Chapter 4

Snow crunched beneath Emma's boots, the chill of the air puffing in wisps of vapor from her lips as she strolled through the castle gardens with the unseasonably cold weather swirling around her. It wasn't unheard of for the realm to experience snow this early in the season, but Emma couldn't shake the feeling that the fall of snow blanketing the castle and its grounds had less to do with an anomaly in the almanac and more to do with the enchanted nature of the place.

She would have asked Killian about the strange shift in the weather, but he had made himself scarce these past few days. Ever since their day at the docks and the confrontation with her father, she'd only caught brief glimpses of him. A swish of his coat around a corner, the sight of his hook as it firmly pressed a door closed, or like now, a set of footprints in the freshly fallen snow. There had been the occasional note, as was his custom, but Emma had not had any direct contact with him in three days and the estrangement was beginning to take its toll on her.

Was he still angry with Smee? Furious with himself for leaving her in a position that allowed another an opportunity for malfeasance? Uncertain whether he could continue to trust Smee with the care of his beloved ship?

Was he devising a way to keep her father from summoning him again? Extending the spell he'd cast over the castle grounds, baring her family, to also encompass his vault?

Had he changed his mind about their deal? About her? For a man who had seemed so eager to woo her into his bed, why had he suddenly broken off contact?

Emma had been driving herself mad with these musings. These and others that had plagued her during moments of both wake and sleep, spanning from the carnal to the transcendent as she reminisced over each and every moment she'd spent with Killian since summoning him in that glen. Reflecting on how many times she'd gone in search of him with a variety of reasons prompting each exploration; a need for answers, a want for his company, a desire to cast aside all other needs and wants in favor of something she had begun to crave over the long hours of the night when a different sort of darkness caressed her skin.

Brushing off the layer of wintery accumulation, Emma dropped down onto the stone bench she'd found that first full day at the castle and stared across the frozen surface of the reflecting pool. Pulling her heavy, fur trimmed cloak more securely around her, Emma closed her eyes and allowed those memories and the fantasies she'd concocted from her own lustful imaginings to wash over her. They were simpler and more pleasurable to surrender herself to than other ponderings; ones that manifested, not from that primal place at the core of her being, but from the space that held her heart in its gentle grasp until such a time when she would relinquish its care to another.

Those thoughts were given as little consideration as possible, lest she find her heart as ravaged as her maidenhead would be once her deal with the Dark One was satisfied.

"Have you ever been to a ball, love?"

Emma's eyes snapped open at the sound of Killian's voice, and she found him casually leaning against the trunk of one of the tall pines, heavily carpeted in a shimmering white that contrasted with his all black attire.

"Uh… let me think," she replied with a dose of sass, causing his brow and the corner of his lips to rise in amused tandem. "Poor country girl, raised all her life on her family's farm… that would be a no."

"Well, then tonight is your lucky night," he declared with a flourish, pushing himself away from the tree and swaggering towards her. "It so happens my presence is required at a royal affair this evening, and I thought you might wish to accompany me."

Emma shook her head, angrily, as a snorting scoff escaped her. Killian's eyes narrowed and his brows pinched together before he maddeningly stated, "You seem vexed?"

"Why would I be vexed?" she countered, not even attempting to keep her growing ire from clipping along each syllable she spoke. "You ignore me for three days, then appear out of thin air asking me to a ball? No consideration of how your absence might have affected me, or an explanation of what you've been up to?"

His expression sobered, his demeanor bordering on contrite as he confessed, "I've been thinking."

"Well, I hope you didn't hurt yourself," she sniped, standing with the intent of striding past him without so much as a by your leave.

Before she could get too far, his hand wrapped around her arm and he pulled her into his chest. His arms wrapped around her, pinning her own arms to her side as he smiled down at her with a teasing smirk. "Quite feisty today, aren't we? I rather like it," he purred, while the tip of his nose outlined the shell of her ear, sending an involuntary shudder over the length of her body.

She wouldn't allow him to spin his usual spell of seduction over her, though. Placing her hands firmly against his chest, she wrestled out of his embrace and stepped away. "Be serious, Killian," she admonished, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think I deserve an explanation, and I am not accompanying you anywhere until I get it."

