Emma woke early to find Killian – finally – asleep. He looked like Killian when he slept; there was nothing of Hook in his unguarded face. She wouldn't want to erase Hook, but he was erased every time Killian drifted off and reverted back to his first self. She was damned glad of Hook and his paranoia; she was still alive because of it. She knew he'd tortured the prisoner last night, and she hadn't yet asked what information it had yielded. She would ask today. Last night marked officially enough of sitting by while Killian protected her, like the princess she'd never been.
She tried to lift his right arm off of her shoulder; he unconsciously gripped her more tightly and added the left arm as well. She rolled her eyes. Emma strategically shifted downwards, ducking out of his embrace and slipping out of bed. He woke immediately.
"Emma!" he called out, trying to prise open his eyes as his hands blindly searched the bed for her.
"I'm right here," she whispered, hoping a soothing voice might send him back off to sleep. "I'm just going to help out downstairs. Go back to sleep."
He flashed a lazy smile her way, resettled under the blankets, and did as she asked.
Emma wrapped a thick robe around herself and made her way upstairs to their previous bedroom. Someone had already moved the bodies and scrubbed most of the blood off the wooden flooring and rug. She stepped around the stains to the tall wardrobe at the wall. She rummaged through for something to wear, the memory of the women gifting her with clothes nearly wiped out by subsequent events, although it had been less than 48 hours ago. She found the blue dress Oona had chosen for her, washed up and dressed. The minute she arrived in the kitchen, one of the older sisters pulled her into a chair by the fire and starting brushing the tangles out of her hair. Within minutes, it hung in a thick, neat plait down her back.
Emma helped to prepare breakfast, a task involving pots and pans larger than any she'd seen before, in order to cook enough for the whole family. Everyone was camping out at Mac and Oona's place, now, with dozens of family children running about and trusted neighbours brought in to defend the house. Mac walked about with a watch and patrol schedule, and Emma signed up herself and Killian for a patrol after breakfast.
Killian finally appeared an hour later, bathed and dressed and looking as rested as Emma had seen him a long while. She still felt shattered by last night, but the sleepiness kept her from focussing too sharply on what had happened. She preferred it that way. No one here had appointed her Saviour; they all seemed perfectly happy organising their own salvation along with hers. So Emma occupied herself with spooning out porridge for a table of half a dozen under-5s. She resolved to spend the next 24 hours following along with Jones family central planning.
Killian picked up a bowl and sat down on a low stool with the children. He held out the bowl to her with a grin and she ladled in some porridge, raising one eyebrow to communicate that he was on thin ice.
A little girl with bright red plaits looked up at him. "Uncle Killian, Ma says you are sleeping with your Emma," she told him through a mouthful of porridge. Emma nearly dropped the serving bowl in shock.
Killian maintained his composure. "Don't talk with your mouthful, little love," he said, hoping to change the topic.
"Sure my Da says you should marry your Emma," a blond boy of about four explained.
The little girl opened her mouth in an uncomprehending little 'o'. "You and Auntie Emma aren't married?" Her little lip started to quiver. "Does that mean Emma isn't our Auntie?"
"Don't be daft," another little boy cut in. "Course she's Auntie, cuz she's sleeping with Uncle. That's how it works."
"Is not! Da says he has to marry her," said the first little boy.
An argument broke out at this point, with small voices citing 'facts' they had picked up from the adults on the nature of Emma's relationship with Killian: Emma was a princess, Emma was too good for him (Killian made a silent note to figure out which man was that child's father), Killian had been a pirate, Emma needed a ring on her finger (no one was certain what type of ring, and the discussion briefly veered off into ways the children could make a ring for her, if Killian was too mean to give her one himself), and most importantly that Killian had made Emma scream in the garden.
All the little faces looked shocked when the blond boy dropped that bombshell into the conversation. Emma put her face in her hands.
"Uncle Killian, did you make Auntie Emma scream in the garden?" the little red-haired girl asked, looking ready to inflict violence upon him for such a thing. The toddlers at the table looked ready to cry.
"Aye," Killian answered, taking a sip of tea to punctuate his answer. "I did." He raised a suggestive eyebrow at Emma. She just shook her head at him, withdrawing back to the stove a few metres away from the children's table.
