Killian stands stock still in the middle of his cabin, his eyes trained on the long, black coat hanging on the peg next to the door. It hasn't moved from that spot since Emma hung it there the first night he spent sleeping in his cabin again. With her. He'd looked at it the next morning but the thought of putting it on had made his stomach twist. He didn't want to be Captain Hook anymore, and he didn't want to wear something that would remind Emma of the thing she so clearly despised. So he'd left it there, justifying it in his mind that Captain Hook wouldn't wear a damaged coat, anyway. But now, well… Now he'll need to be Captain Hook again. He's going to have to put that coat on tomorrow for their visit to Portsmouth.
From the corner of his eye, he can see his reflection in the mirror situated to his right and looks over to it, taking in the white shirt he's currently wearing. Killian Jones, the man who was at one time worthy of the love of a princess reflects back at him, that is until he shifts and his left han – his hook comes into view. Drawing a deep breath, he moves the metal appendage behind his back and straightens his shoulders to full attention.
But hiding the truth doesn't change it. It's more than the hook and the coat that have made him a different man and even with both out of sight, he can still see the changes as plain as day. He's not a naval lieutenant, not anymore. His eyes are harder, his forehead riddled with lines left behind by years of scowling, and even his jaw looks sharper now even though he's not sure why.
Relaxing his shoulders, he lets his left arm fall back to his side, the metal catching the sunlight filtering through the window. Captain Hook, a pirate motivated by anger and vengeance with no room in his heart for love. And Killian Jones, a naval officer motivated by honor and loyalty with the love of a princess. Two sides of himself that he can't reconcile, two pieces of a puzzle that don't fit together.
It's been heaven these past few days, being Killian Jones again, being with Emma and remembering who he used to be. But tomorrow… Tomorrow he'll have to be Captain Hook, the man who makes no apologies and strikes terror into everyone he encounters. And Emma will be there, she'll witness first-hand the way people look at him, the awe and fear his presence incites. She'll be reminded that he's not the same naval officer she fell in love with…
And, perhaps more importantly, so will he.
He should have thought this through some more. He'd been caught up in her declaration about wanting to protect him so desperate to believe that they could truly be a team again. But Captain Hook is not a teammate worthy of a princess.
"There you are!" Emma says, interrupting his thoughts when she breezes in through the door. "I was wondering where you got off to. Grace is excited to show you how many commands for the Jolly she's learned from Jeff. You should come up and… What's wrong?"
His stomach plummets. Of course, she'd notice his mood. No matter how hard he tries to hide it, she can read him like a book. Still, he tries to play it off, forcing a brittle smile, "Just a little worn out, love. Dopey's fencing skills are developing very quickly and he and I had a full-on duel earlier. I needed to clean up a bit after."
"Nuh uh, that's not it," she replies and dammit, she knows him too well.
"I just came down to change shirts, darling. The other was drenched."
Crossing her arms over her chest, she shifts her weight to one side, vague disbelief on her face. "You're holding something back," she says, a trace of astonishment in her voice.
"I…" his eyes involuntarily flick to the coat and she catches it, her smile turning amused.
"Is it the coat? What? You don't want people to see the slice on the arm?" she asks, completely misunderstanding. "We can fix it, you know. One swipe of my hand and…"
"It's not about the rip, Emma."
She stops in mid-step, already having started toward the coat and raising her hand, and this time when she looks at him, she sees it.
She sees everything.
"No, it's not, is it?" she asks slowly.
He meets her gaze steadily, watching the emotions playing across her face. He wants to look away but forces himself not to, not this time. Worthy of her or no, he made a promise that they were a team and he won't break it – not for this or any other reason.
She considers him for quite some time before she finally speaks. "You don't want to be Captain Hook anymore. That's why you've been shedding the black leather over the past few days."
When he doesn't reply, she takes it further, "Or is it that you don't want me to see you as Captain Hook?"
"A little of both," he admits.
She steps closer to him, her arms crossing lightly over her chest. "Because you see Captain Hook as a villain."
The way she says it makes him pause, the slight emphasis she puts on the word 'you' confusing him.
Everyone thinks of Captain Hook as a villain. He's done unspeakable things. Destroyed untold numbers of families. He's killed indiscriminately, stolen from men just because they had the gall to do business with the Evil Queen, all the while convincing himself it was justified because of his own thirst for vengeance. The reaction she had when she realized he was Captain Hook was completely warranted, no matter what he told himself at the time. He deserved that distrust, he deserved her anger and accusations. He deserved much worse, in fact.
"I'm sorry," she says, drawing him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?"
"I made a mistake the day I woke up – a terrible mistake. I should have trusted you. I should have thought about what I was saying before I said it. I hurt you and I'm sorry and I'll never be able to take that back."
He falters on his feet, sucking in a breath at the fact that her thoughts are so close to his. "It's alright, love – "
"No, it's not," she interjects. "If I hadn't reacted so badly, you wouldn't be torturing yourself like this. It was my reaction that day that made you start questioning yourself. Captain Hook may have done some terrible things but that was a long time ago. Whatever is in that chest… It happened before Grace was born, right? Maybe even before Jeff met Patricia? And you had started to forgive yourself until I showed up and…" she trails off to draw a deep breath in through her nose. "Look, whatever you did, you're not that person anymore. And you haven't been for a long time. I know you haven't. No matter how hard you've been trying to hide it from me."
"What are you…?"
"I know, Killian. I know what you've been doing the past few years. I've known since that black knight called Jefferson 'The Hatter.'"
Killian feels his eyes widen but he doesn't have time to respond before she continues, answering the question on the tip of his tongue.