A flicker of menace passed over his features, but he cast it away with a sharp snap of his head before returning his attention to her. As quickly as it had materialized, the sinister swirl within his eyes and sneering scowl pulling at his upper lip vanished, leaving no trace of the Darkness in Killian's expression or countenance as he gave her a deferential and penitent bow of his head.

"Aye, Swan," he murmured softly, "you do."

Gesturing to the bench she had been seated upon a moment ago, he invited her to join him, whisking away the snow that had collected there with a wave of his hand. Emma was stunned to find the action had also taken away the biting chill of the stone when she resumed her seat, finding its surface to be a pleasant temperature against her posterior as the warmth of Killian's own natural body heat kept her feeling cozy at his side.

"I've been thinking quite a bit about what you told me," he began with a strained tone which seemed to want to inhibit his words. He was most likely unaccustomed to explaining himself to anyone; out of practice without the consistent company of others for so many years and having not been obligated to do so while commanding a ship full of men as their indubitable captain. To say nothing of the Darkness' penchant towards secrecy.

"About what Smee said to you," he continued on. "He was right. Sometimes the Darkness does get the better of me, and I hadn't realized how present it had become until that day at the docks."

"Because it drove you to kill that man?"

Killian's jaw tightened and a flicker of fury that had nothing to do with his cursed nature flashed behind his eyes. "No," he stated in an ominously, hushed tone. "That was all my doing. The Darkness did not prompt me to bury my hook in his neck. My need to protect you did." That revelation released some of the tension that had been underpinning his words, but it was replaced with a tinge of self-deprecation. "Do not forget, darling. I will always be a pirate, and we do not take kindly to others trifling with what is ours." Another self-castigating expression pinched at his features, and a heavy sigh fell from his lips. "Which is another matter I spent a great deal of time thinking over."

Emma held her tongue, and the query poised upon it, granting him a moment to solidify his resolve. Flecks of snow fluttered around them, landing upon the riotous strands of his hair where they glistened for a moment before succumbing to his heat. Emma shivered against their icy caress as they collected at the edge of her hood and scooted closer to him, placing a hand on his knee as an added bit of encouragement.

"I do not want you to feel like my prisoner," he told her, his eyes looking back towards the castle. "I allowed myself to believe that because you have the power to leave the castle whenever you want, that meant I was not your warden, but… I cannot deny the proprietary feelings I have towards you, nor will I disregard your own testimony." His eyes met hers, clear with a sincerity that matched the look she'd seen in them the night of their shared bath when he'd professed to having been a man of honor once. "You're right, Swan. You are trapped here for the duration of our deal, because I know you would rather give up your own life than see your father lose his." He paused, weighing his words before speaking again. "And while I have been focusing my intentions towards the activities that might bring about the conception of our deal's end, I realized when you told that falsehood to your father that my end game of wooing you into my bed does not mean the final goal will have been reached."

He placed his hand over the top of hers and squeezed it gently. "When you finally do decide to honor our deal, it may take many months before you are with child, and then another nine before the babe is born. That is a long time to spend in melancholy, and as much as it is up to me, I do not wish to add any more misery to your circumstances."

Emma sat stunned at his acknowledgement and admission, and her heart swelled at the evidence his words seemed to present. Evidence that he might be starting to care about her in ways beyond that of what their deal would grant him.

"So," she replied, gingerly, not wishing to disturb the fragile intimacy of the moment. "You wish to take me to a royal ball because you think it would… make me happy?"

A slightly guilty expression crossed over his face as he admitted, "Well, as I said, my presence is required, but… yes." His hand moved up to her cheek and he brushed the back of his knuckles along her cheek. "Before the outing became unpleasant, I rather enjoyed seeing you so full of life and excitement on the docks." His thumb grazed across her lips before settling in the dimple at her chin with his fingers tucked beneath. "I want to see that smile light up your face once more. I want to know it was something I did that put it there." His head tilted forward, bringing his lips closer to hers as his eyes sparkled with a soft glimmer of seduction. "So, what do you say, Swan? Fancy playing princess for an evening?"

Emma's eyes fell to the plumpness of his lips, moist and pink from where his tongue had just run over them before pressing itself to the back of his teeth in anticipation of her response.

