So for those of you waiting for Killian, look no further! He makes his official entrance here! Surprisingly, it was a bit difficult at first to write him. I guess it's because he's such a good character and I wanted to do him justice. I also had to do some tinkering with what I originally planned because it was pointed out that it had a bit of an "oppressed falls in love with oppressor" vibe which is the last thing I wanted to do.
BIG thank you to demisexualemmaswan for being an amazing beta and veryverynotgoodwrites who helped come up with the fight choreography here. Enjoy!
xxxXXXxxx
Chapter 3:
It didn't take long for Emma to find Regina. After her morning lessons were over, she immediately made her way to the stables.
Both of them had a special place where they preferred to be alone. For Emma, it was the garden. She wasn't much of a nature person herself, but there was something about the garden that soothed her. It was the one place where she could be alone, but not completely. For Regina, it was the stables.
Regina was there, as expected, brushing her horse's mane. Emma could see the tension in her shoulders and the intense expression on her face.
"Thought I find you here," Emma said, as she sat down on a nearby bench and helped herself to an apple from a bucket of horse treats.
Regina didn't look up from her task. "Go away."
"You missed an interesting lesson, today. We read about Merlin and Nimue - The Great Battle of Magic." She said in between bites. "I think you might've liked it."
No response. Emma sighed. She never knew what to say in these situations. Mostly because she didn't know how Regina was going to react. The previous times their mother had humiliated her, she usually responded by lashing out at Emma, their father, or whatever object was nearest. Regina had a fiery personality, despite their mother's efforts to quell it. She was stubborn and it was a trait she was proud of.
"I'm sorry." It was not the best apology in the world, but it was a sincere one. And it meant many things. I'm sorry Mother hurt you instead of me. I'm sorry that I didn't say anything sooner. I'm sorry that I made you look foolish.
Regina didn't answer at first. But then she spoke, still not looking up, "The weak link. That's what she called me." Her voice shook, as if her anger was threatening to seep out into the air and poison its surroundings.
Emma frowned sympathetically. "You know mother thinks highly of you."
Regina laughed bitterly. "No, she thinks highly of you. She doesn't see you as a disappointment. She doesn't see you as a failure." She stared angrily at Rociante's mane, struggling with his knots. "All I am to her is a younger version of herself that she can mold and twist like clay. Someone who can be the perfect queen." When she briefly looked up, Emma could see that she was fighting back angry tears. "You're the lucky one, Emma."
Emma almost laughed. Lucky? She wasn't lucky. She was the one that history books would forget about. She would never achieve greatness like Regina would. How was she lucky?
"I know I don't have a choice being queen. But I don't want to be like her," Regina continued. "I don't want to hurt people. I want to be a good ruler. Someone who's fair and just and…" her voice trailed off as she stopped brushing Rocinante. The fight she had been holding onto all day was finally leaving her.
"Hey," Emma said gently, as she stood. "You can't let her get to you, alright?" She brushed one of Regina's shoulders comfortingly. "Just take a deep breath."
Regina complied, taking a few shuddering breaths, but refused to meet Emma's face. Not that Emma blamed her. She too hated feeling exposed in front of others.
"I just want her to be proud of me."
Emma smiled pittingly. "She is, don't worry about that. Hey, look at me." Regina slowly raised her gaze. "You are going to be a great ruler. There's no doubt. And you will be nothing like Mother. You're already halfway there. Don't let anyone pull you off that path, no matter what."
It wasn't the best advice and she knew it. It was pretty sad to think, but perhaps the reason why Emma was terrible at helping others feel better was because she didn't believe any advice or words of comfort given to her. Having an unpredictable mother like Cora had made her much more guarded and self-conscious. Her armor always had to be on at all times.
Yet her words appeared to be just what Regina needed to hear. A few tears fell on her cheeks, but she didn't look as defeated and angry as before. She regarded Emma for a few moments then affectionately touched her chin. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Emma smiled. "You never will."
Regina returned the smile as the promise hung in the air. She then cleared her throat and dried her eyes. "Goodness, look at me. I'm such a mess."
"Yeah, you are." This earned her a playful slap on the shoulder but also a laugh.
In the distance, the clocktower began to chime the hour. Neither of the sisters noticed or cared. This was a type of moment that they coveted; a moment where nothing had to do with their mother, their duty, or their rivalry. In it, they could just be sisters. And that was enough.
xxxXXXXxxx
Emma was in a bad mood.