"The Hatter is well-known, even in Arendelle. And those 'contacts' Jeff mentioned yesterday… they obviously work for him, spies and distributors and the like. They're part of his network. Of your network. You steal from Regina and you hand it over to Jeff to distribute."
He's utterly aghast, his heart thudding heavily into his ribs which is why he can't get his tongue to form a reply. She doesn't even sound angry that he's been keeping this from her. If anything, she sounds apologetic which makes no sense since he's the one who should be falling to his knees and begging her forgiveness.
"Everything in this room was stolen from her, wasn't it?"
Her gaze is set dead on him, almost compelling him to answer. "Either directly from her or from her suppliers," he admits slowly, dropping his eyes to the floor.
Her fingers guide his chin so that he's forced to look at her again. "And you would have told me all of this that day I woke up if I hadn't reacted the way I had."
His first instinct is to deny it but she sounds so sure of herself that it makes him pause, taking a minute to think it over. Inadvertently, his eyes go to the bed, imagining that moment when she'd stumbled and he'd caught her, the relief he'd felt at having her awake, the joy of holding her in his arms again, the warm glow that was shattered the moment her eyes had hardened and she'd backed out of his embrace.
Would he have told her back then? If she'd accepted him immediately, would he have confessed everything to her that first night?
The answer to that is easy – and it also rocks him to the core: Yes, he would have.
He would have because while he wasn't proud of everything he'd done, he wasn't so filled with self-loathing then that he would have kept it from her. He'd worked hard to make up for his mistakes. After that merchant ship disappeared beneath the unforgiving black waves of the sea, he'd been desperate to find some way to make up for it. And the night Jeff met Patricia had been like a gift.
She'd approached them at the pub, so thin that the dress she wore had been sagging, but she'd shone no fear and Jefferson had taken to her immediately. After an hour in her company and hearing the news of her village, the decision had been easy and he'd gathered his entire crew to unload the hold and give it all to the town. And those people had been so grateful. They'd been so welcoming. And they'd been thrilled to see them every time they returned while Jeff courted Patricia. In fact, most of them were now working for Jeff. He'd seen them several times over the years and they always gave him a secret look of appreciation, careful not to let anyone else suspect that they knew him and who he really was. And with each of those smiles, bits of himself had returned, little crumbs of forgiveness that had started to knit his soul back together… that is until Emma had looked at him with revulsion.
He hadn't even realized it. He hadn't realized just how much her initial reaction had affected him.
But she's right.
"I'm sorry," she says again and he'd swear she's reading his thoughts. "I don't have a good excuse. I… All I can say is that the 'encounters' I'd had with pirates weren't… good ones. I was naïve and a bit overprotected and when pirates came into The Gold Mine, they… Well, they weren't gentlemen."
His breath catches, images of grimy hands making unwanted advances hazing over his vision. He should have thought of that. He should have realized the type of interactions she would have had with pirates. She's a beautiful woman and she would have attracted a lot of attention. He's seen women with not half her beauty being groped by his rivals and the thought that she endured that type of disgusting, demeaning – A flash of fury like nothing he's ever felt washes over him but…
But he yanks it into check because now is not the time for temper – later, later he'll find out who it was and castrate the son of a bitch – but now… now he's got to stay calm. Right now, Emma is looking anxious and he has to let go of the fury to concentrate on the more important conversation they're having. And, while he knows she's not accusing him of anything, he wants to make it clear…
"I never did that, you know?" he says roughly, "I never touched a woman who – "
"I know. I wasn't implying…"
"I know you weren't." He gently takes her hand in his, linking their fingers together, "But I wanted you to hear it from me, just the same. The things I've done… None of them were… that."
She nods and casts a glance to the chest next to the bed, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. "You can tell me, Killian. I won't be angry."
He almost does, he almost says it, her hand in his giving him nearly all the courage he needs to confess it to her without fear, but… But they're in such a good place right now. They're learning to trust each other again. They're working together as a team and everyone is depending on them and he just can't risk it. Not yet.
"Not yet, love. I want to tell you. I do. But we'll be in Portsmouth tomorrow night and it's not a… welcoming place. It's…"
"You're afraid we'll need our magic and if you tell me, it won't work."
He nods in lieu of answering, his eyes falling away from hers.
"Hey, it's okay," she says, ducking her head down and lifting her hand to his cheek to direct his gaze back to hers. "You'll tell me when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere."
Relief floods him and he kisses the back of the hand he's holding. "Thank you, darling. It won't be much longer, I promise."
She hums and steps closer, bringing their foreheads together. "Whenever you're ready," she repeats, "And I think you're the one who deserves thanks, Captain. You and Jeff and Patricia. You helped my people when I couldn't and I'll never be able to repay you for that."
"Well," he says, the relief of having one more secret revealed leaving him a bit giddy, "Perhaps I can think of something…. A knightship, maybe? Or new sails for the Jolly once this is all over?"
She smiles and chuckles, "Both will be yours, if you want them."
"Or perhaps we could start with something a little more immediate," he croons, tilting his head so that his lips hover in front of hers.
"You know I'd be more than willing to do that anyway," she teases, the heat of her breath on his lips nearly distracting him from what he was going to say. In fact, he has to give himself a mental shake to stop himself from devouring those alluring lips right then.
"Good," he says, straightening, "Then let's get started. Captain Hook can't wear a damaged coat. He's got a reputation to protect and it doesn't include being anything less than impeccably dressed."
The sound of her laughter will always be his favorite thing in the world. "Fine," she replies, playfully poking him in the chest with her finger, "We wouldn't want to tarnish Captain Hook's reputation, now would we?"