"I have nothing to wear," she said, stupidly, drawing a light chuckle from him.

"I believe I can remedy that," he assured her before closing the space between them and claiming her mouth.

~/~

The bright melody of a string quartet made its way down the long corridor that led to the bustling ballroom within the foreign castle. After presenting an invitation to the Steward, they had been granted entry and were now being escorted by the welcoming glow of torchlight that led to the vividly illuminated doorway where the tinkling sounds of laughter and merriment harmonized with the lively notes of whatever piece of music the strings were bringing to life.

Emma never would have imagined the excitement currently vibrating through her. She'd always scoffed and rolled her eyes at the way other young women from her village had fawned over the idea of a ball, never really understanding what the big deal was; a sentiment she'd shared with Killian before they'd departed his own castle that evening.

"I don't see what the big deal is," she said from behind the privacy screen where a young woman, hired from the village, was assisting Emma with her gown. Killian had entered her room just moments earlier, inquiring if she were ready and regaling her with all the details of the evening she had to look forward to. Details that had the young woman, Ashley, sighing and swooning covetously as she secured Emma within her corset.

"You'll understand once we arrive," he assured her. "Are you sure you don't need an extra hand back there, love?"

Emma let out a very unlady like snort at the salacious tone that accompanied his offer. "If we let you help, I'm more likely to end up out of this gown rather than corseted in it."

A scandalized sound gasped from Ashley's lungs and her cheeks flamed with shocked innocence. Her reaction prompted Emma's own cheeks to heat up, her lack of propriety most likely coloring her face to match that of the exquisite gown Killian had procured for her.

Muttering an apology to the poor girl, Emma took in as deep of a breath as she could before making her way around the edge of the screen. Killian's awed expression took that breath right out of her lungs, as did his appearance. Per usual, he was adorned in butter soft, tight leather pants and a gossamer like blouse of smoke, but this time his waistcoat was fashioned out of red leather as well, and his great coat was made of quilted black leather with deep red piping. His hair was only slightly less riotous than usual, and the fresh kohl he'd applied to his eyes made their forget-me-not hue sparkle as they raked over her.

"You look stunning, Swan," he praised on a hushed breath when his gaze finally met hers.

"You look…"

"I know," he quipped cheekily with a wink when words failed her.

Emma rolled her eyes at his vanity and turned to thank Ashley once again for all her assistance. While Killian deposited a small bag of coin in the young woman's palm before instructing her to follow the wall sconces back to the foyer and exit beyond, Emma took an opportunity to view herself in the standing mirror.

She had to give Ashley credit, she'd done a fantastic job artfully working her tresses into a stylish updo while keeping her face looking natural under the applications she'd applied. Reverently, Emma ran her hands over the red satin gown hugging each curve of her body like a second skin. Never in her life had she been dressed in such finery, and it was easy to feel like a princess while draped in such a rich fabric, embellished with intricate beading that framed her cleavage in a way Killian couldn't seem to pry his eyes from.

"You are almost perfect, love," he murmured softly behind her shoulder.

Emma quirked a brow at him in the mirror. "Almost?"

A rakish grin overtook his lips and he raised his hook. "I think you'll find that this," a swirl of red wisped around his hook, leaving a breathtaking necklace swinging from its crook, "is the finishing touch you currently lack."

Emma stood, mouth gaping, as he draped the obscenely large ruby, encased in a filigree of silver, over her chest and clasped it behind her neck.

"Killian," she exhaled. "I… I can't accept this. It's… it's too much."

"Nonsense," he soothed. "I thought of you the moment I saw it. It belongs on a neck such as yours. Besides, such grandeur will be expected if we are to play our parts tonight."

Emma pushed past the urge to preen at his words and instead focused on the last of his statement. "What part are we playing?"

"All in due time," he deflected, turning her around so he could pull her into his chest. "Shall we?"