The little girl stood up from the table and drew herself up to her full height. She narrowed her little blue eyes, pulled her fist back and hit Killian as hard as she could on his arm. The punch sloshed a bit of his tea.
"Hey, lass, whoa," he caught the little fist before it could connect again. "I wasn't hurting Auntie. Emma was really… happy. You know, like when you scream on Christmas morning. Weren't you, Emma?" Killian looked across the kitchen to her for back-up.
Emma set down the bowl and ladle and found a towel to clean up the tearful toddlers. "Uncle wouldn't hurt me. Of course I was happy. And of course I am your Auntie," she smiled, wiping an angry tear of the girl's face.
"So you are married to Uncle," said the blond boy, looking for confirmation. That kid will be a lawyer, Emma thought to herself.
"No, we're not married," she shook her head gently.
"Why not?" the whole table asked as one.
"Well," she began, flipping through a mental list of at least 100 reasons why she and Killian weren't married, trying to find the most child-friendly one. "Uncle Killian never asked me."
All the little eyes now turned to Killian.
Killian sighed and dropped his spoon into his empty bowl with a loud clatter. He was well and truly backed into a corner now, and there was only one way out. "Emma, my love, will you marry me?" he asked in roughly the same tone he might ask her to pass the salt.
The little girl shook her head furiously and stage-whispered to him. "No, no, you have to kneel down in front of her." Killian rolled his eyes to the ceiling, pushed back his chair and knelt down in front of Emma, who stood in front of him with a toddler on her hip as she tried to clean porridge off the squirming little hands.
"Emma, my love, will you marry me?" Killian looked to the little girl for approval. She nodded her head, red plaits bouncing up and down in her happiness.
Emma set down the toddler and looked at him thoughtfully, hand on her hip. For one brief moment Killian feared that she might be considering it, and that his flippant attempt to placate the children might actually balls up his chances of proposing properly. Someday. "Maybe later," Emma deadpanned. "I'm terrifically busy this month."
Killian exhaled in relief. He shrugged at the children. "See? I tried."
The blond boy patted Killian on the back in sympathy. "She said maybe, not no."
Killian stood and helped Emma clear away the dishes. "We have a patrol now," she told him. "Mac has everyone assigned to safeguarding duties and I signed us up."
"Ah, good, another opportunity to hike through some muddy woods with you," he said.
"We're patrolling the cliffs beyond the villa," she said. "So more open grassland than forest. Still lots of mud, though, if you have a particular interest in that."
Killian ignored her and set off around the house, gathering up weapons and maps of the area, listening to the reports from the watch who had just come back. Oona threw herself into an overstuffed armchair and threw her feet up over one of the arms. She sent one of the children off to fetch her a cup of tea. Oona pulled Emma down into the armchair next to her and recounted her trek around town.
"We found nothing this morning," she told Emma. "The men from last night were foreigners all. The town's awatch for Arthur and his agents now, not that we can count everyone here loyal, but it's a small town to be sure, and hard to hide treachery."
Emma helped to ease Oona's boots off her feet, and a little boy returned with a cup of tea for his auntie. Emma began apologetically, "I feel that we have turned everyone's lives upside down, the whole town, and put you and your family – the family's children – in danger."
Oona cut her off. "You and Killian are family. We would do anything for you two. You mustn't think of yourselves as some sort of bother, or not worth the effort. Mac's ancestors failed to protect Killian – we don't really know why – turfed him out when he was but a babe. He is owed. You are owed."
Killian walked back into the room with their swords and a skin of water. Emma stretched out her hands to him and he tugged her out of the chair.
"Ready for a little stroll, love?" he asked, strapping her sword around her waist. She watched his fingers thread the leather of her belt across the buckle. "Sorry to drag her away, Oona."
"No bother. I'm just considering my options: sleep here or sleep upstairs. I'm leaning towards sleeping where I've fallen," Oona smiled groggily.