She doesn't even look behind her, she simply gestures in the direction of his coat and the spark flashes through him, the hole mending in under a heartbeat.
Kissing the smile from her mouth, he pulls her into his arms, his heart soaring with happiness. And when he catches their reflection in the mirror and sees his hook resting at the small of her back, he thinks perhaps reconciling his two halves may be easier than he believed.
K&EK&EK&E
There's something disturbing permeating the air. The wizard can feel it in his bones the moment he materializes in the tower room. It's slinking across skin, its weight heavy on his chest. Each step closer to the sleeping queen makes it worse, the pressure increasing until his lungs fight for oxygen. About six inches from her form, there's a shimmering barrier and when his fingers touch it, energy races up his arm like a lightning bolt, pushing him back several steps and making him pant for breath.
Damn blood magic. Tricky stuff, that is.
Regina is more paranoid than he originally thought.
Planting his hands on his hips, he studies the room, the vaulted ceiling with what was once a stunning mosaic, now dull and chipped, the gothic windows whose broken stained glass now litters the floor, but most importantly, the line of drawers spanning across the back wall, each holding a beating heart. Slowly, he approaches again, pressing against the barrier once more, his eyes tracing the shimmer it radiates as it rounds the dais over the Snow White's sleeping form and the way it collapses in behind her only to stretch out again just enough to protect the wall of golden drawers.
She didn't bother protecting the entire tower – or even the whole room – only those things that needed to be protected. It's a taunt if he's ever seen one.
You can look, but you can't touch.
Taking a step back, he holds up his hands, light glowing from his palms as he chants an ancient incantation, then another… and another.
Dammit. Maybe if he had more time... But he doesn't.
Stepping forward again, he changes tactics, this time holding a single hand over the queen's forehead. It takes all his concentration and a great amount of effort but he chips away at the spell, pushing his consciousness through each barrier until he plunges into a flame filled room. After a quick search, he finds her, sitting dead center of the raging fires, her knees drawn to her chest and her forehead resting on them. It seems she's found the only safe spot in the room, flames licking to within inches of her toes but none able to reach her.
He wants to call out but without a full corporeal form he knows she won't hear him. He's not actually here, just invading for a short time. So instead, he floats over and stops in front of her. When he does, she casually lifts her head, her eyes closed and a gentle smile on her lips. Intrigued, he hovers lower, "What is it that brings you such peace even in this awful place, Your Majesty?" he muses quietly but, as he already knew, she doesn't hear him so no answer is forthcoming.
Curiosity has him raising a hand and waving it over the flames in front of him. They blink out and an image of King David fills his vision, his face slightly obscured by the smoke billowing in the air. He watches, entranced, as the scene plays out in her head, chuckling softly when he realizes just what it is he's witnessing.
"Excellent choice, my Queen. I've heard the story, of course, but seeing it through your eyes is much better. Sometimes the rockiest of starts make the best tales, don't you think? Your charming King never stood a chance at resisting the likes of you."
Another glance to Snow shows her smile widespread but it turns down quickly on a gasp as the image behind the smoke morphs into a picture of the Evil Queen stomping across a non-distinct hall and plunging her hand into Emma's chest.
"Now, now, Your Majesty, you know as well as I do that's not a memory, and we're going to do everything we can to make sure it doesn't come to that." But, again, she can't hear him, so he simply waves away the image and sends it flying into dust.
Snow's eyes open then and she looks around the room in surprise. "Is someone there?" she asks, looking right through him.
"I'm here," he replies, "but unfortunately, I have to go. There is still much to be done."
She's still searching in every direction when he retreats through the flames, his consciousness rushing back to his body. His eyes open to her slumbering form again and he drops his hand, "We're going to get you out of here, Your Majesty," he tells the sleeping woman, "It's almost over, I promise."
There's only the slightest twinge of guilt over the lie – he can't promise anything – but hope is a powerful thing and even the tiniest sliver of it is something Snow White deserves.
Then, glancing back down to the nearly invisible barrier, inspiration strikes.
Two can play at this game…
K&EK&EK&E
Emma knows Portsmouth is, by reputation, an unpredictable place, famous for its criminal element and back alley dealings. Spies from every kingdom in the land trade information there. Criminals fleeing justice hide behind its walls. It's said to be home to some of the most treacherous people in the world and its size has grown exponentially during Regina's reign.
But, while it's dangerous, it's also become a safe haven for those fleeing Regina's tyranny in recent years. No matter how volatile it is, it's one of the last free cities that remain and, as such, has attracted scores of people, families included, to seek new lives there. The people of Portsmouth live to their own set of rules. They recognize no sovereign, give fidelity to no kingdom.
Which is why this excursion needs to go as seamlessly as possible.
Emma has never been there before, so she stands quietly while the plan is discussed, not sure her opinion will lend much credence. Patricia and Jefferson have been there many times, although they both point out it's been years, but Killian has been there recently, so he gives them the lay of the land, a large map spread in between them.
"We'll dock here," he points, "the most remote spot in the harbor. That way we can, hopefully, disembark without notice."
"Do you really think there's a chance of that?" Patricia asks. "The Jolly is the most recognized ship in the realms."
"There's a better chance here than anywhere else."
"Won't that cause suspicion?" Ruby asks. "Captain Hook strikes me as the kind who prefers to be front and center."
"I'd rather look it look suspicious than have the whole of the city see Emma and Patricia disembark," he replies.
"He's right," Jeff agrees. "The less people who see them, the better. And Killian and I will leave first which will take at least some of the attention away from the ship. Then we'll meet up here, at the marketplace."