Emma didn't know where to focus her attention first. The sights and sounds of the ballroom were an exquisite barrage to her senses, from the elegant couples dancing and mingling throughout, to the way the orchestral delights filled the empty spaces, reaching all the way up to the ceiling which glistened with grand chandeliers. Silver trays arranged with sparkling crystal flutes of bubbling champagne criss-crossed before her as other trays laden with lavish canapes passed by. Rooted to a spot at the fringe of such extravagance, Emma was only slightly aware that her mouth hung open while she took in the grandeur before her.

"You were saying?" Killian chuckled in her ear, teasing her about the scoffing comments she'd made earlier.

Panic began to set in as Killian prompted them to make their way further into the throng.

"What am I supposed to do?" she hissed at him under her breath.

"Blend in," he said, and her heart rate jumped at the realization he was leading them towards the dance floor.

"Wait," she protested, attempting to dig in her heels. "I can't. I don't know how. I don't even know what dance this is."

Killian's hand skimmed across her back as he took his place in front of her. "It's called a waltz," he informed her while placing her hand at his shoulder. "And like any other enjoyable activity of a physical nature two people might engage in together," he purred seductively, wrapping her other hand around the wooden one he'd replaced his hook with for the evening. "There's only one rule." Securing her in his arms, his eyes flicked back to hers and a soft smile graced his lips. "Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."

Emma no longer feared making a fool of herself amongst the spinning couples she soon found herself surrounded by. There was a far greater danger she might drown in the look Killian gave her as he guided her around the room with her feet scarcely even touching the floor.

She had no idea how many hours they'd spent circling the dance floor in each other's arm, or how many glasses of champagne and moments of laughter they'd shared together before his disposition changed. She did, however, know the exact moment his mood soured.

"My Lords and Ladies!" the Royal Steward announced, gathering everyone's attention to the raised dias. "It is with great pride that Her Majesty Queen Zoe and Her Prince Consort presents to you this day, their son and heir, His Royal Highness Prince Anchurus!"

A cheer went up from the crowd, as well as cries wishing a long life and prosperity for the babe swaddled in his mother's arms. Toasts were offered with more trays of wine and champagne flooding the ballroom, and Emma accepted another glass after Killian plucked a fresh libation for each of them. She feared the delicate glass would fracture from the way Killian gripped it, draining its contents and slamming it down on a passing try before skulking off through the crowd.

Emma finally found him on one of the many balconies, thoroughly agitated. For a moment, she considered leaving him to his contemplations, but fearing who might be in control at the moment, she chose instead to confront him as to the reason they were there in the first place.

"You said your presence was required here tonight," she reminded softly, joining him at the railing and propping her forearms next to his along its edge. "Why are we here, Killian? What business do you have and what does it have to do with the royal family?"

The muscle above his jaw flickered as he peered out into the black of the night, seeming to have not even noticed her presence as he continued to brood.

"Other than yours and Smee's, I have never made a deal with anyone," he finally spoke. "But that does not mean I haven't had to collect on the ones my predecessors made. Ones that had not been fulfilled before their demise."

"They don't die with the Dark One?"

Killian shook his head. "The deals are tied to the Darkness. That's whose magic is used to bind them, so each Dark One is compelled to uphold them whether they were the original dealer or not."

"So…" Emma speculated. "We're here because someone made a deal with the previous Dark One?"

"Aye," he replied in an agitated and pained tone. "And it falls to me to see it through to the end."

Though she wasn't sure she wanted to know, Emma knew she had to ask, "What was the deal?" Her lungs began to protest against the breath she was holding before Killian finally answered.

"Long ago, this kingdom's sovereign was cursed with a malady. Everything he touched turned to gold."

"That doesn't sound so terrible."

"Everything, Swan," he clipped out sharply, causing her to flinch. "Whether by purposeful action or accident, any graze of his flesh, whether it be off his hand, or knee, or mouth, would turn whatever he'd touch to gold. He could not hold his daughter, or make love to his wife. Unless gloved, he could not even pet the royal hounds. No direct contact with anyone or anything. Ever."

Emma swallowed the lump of compassion she felt for the poor king and his family, and hoped her expression and acknowledging gesture of her head conveyed to Killian that his point was well taken.

"The king believed he could shoulder the burden, and life went on," Killian continued. "His only child married and gave birth to a son. When the child was no longer tethered to its mother, a horrible truth was revealed as the midwife - the first to touch the child after its cord was cut - turned to gold. The curse, you see, is generational. Passing only to the males within the line."