Killian and Emma set off, out of the square and along the main road. The road diminished in size and stature until it was nothing more than the path up to the cliffs, clearly not intended for more than single file horse riding, no carriages. The late early autumn sun warmed them both through, and Killian shrugged off his jacket halfway up the path. They twined fingers and treated it as he had suggested, a stroll, more than a watch patrol. They soon gained the summit, and started off in the opposite direction of the villa. Lush grass swayed around them, growing all the way up to the very edge of the precipice, making it look like the meadow continued indefinitely out over the harbour below. The path wandered through the grass and into a woods beyond.
When they entered the cool shade of the wood, Killian let go of her hand and dashed a bit ahead to make sure the way was safe. Evergreen trees scattered off the path, and the few deciduous trees were losing their leaves in a brilliant haze of gold and red. Emma waited on the path, crushing a few fallen, wet leaves under her boot as she thought.
Off to the side of the path, she saw a tree that didn't look like any other in the forest. It was tall and broad, with smooth, white bark and deep-green leaves. She began to wander towards it, almost pulled magnetically. The moment she stood beneath its canopy, she felt a glow intensify around her. A sharpness began pricking under her skin from the magic of the place. Then, an intense wave of pure emotion, positive and humming and free, swept through her.
Emma stopped in her tracks. "Oh my God. Killian!" she pressed her hands against her glowing body. "Killian! Come here. Hurry!" Emma stumbled back slightly, leaning one hand against the tree trunk.
Killian sprinted back as soon as he heard her. He noted the enchanted tree she was leaning against. "What's wrong? What happened?" he called as reached her side. She didn't look injured; she looked utterly blissed-out. God, this woman and her bloody trees.
"This… oh my God… this… just… feel this," she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her, placing his palm flat on her belly.
An indescribable wave of warmth swept over Killian. It made him smile so much that his cheeks burned. He laughed. It felt like endless happiness, soft and safe and so warm. "What…" he pulled Emma up to him, steadying her, as she started to lose her footing again. "What is that?" He was about to ask her what she felt, but she had the same, almost-drugged smile on her face that he did. "It feels like… I don't know… some concentrated kind of love." That sounded stupid. The feeling was being boosted by magic, was somehow tied up in Emma's magic. He was trying to think of how to explain it more clearly, when she cut him off.
"That's conception," she said, her voice full of wonder. "That's the moment of conception. Jesus Christ, Killian. That's our baby. I just know it sure as anything. Don't you?"
They stood together beneath the unnaturally green leaves, Killian holding her close and moving his hand a bit lower down her belly. The warm feeling washed over them both again, hitting them in waves like the tide. He could feel it to, and he knew she was right.
"Yes. I know it, too. That tree," Killian thought back, "that tree the other day. We were glowing after…"
They both dropped to the ground with the news, dumbstruck for a moment. Emma felt the magical happiness pulse like a heartbeat, flowing out of her and into Killian. She knew without looking that they were both glowing now. But while happiness and love overwhelmed every other emotion, her brain kept ticking along behind, refusing to be drugged. A thousand thoughts flicked through Emma's brain, most of them screaming 'too soon' above the others.
Killian could see the doubts starting to cloud her features. He knew he needed to tell her about Arthur, about the threat, about his theories that Arthur believed Killian to a rival for the throne. But he held back, not wanting to put any more negative thoughts into her head, not right now, when they should be joyful and uncomplicatedly happy, if only for a few hours.
He put his hands to her face and pulled her to him, resting his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes. All her thoughts and doubts stilled as Killian spoke. "I am so happy, Emma. I love you, and I love this child, and this child will never, ever know the sort of abandonment we did." Emma felt tears welling in her eyes and nodded. He kissed her passionately, one hand tangled up in her hair and the other still resting possessively on her belly. Emma just kissed him back, not knowing what else to do or to feel.
When they broke apart, he rubbed gentle circles on her belly with his hand. "I still feel the warmth, but not as strongly," he said. "The little one must be settling down."
He felt certain, the baby felt certain. Emma felt overwhelmed, like she might start hyperventilating. She was happy, unbelievably happy, with Killian. She wanted to have his child, no question, she did. They had, after all, been having unprotected sex for the last month. She knew this was a possibility. But like a sharp pain, this made her long for Henry. She wanted to hug him so badly she could almost taste it. Babies were a difficult and dangerous business in her family. And his, too. Abandonment seemed to happen with a dreadful frequency despite the best intentions of the parents.