Patricia nods and points to a street just south of the center of town. "Mable's shop is here. She'd be the best source of information. Follow us at a discreet distance. Emma and I will go in the front and let the two of you in through the alley."
"Why can't they go in the front, too?" Ruby asks.
"Even though it will be closed by the time we dock, it's ladies' dress shop. Talk about suspicious behavior for Captain Hook…" Jeff says sardonically.
"Right," Ruby replies.
"After we find out what's been happening, we'll separate again and head to the tavern." Patricia's finger moves to another spot on the map. "That's where the most current news will be."
"Ahhh," Jeff puts in, "I've some very fond memories of that tavern."
Patricia blushes, her eyes snapping to Jeff. "That was a long time ago. And she had her hand on your…" she trails off and waves a hand toward exactly what the woman must have been grabbing.
Jeff chuckles.
"And I wasn't nearly as bad as you were the night that drunken lout stuck his hand down my corset."
Jeff sobers. "That bastard is lucky he's still breathing."
Patricia rolls her eyes. "No scenes like that this time. We find out what we can and send the signal, then the two of you can… 'collect' us and we'll be on our way."
Emma can feel Killian's eyes on her, his gaze anxious. She knows he's not happy about this plan. It had taken Jeff and Patricia both to convince him that splitting up was the best way and he had reluctantly agreed, but he's been shooting glances at her throughout the conversation. Emma, on the other hand, is looking forward to another tavern visit. There was something enormously freeing about their last excursion and knowing this time will end with Captain Hook 'collecting' her makes her more than a little giddy.
The planning session breaks shortly after that, Jeff and Patricia making a very transparent excuse about Patricia needing help fashioning holsters for the daggers she and Emma will be concealing in their corsets and Emma has to hide her chuckle with a cough.
The door has only just shut behind their friends when Killian's arms wrap around her from behind, his chin tucked into her neck.
"I wish we could go to the tavern together," he mumbles, "I don't like the thought of other men touching you, even if it is all for show."
"You'll be right across the room and when Captain Hook leaves, I'll be on his arm," she comforts, leaning her head to the side and lacing her fingers in his hair.
"Hmm, that thought may save the lives of countless sailors tomorrow night," he grunts before planting a kiss into the crease of her neck. He tightens his arms around her waist and sways on the spot and she increases her grip on his hair in reassurance, wishing she could think of something else to say.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asks in a low voice.
"Well, you said it yourself before our last outing," she replies in an attempt at levity, "Captain Hook doesn't enter a tavern in a woman's company. Just… don't let anyone kiss you this time, okay?"
"I won't, love. I promise."
"Good, that will save countless women from being turned into toads."
This time her reply gets the laugh she'd hoped for and he turns her in his arms, giving her a smacking kiss. "There's no one else's lips I want touching mine, love. It's only you."
As if to prove that, he settles his lips back on hers, tongue darting out and tracing her mouth. His hand guides her head to the left with his palm on her cheek and the tips of his fingers teasing the hair at the back of her neck. It starts soft but midway through it turns edgy, his fingers tightening and his tongue moving with more determination. It's a release of anxiety on his part, his unhappiness with this plan humming under the surface and she clings to him, letting him take his frustrations out on her mouth.
When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are clenched shut, his forehead grinding into hers almost painfully. "I know we agreed no magic accept as a last resort but, if at any time you feel you're in danger – "
Stopping his words with a thumb over his lips, she nods, foreheads protesting from the tight grip they have on each other. "I promise."
He nods back, his breathing heavy and then he's kissing her again, his grip unrelenting and his lips frenzied. Her legs hit the bed hard when they trip across the room but he doesn't seem to notice, too busy claiming every inch of her skin he can find. His hand is everywhere, no finesse at all to his touch as his hand plunges beneath her skirt but she catches it, switching their positions with a quick pivot.
His eyes pop open when she pushes him down onto the mattress, impatiently wrenching his shirt off before applying to the laces of his pants. He swallows hard once the pants and shirt are discarded to the floor, looking at her with such desire and awe that she can't decide if she wants to kiss the expression from his mouth or push him further by giving in to the need to run her tongue through the dark hair on his chest. She goes with the latter, her mouth open and tongue twirling through the soft strands, marveling at the broken sound that tears from him.
He reaches for her clothes, his hand yanking at her top and she helps him by unlacing her corset while her tongue continues its work, sucking hard when she makes her way to his nipple. She's as bare as he is less than a minute later and she climbs atop him, arranging his body the way she wants it with him leaning back against the ledge. His erection is in full force, caught between their bodies and her hand drifts down. She's wanted to do this for days and after the short glimpse she had of it last night, she's determined not to let him stop her this time. Balancing herself on his upper thighs, she plants one hand in the center of his chest and closes her fingers around him.
His body bucks and the sound he makes is sensational, the long growl of approval going straight to her center. The skin is soft and velvety, but it encases steel and she strokes it slowly, her eyes on his when they eclipse into something dark and decadent. He leans forward to catch her lips but she pushes him back, not willing to let him distract her before she's explored him as thoroughly as she intends. Scooting down further on his legs, she brackets her thighs around his and lets her eyes wander him. There's so much to take in; his taut neck, his ragged breathing, his sculpted abdomen; but she's seen all of that before, she's run her hands over all of that before, and right now, she wants to see her hand explore something else.
When her eyes land on her prize, she sucks in a breath and he does the same, a subtle movement from his hips the only reaction she needs to tell her how much he's enjoying this. She strokes again, all the way to the root and his hand fists in the sheets next to his hip.