"How terrible!" Emma gasped. "How could a mere infant survive such a thing?"

"The babe could be handled, so long as its carers took proper precautions, but he could not nurse from his mother's breast, and all methods to nourish the child were failing. Desperate, they sought out Rumpelstiltskin, begging for his help."

"They hoped he could cure the child? That he might have known of a way to break the curse?"

"Aye," Killian replied in a strained tone.

Emma noted the warring demeanor that seemed to be ravaging the current Dark One at present, and for the first time she wondered… How did Killian know all of this? Were these his recollections being shared, or was the tale being conveyed to her by the Darkness itself?

"Rumple told them that while he could not break the curse, he could transfer it to another for a time. He agreed to take the curse upon himself for seven generations, so long as he could keep the spoils."

"Wait," Emma said, casting aside her suspicions for the moment. "If the deals carry over, then why doesn't your touch turn things to gold?"

"Because of the nature of what we are," he answered with a foreign gleam glittering within his eyes, sending a shiver running up Emma's spine. "Rumple was able to manipulate the curse so it only manifested when he was at his spinning wheel."

"Spinning straw into gold," Emma supplied, remembering that detail from tales she had been told from a young age.

"The deal was to last for seven generations, with the first male born after that taking the curse back onto themselves."

Emma's head snapped back to his, her eyes wide with shock and her heart clenching with dread. "That's why you're here? To curse that infant?"

"Do you think I want to be here?" Killian snarled, and despite his malevolent tone Emma was relieved to find him clawing his way back to the forefront once more. "Do you think I want to smite an innocent child with a terrible affliction? I have no choice."

"Yes, you do," she argued, taking hold of his hand. "Just… don't give it back. Keep spinning straw into gold, or put the curse on a goose so it lays golden eggs! I don't care what you do with it, but you can't put it back on that child."

"You don't get it, Swan," he clipped out, forcefully snatching his hand away as rage continued to contort his features. "There is a reason no one breaks a deal with the Dark One, it's because the consequences are always more severe and terrible than the original plight."

His eyes fell shut and a shudder rolled over him as he fought back against the siege upon his soul. When his eyes opened they were clear and inhabited by him alone, proof that he had been successful in driving the Darkness back to the dredges.

"Trust me," he murmured. "I witnessed enough carnage refusing to honor deals I found distasteful after I was first cursed with the Darkness. The same consequences apply even if it is the Dark One who chooses to break the deal, and if I break this one… countless amounts of people could suffer. I have to honor the deal."

With fresh resolve besetting his brow, Killian began to stalk back towards the ballroom. Before he made it off the balcony, Emma caught his arm and turned him back towards her.

"Then make a new deal."

"What?"

"Make a new deal," she demanded. "Or renew this one. You can do that, can't you?" His brows became pinched and his lips parted as he took in her words. "Make a new deal that will spare this family for another seven generations, and if you're still the Dark One when the time is up, then make another one." When he still made no effort to agree, Emma, becoming desperate, and with little thought of the consequences, offered, "Make a new deal, and I promise to honor ours this very ni-"

"Don't," he growled, his hand shooting up to cover her mouth. "Do not make such an offer." His eyes became pained, an expression of longing and desire swirling within their blue depths as he whispered, "You are already indebted to me, Swan. Do not make it worse for yourself. For either of us."

His fingertips lightly caressed her lips as he removed his hand and Emma could feel the yearning grow tangible between them. The urge to entice him to stay upon the balcony so she could distract him from one deal by making good on another nearly overwhelmed her, compelling her to flick out her tongue so it grazed the calloused pad of his thumb. His eyes darkened and he pressed his thumb against her lips, forcing it past her teeth until it slipped into the heat of her mouth. Another shudder rippled over him when she wrapped her lips around the digit, pulling it further into her mouth until a groan reverberated from deep within his chest.

Her own chest heaved as he slowly withdrew his thumb, his fingers brushing the side of her face before slowly gliding down her throat, tracing the lines of the necklace he'd gifted her. His hand came to rest over her breast, palming it with a firm grasp before his mouth took hold of hers and Emma wrapped her arms around his neck in victory. Surely he would simply whisk them back to his castle now, where he could concentrate his efforts on their deal rather than the one his predecessor had left him with.

