Killian, how can we possibly be together? These last two weeks have been amazing but also incredibly difficult. There would be so many things to figure out – Henry, my job, even Neal…"
Overwhelmed once again, Emma releases her grip and steps back, working to control her erratic breathing. Much the opposite of a graceful princess, she sniffles and wipes under her nose with the sleeve of her leather jacket.
Smiling at her inelegant mannerisms, Killian pulls her back into his arms and confidently answers, "By taking it one concern at a time, love."
Emma clings tight to his shoulders and tucks her head under his chin, relishing in his familiar scent and basking in the warmth of his presence. Slowly, her breathing begins to even out and her frantic thoughts dissipate.
"You really think we can have a white picket fence life together? Or whatever royal version of one is?"
Stepping back a fraction from their embrace Killian once again cradles her face. Gazing into her emerald eyes he answers resolutely, "Aye Swan, I do. All you have to do is trust me and trust I'll never stop fighting for us."
The tiny spark of hope that's been continually snuffed out by her anxiety roars to life once more. This time, instead of dousing the flame, Emma decides to embrace it.
Choosing hope, she reaches up and throws her arms around Killian's neck, fusing her lips to his in a soul-anchoring kiss.
Reciprocating in kind – (and in their classic fashion) - Killian hauls her up by the waist and spins her in the air, joyful laughter escaping their still fused together lips.