"I've heard… stories in the tavern about this thing men like," she says, her voice rougher than she expected as she watches her hand continue to pump. "Perhaps it would be a good way to say 'thank you' to the Hatter's secret supplier."
"I didn't do it for thanks," he groans and she tears her gaze from his mesmerizing shaft to his glittering eyes.
"I know you didn't, but you're going to get the thanks, all the same."
He doesn't reply and she takes his silence as permission, shimmying further down his legs and lifting one knee to place it between his. He cooperates easily enough but when she dips her head, his hand catches her chin.
"You don't have to," he grits out and, fuck, he already looks wrecked, his teeth set in a sharp line and his eyes half closed.
"I want to," she says, stroking him once more and glorying in the way his eyes flutter completely shut on a sharp hiss before he forces them open again to look at her. "You'll tell me if I do it wrong?" she asks on a sudden moment of uncertainty and he smiles as he traces her cheek with his finger.
"The only way you could do it wrong is to bite it off, love."
A chuckle escapes and the uncertainty dissipates as quickly as it had arisen.
His hand is tangled in her hair the first time she tastes him, his fingers reflexively digging into her neck for an instant, but she barely notices. She sinks her mouth down on him as far as she's able until she can feel the fleshy head on the back of her throat then she pulls back up, sucking her way to the top.
"Bloody hell."
She takes those ground out words as confirmation that she's doing it right and her body warms with satisfaction.
The sounds he makes are delicious, causing her heart to pick up speed and her nipples to ache but she continues to take her time, licking down the underside until her tongue makes contact with the hair at the base. Using one hand to hold him steady, she explores his sac with the other, her eyes feasting on the sight of him. He's impossibly hard and she strokes his length while she cups the sac, shocked when her hand gets covered in something sticky as it makes it to the top. Her sound of surprise has him grunting and she lifts her hand to see what's on her palm.
"Just a bit of spillage, darling," he whispers.
Her eyes are drawn back to the head of his shaft, another pearly drop oozing from his tip and she gathers it on her thumb, taking a moment to study the translucent liquid. It's satiny as she rubs at it with her forefinger, and when she lifts her thumb to her lips to taste it, she inadvertently pulls the most desperate sound she's ever heard from him. Raising her eyes to his, she makes a display of pulling her thumb from her mouth, his eyes glossy as he watches. The slight 'pop' when the digit releases is drowned out by another broken sound and his hips surge up seemingly of their own volition, causing the hand holding him to tighten and changing that broken sound to a hiss of air.
It's unbearably erotic to see him like this, his body completely at her mercy, his hips rocking subtly to encourage her to continue. It's got her dripping with desire and it only gets worse when she closes her mouth over him again and he whimpers, long and low. She gets a little lost in the power she has like this, her blood racing with euphoria, his growls and curses ringing in her ears. Her body is nearly vibrating now and so is his, the muscles of his abdomen clenching tight under the forearm she has resting there.
It's the sound of his voice that does it; the way his usual melodic tone eclipses into a harsh, guttural growl of broken words. "Emma – ah, you need – stop – darling – can't – "
It's the sound of his voice, and only the sound of it, that has her sucking harder, has her pulse racing, has her skin tingling. She doesn't want to release him long enough to speak, so she hums on an upward stroke, closing her lips around his tip as hard as she can before gliding back down, hoping he'll get the picture. She wants to taste more of him. She wants to feel his length pulse in her mouth while he struggles to speak, while those broken words stutter past his lips in hoarse whispers.
"Love - please - Can't... hold... it."
It's only two more bobs of her head and then it happens, his body shuddering, his cock throbbing in her hand and his seed spurting into the back of her throat. She continues to suck until she's sure she's gotten every last drop of him gliding across her tongue, then she sits up between his legs, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
He's watching her with a captivating mixture of awed reverence and savage greed, his eyes focused on her mouth. In another deliberate show, she swallows slowly on a long moan and his Adam's apple bobs along with her, the whine he releases as he does so her favorite sound yet. It's a pitch higher than his normal voice, a whimper that doesn't even attempt to form a word, just a sound of complete bliss that he can't control. His breathing is harsh and fast, his hand still fisted in the sheets and she releases his softening shaft and lays it gently against his abdomen.
She smiles, and he tries to smile back, but it's only a quick quirk between his heavy pants before his hand grips in her hair and hauls her forward, covering her mouth with his in a sloppy kiss.
She's on her back in the next second, his body pressing hers into the mattress while his mouth devours her skin, starting a trail from her chin and working lower. He pauses at her breasts, wetting one peak with the lave of his tongue then switching to the other where he sucks hard and pinches the first between his thumb and forefinger. Her chest rises further into him and he growls, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching at her skin as he sinks lower. He pauses again at her naval and he mumbles something that she doesn't catch all of, but the words 'incredible' and 'don't deserve' make it to her ears and her eyes sting with emotion.
His hand nudges at her inner thigh and she opens her legs, her breath catching at the way his eyes darken when they study her mound.
"I've wanted to do this since our first time together, love. I can't believe you beat me to it."
She's got one breathless instant to prepare before his lips dip into her sex and she nearly bucks off the bed, his hand coming to rest on her stomach to push her back down. He makes a sound that reminds her of someone savoring a particularly tasty bite of food and she looks down to see him raise his head and lick his lips and –
"Fuck," she grinds out, grappling for something to hold on to, one hand finding purchase in the sheets and the other landing on his shoulder.