Not willing to take any chances with the fate of an infant hanging in the balance, Emma slid her hand down Killian's chest to the front of his tented leather trousers and cupped the bulge she found there. The sound he made shot straight to her core, but so too did his hand over the top of her wrist, stilling her actions as he broke off the kiss. The set of his jaw, pulsing beneath the sharp edge of his beard, told Emma he'd become wise to her scheme. Fearing what she might find, she had to muster the courage to look up into his eyes. They were burning with a mixture of emotions, his midnight gaze aflame with both desire and anger, swirling with a duality of disappointment and awed astonishment. Of all the things his eyes imparted, it was the wounded expression of deep vulnerability that tore at her the most.

"Not like this," he exhaled mournfully. "I do not want…" His Adam's apple bobbed and his jaw clenched once more before he stepped away and again uttered, "Not like this," before turning and making his way back into the ballroom with purpose filled strides.

"Your Majesties! My Lords and Ladies!" Emma heard him call out as soon as he'd cleared the throng. "Allow me to introduce myself. Killian Jones, at your service." Pushing her way through the gathered crowd, Emma made it to the edge of the empty - save for him - dance floor in time to see him give a mocking bow. Gone was the vulnerability he'd shown her on the balcony. Instead the brash and insolent pirate was taking center stage, ready to give tonight's attendees a show they would not soon forget. "Or perhaps you lot might know me by my more colorful moniker… the Dark One."

Gasps echoed throughout the ballroom and a wide grin stretched over Killian's face at the response.

"What are you doing here, beast?" The Prince Consort demanded, stepping forward to shield the Queen and his son.

A hard tsk broke across Killian's tongue. "Is that anyway to treat one's guests? Especially one who has come to bestow a gift upon your progeny?"

"What sort of gift?" the Queen questioned from the dias. While her tone and posture continued to convey a regal confidence, Emma could see the worry beginning to manifest in the way she fidgeted with her child, holding him closer to her and wrapping his blanket more firmly around him.

"Well, not a gift so much really. More of a birthright," Killian carried on as though giving an exhibition of spectacle to satiate the ennui of the masses. "One that has been withheld from you for… how long has been now? Ah, yes." He paused and fixed his eyes upon the Royals with a pointed look that matched the inflection of his tone. "Seven generations."

More gasps filled the ballroom as the attendees began to understand the implication of the Dark One's words.

"That's impossible," the Prince declared, his face draining of all color. "That deal was made with Rumplestilskin, not you. You have no right."

"And yet" Killian snapped his wrist in a downward motion and a scroll appeared in his hand, unfurling across the floor until the end of it hit the bottom step of the platform. "This contract says otherwise," he contended.

The Queen and Prince Consort eye's trailed over the document and each blanched when they came to signatures at the bottom of the scroll. Signatures, though Emma could not see them from her vantage point, most assuredly included Killian's, his name having replaced Rumplestiltskin's on the Darkness' behalf.

Flicking his wrist sharply back, the contract receded until tightly wound once more. Pocketing the document, Killian began making his way to the platform. "So, let's have him. Bring me the little knipper, so I might bestow this blessing upon him."

"No!" his mother cried out when Killian stepped up on the dais. "No, please! There must be something… something we can do. Please!"

Killian stopped, and Emma held her breath, imploring him silently from across the room to do as she had suggested. Hoping against hope that he would offer to make them a deal, even as guilt over encouraging him to do the thing he clearly despised doing sat heavily upon her chest, threatening to crush the erratic beat of her heart.

Dramatically, Killian flicked up his hand, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Actually. Now that you mention it. I might be inclined to renew our deal if…"

"If what? Please, we'll do anything!"

Killian rolled his eyes in disgust and let go a heavy sigh. "I despise when you lot say that," he grumbled under his breath.

Emma was reminded of this same reaction when she had been the one to plead with him in the glen, further intensifying her feelings of guilt. Feelings that were quickly bridled by relief, and the convictions of her belief that all would be worth it so long as the child was spared.