"Killian, I'm scared," she whispered. "I love you, too, and I love this baby. But even right now someone is trying to kill us, and we don't so much as know why yet."
Killian held her close, wondered if maybe he could just lock them up inside the villa, on a remote mountainside, for the next nine months, while he spent every day keeping her and the baby safe.
"Love, I'm going to go all Mary Margaret on this one, and say we have to have hope," he said. "I know history is against us, but we can make this work. We will get back to modernity, back in time for doctors and medical attention." He kissed her. "Did you feel the life force of this child? It was all joy and hope and perfection. My love, just be happy. No doubts or worries for right now. Just let yourself be happy."
Emma started crying then, the emotional overload getting the better of her. She was still grinning like mad, though, so Killian smiled back and pulled her to her feet.
"I am happy, Killian. I'm so happy. And I love you, too," she pulled his head down to hers, ran her fingers through his hair and met his gaze. She caught his bottom lip in hers and sought out his tongue, tilting his head with her fingers and caressing deeper into his mouth. Killian slid his hands up to her breasts and ran his thumbs over her nipples until they ached. When Emma reached up to tug free the ribbons on her dress, Killian pulled back.
"The villa is less than a kilometre from here. Let's head back to it," he suggested. "We have a couple of hours before we're missed. You can cast a protection spell and we can try to get our head round this in peace and quiet, okay?"
Emma nodded and let him lead the way back their sanctuary. He felt overcome by protectiveness, so when they could see the villa just ahead and he picked her up, bridal-style, Emma didn't struggle or complain. He broke through the door with her still in his arms. With the door shut behind them, he backed her against a wall and brought his lips to hers. He pinned her to the wall with his whole body, wanting to be as close as possible to her right now. Killian pulled his shirt over his head and pried off his boots without breaking contact completely. He had Emma naked with a few pulls at the bodice of her dress, her frock dropping to the ground. He slid one hand under her ass and pulled her up a bit, and her legs wrapped around his hips instinctively. Emma didn't want to wait a second more; she was wet with want of him and he was lined up and waiting. She pulled her legs toward her centre, digging in with her feet, urging him inside.
Killian thrust into his love, one hand on her breasts and the other still gripping and exploring her ass. She spread her thighs wider to take him in deeper, both of them craving the closest possible connection. Killian began to move against her, securing her to the wall. She felt him brushing against her clit and shifting angles to find the spot inside her that would make her see stars. Tension wound within her core and she tilted her head back against the wall, closing her eyes and breathing erratically. He sucked just beneath her jaw, feeling her pulse against her teeth. His cock dragged deliciously through her, building and building her arousal. Killian pounded against her, faster and harder, the pleasure spiking in every nerve ending, her clit so sensitive that the moment he moved his calloused thumb to touch her there, she fell apart in his arms. He kept thrusting fast and deep and hard, she stretched her thighs farther apart, until he came too, pulsing inside her as deep as they could manage.
Killian carried Emma the few steps to the bed and they sank down together, still wrapped up with arms and legs gripping each other tight. They both recognised that the edge of need and desperation they felt was all about fear as much as joy. Slowly they untangled enough for Emma to stretch out next to him in bed, head in its familiar place on his chest, while he stroked her hair.
"You're pregnant," he finally said, still processing the news.
"I know," she agreed, also awestruck. "At least the magical early warning system means we have an extra 5 or 6 weeks of notice to prepare ourselves."
"Do you feel all right?" he thought to ask, suddenly wondering about all the side effects pregnancy was going to have.
"I feel great. I mean, usually symptoms sneak up on you later. It's far too early for me to feel sick. I was sick, though, with Henry. So tired and very ill, for weeks. So that might happen again," Emma ran her hand up and down his bicep. "But in the pantheon of stuff we need to worry about right now, that's nothing much. Horrible, but it passes."
Killian nodded. He thought. But nothing came to him. "You're pregnant," he repeated.
Emma just laughed. "Yeah, let's just lie here and give you a minute. When you've regained the power of rational thought, we can talk."
Killian wrapped his arms around her more forcefully. "You're pregnant."
"I am," she kissed him softly. "I really am." And they just lay there together and thought about that for the rest of the afternoon.