A devilish chuckle sounds when he lowers his head again, sliding down further to settle himself between her thighs and lifting one up to trail kisses on the inner portion. He turns his head to the other thigh, his nose teasing across her mound as he does it, before lifting it over his shoulder while drawing a line with his tongue. Once he's found the position he wants, he uses his fingers to spread her folds, his eyes sparkling with what she can only describe as greed as he licks lips. That image is the last thing she sees before her eyes slip shut and she throws her head back, anticipation already making her blood race toward the spot his eyes are devouring.
She feels his maimed arm land across her stomach, pressing her into the mattress, and with a whispered, 'Be still, love,' his mouth is on her and she forgets how to breathe. It takes every ounce of discipline she has to keep her hips from jolting off the bed as he works her into an absolute frenzy, his tongue teasing at her center and his fingers playing with her opening. She's fairly certain a stream of obscenities leave her mouth but she doesn't actually hear them so maybe it was just one drawn-out gasp. Either way, it spurs him to delve deeper with his fingers, pushing them into her faster until she's writhing with pleasure.
The sound of her name has her glancing down and she's amazed to see her hand buried in his hair, the dark strands held tight between her fingers. She immediately releases him and gropes for the edge of the mattress instead, feeling a little guilty that she's apparently so far gone that she can't control her own actions.
"Emma," he says again, and her dull mind realizes he hasn't paused to point out she's been yanking at his hair but for some other reason.
"Yes?" she asks in a raspy voice.
"I need your help, darling."
"With what?"
He straightens out the arm across her stomach, the tip running across the tight peak of one of her breasts and she shivers.
"I know how much you love it when I play with your amazing breasts, but my hand is otherwise occupied so…" he nudges her elbow with his wrist, "I'd like you to do it for me."
"You want me to touch myself?" she asks with quiet amazement.
"Aye," he replies with a slow grin, "It would be a great service to me, darling."
The breath whooshes out of her lungs and she lets him guide her hand to her breast. As soon as her fingers settle on her nipple, his hand plunges forward and she groans, long and low.
"Sit up a bit, love. I want to be able to see you."
She pushes her free hand beneath her to leverage her upper body off the bed.
"Like this?"
"That's perfect. Now, touch yourself."
The moment she does, he moans into her nub, the thick sound reverberating through her and she loses herself a bit. His fingers slide home with a strong thrust and she bows back, riding them as his tongue presses with more determination. Her eyes have fluttered shut, the pleasure so intense her body quivers and when she finally manages to open them again it's to find his eyes trained on the hand she has at her breast. He catches her watching and moans again, lifting his head just far enough to show her how the flat of his tongue laps at her flesh, then he's diving back in and she swears she's going to burst at the seams.
She comes with a silent cry, her throat closing and her stomach seizing as ecstasy shatters through her, rushing down her legs and up her torso. He's humming through it, his mouth slowing to draw it out and his fingers curling on a deliberate drag that brings all those scattered tingles back to her core, the pleasure so much that she can't take it and pulls away with a yelp. He doesn't seem to mind if the devilish grin is any indication. Instead, he looks completely delighted.
"Seems I found another spot you like, love. We'll have to explore that some more later."
K&EK&EK&E
Regina's blood boils, her eyes fixed on the entrance to a dark alley that positively reeks of light magic. Perhaps it was a waste of time to come here, but she had to know. She had to be sure.
And now she is.
There's no way this wasn't the princess. It had to have been. Snow White's brat has somehow worked around the prophecy and gotten her magic without a True Love to awaken it. Either that, or the wizard lied when he told her there was no one other than Killian Jones with the power to unlock it.
But that's impossible. He couldn't have lied. She'd been holding his heart in her hand when she asked and there's no way he could have hidden the truth from her.
Or could he?
He is the most powerful wizard there has ever been – even stronger than Rumpelstiltskin. Maybe he found a way… Maybe Emma has found another True Love…
White hot fury races through her veins and she starts to raise her hand to transport herself back to her castle but stops halfway through the motion. If it's true that Merlin can conceal lies even while she holds his heart, it would be useless to talk to him again. And if she goes back now, without having found her prey, he'll only gloat. And no matter how livid she is over the deception, she won't give him that satisfaction. She'll find the princess and that illusive pirate and she'll return to the castle triumphant with both in tow and throw it in his face that he couldn't outsmart her.
But where to start looking… Where would Captain Hook feel safe enough to dock? It would have to be somewhere between Katherine's kingdom and Camelot – because obviously, he's taking the princess to her father – and there's only one major port in that area…
Portsmouth.
K&EK&EK&E
David straightens his collar and adjusts the cuffs at his wrist. It looks like today will be a beautiful one, the sun already burning through the fog settled over the harbor and slowly revealing the ships that docked during the night.
Still no sign of the Jolly Roger and Emma.
Sighing, he turns back to the bed where his jacket is laid out. He's just slipping his arms in when Lancelot burst through the door.
"I've got it," Lancelot announces, striding across the room and handing a tarnished gold box over to him.
"Excellent," David replies, clapping him on the shoulder.
Flipping open the lid, he marvels at a deceptively benign looking lump of coal sitting atop the faded velvet lining. "Hard to believe this is a powerful magical object."
"I know but considering the lengths Regina went to to keep us from obtaining it, it's power must be significant."
"Yes," David replies, drawing a relieved breath. This is a beautiful day, indeed, and it has nothing to do with the weather.
The Spark of Prometheus. The only spark capable of producing a flame with enough power to reunite Excalibur is now in his hand.
His fingers contract on the case, emotion tugging at his throat. This is another step closer to Snow. Another step closer to getting his family back. His vision blurs and he clicks the lid shut, his knuckles white from their grip.