"I'll keep the curse for another seven generations, if I can change the terms of its use," Killian stated, drawing confused looks from the Queen and Prince Consort. "You see, I have never been keen on spinning, so the skill of turning straw into gold does not really appeal to me. However, I was reminded this evening of a story from my childhood." Killian cast a quick glance over his shoulder and caught Emma's eye. A cheeky smirk lifted the corner of his lips as a wink in her direction caused all eyes to land upon her before returning their attentions back to the spectacle, with a fresh rumble of murmurs rolling through the crowd.

"Perhaps you've heard it," Killian continued, pacing the length of the platform and putting on a show worthy of the pomp and circumstance of the evening. "It's about a boy, a beanstalk, and a giant who has in his possession a goose… A goose that can lay golden eggs. As a lad, I always thought Jack was one lucky git for acquiring such a marvel, so I think…" pausing yet again in both speech and pacing, Killian swiveled on his feet and faced the royal couple. "Yes. Your family shall be free of the curse for a further seven generations, so long as I can change the contract to stipulate my preference for how the curse is utilized during that time, and keep all the gold it supplies." Snapping his fingers, a new scroll appeared in his hand, and once taken by the Royal Steward, a feather quill materialized as well. Twirling the plumage between his fingers, Killian presented it to the Queen and asked, "Do we have a deal?"

Handing her son over to his father, the Queen plucked the quill from Killian's hand then penned her name to the bottom of the scroll once the Steward completed his perusal of the document.

"There," the Queen clipped, haughtily, "You have your deal, demon. Now begone."

"With pleasure," Killian replied, snidely, tucking the scroll away and turning on his heel without a backwards glance to the royal couple. His course was purposeful as his strides led him across the dance floor, and the swell around Emma receded as he approached.

"Shall we depart, my darling?" he said, taking her hand and not waiting for her acquiescence before pulling her towards the exit. Emma wondered why he did not simply magic them away, and once they were clear of any eavesdropping ears, she voiced that very question.

"The castle is warded against magical arrivals and departures," he informed her in a detached sort of way.

She probably ought to allow him the comfort of her silence, but couldn't help the next inquiry that slipped off her tongue. "Why did you make them sign a contract? I didn't sign one. Did Smee?"

"Contracts were Rumplestiltskin's preference," he muttered darkly. "A verbal agreement with the Dark One is as binding as a written one, but Rumple enjoyed the flare as well as the tangible evidence of power so many scrolls stacked upon one another gave his dealings. Seeing as I had the original contract that was drawn up between him and Midas, it seemed fitting to keep to that legacy."

"Killian…" Emma began hesitantly when the front steps of the castle became visible. "About earlier. On the balcony. I-"

"There's no need to explain, Swan," he cut her off sharply. Clear of the stone and mortar, they must have reached the edge of the magical barrier, for no sooner had the night breeze hit her skin than Killian was pulling her into his chest, calling upon the crimson smoke that would transport them home. As it swirled around them, whooshing its gale force sounds against her ears, Emma heard Killian's hard yet wounded tone as he said, "Nor is there need to discuss the matter of this evening, any part of this evening, further."

When the crimson plumes cleared, Emma found herself in her bedroom. Alone.

~/~

The gnawing at her insides made sleep impossible, and after God knows how many hours, Emma couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't leave things the way they were between them. She needed to explain her motives, apologize for putting him in the position of making another deal, even as she felt compelled to thank him for doing so, and finally have it out with him as why - when he clearly hated doing so - he had ever made one with her in the first place.

Throwing back the covers, she left what should have been the warm comfort of her bed and grabbed the dressing gown she'd left lying over the back of a chair. Tying the belt of the robe firmly around her waist, she wrenched open her chamber door and found herself at a sudden loss.

She had no idea where Killian's chambers were, she realized.

Though she had explored the castle numerous times, none of the bedrooms or suites she'd come across had ever given her a clear indication as to his inhabitancy. Not to be deterred, Emma squared her shoulders and marched down the length of the hallway until she reached the intersection of three others. Knowing she could spend the rest of the night aimlessly searching for the man, Emma contemplated her next course thoughtfully.