Her mother was hosting another suitor ball for them. Emma hated these balls. Some girls would have found them exciting, having hundreds of gentlemen tripping over themselves, vying for her hand. But none of the men ever approached Emma. Perhaps it was because Regina was the much worthier prize, being the heir to the throne and a dark beauty. Or perhaps it was the intense glare Cora would give to any suitor that so much as looked at Emma instead.
Whatever the reason, it yielded the same result. Emma would just stand around and smile awkwardly at the guests, trying not to let the feeling of being unwanted overwhelm her.
She was also annoyed that her mother refused to let her wear her favorite red dress. Earlier, Cora had argued that red was "not a proper color for a young lady" and the neckline was "too plunging". But Emma knew the real reason she wasn't allowed to wear it was because she might accidentally outshine Regina. Before the ball, she tried to wear it anyway, half in defiance and half hoping that her mother had forgotten the argument. But she had no luck. Cora caught her before she could enter the ballroom and magically changed the dress into her light blue one.
She couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of her mother having to sit for the majority of the evening.
"Enjoying yourself, duckling?" said a voice next to her.
Unlike her mother, Emma's father made no attempts to hide his age. He was a small man, balding, with a wrinkled face and a slight hunch in his shoulders. But his eyes were kind and understanding.
She turned slightly to smile at him, but stopped when she noticed the tray of champagne glasses in his hands.
"Please don't tell me she's making you serve drinks."
"Oh no," He chuckled, albeit a little embarrassed. "I just thought I might help a bit. It's awfully crowded tonight."
"I'm surprised Mother hasn't run out of men yet," Emma commented wryly. She could see nearby that Regina wasn't having much fun either. A tall gentleman dressed in green robes was currently talking to her about something. When he turned to a nearby servant holding a platter, Regina discreetly rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink. Emma chuckled to herself.
"Why don't you dance with someone?" Her father suggested.
"No one's asked me yet."
There was a slight clinking of glasses as he handed the tray off. "May I?" he bowed dramatically to her, which made her smile genuinely for the first time tonight.
Before Emma could take the offered arm, however, the great doors were suddenly flung open. All music and conversation came to a grinding halt as three Black Knights entered, dragging a man in tow. The man was fiercely struggling against the two knights restraining him, occasionally punctuating the confused silence with colorful insults.
"What is the meaning of this?" Cora demanded, as she rose from her throne.
"Apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty. But we caught this one down in the kitchens." One of the knights said, as the other two shoved the man forward. Judging by his messy clothes and scruffy black hair, he clearly came from the village. His blue eyes were aflame, glaring at everyone around him.
"How exactly is it stealing, when almost everything comes from your own people?" The man growled.
"Hold your tongue." said Cora sharply. "I did not give you permission to speak."
"That's- "
But before the man could finish, the queen tapped her cane and his mouth slammed shut with such force it must have rattled his teeth.
"Much better." Cora smiled, sitting back down. "Now then, let's try this again, shall we? Who are you?" And she tapped her cane again.
The man's jaw loosened, but he didn't speak. He glared at Cora with barely restrained anger. Then, with a gruff voice, he answered "Killian Jones."
"Killian Jones. That name sounds familiar to me. Tell me, are you related to the late Captain Jones?"
"He was my brother."
"Yes. I heard about what happened. Pity. He was a good soldier."
"Pity?" said Killian, his voice rising. "He dedicated his entire life to your service. He defended your kingdom until the very end, despite the odds being against him. He saved hundreds of lives at the cost of his own and all you can offer in return is your pity?"
"If I mourned every dead soldier in the kingdom, I'd never have time to do anything else." said Cora rather nonchalantly. She stared at Killian as if he were something unpleasant she found on the bottom of her shoe.
Emma stepped forward to say something but a hand firmly gripped her elbow. "Don't." Regina hissed in her ear. "You'll just make it worse."
"My brother was more than just a number. He was the best man there ever was! Worth more than any of your so-called knights!"
"And yet, here you are, honoring his memory by stealing food from my kitchens." Cora said amusingly. A few of the courtiers chuckled, albeit a bit nervously.
"What would you know of honor?"