"Any problems during your journey?" he asks, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking, but he knows Lance notices.
Still, the knight launches into a dialogue about his trip, relaying every single mundane detail and David realizes about halfway through that Lance knows he's not really listening. But his friend keeps talking, obviously aware of David's mood and doing his best to keep him distracted. It's not until there's an insistent knocking on the door that David's attention comes back into focus, a harried looking Percival entering with haste.
"I have a missive from Queen Katherine," the knight announces, holding up a scroll.
"Thank you," Lance says, reaching for the letter but Percival holds it from his reach.
"Sorry, old friend, but it was delivered to me by the queen herself with the strict instruction that it should leave my hand only for King David's."
"What?" David asks, taking the scroll and looking to see his name inscribed just above the seal. "Is there anyone who bought Regina's story about my death?" he muses aloud, glancing to Lance.
The knight just shrugs in response, shaking his head in bemusement.
Sighing, David lays the case on the bed and rips open the letter, barely noticing when Lance thanks Percival and dismisses him, too engrossed in Katherine's message.
Dear David,
Don't look so surprised. I never believed it for a second when Regina said you were dead. The man who helped me restore the love of my life was too cunning to be killed by Regina's soldiers.
(I'm sorry I haven't written before now, but I wanted to respect your noble streak by not getting involved in all this nonsense until you requested it – and you should have requested it long before now, David!)
Oh, but I digress. I didn't write you to berate you on your nobility, but because something has happened that you need to hear about.
But first, let me go back…
A few years ago, I was approached by a member of your court. I'm sure you remember him; his name is Jefferson and he had a particular fondness for hats? Anyway, he was looking for a safe haven to headquarter what has now grown into quite an operation. He came to me with a plan to create an underground supply chain to disperse goods and weapons to the realm. He wouldn't tell me where he was getting all of these supplies, but I still agreed to help. At the time, Regina's knights were terrorizing our villages and part of his plan was to 'pay-off' Regina to keep her knights away so that he could move more easily about. So, that's what we did. Don't be angry with me. My people were suffering and this presented me with a golden opportunity (forgive the pun) to keep them safe. And, besides, I learned later that most of the gold we gave her was actually stolen from her in the first place.
Now, on to the present.
A few days ago, a garrison of black knights broke our agreement by kidnapping Jeff's daughter and forcing him to cooperate. It seems they were looking for The Hatter's supplier and, shockingly, they knew who it was.
Now, I know you'll have a hard time believing this (I hardly believe it myself) but the supplier that Jefferson has been keeping secret all this time is none other than Captain Hook! Apparently, he's been stealing from Regina for years! You should have seen Frederick's face when he found out!
Anyway, according to witnesses, the garrison of black knights was able to board Captain Hook's ship, the Jolly Roger, by forcing Jefferson to lower the gangplank. A terrible fight ensued and, at some point during the battle, the ship sailed away, seemingly of its own will. (Honestly, that part's a little sketchy because so many people were reluctant to say it since it made them sound insane to believe a ship could sail on its own.)
Either way, it seems the pirate was victorious because during our investigation we learned that the little girl was being held in a small cave outside the village. Frederick and I went to the location personally to rescue the child but, when we got there, all we found were black knights – dead black knights. Someone saved that little girl before we had the chance and who else could it have been if not her father who'd sailed away with the ship? And, since one of the knights had a hook-shaped hole in his neck, I'd say Captain Hook helped.
After, we also verified that Jefferson's wife is missing as well. We can only assume she, along with her husband and daughter, are now aboard the Jolly Roger, and we've issued a dispatch of orders to our entire naval fleet to lend aid to them if at all possible. You might consider asking Arthur to do the same.
Now, here's the most disturbing part and the main reason I broke my silence with you: Yesterday, Regina showed up herself to investigate. We found her in a tavern where she'd just killed a woman Captain Hook had come in contact with while in town. In order to get her to leave peacefully, I offered to tell her what we'd learned about Captain Hook and even took her to the cave where her black knights had held the child.
You should have seen it, David. She walked up to that cave and her whole demeanor changed. I don't know what she saw or what she thought but something about being there made her… I can't even describe it. She was walking toward the cave, but about halfway across the clearing she stopped dead and looked at the ground. Then her eyes went wild and she started searching in every direction and, I swear to you, she looked positively terrified for a moment. After that, she walked the around the clearing for a good ten minutes, feeling around with her hand like she was tracing some invisible line through the air.
Like I said, I don't know what she was thinking, but something about being there scared her and, whatever it was, it also made her furious. She went absolutely wild for a moment, shooting fireballs in every direction – even blowing her own carriage to dust – before she barked an order at her knights to get back to her castle and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.
I honestly don't know what to make of it, David. But I thought you'd want to know.
Frederick has told me to add that our knights are armed to the teeth and the moment you have need of us, we won't hesitate to join you in this fight. You reunited us those many years ago, and we'd love to have the chance to help you reunite with Snow.
Sending best wishes to you,
Katherine and Frederick
David straightens and hands the note to Lancelot without a word, his head reeling over everything he's just learned. He's still working through it when Lance drops the parchment on the table.
"It sounds like Emma is safe, at least," Lancelot breaks the silence, "and still on her way here."
"Yes," David agrees with considerable relief, "And, apparently, you've been in league with a pirate much longer than you thought."
"Apparently so," Lance replies with a trace of amusement. "And now we know who The Hatter is as well."
He almost laughs at that. "The Hatter. Lord Jefferson Galerus. I should have known. He was a member of our court. Very charismatic fellow. A good man but not really in our inner circle. And he did have an obsession with hats."