"Where are you, Killian?" she murmured under her breath, and a soft glow to her left began to illuminate one of the hallways.

The wall sconces flickered to life, guiding her steps, until she came to a set of tall, heavy mahogany doors she could not remember ever coming across before. Firelight flickered from beneath the massive doors and Emma held her breath as she tested the ornate knob, releasing the pressure in her lungs when the latch gave way, allowing her entrance.

Killian stood beside an imposing fireplace, a dark amber liquid swirling within the glass tightly gripped within his hand as his gaze was lost in the dance of the flames, the glimmer of the blaze illuminating his profile with an otherworldly glow.

"Killian?" she addressed softly, padding her way towards the fireplace.

"You should be in bed, love," he stated hollowly before taking a large swallow of his drink, making his Adam's apple leap within his throat. "What has you traipsing about the castle at all hours of the night?"

"I…" she began on a hoarse breath. The rage infused atmosphere, tinted with a palette of self-loathing made her mouth feel parched and caused a quivering of anxiety to erupt within her chest. "I wanted to thank you, Killian," she continued. "For doing what you did for that family. For that child."

"It was the right thing to do," he replied, his attention still fixed on the consuming heat of the fire as it ravaged its way through the dry, brittle logs. "Even if it does only postpone the inevitable. Makes the curse someone else's problem to contend with later on down the line. Someone who hasn't even been born yet. Who will have no idea the horror that awaits them because of someone else's actions."

"I'm sorry I forced you to make another deal," she said in a hushed and shame-filled tone. "And I'm sorry I tried to use our deal to sway-"

"What must I do?" he demanded in a tone of imploring, his gaze now set upon her and filled with a desperate pleading that his countenance seemed to want to snuff out.

"What do you mean?"

"What must I do in order for you to truly want me," he clarified. "To want to honor our deal and let me… let me have you."

He set his drink upon the mantle as she approached, turning to face her fully and Emma noted the state of his undress. Gone was his great coat and his boots. His red leather waistcoat hung open, the fastenings long since undone along with many of the blouse buttons beneath it.

"Do you remember what you told me the day I arrived?" she asked, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek and smiling softly at the way he nuzzled his face into her palm. "That when you won my consent it wouldn't be for any reason other than me wanting you? Well… that's what I want, too," she confessed on a hushed exhale. "I don't want you to take me to your bed just because I'm willing, or just to satisfy our deal. I want it to be because you want me."

His eyes flashed with something bordering on incredulity tinted with hope. "I do want you, Swan," he breathed. "I want you. I want so much with you. I want…" Pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes kept hold of hers as he imparted with a hint of contrition, "There are other ways of obtaining myself a child, but I… I only wanted one with you. I wanted - want - you."

"If…" Emma began, only to stop herself and affirm, "Before we go through with this, I must know what your intentions are towards the child." His face twisted in that telltale way whenever he tried to hold back the Darkness from overtaking him. "Killian, please. Tell me what you want the child for."

His eyes fell shut, the battle still evident on his features as he choked out, "For love."

"What?"

"I want… need a child, so I can have someone to love," he said, eyes fluttering open and free of any sinister spectre lingering in their corners. "Someone who will love me. Unconditionally. … Truly."

"True Love," Emma exhaled in understanding. "Someone with whom you might share a True Love's Kiss? Am I right?"

"The rarest and most powerful magic of all," he replied with a hope-filled tone. "Strong enough to transcend realms and break any curse."

Emma felt the breath still in her lungs and her heart skipped several beats. He wanted a child so he might be freed from his curse. Not for any nefarious or despicable reasons that might sate dark and sinister purposes. He wanted a child for love. And more than that… he wanted that child with her.

He wanted her.

Wetting her lips, Emma slipped her hands over Killian's shoulders, forcing his waistcoat down his arms until it hit the floor with a soft thud. Looking up at him through her lashes, with her heart now pounding away within her chest, Emma said. "It's been nearly a fortnight since I last bled."

Lifting his forehead from hers, Killian cocked his head to one side and looked down on her with an inquisitively raised brow. "What are you saying, love?"

"I'm saying," Emma replied, bringing herself up onto her toes so her mouth hovered against his. "Let's make a baby, Killian."