And with that, all the mirth and pleasure in the room evaporated. Several people gasped and whispered amongst themselves in both shock and horror. Emma's jaw dropped open in surprise.
No one had ever spoken to their mother like that. Not even she or Regina had dared to.
Cora, however, didn't react. At least, not visibly. Her face remained blank and impassive. But Emma noticed that her eyes had become icy.
"Would you care to repeat that?" She said, her tone clipped and even.
"I said, what would you know of honor? What would any of you know of honor?" Killian continued, turning to the other guests, who backed away as if he were a wild animal. "Do you know how bad it is out there? Have you even bothered to look? While you prance about here, in your fancy clothes and priceless jewels, the people in the village below are suffering. I've seen fathers work themselves to the bone and still not make enough to put food on the table. That orphanage your generous Queen had built? Half the children there have to share beds because there's not enough room! Sometimes at night, if you walk by, you can hear them crying out in hunger.
"And yet, here you all are, having another useless party to celebrate a Queen who has turned her back on her own subjects, who sends good men off to die as if they were nothing more than cannon fodder! I may be a thief but you, your Majesty, you're the only criminal I see here."
The silence that followed his speech was almost unbearable. Emma's eyes were wide. Just who was this man that wasn't afraid to speak up for injustice, regardless of the consequences?
Cora still hadn't said anything but she was clearly furious. Without a word, she nodded towards the two knights behind Killian. But he must have noticed this silent exchange because Emma could see him slowly shifting his stance. It could mean one thing: he was preparing for a fight.
In a flash, Killian suddenly threw all his weight towards the knight reaching for his left arm, barrelling into him with full force. Completely unprepared, the knight toppled over and hit his head with a loud crack against the marble floor. While his helmet protected his head, it also left him stunned. But Killian didn't seem to notice or care. He grabbed a hold of the sword dangling from the knight's belt and pulled it free. The second knight lunged forward to stop him but Killian brought his elbow up and connected it to the knight's face with a sickening crunch. He then followed it with another fist to the jaw which sent the knight sprawling.
Several of the guests screamed in shock and terror. A few ladies fainted. Towards the back of the room, others tried to flee for safety but at the same time the guards stationed there drew their weapons and tried to advance. The wave of people collided with each other and in the confusion, the great doors were pushed closed.
The third knight drew his sword but Killian was ready. Swinging his sword over his head, he brought it down hard as the knight parried. The swords locked together and both men struggled for a few moments to get the upper hand. As the stalemate continued, Emma spied three guards that managed to break from the crowd. Killian must have as well, but it didn't break his concentration. He lifted his foot and pushed hard against the knight's chest. The knight tumbled back, having lost his balance, and fell into the green robed gentleman Regina had been speaking to earlier. If this situation had been different, Emma might have laughed.
The three guards advanced forward. Killian, however, smiled at the new challengers and readied his sword. Emma watched, completely transfixed. Never had she seen anyone fight like this before. Her teacher was an expert at swordfighting, but he was nothing like this man here. Killian treated the fight as if it were a dance, moving gracefully from partner to partner, exchanging blows as if it had all been rehearsed. He was light on his feet yet agile as a fox. It was a beautiful yet dangerous sight to behold.
A guard swung at Killian, but Emma noticed his aim was too wide. "Rookie mistake," she thought to herself. Killian noticed this too as he easily spun under the guard's arm and slashed at his unprotected side, finishing him off with a sharp uppercut to the chin. The other two guards quickly surrounded him on either side and simultaneously struck. Killian jumped back, narrowly avoiding a strike to his own side. One guard swung again and their swords connected. This guard was much bigger than his fellow comrades so Killian struggled for a few moments against his strength.
But that playful look in his eye hadn't faded. With a mischievous grin he suddenly pulled his sword back and ducked out of range. With the sudden loss of weight, the guard fell forward into the floor. The other guard tried to attack Killian's back, but he was faster. He quickly spun, parrying the incoming sword, and brought the pommel of his own down onto the guard's wrist. The guard cried out in pain and dropped the blade. Now unarmed, he backed away in fear as Killian stooped down and picked up the second weapon. The big guard, having regained his senses, charged again but with a flurry of clashing blades, he collapsed again, clutching a bloodied leg.
Emma glanced over at her mother. To her surprise, Cora hadn't moved an inch since the whole fight had started. She didn't look angry or shocked or concerned. She just looked bored. Like a cat that had grown tired of playing with a mouse.
