Disclaimer: I own...everyone! Well, that's a lie, but I wish I did. Anyway, you people should well enough by now who I own and who I don't. And if you don't know, read all the chapters preceding this one.

Once Upon A Time
Chapter Fourteen

It seems that's while Ichabod had been searching for Rose, Rose had been searching for him. In fact, the two of them more than likely passed each other in the corridor, perhaps while Ichabod was bowing to Chelsea and Rose was walking the other way. Be that as it may, they finally met up on the stairs, as Rose was coming down and Ichabod was going up. When she spotted him, she gasped and cried, "Ichabod!"

The young lad turned at the loud outcry of his name, and the sight that greeted him was nothing short of spectacular. Standing before him, on the landing leading to the second floor, was Rose, dressed in her best. She, like Ichabod, wore crimson, but it looked far better on her than it did on him. The dress was sleeveless, meaning the sleeves did not rest on the shoulders, but lower, high up on her upper arms. It was trimmed in places with a golden fringe, and she wore a wreath of holly leaves atop her head. Her raven hair had been secured with a length of red ribbon, and curled so that it fell about her face in dark, springy ringlets. She was the epitome of beauty.

And she was rushing into his arms.

He barely had a chance to close his mouth (which had fallen open in surprise) before she launched herself at him, trapping him in a warm embrace. He weakly wrapped his arms around her, uncaring that people in the corridor were already starting to stare and whisper. He felt that tonight would be different, that it would change things, and so he wanted to make each and every moment count, regardless of anyone else who might gossip about their intimacy. "Good evening, Rose," he whispered, still mildly breathless.

She pulled away and got a good look at him, her eyes traveling up and down his body, and then she looked up and smiled. "You look so handsome," she told him.

"And you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he replied, and she giggled girlishly. "Which reminds me," he continued, "there is something I wish to give you. Could we sneak away to the library?"

"Of course," she said, and glanced around only briefly before taking his hand and leading him swiftly away. They bypassed all manner of guest on their way to the library, but found the library itself comfortably deserted. But just to be safe, she shut the doors behind them. Once that was done, she turned around but continued to lean on the doors. "All right," she said, "what did you want to give me?"

He fumbled around in his pocket a moment, as if to be sure that the ring was still there. It was, and he fingered it nervously as he plucked up the courage to say what he needed to say. "Would you mind coming over to the sofa, please?" he asked her.

Looking almost concerned, she nodded and moved away from the door. On her way over to the sofa, it occurred to her that someone must have been in here recently, as the fire was still burning in the hearth. But this was of very little importance compared to what Ichabod had to say, for he certainly looked as if he had to say something.

Rose situated herself on the sofa, smoothing her skirts and folding her hands in her lap as she waited. Ichabod cleared his throat and lowered himself to one knee, and a wave of a few separate emotions washed over her. First came the joy, for there was no chance of not knowing what he was doing. And then came the horrible disappointment that she could feel in the pit of her stomach at knowing that she would have to explain the ring that already rested on her finger.

"Rose," he said, taking her hands gently in his, "we have been through so very much over the many years that we have known each other, and we've been through even more since he admitted our love to one another. And while I know that the demands of various people in your life, and I'm sure a few in mine, cannot allow us to be together at this time, I want you to know that I will always love you. And that is why I would like to give you this."

He pulled the ring out of his pocket, and she gasped. It was just as simple as what James had given her, if not simpler, but it meant so much more than the silly trinket that occupied her right ring finger. "It's an onyx," Ichabod continued. "I don't know of any magical properties it's supposed to have, but I know that it always meant something important to my mother. Therefore, it means something important to me, and I hope it will mean something important to our daughter."

He was about to slip the ring onto her finger when he stopped and stared down at the digit. This was the moment Rose had been fearing, the moment she'd been half expecting and wholly dreading since James had given her the blasted thing. "Rose," Ichabod said, "why is there already a ring on your finger?"

She sighed. "I can explain that, Ichabod," she said. "Yesterday, my mother and I went to see Mister Hall, just to wish him a merry Christmas and give him the pillow she had me embroider. But then he gave me this ring and said that he loved me and wanted me to marry him for love's sake. And of course I wanted to refuse him, but what could I have done? Mother was right there, practically breathing down my neck, and Mister Hall looked so terrible and pathetic. There was nothing I could do."

He nodded, though he looked thoroughly depressed. "I understand," he said.

"But I do not want to wear his ring," she went on. "Were it not for my blasted parents, I would have thrown it in a pond or given it to some poor street urchin who could have pawned it. I want your ring, Ichabod, not your father's. I love you, not him. I want to have your child," she said, softer this time, as if it was just their little secret. He looked up at her as she said this. "And I want to go make her right now."

Ichabod, though not very well-versed in taking a hint, understood this one immediately, and the two of them wasted only a moment before bolting out of the library and up the stairs.


Dressed, Rose was a sight to behold. Undressed, however, was a completely different story. Undressed, she was beyond magnificent. She was no longer the epitome of beauty, but a goddess. Her body was full of gentle curves and covered in skin as pale as porcelain, but as soft as silk. There were very few words to describe her, and those that were available seemed severely insufficient. So Ichabod was content just to stare.

A nude Ichabod was not such a bad thing, either. He may have appeared scrawny with his clothes on, but beneath the waistcoat and the shirt and the breeches was a well-maintained body. His chest, though not exactly what one would call chiseled, was strong and nicely-defined. His arms had a fair amount of muscle, and his legs were long and powerful. All in all, the two made a beautiful couple.

And they would make a beautiful child.

Like any first sexual encounter, it started out in a mildly-embarrassing manner, with the usual awkward touching and stroking. It took them each a time to learn what felt good and what didn't, what was allowed and what wasn't, and what was neutral. They explored one another's bodies with their hands at first, gently tracing certain areas with fingers and massaging other areas with both hands. And then they used their lips, kissing shoulders, necks, nipples, anything they could reach.

And then the real fun began.

Once they were confident that each knew the other's body upside down and inside out, Rose lay on her back on the bed, with her hands folded across her stomach and her legs straight. Ichabod sat down beside her, stroking her leg gently. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked her.

She thought about it a moment and finally said, "No, no I'm not sure. But this may be our only chance, and if it is, I don't want to miss it." She reached down and took his hand. "Ichabod, I love you, and I want to have your daughter, no matter what problems all of us may face in the future. And I'm quite ready for all of that." She let go of his hand and relaxed herself. "So hurry up," she said. "I'm freezing."

He smiled at her and leaned down, kissing her tenderly on the lips. He crawled fully onto the bed and seemed to tower over her, but she was not afraid. Neither one of them was afraid of what this might mean for their relationship or their future; they both felt that Rose was right, that this just may be their only chance. And so they took it. With all the passion and emotion that first ignited their forbidden love, they sought to bring it to a new plane, a better place. They sought to express it through the highest form of expression possible, and that expression came in the form of a child.

And that is how it happened, how their daughter began. And when it was all over, they clung to one another and breathed heavily against one another's faces. They shared only fleeting kisses because they hadn't the strength to share anything more.

But finally Ichabod mustered enough breath to say, "Rose, when our daughter is born, name her Adelaide."

"Oh, yes, Adelaide," she said. "What a splendid way to honor your mother."

He kissed the top of her head. "My thoughts exactly."


I don't really know the name of Ichabod's mother, as it's never specified in the film, but Adelaide sounded like a good historical name. And so I went with it. The blood is the life, Sikerra.