"Well, galerus means hat or cap in Latin," Lance replies.
David looks up, surprised. "Truly?"
"Yes."
David shakes his head. "You studied Latin?"
Lance shrugs. "A bit."
David chuckles. His friend is full of surprises.
"What do you think it was that spooked Regina?"
"Magic," David instantly replies. "Emma must have used magic to help save Jefferson's daughter."
"So, you think Regina knows Emma is now aboard the Jolly Roger?"
"It's a possibility, but we've no proof that Regina knows Emma has gotten her magic as of yet. Can you reach out to your contacts and see if we can find out where she went?"
"I will, but it will be difficult if she's traveling alone. From the sound of it, she's left her knights and gone off by herself."
"Perhaps I can help with that," an unfamiliar voice says from behind him.
David is already drawing his sword as he whips around to meet the eyes of the new arrival, a dark-skinned man dressed in long robes trimmed with gold, his hands folded neatly in front of him.
"Who are you and how did you get in here?!" he demands.
The man quirks an eyebrow with an indulgent smile, his eyes flicking to the sword point only inches from his neck. "I got in here like this," he says, lifting one hand with flourish and vanishing into a puff of gray smoke, materializing a few feet away. "As to who I am? I am Merlin, the oldest wizard alive as far as I know, and I'm here to offer my services."
"You're Merlin?" Lance asks in astonishment. "The wizard who told Arthur of the dagger?"
"Yes."
David's blood heats. This is the wizard who charged Arthur with his quest when the king was a child. The wizard who left his friend with nothing but the most vague of instructions, then vanished, never lending guidance to aid him in his mission.
"But you're rumored to be thousands of years old. How do you look so…?"
"Physically fit?" Merlin finishes Lance's question. "Let's just say being a wizard is good for the skin."
"Where the hell have you been all these years?" David growls.
David notices the man's demeanor change, his back straightening and eyeing David with a watchful and somewhat wary expression. "That's a long story but, most recently… in the dungeon of the Evil Queen's castle," he replies slowly.
It takes him a minute, his mind racing… The Evil Queen's castle? What? Why would he…? His heart stops. Merlin has the gift of foresight. Merlin can see the future. And Regina has had a seer working for her since the fall of the kingdom.
The seer that helped thwart every attempt he's made to save Snow.
He's moving before he realizes it, closing the few feet of distance in less than a heartbeat and connecting his fist with the wizard's jaw.
K&EK&EK&E
Merlin sees it coming. Honestly, he first saw this moment years ago, and it's one of only a handful of moments that has never once changed. But he doesn't try to avoid it. If there's one person in all the realms who deserves a shot at him, it's King David.
The pain zings along his jaw and his eyes water immediately, his head snapping back so quickly that his neck cracks. The man hits like a bloody hammer, almost like his knuckles are made of steel, and Merlin wonders for a moment if his jaw is actually broken. Foreknowledge and self-preservation have him lifting his hand to catch the next blow, stopping it less than an inch from his temple.
"I'll give you one, Your Majesty, but that's where I draw the line."
David's eyes widen with disbelief that his second blow hadn't landed as he'd planned, but his face slips back to fury after only an instant, yanking his fist away from the iron grip Merlin has on it.
"Get out," David hisses, "Go back to wherever it is you came from. We don't need your help."
Merlin rubs at his jaw, almost tempted to let the pain linger, (it's invigorating in an odd sort of way) but changes his mind and dissolves the already-forming-bruise with a quick swipe of his hand.
"I know you're upset – " he starts.
"Upset?!" the king shouts in incredulity, "You're the one who has helped Regina keep me from my wife for years! Upset doesn't cover it, wizard!"
"I know, but I can explain – "
David scoffs.
"Whether you believe me or not, I did that for your own good."
"Yeah, well, I don't believe you."
Merlin sighs, raising a hand in a gesture of assurance. "Regina was willing to let you live, to not attack Camelot, so long as Snow White was still under the curse."
David's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Oh, she told you this, did she?"
He laughs at that. "No. She didn't tell me anything – the Evil Queen isn't much in the sharing department – but she didn't have to. I saw it. Over and over again, I saw it! Every time you put a new plan together, I saw you and your wife die!" He pauses there to calm himself, noticing the king's shocked expression and the way he lowers the sword he's still holding.
In a more controlled voice, he continues, "Yes, there were a couple that would have succeeded in reuniting the two of you sooner, but you both would have been dead by now. As it was, it took a great deal of scheming just to keep you alive. More than once, I had to employ quick maneuvering to save your life. If you're one thing, Your Majesty, it's persistent."
Silence falls after his speech, David regarding him with slightly less animosity and glancing over to Lancelot. The knight's sword is also drawn and at the ready and Merlin is tempted to magic the weapon away from him just on principle. (But that's probably not the best way to earn trust, so he doesn't.) Instead he waits, letting both men gather their thoughts. He knows they'll get there eventually. One of the most difficult things he's had to learn over the years is how to keep his mind occupied while he waits for things he knows are going to happen (no one likes a know-it-all). So he takes a long breath and glances between the two men while they carry on a silent conversation with their eyes, passing the time in one of his favorite ways: by picturing those around him in a land with no magic. Lance has the build of a football player, a linebacker most likely, while David would be a quarterback, his skill for tactics making him one to rival the best. They'd make quite a team, really, and he hides his smile when the image of both of them in football pads flashes through his mind.
At long last, David turns to him. "Okay," he says slowly. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"Well, first, I'd like to offer you a token of good faith."
"What token?" David asks.
Merlin draws a deep breath. "How would you like to see your wife?"