The great doors suddenly burst open. Several guards and Black Knights marched into the ballroom, pushing guests aside and shouting orders. Killian turned to face his new challengers but his smile froze when he saw just how many of them there were. There was no chance that he could possibly fight all of them at once.
Still, he rolled his shoulders and twirled the two swords in his hands.
"Come on then, lads." he called "Who's first?"
Emma watched as the dance continued. Guard after guard, knight after knight, he fought valiantly. Every swing, every parry, every dodge, it was like poetry in motion. But Emma could also see that he was starting to grow tired and the knights were beginning to overwhelm him.
As he parried a blow from one guard, he left his rear unprotected, allowing a knight to take advantage. The knight suddenly swung the pommel of his sword into the back of Killian's knee. Killian cried out and dropped to one leg. Another knight kicked him hard in the back, sending him to the ground, his swords clattering beside him. Killian tried to reach for one of the blades but a guard brought his boot down onto his wrist. There was a loud snap and Killian yelled in pain. The guard then delivered a swift kick to the face, which cut his screams off and turned them into a painful grunt.
Emma's blood froze. She tried to move but it felt as if she had grown roots into the floor. All she could do was watch helplessly as two knights seized Killian by the arms and hefted him up to his knees. A large knight stood in front of him and squarely punched him in the jaw. Several of the courtiers gasped as he continued delivering blows to both the face and the stomach. Killian no longer screamed but his grunts were starting to sound like wheezes.
"They're going to kill him," Emma thought. "In front of everyone here."
A lump had been forming in the back of her throat since the ball had begun and it had steadily been growing in size throughout the night. She had managed to swallow it several times but now it was becoming harder and harder to do so. It was overtaking her mouth, blanketing her tongue, until finally she couldn't push it back any longer.
"Stop it."
Except it didn't come as forceful as she wanted it to. She said it too quietly. It almost sounded like a squeak. She tried again.
"Stop it."
This time, it was a little louder. A few nearby guests, including her father turned to look at her. But the knights still continued.
"Stop it! Stop! I order you to stop!" she shouted. And with that, all the fear that had been holding her down vanished. Her feet unfroze and she was rushing forward, pushing past people until she reached the knight. "Stop! Leave him alone!" As he raised his fist, Emma grabbed a hold of his wrist and tugged him back. He looked at her, surprised that he had not only been interrupted but that it was by someone her size. But Emma paid no mind and she shoved him aside then pushed at the knights holding Killian. "Get away!"
His face was slightly bloodied; one of his eyes had swelled up and his nose looked broken. But he was still breathing. His head lolled as she gently cupped his head, trying to be mindful of his injuries. Groaning, he slowly opened his eyes.
Emma almost gasped aloud.
His eyes, which were a beautiful shade of blue, had the look. The look of someone who was lost. Someone who hid behind walls so that they wouldn't be hurt. Someone who only knew how to fight. She had only ever seen that look in one person: her reflection.
Before she could say anything, she felt a set of hands yank her up under the armpits so that she was standing. Two guards swiftly spun her around to face her mother and sister, keeping a firm grip on her upper arms. Regina was staring hard at the floor, trying to look anywhere but Emma's face. Cora was no longer sitting impassively, instead standing and glaring at Emma with a look of annoyance and disappointment.
"Mother -"
"Escort the Princess to her room. She's not herself tonight," said Cora steely.
And with that, the guards began to drag her back towards the doors. A few of the guests softly gasped in dismay or shook their heads with mixed pity but Emma paid them no mind. She didn't care how humiliating this was. She was more concerned about Killian who had slumped to the floor limply. Two knights lifted his ankles and dragged away, leaving small specks of blood behind.
"Mother. Mother please. Please don't hurt him, Mother." She called out. "Please don't hurt him!"
A wave of murmuring spread through the crowd. Was the Princess really defending a man who just insulted the Queen and assaulted several knights?
But Cora said nothing. Emma tried to fight against the guards but her feet slid uselessly against the marble floor and their grip was iron. Still, she kept shouting to her mother, begging her to spare the thief's life until she had reached the doors. But as she crossed the threshold, she let out one final "Mother please!" and the strangest thing happened.
All of the wine glasses and champagne flutes shattered.